Sergeant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 2) by Jonathan P. Brazee Read Free Book Online

something he vociferously denied. He was just interested in history, something that had bloomed in him during Dr. Berber’s classes back at recruit training. As long as he was studying, he figured he might as well earn a degree while he was at it.
    If he could ever keep on track, that was. He had a paper on the background leading up to the War of the Lost Surrender due by 2200 that evening, and he hadn’t even started writing it yet. He had started the research, but he’d gotten lost on a tangent reading about one of the true Marine heroes, First Lieutenant Ian Cannon, Jr., who was awarded the Federation Nova for taking command of the FS Ponce when the entire navy command had been wiped out, and instead of retreating, took the heavily damaged ship into the fray, destroying two enemy corvettes.
    “Uh, forgetting something?” Sams asked, pointing down to his own waist at his blue belt.
    Ryck had already changed into his skin trou and t-shirt PT gear before sitting down to study, but he hadn’t put on the yellow belt that signified his MCMA level. He went back to his locker and grubbed around until he found it. He put it on.
    “Satisfied?” he asked Sams
    “Now we’re talking ! Let’s diddiho. They’re already out there, and Hecs and the lieutenant’ll be out there soon,” Sams said.
    The three of them left the squadbay and made their way to the large, sawdust-filled pit where MCMA was conducted. MacPruit was already waiting, looking assured in his skin trousers , red shirt, and boots. Around his waist was a black belt, of course. He nodded at Ryck, but didn’t approach the other three sergeants.
    “See you two on the bounce,” Popo said as they split up to join their squads ringing the outside of the pit.
    Keijo and Prifit had been wrestling around, with Khouri egging them on when Ryck came up. He didn’t have to say anything, though. They both stopped and started a more appropriate warm-up. Within a few minutes, the platoon commander and sergeant came out, signaling the start of the instruction.
    “Marines of First Platoon, you ready to kick some ass?” MacPruit called out as he stepped into the training pit.
    He was greeted by a chorus of “oo-rahs.”
    “As all of you know, you NEED your MCMA belt to get promoted. Iffen you don’t have it, you ain’t gettin’ that next rank. Sose you all better pay attention. All you white belts, you ain’t safe, neither. Iffen I think you don’ rate that measly white belt, I can take it back right now,” MacPruit yelled out as he strode back and forth in the middle of the ring.
    Ryck wondered if he could take a yellow belt away, too. Not demote it to a white, but take it completely away. He decided he better keep that thought to himself. No use giving anyone any ideas.
    “But you are not here jus’ to qualify, jus’ to get promoted. You are Marines, an ’ you want to close with and destroy the enemy. This is what you’re made for! Am I right?”
    There was another chorus of “ oo-rahs,” but not quite as enthusiastic. Ryck thought MacPruit might have gone a little heavy with the demotion threat. Three of his Marines--Stillwell, Peretti, and Rey--were white belts, and they had to be a little nervous. The previous regimental MCMA instructor had never mentioned demoting Marines, so for most of them, this was a new concept.
    “Some of you ask why MCMA? Am I right?” MacPruit went on.
    Damn skippy! Ryck agreed. Golf Company was a heavy company. They fought in PICS. All this hand-to-hand stuff was so much horseshit. Ryck knew it was to foster the warrior spirit, but in reality, just like pugil stick training, it offered nothing for a Marine in combat.
    “Well, you aren’t always gonna be in your PICS, you know. You could go in light, or you can lose your PICS. Your own Sergeant Lysander over there, he lost his PICS when you guys were fightin’ on Luminosity, right? Without his PICS, he even got a Silver Star, right? So you never know, you never