Faction The Duties of A Drill Sergeant - CIS -

[Joesph Leigh]

Fondor, CIS Base, Barracks 5B
1200 Hours​

The old, peeling plaster walls and scratched durasteel floor of the barracks were in direct contrast to the well ironed, spotless gray fatigues that each man in the room wore. Sergeant Leigh walked down the row of troopers, all standing statue-stiff at attention in front of their bunks, the sheets tucked perfectly and straightened down to every minute detail as to not incur the wrath of the exacting Sergeant. But despite the orderly silence of the barracks, you could almost hear the nervous sense that hung in the air that each soldier felt as the Sergeant slowly walked down the row, inspecting each man, sizing them up with his quick eyes. And as he swiftly turned his head forward to face the old wall on the opposite side of the room, the sergeant breathed in quietly as he began to speak.
"I am Sergeant Leigh, your senior drill instructor. You will only speak when spoken to. From this moment forward the only words out of your sorry mouths will be 'Sir, yes Sir'. Have I made myself clear?"
The words bounced around the room, just as they echoed in the men's heads, and the silence quickly returned, only to be routed by a sudden shout that went up from all the men in unison:
"Sir yes sir!"
"Good. I am glad we understand each-other. You will not like me because I am mean. I am mean because I know that if you come back from the service in a body-bag, that is my fault. I am mean because you must be prepared for war. I do not want to make any wives widowers or children orphans. Is this understood?"
"Sir yes sir!"
The sergeant continued to slowly walk down the row of soldiers, observing each one, their body shape, their face. Many seemed unremarkable, the only difference species or facial structure. He stopped as he noticed something different about one of the soldiers. A Sullustan, his body thin as a rake. He faced the man and stepped closer to him, a few feet away from his face.
"What's your name, scumbag?" The sergeant said quickly, his voice almost automaton in nature. "Sir, Private Jedosi sir!" The recruit responded, his voice shaky, fumbling over-itself like a clumsy child. "Well, Private Jedosi, maybe I should give you a medal right now! You know why that is?" The sergeant let the words hang in the air a moment as the Sullustan opened his mouth to speak again. "Sir no sir!" The private replied. "Because you must've shown extreme bravery escaping that POW camp. Jesus, how bad they starve you there?" The sergeant quickly responded. "Sir, this is just how I look sir!" "Really, Private Ghoul?" "Sir that isn't my name sir-" The Sullastan began to say before a great yell filled the room. "Well it is now, Private Ghoul!" The sergeant bellowed. "Do you like that name, private?" "Sir yes sir!" It seemed the Sullustan had learned his mistake, as now he was trying his very hardest not to make Leigh angry. "Good, very good." The sergeant wheeled around and continued to walk down the line.

 

[Kiff Brayde]

R E V I E W

Tag: Joesph Leigh

If in a hundred different alternate timelines Kiff had been given the choice between serving as an infantry grunt or an exalted naval officer, he would've chosen a career in the Navy all the time. He preferred fighting in an environment where even his boots didn't need washing, much less labor in the trenches with a number of unknown and alien diseases as soldiers, both comrades and enemies, died all around you.

These poor saps had made the wrong choice. But Kiff didn't judge them for it -- and he didn't let that prevent them from standing in an observer's box propped up to the side of the parade ground. The military forces on Fondor were undertaking the lengthy process of a full review, and although Kiff's job solely concerned the Navy, apparently protocol dictated that he be here too. How. . . exciting it would be. Hours and hours of mindless drills and reviews. The worst part about it was that he had to be completely sober the whole time, too.

Now all there was to it would be for the new soldiers to make their entrance. Rumor had it that a new, tough Sergeant had been transferred to help shape up the influx of enlistees -- as if all Drill Sergeants weren't that way -- but either way Kiff was intrigued to see this man and his methods.
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