Lewis had just come back from dinner, her head feeling over-stuffed from the rapid fire classes she'd attended and her body aching with fatigue. She'd just turned in the M-60 assistant gunner's bag after her classes, as well as the four ammunition boxes full of rocks and everything else people had given her to carry during the day. Since she'd been listed as the assistant M-60 gunner yesterday Stokes had made her carry the bag and the boxes while wearing her Kevlar vest and her LBE, with her mask strapped to her hip during PT so she could get used to running while carrying it all.

"To build up strength and endurance," the big Amazon had said.

She ehad to carry it on her mile "acclimation run" that morning. The gunner's bag had two spare barrels, cleaning gear, an asbestos oven mitt, two upper loading trays, and some repair equipment. She'd had to drape 200 rounds of belted blanks on her torso after the exercise part of PT so she carried it on the run. At least Putter had told her to point the tips away from her so she didn't get poked. To top it off, because she'd shot expert on the pistol and the M3, she'd been given the choice of her additional sidearm. She'd chosen the .45, and now had to carry the pistol and six magazines. Right after breakfast, during the class break, Lewis had to go and draw her new .45 and her M-16, was issued magazines full of blanks, and had to arrange everything again. During class William Stillwater had come up and hung a chemical detector off her canteen.

Cromwell and Putter had each told her that she'd get used to the extra weight. Right before lunch Stokes had walked up, dropped a bandoleer of 40mm practice grenades around Lewis's neck, and walked off. About an hour later Foster had walked up, put two extra batteries for his radio in her right hip pocket. An hour before dinner and Sawmoth had walked up and dropped something called a Combat Lifesaver's bag around her neck, making her adjust everything. Ten minutes later Stokes came by and stuffed a practice Claymore landmine into Lewis's left thigh pocket.

Lewis had practically been waddling when she went to dinner. She had felt loaded down with gear during the day and on the run.

Now she felt like she was floating as she walked up the stairs from the bottom of the barracks to the CQ Area. Her knees and hips and lower back ached, but it felt weirdly good to Lewis. She found she was looking forward to tomorrow, even though she knew that during the day she would have people put more and more gear on her.

She'd understood what it was about. Weighing her down after she'd already started to get tired, in order to build strength and endurance.

Lewis was starting to understand why all the women in the hot-site squads were so buff.

When she pushed into the CQ Area she saw Sergeant Battle leaning against the counter. The higher ranking female turned to Lewis.

"You're in First Squad, correct?" The senior NCO asked Lewis.

"Yes, Sergeant," Lewis said, stopping and going to Parade Rest.

"At ease, soldier," Battle smiled.

Lord, to be so young and full of energy again, Battle thought wryly as Lewis relaxed.

"You know where Sergeant Stillwater's room is?" Battle asked.

"No, Sergeant," Lewis admitted.

"Room 275," Battle said. She gave a soft laugh. "He's been in that room since before the paint dried on this building."

"Room 275," Lewis repeated.

"Second floor, far end, halfway down," Sergeant Battle told her.

Lewis wondered why her Platoon Sergeant was telling her where her Squad Leader lived.

"Room 275, second floor, past the double doors, halfway down," Lewis repeated.

"Right. Have you eaten?" Sergeant Battle asked.

"Yes, Sergeant, I just got back from turning in my gear," Lewis said.

Sergeant Battle glanced at the clock. "Go to the chowhall, get a takeout," Sergeant Battle held out a slip of paper, which Lewis moved up and took. "Grab all that, take it to Sergeant Stillwater."

Lewis frowned, looking at the paper.

double rations, two oranges/apples, vitamin pack, to go

She looked up as Sergeant Battle kept speaking.

"Stillwater is on bed rest, not allowed to walk except to use the bathroom," She sighed, and rubbed the back of her left hand with her right. "We know he has a room-mate, but..."

Lewis could feel the irritation off the senior NCO and wondered what it was about.

"He'll need help getting to the bathroom," Sergeant Battle said. "When he's done eating, he needs to take him pain killers."

Lewis nodded, understanding now. Stillwater was on bed rest because of his leg and wouldn't be able to walk easily. She remembered his falling down yesterday after only a few steps.

"Get him dinner, watch him take his medication, take him to the bathroom," Lewis said. She remembered Stillwater sitting on the sandbags, after trying to walk, looking at his leg and mumbling that he was just hurt. He'd try to play off his injury, and Lewis was willing to bet he'd try not to take his medication. Lewis looked at her Platoon Sergeant. "Make sure he takes the medication."

Sergeant Battle nodded. "I know he outranks you and he's more than a little intimidating, but don't let him push you around. It's an order from Lieutenant Masters and myself."

"Is it going to be a problem that I'm a female?" Lewis asked.

