Up ahead, the line of the platoon stretched out, Brutus's different colored uniform sticking out. Stepping out of line, she jogged up the middle of the road to catch up to him, falling in next to him. "How're you feeling?"
Brutus's face was once again roughly the color of swiss cheese. He nodded grimly.
"Orkin gave me what he called 'Ranger Candy.' He laughed when I asked him what it was. Told me nothing compared to what I'd get from the Bluecats, but it'd take the edge off."
Linda huffed a small laugh herself. "Eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen. You'd be surprised at how much you can get done on a couple of those."
Brutus nodded, keeping his head down. "Yeah well, he lied, or else I'm in worse shape than I thought. At least I've got one thing going for me."
"What's that?" Linda asked, and Brutus looked up to glance along the line of the company, two platoons in a single line on each side of the two-lane road.
"You guys look tired too," he said, cocking a little grin. "I guess fifteen miles takes it out of everyone."
Linda couldn't disagree. Her knees screamed with each step. Sixty pounds of gear, plus the ache of fifteen miles, made every muscle protest. The pack, body armor, and equipment she carried was almost one and a half times her normal body weight.
"Just a half mile to go, and we can drop this crap," Linda assured him. "First platoon might already be able to see the company area even."
"Cool," Brutus grunted. "But I'm going to be so happy to have a hot shower."
"So will everyone," Linda said. "Which means, of course, that we're going to drain the barracks water heater and nobody's going to get more than five minutes of middling hot water."
Brutus grunted again. "That'll be a start. I can get the sweat and stink off of me at least."
When they reached the company area, Linda gratefully dropped her rucksack, mimicking the practiced movements of her team, and was relieved to see Brutus do the same, he was fitting in. She unstrapped her body armor, feeling pounds lighter as the weight lifted off her shoulders.
Up front, Major Kirk brought the company to attention, and looked around.
"At ease!" he called, grinning as the company relaxed slightly while staying in their organized lines. "Well that's a fun way to greet a Sunday, isn't it?"
"Hooah!"
Kirk laughed. "That's what I thought too. Which is why I had a little discussion with the XO, and Captain King had a great suggestion. One final surprise extra duty."
Linda glanced down the line of the squad at Brutus to see his reaction. The man had just endured a three-day training exercise where he'd slept in a sleeping bag on the ground, eaten nothing but field rations, and gone through almost half a dozen different training scenarios.
None of it was hard for the members of Charlie Company, but it had challenged Brutus to his limits. He'd spent three days not only not being the best in the group but getting subtly embarrassed constantly. Like Orkin had wanted, Brutus had gotten shot more than once during the exercises.
Yet he held his demeanor throughout the entire exercise, not complaining at all. He did it now too, not letting any disappointment show on his face as a few other members of the company groaned. Perhaps he was just in too much pain to care, he still looked like he was holding back a scream by sheer force of will.
But then, Major Kirk smiled. "Today's last duty is... a barbecue. So go stash your rucks in your rooms or your vehicles, and get your weapons cleaned and checked in. Captain King and I will get the barbecue started. Right, Captain?"
"Long as you didn't forget the gasoline, sir!" King called, getting plenty of laughs.
King was a good XO, and everyone in the company thought they were lucky to have an officer like him as second in command. In any other unit, he'd have already been a company commander, but that's the way the 3/3 operated.
Linda took her ruck sack into her room, dropping it off before quickly changing undershirts, pulling on a warm and dry shirt to go along with a fresh polypropylene top. Outside, the sun immediately felt warmer as everyone found a spot to clean their weapons. Music broke out as someone, probably Tyrone Crews judging by which window it came from, turned on a stereo.
"So how's it look?" Brutus asked, offering her the M4.
Linda ran a practiced eye over the weapon. "Good job. Really good. You actually got it cleaner than some of the lifers. How'd you get the barrel clean so quickly?"
"DJ showed me," Brutus said, referring to Derrick Jackson.
Brutus had become familiar with the lower enlisted, and Linda approved. They openly called him 'Superstar' or 'Brutal,' while he would often refer to them by their company-given nicknames as well.
"Instead of using the normal swabs and solvent, use a length of string and a thin strip from an old sock. He loaned me his."
Linda laughed, nodding. "I use the bottom hem out of an old t-shirt personally, but same effect. Okay, go check with Sergeant Lincoln and get your weapon checked in. Sergeant Lincoln, got a check for you!"
