Push Harder

Jen Quinn1

Push Harder2

Kara Rowe walked the length of the dim squad bay, the red light of the flashlight clipped to her war belt playing over the mostly empty racks as she moved. She hated having the first firewatch. Everyone was still awake, including the sergeant instructors. But even though her fellow candidates were moving around, getting things ready for the next day of training, only the two on firewatch would attract the SI’s attention. Kara’s heart beat faster as she approached the partly open door to the duty hut at the front of the squad bay. The door swung wide, and Kara clenched her hands, her fingernails digging into her palms. She snapped to attention, hand going to the brim of her cover in a salute, as Gunnery Sergeant Garrett stepped into her path.3

“Good evening, Gunnery Sergeant. Candidate Rowe reporting firewatch for Charlie Company, First Platoon.” Kara desperately tried to remember the rest of the required report as Garrett roughly adjusted her salute. 4

“Well?” the blonde gunnery sergeant demanded, taking a step back and glaring.5

Kara’s cammies suddenly felt stifling. “Ah, the count on deck is fifty-nine off--Marine Corps officer candidates,” she corrected herself desperately, wincing.6

“Bearing, Rowe!”7

“There are fifty-nine M-sixteen A-two service rifles single-locked and secured. There is nothing unusual to report at this time.”8

“Way to keep your cool, Candidate,” Garrett sneered. “I want a three-hundred word essay on the importance of military bearing by oh-four-hundred. And what the hell is with your salute?” She forced Kara’s wrist straight again. “Halfway through your second week and you still can’t report firewatch or salute without jacking it up. You’re pathetic. Get out of my face.” 9

“Aye, Gunnery Sergeant.” Kara lowered her salute, and stepped back. “Good evening, Gunnery Sergeant.” She executed an about-face, and walked away as quickly as she dared. Near the opposite end of the squad bay, she paused. Her rackmate sat on the floor, rummaging in her footlocker. “Garrett just gave me an essay,” Kara told her.10

Reynolds looked up. “Now? It’s twenty-one thirty.”11

“Yeah.” Kara scowled. “God, how I hate her. I’ll be up all night now—I still have to study for the written weapons test, remark my PT shirts, and organize my footlocker, none of which I can even start until I go off firewatch at twenty-two hundred.”12

“We have intro to the O-Course tomorrow morning, too,” Reynolds reminded her.13

Kara sighed. “Great. I really meant to get some sleep tonight, I’ll need it for the obstacle course.” She shook her head, and moved on with her patrol of the squad bay. 14

At 0145, she put her completed essay into Garrett’s tray on the desk just outside the squad bay, and added her name to the list of people for firewatch to wake at 0400. Kara trudged back down the length of the room and collapsed on her rack, so tired that not even the scratchy military-issue blanket bothered her. A hand on her shoulder woke her a short time later.15

“Rowe, it’s oh-four-hundred.” 16

Kara squinted up. Gutierrez stood over her in the dim light.17

“Thanks.” She rolled off her bed and blearily made her way to the armory at the rear of the squad bay. She pulled her rifle off the weapons rack and hung it from the post of the rack she and Reynolds shared, made sure she had socks and boot bands out, then lay back down to get fifteen more minutes of sleep. 18

“Lights, lights, lights!” The hated call jerked her awake again, and she scrambled off her rack and stood on line with her fellow candidates as the lights snapped on. Staff Sergeant Franklin came out of the duty hut and started shouting directions. By 0510, all fifty-nine candidates of Charlie Company, First Platoon had mobilized outside on the parade deck in the pre-dawn light. Dressed in boots, cammie trousers, and PT shirts, they stood at rest with rifles at order arms. The three male platoons of the company spilled out of the barracks just as the girls had organized. After a quick ceremony where all four platoons of Charlie Company reported present or accounted for, the candidates stacked their rifles neatly and moved onto the PT field for warm-ups. The physical training instructor stood on a table surrounded by the platoons, leading the stretches. Gunnery Sergeant Garrett prowled through First Platoon, looking for anyone out of place. Kara concentrated on mimicking the PTI exactly, but allowed herself a small lapse in volume on her shouted responses to his calls. Her throat was raw from yelling. 19

