Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read this little story, I hope you enjoy it, if you do I'd love to hear what you think.
Stacey x
*****
Taking a deep breath Ginger pushed open the door of the T-Fed recruiting office. The guard looked at her and said nothing, he towered over Ginger, she looked round for the Marine recruiter. She found him, an older powerfully built man, sitting at his desk.
His formal uniform looking sharp, his medal ribbons telling a history of combat. Nervously Ginger approached his desk.
"Go see Lieutenant Cole," he said dismissively, pointing to another desk. The young man looked up hearing his name and smiled, his uniform marked him out as Navy. He waved Ginger over.
"I, I want to join the Marines," Ginger stuttered.
"We don't want you, fuck off," he said, still not looking up from his paperwork.
Ginger stepped closer to his desk, her anger rising.
"I want to join the Marines.", she said firmly.
Slowly his head came up from the desk, a look of utter disgust on his face as he looked her over.
"You fucking walk in here looking like a sack of shit tied in the middle, with your cover still on and you want to talk to me? Who the fuck do you think you are? Get that cover off, stand to attention and every sentence ends with 'Sir', do you fucking understand that worm?" He bellowed.
Ginger jumped to what she though was attention, her heels together.
"I want to join the Marines, Sir," she said clearly.
"Get your fucking cover off before you talk to me!" he screamed his face reddening.
Confused, Ginger looked around. Lieutenant Cole pointed at her hat, and quickly she snatched her Jets cap off her head.
"I want to join the Marines, Sir,", she repeated.
The Marine stood up. He leant forward.
"We don't fucking want you, worm! Understand?" he yelled in her face, poking his finger into her forehead for emphasis, "Now go see Cole, he's got some something more your speed, we need some cunt to count our boot laces. Now get the fuck out of my AO!"
"Maybe come and see if we can find a role in the Navy?" Lieutenant Cole said helpfully, standing beside her gesturing to his desk.
"No, Sir, I want to be a Marine," she said firmly. He shrugged and walked away.
"Fine, fill this out now!" the big marine said, pulling out a wad of paperwork. He dropped it on the floor at Gingers feet. She stood there frozen.
"Pick that shit up, your making my office a fucking mess! You got twenty minutes." he bellowed.
Quickly she dropped and collected the strewn paperwork from the floor.
"Where do I fill it in, Sir?" she asked.
"You want to be a fucking Marine, you work it out. Clock is ticking!" he roared.
Looking over at the young Lieutenant, he pointed to an empty desk and held up a pen. Ginger rushed over clutching the paperwork to her chest. She took the pen gratefully and stood at the desk. The paperwork was all muddled up. Glancing up at the clock she ploughed into the paperwork, she groaned finding an intelligence test. It was marked one hour to complete.
She looked up, the big Marine was glaring daggers at her.
"Ten minutes remaining!" He glowered, returning to his paperwork.
Ginger took a breath and started into the test.
"Thirty seconds," he called out as Ginger frantically scribbled down answer after answer.
"You should be stood at my desk by now! " he yelled.
Ginger grabbed up the papers and dashed over to his desk. Straightening it up as well as she could, she placed it on his desk. He regarded it like it was a pile of shit. She smiled hopefully at him.
"What the fuck is this mess?" he yelled.
"Um, the paperwork you gave me, Sir" she replied.
"It's a fucking mess! Nothing is in order; do you think I'm your bitch? Do you think I should be sorting all this crap out for you?" he screamed his face reddening.
"No Sir," she said reaching for the papers.
The Marine grabbed them off the desk and hurled the pile across the office scattering them everywhere. Ginger watched, open mouthed, as the papers fluttered down.
"Two choices, put that shit in the bin and get the fuck away from me, or put them in order, lowest to highest," he said.
Frantically, Ginger dropped to her knees and collected the papers and put them in order as fast as she could. Two big shiny boots stood in front of her, she looked up at the big Marine and offered him the papers.
"Get the fuck off your knees! I thought you wanted to be a Marine?" he screamed.
Hurriedly, Ginger got back to her feet before offering him the papers again. With a dismissive grunt he took them and began leafing through them. Ginger stood nervously, hoping she got it right. He pulled out the intelligence test, glanced at it and screwed it up,throwing it in the bin.
"No one gives a fuck for your brains in the Marines," he said dismissively. He returned to sit behind his desk, looking thoughtfully at her for a moment.
"Marine training is hard, not all nice and friendly like this. Are you sure you want to join?" he asked.
"Yes Sir, I want..." she started.
"I don't give a fuck why you want to join," he said cutting her off, "Medical and attestation here tomorrow, zero five hundred, local."
"Yes Sir," she said he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She started to walk away from the desk wondering if she really was making the right choice.
"Young!" he called after her.
"Yes Sir?"
"Get a fucking haircut before you come back, you hippy," he said not looking up at her, she reflexively ran her hand over the fine stubble on her head before stepping back onto the street.
"So, you did it," Gian said as Ginger put her cap back on.
"Yeah, guess I did," Ginger said with a laugh.
"Ok, so let's celebrate you throwing your life away," he chuckled. Taking Ginger by the arm he led her away to a local bar.
"Whiskey," Gian said to the bar man, he nodded and poured the drinks. They both took a sip, Gian enjoying the fine spirit, Ginger less so.
"This is a nice place," Ginger said looking round at the décor, noting that most of the men were wearing nice looking suits, a far cry from Red River 4.
