*Author's Note: This is another story I nearly had finished. I added a couple more pages then summed it up. I'm still burned out, but I managed to force myself to knock this one out. I hope you enjoy it.
I'm not sure how other services recruit officers who aren't ROTC students, but the Marine Corps uses commissioned officers, first lieutenants and captains, who are called Officer Selection Officers or OSOs (pronounced OH-sews) for short. Like their enlisted counterparts, they are saddled with monthly quotas, and like enlisted recruiters who don't make quota, they are relieved for failing to do so, effectively ending their careers.
Like enlisted recruiters, OSOs work for a Marine major who serves as the commanding officer of a recruiting station (RS) who, in turn, works for a Marine colonel who's in charge of a recruiting district made up of many recruiting stations. The entire east and west coast regions are under the command of a brigadier general, respectively. He or she is referred to as 'the CG' or commanding general.
OSOs typically serve three-year tours in a specific geographical area and recruit from any and all college campuses as well as looking for college graduates under 30 or whatever the current age limit is. More often than not, they wear what is called the dress-blue delta uniform, a term that means: short-sleeved khaki shirt, dress-blue trousers with red stripe, and a white barracks cover (often called a 'saucer cap' by Army soldiers.)
******
"Lieutenant Lucas. You ready to see the boss?"
"Um...yes, sir."
"Okay. I'll let him know we're here. Do you have any questions before we go in?"
Trevor Lucas had been an OSO for 35 months and never failed to make quota. Still, being summoned to see the commander of the entire district was either very good or very bad, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might possibly be bad.
"Am I being fired, sir?"
The 34-year old major laughed, slapped the 26-year old lieutenant who would soon be a captain, on the shoulder, then said, "No. Not hardly."
The major popped his head into his CO's office then said, "Sir? I've got 1stLt Lucas standing by."
"Good. Bring him in," the 44-year old veteran of three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan said without looking up.
"Aye, aye, sir," the major replied before motioning to the younger officer.
As Trevor walked in he wondered for the briefest of moments if he should actually report as in standing in front of and centered on the desk while saying, "Sir, First Lieutenant Lucas reporting as ordered."
Marines didn't salute indoors, so that wasn't in question, but as the older man stood up and came around his desk to shake hands, Trevor's question was answered.
"Lieutenant Lucas. Damn good to meet you, son. Have a seat."
"Aye, sir," Trevor said acknowledging the direct order while waiting for the major to point to where.
The colonel, who wore eight rows of ribbons four across along with gold jump wings and a silver scuba mask on top that nearly went over the seam of the shoulder, grabbed a chair and sat across from him, ignoring the major.
"You've been kickin' ass and takin' names, Lieutenant," the colonel said with a smile.
"Things have gone pretty well for me, sir," the younger officer modestly replied.
"Bullshit! Marines make things happen. You don't exceed quota every single month starting with your first month for three years by chance. And the Marine Corps rewards outstanding performance."
Still having no idea what was coming, Trevor, who was sitting up ramrod straight, replied, "Yes, sir," as he glanced at the major for a facial tell or some other hint.
"We've got a big-ass military appreciation conference going on in Miami of all places in two weeks—just before you PCS (PCS means permanent change of station and is shorthand for getting orders to a new duty station.) The CG's sending the five best recruiters from the east coast and the number-one OSO to the conference to put our best foot forward with the civilian community. The west coast is doing the same thing down in San Diego. The major will fill you in on the details, but you and the recruiters will spend five days in Miami representing us."
The nearly bald colonel who was built like like a fire hydrant smiled then said, "Don't screw it up."
"No, sir," Trevor replied with a nervous laugh of his own.
The older man got up as did the major who nodded at Trevor to follow suit. Once he was on his feet, the squatty old salt slapped the lieutenant on his left arm hard enough to almost cause him to lose his balance.
"Keep up the good work, Lieutenant. You've gotta a helluva future ahead of you."
He turned his back and as he walked toward his desk, he said, "Major? See the Gunny on the way out. She'll hook your young lieutenant up with orders and some info on the conference."
"Will do, sir," the major replied as he again nodded to Trevor to leave the room.
The female gunnery sergeant handed the major some papers and let him know she had the orders ready to go.
"I'll send them to your office two days in advance, sir. I'll do the same for the recruiters, but the lieutenant will need to get in touch with them and tell them when and where to meet once they arrive at their hotel in Miami which is...this one."
She had a brochure for the hotel, too, and handed that directly to Trevor.
"Got it. Thanks, Gunny," the major told her.
"Have fun, sir," she said to the lieutenant. "I hear that's Spring Break week, so it should be pretty arduous duty for a single Marine like yourself."
Trevor laughed and told her, "You know what they say, Gunny. It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it."
She laughed then went back to the mountain of paperwork in front of her having checked this one thing off of her list.
"Spring Break, huh? You need a major to carry your bags, Trevor?" the older officer asked, once they were out of the admin office.