“Rowe!” Garrett barked, striding over.20

Kara’s insides clenched. “Aye, Gunnery Sergeant.” 21

Garrett stood so close to Kara that the older woman’s breath ghosted across her cheek. “Is there something wrong with your voice, Rowe?” The gunnery sergeant’s tone had a false ring of sweetness.22

“This candidate is losing her voice, Gunnery Sergeant.”23

“Oh, and so you think that excuses you, do you? You think you’re the only one having troubles, do you? You think you’re special?”24

“No, Gunnery Sergeant!”25

“Then open your fat mouth!”26

“Aye, Gunnery Sergeant!” Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Kara focused on stretching her hamstring. Her ears still rang from Garrett’s shout as the SI walked away. 27

After PT had finished, the candidates were marched back to the squad bay. Just outside the doors, Gunnery Sergeant Carr called the platoon to a halt. With a final rhythmic thump of boots, the candidates stood still.28

“Squad one, then two, then three, attack the squad bay,” Carr ordered.29

“One, two, three, attack the squad bay, aye, Gunnery Sergeant.”30

Immediately upon responding, the platoon exploded into action.31

“Move, move, move!” Candidate Wise urged from behind Kara, pushing her forward. Kara stumbled ahead a few steps, packed so close behind the others that her fingers got pinched between her rifle and Serberoli’s back. They crammed into the stairwell and through the door to their bay. Gunnery Sergeant Garrett stood on a footlocker at the end of the starboard row of racks, watching. The bay echoed with the shouts of “Good morning, Gunnery Sergeant!” as candidates jogged past her, heading for their place in line. Kara had just reached her own rack when Garrett interrupted the chaos.32

“You want to whisper?” she barked. “Get out! Get out right now!” 33

Everyone turned and ran for the door again. Kara’s elbow smacked hard into the doorframe as the fifty-nine candidates attempted to jam their way through as fast as possible.34

“Get in!” Garrett ordered from her perch in the squad bay. Kara tightened her grip on her rifle, ignoring her throbbing elbow, and turned with a sigh. 35

“Rowe!” Wise glared at her. “Move with a sense of urgency! You want to play games all day?”36

Garrett had them run in and out of the squad bay three more times before finally letting them stand on line and get their weapon and personnel count. Gutierrez, as Candidate Platoon Sergeant, stood at the front of the squad bay giving instructions. She got the weapon and personnel count, but forgot to then report it to Gunnery Sergeant Carr, who stood just behind her, instead moving on. 37

“All right, what you’re gonna do right now--” she began. 38

Carr interrupted, her arms folded across her chest. “Forgetting something, Gutierrez?”39

Gutierrez paused, confused, and Garrett took that as her cue to start yelling. 40

Kara, standing on line with her rifle at her side, focused intently on the wall as she listened to Gutierrez struggle. She did not envy the Candidate Platoon Sergeant in the least. At Officer Candidate School, in order to test leadership ability, candidates were assigned billets for two days. They wore the insignia of the rank of Marine who would normally hold that position, except that the candidates’ had a red felt background. The Candidate Platoon Sergeant was the senior enlisted billet holder in the platoon. In charge of moving the platoon from place to place, keeping to the schedule, calling cadence, ensuring accountability, giving directions, and making reports to the Candidate Company First Sergeant and Candidate Platoon Commander, she was under constant scrutiny by the S.I.s. Gutierrez had been in charge since yesterday, and for the most part, hadn’t been doing too badly, especially since she was the first candidate to hold the position. But then again, Kara reminded herself, Gutierrez had been enlisted, and so had a better idea of how to do the job. Even so, she still made mistakes, and at any sign of hesitation, the S.I.s were all over her. For Kara, who strove to keep herself out of the sergeant instructors’ line of sight at all times, the idea of being in the spotlight absolutely terrified her. 41

Gutierrez finally got herself straightened out and the platoon into the showers with minimal interference from Garrett and Carr. The rest of the day passed in a blur of aching muscles, exhaustion, and shouts. That evening, after cleaning the squad bay until it shone, Kara and her fellow candidates finally heard the words they had all been longing for.42