"It shouldn't," Sergeant Battle said.

Lewis nodded, looking at the clock. Thirty minutes till the chow hall closed. "I should leave now."

"Two man rule," Sergeant Battle turned back to the CQ Area. "Specialist Miller, Private Lewis is new, she'll need an escort."

The guy on the other side of the CQ counter nodded, getting up and grabbing his softcap. He walked around the corner of counter, moving up next to Lewis.

"Thank you, Private," Sergeant Battle said. "In Third Mag, we take care of our own."

"Yes, Sergeant," Lewis said, nodding. She'd started noticing that fact yesterday at the range.

She left the barracks, walking with Miller down the road, crossing so they could walk on the gravel. Miller was quiet for a little bit, keeping his pace slow so that  the newbie didn't end up passing out on him. As they walked, Miller kept spitting on the ground and Lewis realized he had a lip full of chewing tobacco.

"So you're one of the new Atlas crew?" Miller asked.

"Yes, Specialist," Lewis said.

Miller shook his head. Straight out of AIT they were either overly formal or had serious discipline problems and thought they were popular in AIT so would be popular in 2/19th.

"Didn't I see you walking around covered in gear?" Miller asked.

"Yes, Specialist. Members of my squad and Support kept putting stuff on me to carry," Lewis said.

Miller nodded. "You guys in Third Mag end up humping a lot of gear out at your sites, but better safe than sorry."

Lewis just nodded again.

"How are you liking 2/19th so far?" Miller asked.

Lewis thought about her first week. "I like it. I get along with my room mates, the classes are fun, and I'm a little nervous about going out to the site, but I'm looking forward to it."

Miller nodded again, spitting in the gravel. "That's good. This is a tough place, Lewis. Dangerous as hell out those hot sites. Kinda glad I'm a mechanic."

"Do you know Stillwater?" Lewis asked.

Milled shrugged. "About as well as someone not in Third Mag or not at his site can. I've been here almost a year and I know that Stillwater isn't back at garrison very often. I've drank with him a couple of times. He's a lot more chill than people think."

Lewis nodded.

"Who are you rooming with?" Miller asked, spitting in the road.

"Cromwell and Stokes," Lewis answered.

"Ice Queen and Amazon. Damn. That's gotta be intimidating," Miller said.

Lewis shook her head. "They're really nice. A little strange," she started.

"Yes, the hot-sites will do that to you," Miller interrupted, spitting again. "What happened to your eye?"

"Um, fighting upstairs," Lewis said.

Miller nodded. "Up on the fourth floor with Monkey and those other people?"

"Yeah."

"Like it?"

"I think so. It's weird though."

"Fighting for fun? I guess. Some people like boxing and martial arts though, so I guess it ain't that different," Miller said, spitting into the street again. They walked up the steps to the chow hall and Miller nodded at the door. "I'll wait by the back door. Don't feel like pulling my dip."

"Okay," Lewis smiled. She pushed in the door and the female soldier manning the sign in looked up.

"Back again?" She smiled.

"My platoon sergeant asked me to pick up food for my squad leader. He's injured and on bed rest," Lewis said.

"Stillwater?" She asked.

Lewis nodded, writing Stillwater's last name in block letters on the sign-in sheet.

"Good. Having him gimp around with that bad leg is goddamn embarrassing," The female said. "Pisses me off seeing him stagger around with that bad leg. Captain Wilson sprains his wrist last summer and has a profile for four months and surgery to ensure there's no lasting effects, but an enlistedman with a busted leg? Fuck him, right?"

Lewis just nodded. That seemed to be the opinion of most of the enlisted she'd met about injuries.

"Go in," The female waved.

Lewis went in, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She loved the smell of the chow hall. She bypassed the tray and plates and waved at one of the cooks, a male in all whites who's nametag read "Hill".

"Whatcha need, Lewis?" Hill asked her.

"My platoon sergeant sent me down to get dinner for my squad leader. He's on bed rest," Lewis said.

Hill nodded. "All right. Grab one of those Styrofoam containers," He pointed out.

Lewis dug out the paper. "It says to get double rations for him."

Hill shook his head. "We don't do that unless you have a profile."

"It's for Stillwater," Lewis tried.

Hill nodded. "Yeah, either one of them are monsters. All right. Older or younger?"

"I don't know," Lewis admitted, picking up the Styrofoam. "Shorter one with the bad leg."

"Younger," Hill nodded. When Lewis held the container out he put two pork chops in.

"Thank you," Lewis said, moving down the line. Double helping of mashed potatoes and gravy, four biscuits, double heaping of broccoli covered with cheese, and two slices of cherry pie. She went out to the salad tray, put some of the salad in the last little corner, picked up a vitamin package, then an orange and an apple.

