The Marine Ch. 03

She hugged me tightly as I held in my arms one final time. "I'm going to miss you something fierce, Nate."

"Once I'm allowed, you'll hear from me and I'll come back whenever I can. Got my phone and we'll have free time, but I honestly don't know what it's going to be like. I have a good idea though."

"You'd better at least text me!"

I kissed her a final time before I let her go. She walked away first, glancing back once. Thankfully, there was only a smile on her face, followed by a rather shy wave farewell, before I passed through the barrier and walked up to the platform. I was full of nervous excitement travelling on the train, needing to change a couple of times as the journey from the north-west to the south-west of England wasn't a straight journey. But the final leg, I was on the train with numerous other recruits, and like last time, introductions were made and there was already an air of comradery in the air. We'd all been through the same shit to get to the point we were.

There were sixty of us in our training block. Fifty-five of were regular recruits, five of us were young officer candidates. Having been to CTCRM before, we had an inkling of what life was like, but we obviously knew nothing. We were still civilians, wet behind the ears. To be honest, looking back, we were utterly fucking clueless as to what we signed up for.

Phase one of training, for all recruits, is simply to turn us into partially trained soldiers. As proof that a Marine would not enjoy privacy, we would be accommodated in the Foundation Centre, a dormitory where all sixty recruits would spend their first two weeks. After a lecture from the base commander, we were introduced to our drill instructor, Corporal Anderson. He was a fucking unit. Blue eyes like ice. Looked capable of killing a man with one strike of his fist.

The first night was all about administration, paperwork, and the pledge of allegiance to the service, Queen and country. Considering the Queen was the head of state of Australia, it wasn't weird for me to do so. There were more medical and dental exams, glad I'd already passed at least two medicals, while my teeth were fine, so no problems there. We ate dinner as a group, more introductions being made, and certain accents stood out, mine in particular.

Reveille at 0500 the next morning didn't seem to shock any of us, up and about quickly. First stop was to the barber to have my head shaved. I wasn't too worried as my hair wasn't particularly long anyway. We were still dressed in civvies for the first couple of days until we were all given out kit and uniforms.

The first week was all about our fitness, and that's when we learned what we signed up for. I thought I was fit. And while I was, they pushed us until we were all about to collapse. Corporal Anderson was a motivator. It was his job. He'd see among us who was determined and motivated to make it, and who might be the weak link in the chain. While we would be moulded to work as a part of a team, it was also about the individual. Everyone had to pull their weight. We were all meant to be the best.

It was the simple things that fucked us over that first week or two as we learned the basics of how to be a Royal Marine. Simple shit like etiquette, housekeeping and personal hygiene. How to keep time was of vital importance. If you were even one second late, you were doing push ups. Badly made bed? Exercise. Kit in poor condition? Exercise. Failure to address an officer correctly? God damn, they'd punish all of us. Don't iron your uniform as instructed? Exercises. Everything had to be perfect, every single time. Just the folding back of the bed sheet over the blanket was important. Anderson would wander around with his tape measure. If it was wrong, he'd tear off everything and order it done again properly. The seam wasn't correct on your trousers? Iron them again. If you're late, it's your fault, go do some push ups.

The pride on all our faces when receiving our military uniform and wearing it for the first time meant the world, to be honest, including the blue beret. We all knew we'd earn the green beret when passing the commando course in another 30 weeks.

There were not meant to be any cliques, but I got to know the four others training to be officers rather well. They were all Brits -- two Englishmen, a Scot and a Welshman. We were all around the same age. None had attended university as they were determined to serve as soon as possible. We were all tall, confident though not arrogant, but wearing that uniform, the swagger was easy to see. But we were already so busy, we barely had time to think about anything anyway.

The first week flew by. Test after test, assessment after assessment. We collapsed into bed exhausted each night, but it was amazing how quickly we adapted to be woken at 0500, though we then spent half the day trying not to fall asleep if we were not in the idle of exercises and drills. More than one of us heard jokes about Royal Marines falling asleep while in lectures due to the sheer exhaustion. Once they stopped and sat down, we could apparently fall asleep immediately. Long as we were not on the job, so to speak.

