End of an era…
Friends,
Basic training ended quickly.
Time flies in the front-leaning rest position. (Push-ups for my civilian friends)
By the time we got to the final phase, the Blue Phase, we were ready for big-boy training. Bigger weapons. More advanced training. More intense physical requirements. Obstacle courses, hand grenades, final P.T. test (which I passed with flying colors), and real coffee.
And the knowledge that we were almost done. We were the senior class. Nothing like walking past the newly arrived recruits and looking down our noses at them. A small sneer at the puny wimps that didn’t deserve the title ‘soldier.’
The joke was on me… I would see them again.
My memories are not as sharp as they used to be. But I remember one moment, on the last ruck march back to the barracks. Our final test of physical and mental toughness.
We had just completed a training exercise complete with explosions, barbwire, 1 MRE, and enough rain to drown a rat. Somehow we had gotten 12 miles away from ‘home.’ I still don’t know how they managed to get us that far without me realizing it. But there we were, hungry, cold, tired, and ready for a shower.
And then came the order.
Forward March.
And that we did. For hours upon hours. Days upon days. A lifetime of putting one foot in front of another.
Thankfully, I have an active imagination and can entertain myself. Because halfway through, it got eerily silent. No cadences. No talking. No jokes. No one complained. Not even the drill sergeants.
Just the sound of shuffling feet, gasps for air, and the occasional sneeze. (It was really dusty.)
What did I think about? Coffee. Clean clothes. The way blisters ooze. How was it possible to function with a headache? The way the sun blinds you when it comes up. How after a while, you can’t smell the stench of three days without a shower.
Why couldn’t the Army design comfortable boots?
And books. I began to think about all the books I’d read. I put them in order from my favorite to my least favorite. I thought about the smell of paper and how the pages held tear stains. I thought about the author writing them and wondered how in the hell they got published. I thought about my favorite characters and all the bad guys.
I thought about the library in San Diego that my mother would take me to. It was down the street from an AMPM, and every once in a while, she would buy me a soft-serve ice cream cone from there. There was a park not far away, and I remembered sitting under a tree reading while all the other kids played.
It was my happy place.
I wrote a story in my head. A story about a young girl far from home, alone and scared, and very hungry. She had to find a way to the mighty empire to plead her case to the king that she was a worthy warrior and should be sent to the front lines to defend her small town against invaders.
I never finished that story in my head that day.
It was a work in progress. It would take 21 years to write.
It would follow the life of a real person. All the ups and downs. Mistakes and successes. The painful memories and the good times. Embarrassing moments and the days that made her sacrifice worthwhile.
21 years is a long time to write a book.
But I had just finished the first chapter.
Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.
If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. It’s a historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman faced with a decision: accept what is written in the history books or find out for herself the truth behind the stories. Limited edition copies are now available on my website (Shop – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com) or at
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Target: The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback) : Target
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Current sales as of today= 115/1500
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