He understood the comment and laughed.
"You're welcome to tag along, sir."
"No, thanks. I don't want to be called back into that office again anytime soon for any reason. I'd like to keep my job, too."
Again, Trevor laughed as the major said, "Speaking of jobs, the Colonel is right. You're killin' it, Trevor. Have a good time in Miami then get back here and get your relief snapped in. Captain Mortenson is due in two days before you get back. That'll give him time to check in and be ready to go to work the day you return."
The major opened the door of their government vehicle then said, "And you'll have just enough time to get him locked on before you check out and head for Camp Lejeune."
"I am gettin' short, sir," the lieutenant replied, indicating he was near the end of his current tour of duty as an OSO.
As they drove back to the recruiting station, Trevor browsed the materials he'd been given. He and the recruiters would have one day of travel before and after the conference, and being single, he finally allowed himself to think about something other than making quota; something that had consumed him since his first day on the job.
He could count on one hand the number of women he'd hooked up with in the last three years, and that same hand had sadly become his best friend in the romance department. OSO duty required 12-hours days six or seven days a week, and that left precious little time or energy for anything else.
By the time they got back to the RS, Trevor had a pretty good handle on what he and the other Marines would be doing. It was mostly a public relations affair. He and the recruiters would be part of a multi-service outreach to the community. He'd only be speaking once to introduce his fellow Marines, who, in turn, would pitch in and help out various businesses that worked with troubled youth. The hope was to attract a good number of those to either get back on the straight and narrow or, if they were 18 and otherwise qualified, to consider joining one of the four branches of the military. Any names of prospective enlistees would be forwarded to local recruiters who would be extremely grateful for the help.
The following day he called each of the five recruiters he'd be responsible for and let them know everything he knew before asking if they had any questions. The only one who didn't was recently married and not on the hunt.
All but the married Marine made some remark about Spring Break and/or cute co-eds, and the only thing Trevor could do was laugh and assure them he'd try and give them as much free time as possible. After all, this was essentially what Marines called a boondoggle. It was an unofficial reward for being the best of the best, and if it included some 'horizontal time' with a hot, young college girl or two, all the better.
The day before he had to fly out, Trevor's latest and last-ever contact passed the physical and would be the last person he would ever send to Marine Officer's Candidate School in Quantico, Virginia, that summer. He'd already reached his quota, so this was icing on the proverbial cake and that extra contract helped the RS make its mission for the month.
Hilton Hotel, Miami, FL
The last recruiter to arrive was a 27-year old staff sergeant who went directly to the hotel lobby to meet up with the other Marines, his bags still in hand. He had no trouble picking out the one and only officer from the others who were all in civilian clothes. It was almost always obvious who the officers were just by the way they looked and carried themselves. Sometimes, Mustangs (officers who'd been enlisted Marines for at least four years) fooled them, but in this case he had no difficulty spotting the boss who was around six feet tall with sandy blond hair, perfectly straight, white teeth, and a face women undoubtedly found attractive.
"Lieutenant Lucas?" he asked as he stuck out his hand.
"Yes. Glad to meet you, Staff Sergeant," the lieutenant said. "Have a seat and we'll be done with business and everyone can go hit the..."
Trevor smiled then said, "Weight room," and got a laugh.
He gave them 'the gouge', Marine-speak for what they needed to know for the following day before everyone exchanged room and cell phone numbers.
"Okay. So if there aren't any questions, we'll see everyone back down here tomorrow at zero six for chow. If you don't do breakfast, be here at zero seven and we'll head over to the convention center in the two cars we have between us."
Trevor got a couple of, "Yes, sir," responses along with an 'oorah' and one, "let's go make some hot young co-eds' day!"
Once they were gone, Trevor went back to his room and changed into some swimming trunks, grabbed a towel, his sunglasses and iPod, then went out the back of the hotel to the beach which was less than a hundred yards away.
It was warm and humid, just as he'd expected, but there was a decent breeze, and as far as he was concerned it was about as close to perfect as he could imagine. It was also as crowded as he'd thought it would be, and again, there was no surprise to find hundreds of college-aged kids, male and female, as far as the eye could see in either direction.
He found a small, open area in the sand, spread out the towel, then sat down and put in his ear buds. As his favorite music played he thought back on his own college days including the many hookups he'd enjoyed during the four most carefree years of his life. Those thoughts reminded his body of just how badly it needed female companionship which caused him to sit up and begin looking around in earnest.
It was just after noon, and while he was definitely looking, he realized the need for patience in order to hookup and decided to just sit and watch girls go by for an hour or so. After doing a ton of looking, he finally saw exactly what he wanted and got up and started heading her way.
She had long, dark hair, a very pretty face, and a body that made his react. But just as he got to within a few feet of her, a guy about her age walked up out of nowhere and put his arm around her.
He heard her say, "Hey, baby! Where have you been?" causing Trevor to spin around to head back to his towel.