“Mount the rack.” 43

“Mount the rack, aye, Candidate Platoon Sergeant!” As soon as the words had left her mouth, Kara flung herself onto her bed with a sigh. She only had a few minutes to relax, however, before the door to the duty hut opened and light spilled out across the first few rows of bunks.44

“These candidates need to get their doggone shower shoes on and get up here,” Gunnery Sergeant Carr called down the room. “Dixon, Cabral, Rowe, Carle, Partner, and Forney.” 45

Kara swore under her breath, but rolled off her bed and slipped on her flip flops. She joined the other five candidates in Carr’s office and exchanged nervous glances. She knew they were all about to be assigned billets, and her heart pounded wildly. Carr entered and sat behind her desk. She pulled a sheaf of papers toward her and glanced through them, then up at the candidates standing at attention before her. 46

“Dixon, you are the new Candidate Platoon Commander. You will wear the insignia of captain, and are to speak with Captain McHale when done here.”47

“Aye, Gunnery Sergeant,” Dixon responded.48

“Rowe,” Carr continued, and Kara’s insides clenched. “You are the next Candidate Platoon Sergeant. Get the staff sergeant insignia from Gutierrez, and study your Candidate Regulations. All the duties are listed there.”49

A wave of first heat, then cold, engulfed Kara, and it was only by force of habit that she replied, “Aye, Gunnery Sergeant.” 50

“Partner, you’re the Guide. Talk to Bordeaux about it, and study your Regs. Cabral, Carle, Forney—you’re the next squad leaders. Cabral, you have first squad, Carle, second, and Forney, third. Assign fire team leaders as you choose.” 51

By the time the six of them had been dismissed, Kara’s hands had begun to tremble. She walked the length of the squad bay without really seeing it, only realizing she had arrived back at her own rack when Reynolds touched her arm.52

“You all right, Rowe? You’re really pale.”53

“I’m the new Candidate Platoon Sergeant.” Kara swallowed, trying to ease the dryness of her mouth. “Garrett’s gonna rip me to shreds.”54

“Don’t say that, you’ll do fine.” Reynolds gently shook Kara. “Have you talked to Gutierrez yet? She’ll help you out.”55

“Right.” Kara turned and glanced back up the squad bay. “Gutierrez. I need to get the chevrons from her, anyway.”56

Gutierrez lay on her rack, and Kara hesitated as she approached, not wanting to wake her. 57

“What is it, Rowe?” Gutierrez asked, her voice sleepy.58

“I’m the new candidate platoon sergeant, and I wanted to know if you could kind of explain things to me, especially about what I’m supposed to do at that reporting-in ceremony thing in the morning.”59

Gutierrez sat up with a sigh. “The chevrons are there on my blouse.” She pointed, and Kara moved to unpin them. 60

“What about reporting in?” Gutierrez continued. “You’ve seen how it goes, you’re there every day just like the rest of us. It’s not hard. As for the rest—well, it’s kind of a learn-as-you-go sort of thing. Just be confident, even if you don’t really know what you’re supposed to do next. Trust me, if you’re wrong, Garrett, Carr, and Franklin will be sure to correct you.”61

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Kara muttered. 62

Gutierrez chuckled. “It’ll be all right,” she said, lying back down and turning her back to Kara.63

Kara stood by her rack, chevrons in hand, for a couple minutes afterward. Instead of reassuring her, Gutierrez’s explanation only left her feeling more overwhelmed. She lay on her bed later that night, staring up into the darkness for a long time before she finally fell asleep. 64

The next morning, Kara managed to get the platoon ready and outside on the parade deck with minimal trouble. It had rained overnight, and a fine drizzle still fell. The only light came from the lamps outside the barracks, making the puddles glisten against the black of the asphalt. As soon as Kara took her place in front of the platoon, Garrett strode over.65

“Rowe! Where the hell are you supposed to be standing?” 66

“At six and center, Gunnery Sergeant!”67

“And what does that mean? Because clearly, you cannot grasp that idea.”68

“Centered in the middle of the platoon and six paces in front, Gunnery Sergeant.”69