The end of the week ended with a practice inspection of our kit for the foundation final inspection at the end of week 2. Unsurprisingly, most of us failed. I would say 'none of it was major' but that didn't matter. It had to be perfect, every single time.

The second week began with the first time I'd ever handled a weapon. Same went for nearly everyone. A couple did have experience with shotguns as they'd go shooting during the hunting season, otherwise, we were all virgins. There was no live firing, it was all about how to handle our weapon safely plus the care and maintenance of our weapon. The basic personal weapon of a Royal Marines Commando is the L85A2 assault rifle. 30 rounds per STANAG magazine, 5.56mm calibre. Capable of firing up to 775 rounds per minute. Weighing in at less than 5kg, I was surprised at how light it was.

On the second night, we had our first night in the field, known as 'Exercise First Step', and that's where we were instructed on the wet/dry routine. Simply put, when operating in the field, a Royal Marine should always ensure they have a dry set of clothes, so when out of our sleeping bag for duty or sentry, we put on our wet kit to leave a set of dry clothing when sleeping. I'll be honest, we all thought it sucked, but Anderson assured us it would one day save our lives.

Everyone believed him. He was a hard taskmaster, as expected, and would never be a friend (yet), but we already respected the hell out of him. He'd earned his stripes going through exactly the same thing. Everything he told us was from his own training, his own experience. Unlike what you might read or see in films, no-one gave him lip. He wasn't there to bullshit us. Whatever he said came from his own hard graft.

Close quarter combat was all about fighting with hand or blade. I'd say it started out 'easy' in the sense we didn't have to kick the shit out of each other immediately, but most of us already knew that you wouldn't always have a rifle or pistol and that, sometimes, war was still barbaric at its core.

The Friday of week 2 was all about experiencing a proper kit inspection. Everything had to be rolled out. Everything clean. Our weapon properly maintained. We knew this had to be passed to move on. I scrubbed and polished everything more than once. My kit was laid out just as instructed. But I wasn't the only one with butterflies in the stomach as eagle eyes checked every single piece of my kit. I saw the glances from others around me.

"Officer Cadet Smith," Anderson's gravelly voice stated.

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Pass."

I stood further at attention if possible. "Sir."

Over the weekend, we moved into our training block, which would be our permanent accommodation for the rest of our training. And from week three, we were assigned our training team and became part of a Troop. There was Troop Commander (Captain rank), Troop Sergeant (Sergeant rank), Four Section Commanders (Corporal rank), One Drill Instructor (Corporal Anderson, who would remain until we graduated) and One Physical Training Instructor (PTI, also a Corporal).

From then on, honestly, the weeks just melded into one. Our entire lives were dedicated to training. If we were not training, we were thinking about training. If we weren't thinking about training, we were asleep. There was no time to think about anything else. Discussions were about everything we'd learned, how we could improve, motivating each other, particularly if someone had a bad day. Everyone had a bad day from time to time. Even our instructors knew that. Sure, they yelled at us constantly, but it was to motivate us, and make sure we learned from our mistakes. But even those had to be moulded out of us. There was no time for emotion. We had to think logically, tactically, strategically, all for the cause. We cared about our fellow man in uniform, but what mattered was the objective.

In addition to training with the regular recruits, as a Young Officer, I had even further pressure on my shoulders as I was expected to leave after 60 weeks capable of not only carrying out orders effectively, but being able to lead and motivate men out in the field. Confident in my abilities, and able to project confidence into those men under my command. Though there are plenty of reasons, in a short conversation with Anderson, he said I was to be trained so the men I led would know I would never ask them to do something I could or would not do myself.

Week 5 saw our first proper time out in the field. 'Exercise Quick Cover', from the Monday to Wednesday, everything we leaned put into practice including field craft and close quarters battle, in addition to the daily morning inspection of kit, the wet/dry routine, sentry and patrolling. Thursday was all about preparing for the Friday, which was the end of Foundation Training. Of the 60 that had arrived on that first day, one recruit had abandoned training due to injury, two others had handed in their chit and left. But that didn't matter. What mattered on Friday was that it was also Families Day.

