Day 14

Last night Norman dismissed me at 0250 hours, after Neil had me weeping with bleeding Knuckles!
Hardly two hours of sleep again.
I'll go insane if this goes on.

I dragged my body to the washroom, took a quick shower, washed my clothes, changed and retired to my shop called bed - my sleeping bag outside Mr. Jerk's room.

I kept my diary near my head so that any CTO planning to kick my bottom can look at it and hopefully doesn't disturb me. If I need anything to survive right now, it is their pity. And also Norman to actually start testing me instead of torturing me.

As soon as my body got flat, I was out in a flash.

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I woke up to the sound of my alarm.
0440 hours.
I used to think that getting up early back in frozen Kravendale mornings was the hardest thing to do. But I'm proven wrong again. Getting up at 5 here is even harder despite the pleasant weather.

Twenty minutes was too much time to get ready. Almost double, yes. But only if you exclude this one task in my hand - learning German all over again, in twenty days. Norman would never give me time to read and I can't afford to not complete the task. So I have to take out time by cutting my sleeping hours.

Ten minutes of study every day and taking out a few minutes here and there revising what I learnt has worked in past few days. But it is not enough to finish the remaining days. It's impossible!

But do I have any other option?
No.

Can I try and wiggle out of it?
Not unless you want to lose your only hope.

Can I manipulate and earn some time to study?
You have eyes on you 24x7. Norman will know about it and then boom!

The fuck am I supposed to do then?
Just keep fitting in. And work hard whenever you get time.

That's all I can think of. I hope Neil sees that I tried my best.

Finishing my shower talk with self, I head out quick and get ready.
Taking the book back to washroom, I start studying.

Why washroom - you'd ask.
I genuinely don't want anyone looking at me and wasting my time asking 'What are you reading?'
'why are you reading this?'
And hundred others which make no sense.

Also, all CTOs have their bathrooms attached to their own rooms so nobody will come and disturb me here.

Getting ready for another humiliating day, I knock on Norman's door.
"Crunches."
He called from inside.

That's like a daily norm. He'll make me do sets of some workout till he gets ready. Then he'll ask me random questions to get wrong answers and kick start my insult for the day.

"Which rifle have you used the most at KMA?"
He opened his door when I had completed 139 crunches.

"M16-A2 rifle, sir."
I chilled down because I'm going to beat his ass in the viva he's going to take soon.

"Length?"
"One Hundred point six centimetres, sir."

"Weight?"
"Three point nine nine kgs with magazine, sir."

"Range?"
"Eight hundred metres for area target and five fifty metres for point target, sir."

"Muzzle velocity?"
"Eight hundred and fifty three meters per second, sir."

"Rate of fire for burst rounds?"
"Ninety per minute, sir."

"Magazine capacity?"
"Thirty rounds, sir."

It was like a cake walk.
All these figures are literally at the tip of my fingers.

"What is your best reload timing?"
"Two point O one seconds, sir."
I hold myself back from spitting that on his face.

He raised his eyebrows. I know, it's impressive.

Well why wouldn't it be?
I love my weapons so much I can spend all day firing. M16-A2 and I are joined at the hip. Such is our love. If I'm out, so is she.
Though it's the most basic rifle a soldier gets throughout his career, and there are literally hundred times better and technologically superior weapons that I know I'm going to have the pleasure of shooting with, Class-I or not, but M16-A2 will always be closest to my heart.

"But you're not getting anywhere close to one, so stop feeling like a Boss."
He said kicking me out of my 'on top of each other' moment.

"Yes sir."
I replied with pressed lips.
I was on 187 and my abs had started to heat up. He needs to get ready and come out fast.

"Are you studying?"
Neil's voice almost distracted me from my counts. Focus, James! Don't lose that mental count.

"Yes, ss.. Neil."
"Good."
He nodded and walked away laughing.

He's going to be on my ass on Day 20. I need to pull up my socks if I want to look into his eyes that day.

Norman finally got ready to walk down the aisle.
Fucker.

