There were no negotiations, no concessions. The lines to join the military stretched from the main base’s gate and into the refugee camps. Training slots were scarce and Jacob had only managed to get in based on the help of his friend Stephens. Even though he didn’t see him often, the soldier made his presence known to Jacob and his family in other ways; sending care packages and additional rations when he could. Sometimes it was just a friendly note, or reassurances on the progress of the fighting outside the gates.
After Stephens’s wound healed, he fought to be sent back to the front; he was immediately refitted and assigned a new unit. As was common now, Stephens was quickly advanced from corporal to staff sergeant. Most of the trained standing army was gone, with experienced leaders hard to find. Anyone with prior—or especially active—military experience was assigned to units. Veteran soldiers were placed in leadership positions over men as fast as units could be formed with fresh recruits. Stephens was no exception. Jacob knew the man was out making runs and doing patrols deep into the danger zones, risking his life for the rest of them.
With Stephens’ word and the noted performance at the Battle of Museum Park, Jacob was given priority placement for a training date. That date approached faster than expected. Even with stalling from the doctors and pleading from Laura asking them for more time, Jacob was soon cleared and determined fit for duty.
During the recruiting process, Jacob pressed his education and work experience; he requested engineer or even officer training, but the recruiting sergeant’s grin said otherwise as he scribbled Jacob’s name on the top of a clipboard. The Army had engineers; what they needed were shooters, or bullet catchers as the recruiter described it. Jacob was given a slip of paper and a date to report… that date was yesterday.
He said his goodbyes to his family at the provost marshal’s office near the center of camp. There were several families there and other men who Jacob didn’t recognize. Some were younger than him, but many were far older and reporting directly from the refugee camps. He held Laura, speaking softly to her. They made promises to each other: him to return and her to wait for him. She promised to take care of Katy while he was away. His daughter didn’t seem to understand; she held his hand and hugged him good-bye, expecting to see him later that night at dinner.
Before he was ready, men in uniforms entered the building and ushered them all into the back of an already full truck. Jacob and the other recruits were driven to a remote location where several old buildings were grouped together and surrounded by chain link fence and tall poles with mounted spotlights. It looked more like a prison than a training camp.
The recruits were quickly removed from the trucks and stripped of all belongings outside of personal photos, a single religious item, and an identification card. They were then issued two olive drab uniforms, a pair of boots, and a set of shorts and T-shirts. The recruits were forcefully clustered together and herded to the end of a long wooden building. As they entered, Jacob was slapped in the chest with a set of white sheets and a green wool blanket. He was assigned a bunk and a locker number. When he stopped to ask a question, a sergeant at the front of the line grabbed him and shoved him into the room.
“Get to your rack and get some sleep… your time for questions is over,” the sergeant said gruffly.
Sounds of shouting outside the barracks broke Jacob from his reminiscent thoughts. He could hear men yelling and pounding. The door swung open, filling the room with bright, blinding light and screaming men. A sergeant stormed into the room, stomping his boots and banging a metal pail with a small hickory rod. In shock, Jacob sat up swiftly and saw other men fly from the bunks completely unprepared for the chaos. More men in uniform poured into the room, yelling and shouting instructions. A man in a top bunk was grabbed by his ankle and dragged out of bed; another was shoved to the ground when he stepped in front of one of the sergeants.
A leathered man, hardly five foot eight, marched into the room. He was dressed in starched trousers, a black sweatshirt, and spit-shined black boots. The man stomped from one end of the bay to the other and yelled in a loud baritone voice, “Drop your cocks and grab your socks; you’ve got five minutes to get your soft, worthless bodies formed up and out front!”
Jacob locked eyes with the man, who returned a cold, hard stare. He was old and calloused; a deep scar ran from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his cheek. Even though older, he was large and powerfully built, broad shouldered and intimidating. Jacob looked away, breaking the man’s stare and wondering what the hell had ever convinced him to sign up for this.
Jacob fell from his bed and scrambled for his trousers, feeling the man’s hate burn into him. Suddenly, he was afraid… afraid of bringing any attention on himself. The main thing Stephens warned him about training was to remain anonymous; Become invisible, don’t get singled out. He hurried into his boots and joined the others as they rushed out onto the short strip of white gravel directly in front of the barracks building. The sun had yet to rise, and it was cold, their breath forming little clouds of condensation in the freezing Canadian air.
The shocked recruits grouped together in a tight huddle, looking to hide their eyes from the glaring sergeants that circled around them like sharks.