My grandparents and Hannah drove all the way down from Manchester to see me. All of us wore our dress uniform. We performed our marching drill in front of them before we were dismissed for the afternoon. Hannah made a beeline straight for me, though she stopped short as she looked me up and down, her eyes almost bulging.

"Phwoar, how fit do you look, Nate!"

Then I noticed my grandfather and the look in his eyes. He stopped before me and offered a salute. I came to attention and returned it, one retired Royal Marine to a recruit, before we hugged it out. "Your father would be proud," he said, hearing his own pride in his voice.

"Thanks, Grandad."

Grandma needed to hug me too, holding me by the upper arms. Nearly everyone was heading to Exeter, which was the nearest city to CRTCM, though there was Exmouth to the south. That's where most recruits headed if they were given a pass. Hannah simply didn't want to let go of my hand as we found a quiet pub to enjoy lunch. I hadn't touch a drop of alcohol since arriving, so made sure I sipped at the pint I was bought, but I had a healthy appetite and enjoyed the steak I tucked into.

"So... when are you required back, Nate?" Hannah wondered.

I smirked, glancing at our grandparents. "From what I remember, you do get tonight free," Grandad said, "This will be one of the few weekends you'll have free until you graduate, Nate. Take advantage of any free time you can get. You should have Easter off in a couple of weeks too."

I nodded. "Yes, our Troop Commander informed we'd leave Thursday before Good Friday, expected back during the Tuesday after Easter Monday."

He smirked. "Sounds about right. Most of us would probably have expected a week off. 'You want to pussy around for a week off, join the actual fuckin' navy' is what I was told."

"Will you come home for Easter?" Hannah asked.

"Of course. Probably end up sleeping the entire time though."

Once we finished lunch, we spent a little time wandering around Exeter as I'd been through the city on a train but never explored it. But Hannah was clearly getting antsy, so by the time light was fading, we were wishing my grandparents farewell, finding myself dragged to the hotel by an obviously incredibly horny young woman.

As soon as we were our room, I practically tore off her clothing while she did enjoy taking off my uniform, amused when I laid it on the back of a chair so it wouldn't crease. She dropped to her knees as soon as my cock sprang free, desperate to just suck me off to an orgasm before anything, surprising me even more by pulling my cock from her mouth and having me finish on her face.

Returning from the bathroom to wipe her face down with soap and warm water, we tumbled onto the bed and I made my way south straight to her pussy. Her scent was intoxicating and I wasted no time delving her depths with my tongue. She was so turned on, I must have made her orgasm within five minutes, and she demanded more. Much more. I happily ate her out until she'd had enough, only then kissing up her body to meet her eyes.

"Hello, gorgeous," I whispered.

"You are so fucking hot," she whispered back, "I mean, you were hot before, but now you're just like... Nate, I need your dick more than my next meal."

So I slid my cock inside her, both of us grinning as I buried and stopped, just enjoying the feeling of her hot, tight pussy around my cock once again. Then...

We spent the rest of the night fucking. Easiest way to put it. I might have felt tired, but stamina won out. I only stopped when she had to cry enough, laughing away when I finally pulled out after I came inside her again a third time. "Holy shit, Nate, you've destroyed my pussy. In a good way, a very good way, but I'm going to be walking rather funny all day tomorrow."

"Glad to know I've left my cousin a well fucked woman."

Training continued for two weeks until Easter, including 'Exercise Marshall Star'. In some ways, it was similar to 'Exercise Quick Cover', but far more detailed and everything we'd learned in the previous seven weeks was put to the test. What didn't help was the bad weather, which meant we had to pack up camp three times to find somewhere to camp.

Many of us admitted that we didn't particularly want to halt our training for Easter. We were in a groove, things were going well for some of us, others were struggling slightly, and they were the people who definitely didn't want to take their foot off the gas. But Easter and Christmas were two times of the year that everything did stop. Family was considered important. Every soldier needed to feel grounded, feel like they had a home to return to. They fought for their fellow soldier, but also fought for those who remained at home.