“Well, get there!” 70

Kara, her face hot, glanced behind herself and adjusted her positioning. 71

“Amazing.” Garrett’s voice dripped sarcasm. 72

During this exchange, the other three platoons had arrived and now stood at parade rest, indicating that they were ready to go.73

“Charlie Company, report!” The sound of the candidate company commander’s voice brought everyone to attention. Kara snapped her hand to her rifle in a salute, then lowered it.74

“Have you made your report yet, Candidate?” First Sergeant Schaffer barked from his position at the front of the company. Next to him, Major Jent, the company commander, folded his arms and looked disapprovingly at Kara. 75

“No, First Sergeant.”76

“Then why did you lower your salute?”77

“No excuse, First Sergeant.” Kara quickly made her rifle salute again, this time keeping her hand in place. “First Platoon, all present or accounted for.”78

“Very well,” the candidate company commander acknowledged, and only then did Kara let her hand drop. The male candidate platoon sergeants of the company made their own reports, and Kara mentally cursed herself for looking the fool.79

“Candidate Platoon Sergeants, take command of your platoon and march them to the chow hall.”80

“Aye, Candidate Company Commander.” Kara executed an about face and stared blankly at the platoon, mind scrambling franticly for a command, any command. “Pla-TOON.”81

“What the hell are you doing, Rowe?” Garrett suddenly appeared at her shoulder. “What do you expect them to do with their rifles still at order arms? Drag them along the deck? Idiot.” 82

Kara swallowed. “Port…ARMS.” With two rhythmic cracks, the platoon lifted their rifles, holding them at a diagonal angle across their bodies, muzzle up. Kara lifted her own rifle. “Forward…MARCH. Left, left, left, right.” Once they began moving, Kara relaxed a little. At least she had an ear for rhythm and could call cadence decently. 83

After chow, First Platoon had re-assembled outside in the grey drizzle, joined over a short period by the male candidates of Second, Third, and Fourth Platoons. The same method of reporting was used, yet, despite what had happened earlier, Kara lowered her salute too soon.84

“Rowe! Did you hear nothing of what was said to you this morning?” Garrett’s face was inches from Kara’s own. “You must be stupid. And stupid commanders who make stupid mistakes get Marines killed.” She knocked off Kara’s cover, and it fell into a puddle. “You don’t deserve to wear that uniform. Get back in formation and let someone who knows what the hell they’re doing take over.”85

Kara struggled to keep her voice from shaking. “Aye, Gunnery Sergeant.” She quickly retrieved her sopping cover and jammed it on her head, dirty water and all, before walking to the rear of the platoon and getting behind Candidate Lane. 86

Candidate Pinter marched the platoon back to the squad bay, where 87

Captain McHale spoke to them about the rules regarding fraternization. After that ended, Kara again took charge, organizing the platoon out on the parade deck ready to march to the classrooms. She gave the command,88

“Forward, MARCH,” and began calling cadence. She must have done something wrong, however, because the platoon hadn’t even gotten halfway across the parade deck before called them to a halt.89

“No, no no. Rowe, get back in formation. Someone who knows how to call cadence get out here.”90

Kara, face burning, found a spot in the platoon, wondering what she had messed up this time.91

Kara popped in and out of formation all day. Every time she tried calling cadence, Garrett took exception to it and sent her to the rear of the formation in disgrace. The least little mistake, the smallest hesitation, the barest hint of confusion, and Gunnery Sergeant Garrett was there. The screaming often made things worse, but what Kara hated the most was the condescending, ‘you’re-so-stupid-let-me-spell-it-out-for-you’ manner Garrett seemed particularly fond of, or when she insinuated that Kara would be going home soon. Those moments left Kara flushed with a combination of embarrassment and anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. But by far the worst part of the day happened just before evening chow. Candidate Blair had gone to 1500 sick call, and had forgotten to tell her squad leader. So when the platoon formed outside the classrooms with the rest of Charlie Company after their class on tactics, the personnel count came up one short. 92