My viva restarted.
This time on Carbine - my moonlight.
Bam bam answers and he was hurt enough to spoil the rest of my day.

There we go.
Or rather run.
Roll may be.

We go out for a ten mile run everyday. Sometimes twice. I won't be surprised if it becomes thrice soon.

I am a good runner. And I came to know about it during first few months of KMA. While other boys used to detach their lungs out just to give them more oxygen, I'd take a few moments to come back to normal and would even be ready for another run.
My thighs never gave up on me for running. It was like my second nature. And Beta did nothing but improve my timings.

He came to know about my 'hidden talent'. After trying and testing me at any day of the time, sometimes after we've been through hell and back, I gave him timings that he had never seen on the board.

Soon the decision to prepare me as the trial case was taken and I was pushed into worse. My runs were no longer equal to that of my batchmates. It was always a few miles more. And being the SC helped even further - I was on field at any time of the day or night when any instructor or trainer remembered something that my batchmate or even a junior did wrong. Funny how I'd be the only person paying for his mistakes, at times.

While KMA picks up stones and polishes them to shine, Norman planned the opposite. He decided to use my talent against me. He understood I run good and painlessly. So he turned them into painful ones. Now we would go for run but I'll be having a ten kg bagpack with either dumbbells or chest plate or barbells in my hands.

God plays with you in many ways. In mine, he was glad to come up with giving endless strength to my thigh muscles and making rest all weak enough to cramp earlier than a normal human would.

While my thighs would complain a little, my back, shoulders and worst - my hands were giving up each day. It would become unbearable to even think of the under water punches that Neil makes me do almost every midnight.

Today was no different.
Two phases of ten miles run - one with 5kg dumbells and another with a 5kg sand bag necklace, with every instructor taking a piece of the cake, introducing me to every form of torture they've learnt in their 10+ years of experience, then begging Norman to let me have water to live, have a few grains down my 'pathetic' throat, and rest my 'lousy ass' - had me questioning myself 'Why the Fuck are you here?'

But the worst thing was to take Norman's permission to relieve myself. Washroom calls were dreadful for me because I felt the most humiliated to ask him to go to loo. He'd look at me as if I don't deserve such a thing called 'Loo break' but permit me anyway.

That was the biggest reason I went against my own body and decided to cut down on my water intake. I followed it for one day and gave up on it the very next.
I was fucking tired - doesn't even cover it.
Never again am I going below my required water intake, until I'm not permitted to do so.

Then there was a series of tasks I was supposed to complete - most of them were none other than being Norman's personal assistant, typer, duster, washerman, driver etc etc.

But one task that was hovering over me and that I'd taken seriously since day 1 was Neil's. I try to steal free moments from here and there but even then my progress is slow as sloth.
I'm really afraid to disappoint him but I am doing my best.

But if this goes on, I'll collapse on the way on our next run. My head feels like a ton and the rest of my body feels like a hundred more.

But what's vexing me more was my pitiful state. How can I be this dashed! I have faced bad and worse at KMA. Why is this treatment bothering me so much? Why am I not able to cope up with this pressure?

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You know you're right on the edge when you start doubting yourself after standing tall for years straight. That's when you are most likely to give up. That's when you get trust issues. That's when you are likely to lose.

Going by how seriously Norman is taking his job and following Commander's orders of making him sign out at any cost, James might actually call it quits.

What are your thoughts on this?
Vote and comment.

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Now there's something I have been thinking about, for a very long time.
How many of you would follow if I, JustDream431, make an account on IG?
Will I be getting any followers there at Instagram?
I just want to hold trivia and share my favourite paragraphs and reader's comments and all the little details and happy moments that I've been gifted with, thanks to my books.

And who knows, I might drop big clues and future prospects there? 😉
It sounds like a whole different world to me. The one that'll have all the characters at one place.

What's your take guys?
@ those readers who have never commented or voted - this question is more for you. Would you like it if James and his men are there on IG too? Let me know HERE.

If there is enough response, I'll plan.
I'm so excited!
But I'm not going to do it if the excitement is going to die down alone with just me.