“Sir yes sir!”
All twenty thousand troopers drop down and start their push-ups. The drill sergeant looks pleased at the men working hard to get fit for their mission. He walks over to a group at the edge of the barracks. They seem slower than the rest.
“What’s wrong with you dumb asses!” he yells.
“But it’s cold here,” one of them complains.
The sergeant does feel the cold seeping in from outside. The general could be going commando again. He wishes he doesn’t do that, it makes it hard for him to get the soldiers ready.
“Suck it up and pick up the pace,” he says, “that’ll make you warmer.”
He walks over to the compound communication system. His men inside the barracks must have the best possible care to survive the hardships of battle. They all know it’s a suicide mission, but only one has to make it. That would change the world.
“Drill sergeant here at the barracks,” he says in the communicator. He has a direct line to the head and has priority clearance. He can demand anything. The head knows how important they are.
“Half of my troops are getting cold here,” he continues, “what’s going on out there?”
There is no direct response from the other side.
“What in hell are you doing up there?” he demands.
Still no response.
“Just get me more heat in here.” He drops the connection and gets back to his men. They finished their push-ups and are waiting for further commands.
“Okay men!” he shouts, “now you all pick up a training sword and practice your stabbing.”
All around him soldiers pick up a sword and start waving it about. It’s a new technique they are trying. All past attacks failed and not one of them even got close to enter enemy territory. Oh, the practice runs were perfect in execution. The troops are in a very good condition. But still they couldn’t get past the gate.
At one attack the drill sergeant asked the head to send in a spy and check out what was going on. The answer was shocking. The general blocked the gate himself, on purpose! But that’s not what they were training. So the sergeant asked the head for any extra information about the barrier. After some discussion they came up with a solution: the swords.
Then the ground shakes and the walls contract.
“Put down your weapons!” the drill sergeant shouts. The last thing he wants is to have his men kill each other just because the head now wants to turn up the heat in here. If only they’d been listening before.
The shaking stops. The space they have now is at it’s minimum, but he’ll make do.
“Men!” he shouts.
“Sir yes sir,” is the respond.
“Get ready for swimming practice!”
“Sir yes sir!”
All twenty thousand drop into the water and start swimming.
“Battle formation!” the sergeant commands.
All day long the practice continues.
An alarm sounds. All troops get ready for action. They line up at the exit tube. They warm up for the battle ahead. The toughest soldiers get to the front and the fastest swimmers ready themselves for the sprint to the enemy target.
“Remember the formation and all we practiced,” the drill sergeant says, “I’m proud of you all, no matter what happens.”
He walks up to the communication system. The lines are busy with chatter. He can hear everything that’s happening. The supply lines to the war machines are running as fast as they can to keep up with the high demands. The drill sergeant shakes his head. The other divisions never work as hard as he and his troops. Only two others can get close to their regime. But those only practice once, maybe twice a day.
The alarm changes and the gates to the exit tube open.
“GO GO GO!” he shouts as the first of the soldiers exit the barracks, “Battle formation and swords out!”
Now he can do nothing but wait. The head will confirm success or failure after the battle assessment. And the final results could take up to six weeks to get in.
The first soldiers arrive at the gate with swords at the ready. Behind them the bulk of the force push hard at their backs to try and break through. The material is hard to break, it’s of a good quality. All around the front soldiers fall in the battle. The gate is coated with some poisonous gel. More soldiers use their swords and they narrow the point of attack. With more than half of them already dead a crack appears. They all shout success and push on past the last resistance. They make a hole for the fastest swimmers at the back and let them pass. They protect them from the gel all around them now.
“Good luck guys!” a soldier shouts with his last breath. The last survivors shout the swimmers on as they disappear behind enemy lines.
Russ pulls back and looks at the girl he just had. She smiles. She strokes his cheek and reaches up for a kiss. Just before their lips meet she stops and looks down. A cold mess spreads between them.
“Dammit!” she shouts, “the condom broke!”