“Cabral.” Kara beckoned the taller girl over, but without much hope of success. Everyone knew that Cabral was worse than useless. “Where’s Blair? She’s supposed to be here.”93

Cabral shrugged. “I dunno, she didn’t tell me.”94

“She’s in your squad, she’s supposed to report to you so you can pass it on to me. She didn’t say anything about going to sick call or something?”95

“Nope.”96

“Well, who has her rifle? She must have handed it off before she left.”97

Cabral shrugged again. Kara bit back an angry comment, panic welling. She turned to the platoon. “Who has Blair’s weapon?”98

“This candidate does.” Reynolds nodded to the extra rifle slung over her back.99

“Did Blair say where she was going when she handed it off?” 100

“No, Candidate Platoon Sergeant.” 101

On either side of First Platoon, the male platoons already stood at parade rest. Gunnery Sergeant Garrett strode over.102

“What’s the hold up, Rowe? Can’t you even get a personnel and weapons count?”103

“This candidate is trying to ascertain where Candidate Blair is, Gunnery Sergeant.” Kara steeled herself for the inevitable explosion. 104

“Do you mean to tell me,” Garrett said slowly, voice deadly, “that you are missing a candidate?”105

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant.” 106

“Amazing. Freaking amazing.” Garrett turned to the male sergeant instructors standing at the front and raised her voice. “Did you hear that? The Candidate Platoon Sergeant lost a freaking candidate!”107

Kara clenched her teeth as the SIs muttered amongst themselves. 108

“Can you imagine that one on a battlefield? Disaster,” one said incredulously. 109

“How stupid can you be?” asked another.110

Garrett faced Kara again. 111

“You had better get out of my sight,” she said viscously, ripping the chevrons from Kara’s collar, “before I freaking kill you with my bare hands.” 112

“Aye, Gunnery Sergeant.” As Kara bent down to pick up the fallen insignia, she surreptitiously wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then scuttled away to hide at the back of the formation. 113

After evening chow, the candidates had time to clean their rifles while Captain McHale called them individually into her office for conferences. Gunnery Sergeant Garrett and Staff Sergeant Franklin disappeared into the duty hut, leaving the candidates to their own devices, and Kara felt some of the tension in her back and shoulders ease for what seemed like the first time all day. She sat on her camp stool and set her rifle on her footlocker, leaning back against her bed for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, then sat forward. Giving Reynolds, who sat next to her, a little smile, she opened the compartment in the butt of her rifle, pulled out the little pouch of tools, and got to work. 114

She had just removed the bolt carrier group from her rifle when Captain McHale called her name.115

“Aye, Ma’am, on the way, Ma’am.” Kara jumped up, hopped over her footlocker, and hurried to the front of the squad bay. 116

“Come in, Candidate.” 117

The captain’s office held little in the way of furnishings. A neatly-made bed sat in one corner, and the captain sat behind a plain wooden desk. A short, yet imposing woman with her dark hair cropped close to her head, Captain McHale put Kara more at ease than any of First Platoon’s other staff. Kara closed the door behind her and stood at attention in front of the captain’s desk.118

“Relax, Candidate. This is an informal session.” McHale smiled. “How are things going?”119

Kara swallowed hard, the captain’s gentle tone affecting her more than any of Garrett’s shouting. “This candidate is having a rough time, Ma’am.”120

“Informal, Candidate, you can say ‘I’. Continue.”121

“This—er, I feel I can’t do anything right, Ma’am, especially as Candidate Platoon Sergeant.” Kara blinked rapidly, but the tears came anyway, sliding silently down her cheeks. “Anything I do, the least little mistake, and Gunnery Sergeant Garrett is there yelling at me.” She stared fixedly at the wall behind McHale’s head. “I can’t do this. I can’t go through another day like today. I want to go home.”122

“Rowe, think about it. What would happen if you made some of those same ‘little mistakes’ that you were making today out on a battlefield?”123

“Marines would die, Ma’am,” Kara whispered.124

“Exactly. And after Gunnery Sergeant Garrett has yelled at you all day about those mistakes, are you going to do them again, or are you going to fix them?”125