Travelling back to Manchester by train, I didn't mind wearing semi-formal uniform, and I knew many of my companions felt the same way. Wearing 'half lovats', it was made up of a stone-colour short sleeved shirt, green coloured trousers, blue beret, belt in the colours of my corps, and black boots rather than shoes. Like nearly everyone else, getting used to wearing boots had left my feet in awful condition the first few days. Now I was so used to them, I felt weird wearing anything else.

The family knew I was returning, and I'll admit seeing everyone waiting for me at Manchester Piccadilly pulled at the heart-strings. The one thing that saddened me was that those back in Australia would not be around for moments like this. Hand shaken, kisses on the cheek, the young members immediately asked plenty of questions.

"Where's Hannah?" I wondered.

"University doesn't let out until later today. I know she has a lecture and a couple of other classes." I grinned and Tony knew why. "Guess we could always go get her now."

Pulling up outside the main university building, I got out of the car and, after placing the blue beret on my head, marched into the building. I noticed the glances in my direction as I headed to administration. The lady I spoke to was rather taken aback by the Officer Cadet approaching her, asking where Hannah was in class. She pointed me in the right direction, ending up standing outside what looked like a regular classroom.

Carefully opening the door, the woman in charge of the class glanced my way. Putting a finger to my lips, she smiled as she likely assumed it was a surprise. Taking out my phone, I sent Hannah a text simply saying 'Look at the door'.

She heard her phone beep, taking a quick glance to see I was the one who sent the text. She opened it and turned right to look straight at me. She then screamed, stood up and sprinted towards me, leaping into my arms, feeling her arms and legs immediately wrap around me. When she started to cry, I had to joke, "You knew I was coming back!"

"I was expecting you at home, not here!"

Then I heard the questions about who I was, though Hannah didn't hear them, far too busy hugging me. To my amusement, the lady in charge cleared her throat and suggested everyone should just pack up and go home, considering it was mid-afternoon and people had to head return across the UK to see their families. I let Hannah go, placing her feet back on the ground, using a thumb to dry her cheeks before escorting her back to her chair so she could pack her things.

Taking my arm, I led her out of the building. I noticed she didn't look where she was going, far too busy looking at me. It was a quick drive back to Altrincham, appreciating the fact I would have my own room for at least a few nights, though Hannah would obviously be spending as much time with me as possible. I was keeping the family back home abreast of the situation, sending them a quick email of what I'd been up to, how training was going, and updates about life in general. They knew when I'd graduate, all being well.

It was another family dinner out, and I'll admit, I sat in silence most of the time, happy to listen to all the stories of ordinary life. And they learned about how a Royal Marine could fall asleep just about anywhere, as I practically passed out with pint in hand. Hannah gently shook me awake, giggling away. "It's even worse when we're in a lecture," I joked.

"How difficult it is, scale of one to a hundred?" Tony wondered.

"Oh, I'd say around one hundred thousand," I replied, amused when his face fell, "But honestly, I absolutely fuc... er, I mean, despite how exhausting it is, it's utterly brilliant. I haven't regretted it for a single damned second. They push and push and push, because they knew what we're capable of. I'm doing things now I didn't even know existed. I thought I was fit when I joined." I scoffed. "We must be some of the fittest people on the planet. Every day is exercise, in one form or another. The runs I used to do in the morning would barely be considered a warm up. Try marching five miles over rough ground, in full kit, in the middle of a thunderstorm. That sorts the men from the boys."

"Once a Marine, always a Marine," my grandad said, "Even to this day, remember the name of every recruit in my Troop. Good men, one and all. Most of us are still alive too!"

Returning home, Hannah and I enjoyed a hot shower before heading to bed. To my slight surprise, all she wanted was to spoon against me and have me hold in her my arms. I was fast asleep in second, only waking up when I felt soft lips against mine. "Now that's a better way of being woken up rather than reveille," I murmured.

After making love for a good hour or so, we got up to find breakfast ready. Bacon. Sausage. Egg. Hash Brown. Mushrooms. Black Pudding. Toast. Grandma insisted I eat until I was done, warning I'd eat them out of house and home if they weren't careful. As it was a sunny day, we headed out into town, though most things were closed. I wore civvies but always wore my beret. A few recognised it, a respectful nod or two in my direction.