Smiling, she headed back out where Miller was sitting on the steps, staring off at the distance and spitting in the bark under the shrubs.

"Ready?" She asked him.

Miller nodded.

They were silent walking back, till they got to the far door on the barracks. "Go in there, it'd be quicker."

Lewis shook her head. "I was told never to use that stairwell, that it was dangerous."

Miller just shrugged. "All right."

At the Middle Entry they turned and walked up to the door, pulling it open.

"Thanks for coming with me," Lewis smiled.

"No problem," Miller said as Lewis went up the stairs. "Tell Stillwater I said to go fuck himself," Miller said with a smile.

"Will do," Lewis grinned back.

She turned around, pushing the door open, and stood in the hallway. She took a left and realized the odd numbers were on the left. She walked down until she reached Room 275, which had a nametag on it.

SGT STILLWATER, A.
FIRST SQUAD/3RD MAG
---------------------------
PFC ROBERTS, J.
FIRST SQUAD/3RD MAG

Lewis sighed. Great. Roberts. She'd been able to largely avoid him, except for yesterday when she'd told him to close his vest. She'd only tried to help, to keep him from getting yelled at, but he'd acted snotty right off the bat, bringing up his rank the same way he had in AIT when he was E-2 while pretty much everyone else was E-1. She sighed again, then knocked three times, standing there waiting. After a minute the door opened and Roberts stood there.

"What?" He asked.

"Is Sergeant Stillwater in?" Lewis asked, doing her best to be nice.

"Yeah," Roberts said, rolling his eyes.

"Sergeant Battle sent me to get him dinner," Lewis said.

"Fine," Roberts said, holding out his hand. "Give it here."

Lewis felt a little intimidated. She held it out and Roberts took it.

"I'm supposed to," Lewis got out.

Roberts slammed the door in her face.

"Hey!" Lewis banged on the door. "Hey!" She banged on the door again.

"What?" Roberts opened the door after a minute. Lewis noticed he didn't have the food. Lewis could see Sergeant Stillwater leaning on the back of the chair at the desk, the container of food set on the desk. He was dressed in shorts with a shirt on, and Lewis could see his leg was covered in bruising still.

"I'm supposed to make sure he takes his painkillers," Lewis said, somewhat lamely.

Stillwater carefully sat down, his leg sticking out. "What does she want?" he asked. Lewis noticed his voice was rough, gravelly again.

"She says she's supposed to make sure you take your painkillers," Roberts said, staring at Lewis.

"Tell I'm fine," Stillwater said, opening the container. Lewis noticed he was having trouble moving his right arm.

"He'll be fine," Roberts said, shutting the door.

Lewis stood there for a moment, fuming. After a minute she turned and stomped to the Middle Stairwell, heading down and into Titty Territory. Her room door was locked, so she quickly unlocked it, opened it, and went inside, snapping the lock. She stomped into the dimly lit main room.

Miranda was watching a porn and Heather was laying on the bed reading a book. Both of them were dressed in PT shorts and T-shirts.

Lewis stomped across the room and yanked open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of beer and opening it. She popped the cap and stomped over to the chair, sitting down and glaring at the floor.

"What's wrong, Bobbi?" Miranda asked.

When Lewis looked up she saw both of the women were looking at her and that Miranda had paused the porno she was watching.

"Fucking Roberts. He's such an asshole," Lewis said, taking a drink off the beer. "I was just doing what Sergeant Battle asked me to and he had to be a dick about it."

Both of the other women frowned.

"What were you asked to do?" Heather asked.

"She asked me to get Stillwater dinner, then help him to the bathroom and make sure he takes his painkillers," Lewis said. "I was just doing what I was told."

Miranda and Heather looked at each other. "OK. Go on."

"I took it up there, and when he took the food, he just slammed the door in my face before I could explain it to him. Then when I told him I was supposed to make sure that Sergeant Stillwater took his painkillers, he said he'd be fine and Roberts slammed the door in my face."

Heather got up, sighing. "I'll handle this," She told Miranda. She pulled on her running shoes, closing the Velcro tabs. She looked at Lewis. "You can bring the beer, but lets go."

"I don't want to cause problems," Lewis said, suddenly worried her squad leader would be mad.

"You aren't the problem," Heather said.

"She's an E-1, Heather. She doesn't want to be there when Mommy and Daddy start fighting," Miranda chuckled. "You go handle it, me and Bobbi will stay here."

Heather nodded, grabbing her keys and heading out of the room.

"I'm not going to get in trouble, am I?" Lewis asked. "I mean, I don't want Stillwater mad at me."

Miranda shook her head. "Naw, Ant's the one in trouble, not you."

"OK," Lewis said.

"Drink your beer, Bobbi," Miranda chuckled, turning back on the porno. "It'll be fine."

Lewis hoped so.