“Fix them, Ma’am, definitely.”126

“Would you have fixed them if she had let them slide, let you think you were doing nothing wrong?”127

“No, Ma’am.” Kara fidgeted, then burst out, “But she doesn’t yell at everyone, even when she sees some candidates doing things wrong. She always yells at me.”128

The captain sighed, but a hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, well, we’re not perfect. Sometimes we pick favorites.”129

“Favorites, Ma’am?” Kara finally met the captain’s eyes, disbelieving.130

“Those candidates that aren’t corrected, what’s going to happen to them?”131

“They won’t improve, Ma’am.”132

“And a candidate who is yelled at all the time?”133

“Oh.” Kara stood silent for a minute.134

“Is there anything else, Candidate?” the captain prompted.135

“Um…no, Ma’am.”136

“Then you are dismissed.”137

“Dismissed, aye, Ma’am. Good evening, Ma’am.” Kara snapped to attention, made an about face, and reached for the door.138

“Oh, and Candidate?”139

Kara turned. “Yes, Ma’am?”140

“Gunnery Sergeant Garrett chose you to be Candidate Platoon Sergeant.”141

The following morning, when it came time for the reporting-in ceremony, Kara executed it perfectly, all traces of tension gone from her stance. PT that morning consisted of a three-mile squad run. Gunnery Sergeant Garrett ran with Kara’s squad, but Kara found she didn’t mind so much. She pushed herself hard and kept up with the group, even stepping out of formation a couple times to sing cadence ditties for the squad. 142

She had taken time the night before to study the drill handbook, and had figured out what her mistake had been. After showers, she called cadence uninterrupted all the way to the chow hall. At chow, Kara had just picked up a tray when she heard a slight commotion behind her.143

“C’mere, thing!” 144

Recognizing Gunnery Sergeant Carr’s favored method of addressing candidates, Kara turned. Despite her steadier nerves, her heart still leapt a little in fear. Gunnery Sergeants Carr and Garrett stood beside First Sergeant Schaffer and a male candidate from second platoon. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead in the fluorescent lights. Kara quickly replaced her tray and strode over. 145

“Good morning First Sergeant. Good morning Gunnery Sergeant.”146

“Candidate Wu here doesn’t seem to recall his rank structure.” The First Sergeant folded his arms over his chest and eyed Kara with skepticism. “Do you?” 147

“Ah,” said Kara, thinking frantically.148

“You either do or you don’t, Candidate.” Garrett took a step forward. “Which is it?”149

Gunnery Sergeant Carr folded her arms and scowled.150

Something clicked in Kara’s head. “Company Commander Major Jent, Company XO Captain Schumacher, Company First Sergeant First Sergeant Schaffer, Company Gunnery Sergeant Gunnery Sergeant Falcon, Platoon Commander Captain McHale, Platoon Sergeant Gunnery Sergeant Carr, Sergeant Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Garrett, and Sergeant Instructor Staff Sergeant Franklin,” she rattled off. Kara thought she saw surprise briefly on Garrett’s face before her typical mask of cold intensity dropped down again. The gunnery sergeant turned on the unfortunate Wu, and a mixture of relief and elation washed over Kara. Schaffer nodded to Kara. 151

“Go get your chow.”152

“Aye, First Sergeant.” As she made her about face and walked away, she allowed herself a very small smile, listening to Garrett and Carr laying into Wu. 153

The rest of that day was just about as different from the previous day as it could be. Kara made a few very minor mistakes, but after the captain’s words of the night before, found that even Garrett’s snide remarks didn’t have the effect they used to. She had become immune to the fear that had once crippled her, and performed her duties almost flawlessly. 154

It was with great satisfaction and pride that she finally gave her last command as Candidate Platoon Sergeant that night. 155

“Mount the rack!”156

“Mount the rack, aye, Candidate Platoon Sergeant.” The squad bay filled with the thumps and squeals of racks as the platoon got into bed. 157

“Candidate Rowe.”158

Kara turned. Gunnery Sergeant Garrett stood silhouetted in the light spilling out of the duty hut. 159

“Aye, Gunnery Sergeant.”160

“Well done.”161