CHAPTER THREEJune 2004
The end of boot camp was just two days away, and the recruits no longer had to sound off or scurry about like roaches fleeing a blinding light in order to impress or please their drill instructors. They had already accomplished that and so much more.
Days had quickly turned into weeks and weeks into months and now boot camp and all its exhausting and chaotic rituals was coming to an end. Every recruit in Platoon 2036 had metamorphosed into a Marine by definition, if not by name. They were strong and bronzed from the sun, with chiseled jaws and long lines of muscle in their legs and backs. Most importantly, they were confident. The recruits walked with purpose. They were called Marines at this point in their training by everyone save one—their senior.
Staff Sgt. Sh
