"But first you have to complete training. The regimen is unlike anything soldiers have experienced before, and when you have completed it you will be the deadliest human killing machines that have ever existed.
"But before you even begin your training proper, you are all going to the infirmary. You have had varying health care priority levels, most of them pretty low, so you haven't had much medical care. Well now you are going to have every treatable deficiency corrected. Plus, we're going to make some improvements to the original design. When we're done you will all see and hear better than any civilian, and you will have enhanced reflexes.
"After you are released from medical, you're going to do six months of basic field training. Trust me, whatever you think you've been through before, field training is going to teach you the true meaning of physical fitness. You'll probably all survive the medical procedures, but some of you will die during field training. So take it seriously."
That was the second time he mentioned dying in training. I figured it wouldn't be the last.
"After we get you in decent physical shape you're all going to go through a customized remedial education program. Honestly, you're all ignorant and uneducated - totally unqualified to serve in my marine corps. But we're going to fix that. A marine private has the equivalent of a six-year post primary education, and you're going to get it in less than a third of the time it takes lazy civilians.
"Then, we're going to teach you to kill. I know your backgrounds, and a lot of you think you already know how, but take my word for it, you are all amateurs. We are going to make you professionals. Stone cold death machines that strike terror into the hearts of our enemies.
"You think you're tough because you abused or murdered a few helpless workers? Or even another tough guy gang member?" He laughed derisively for a few seconds, the first sound that came out of his mouth that wasn't flawlessly polite. "I've personally killed at least 75 men and women, and troops under my command have killed over 50,000. And all of them were shooting back. So if I were you, I'd pay very close attention to your training, because all of your instructors are combat veterans who have been where you are going and came back to tell about it.
"Of course, you need to get through your training first before you have to worry about surviving combat, and it's going to take everything you've got to get to graduation. And if you wash out, remember - you go back to wherever we found you. For almost half of you that's death row; for most of the rest it's some miserable cesspool where your life expectancy ranges from a few weeks to a few years.
"We offer all of you a chance at redemption, but our price is high. Your mind, body, soul, and every last measure of effort you can muster. If you fail we will leave you dead and bloody on the training field. Or I will personally sign the order to haul your sorry ass back to whatever hangman we snatched you from."
He stopped for a few seconds and methodically scanned the room. Every eye in the place was trained on him. It wasn't just what he said; it was the way he said it. I'd never seen anyone with such a commanding presence and serene confidence. He hadn't raised his voice or spoken an angry word, yet he'd been as ominous and threatening as anything I'd ever encountered.
I'd been living in a world of angry confrontation. In the gangs, a dispute over a nutrition bar could get loud and ugly, and likely violent as well. General Strummer spoke softly and politely enough to be sitting at a dinner party. Yet I had no doubt he'd sign an order sending a lazy recruit back to the gas chamber without a second thought.
"Ok, I think I've made my point. I hope you enjoyed my dress blues, because it's the last free show of respect you're going to get. From now on you earn everything. Do your best, listen to your instructors, and one day I will see you again on the graduation field."
He turned, and walked off the stage, the sound of his boots on the floor echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room. As soon as he'd cleared the stage a captain came out and gave us instructions on getting our billet assignments and meeting with our provisional platoon leaders. Then we were dismissed.
I made my way through the line to get my bunk assignment, but I was lost in thought the entire time. The general had made quite an impression on me. I'd never encountered anyone like him before. I loved my father, but he had been a gentle sort of man, and I'd seen what the world did to people like him.
When I was with the gang I'd seen the other side of humanity too, the vicious, animalistic, malicious side. I'd lived that as well, and in my years with the gang I did some terrible things. But I never really felt like one of them. I never understood the needless brutality, the wasteful violence that went beyond the opportunistic.
The authority figures I'd met were mostly corrupt, vindictive bullies. Certainly none of them commanded any respect. The closest they came to respect was fear, and that they extracted with threats and force.
But Strummer was different. He left me wanting to know more, to understand his way of things. I had no doubt he could act just as summarily, just as harshly, but I somehow felt his actions would be fair, or as close to that as things got. I didn't realize it at the time, never having really experienced it before, but these thoughts and feelings were the beginnings of respect for another human being.
Training was an unbelievable experience, and I learned more things than I could have imagined. We started with the medical review. They had all our test results from exams we'd been given on induction, but they still did a lot more checking. Apparently the Corps likes its marines healthy, and we were going to meet that standard no matter what it took.
I didn't have too many problems. As a child my family had a relatively low health care priority rating, but I'd still seen a doctor three or four times. Of course, once we left the Protected Zone there was no real access to medical care. I was generally very healthy, so I finished the battery of treatments in less than ten days, while some of my classmates were in the infirmary for three weeks or longer.
I'd broken my ankle while I was with the gang, and it never healed quite right, so they re-broke it surgically and fused it perfectly. Other than that, they addressed a few minor deficiencies caused by years of poor diet and malnutrition, and they corrected a few small genetic abnormalities.
The improvements were far more noticeable. The retinal enhancements not only increased my vision over long distances, but I found I could see in very dim light as well. My hearing was more acute, and I felt much more active and energetic. Certainly my reflexes were the best they'd ever been, and I could run faster and jump higher than before. A couple weeks later, when I cut myself during basic training exercises, I realized that I also healed faster. Actually, about twice as quickly as before.
Speaking of basic training, the general wasn't kidding when he said it would be the hardest physical exertion we'd ever experienced. It was about getting us into great shape, certainly, but it was also about testing us, pushing us to the limits of our endurance.
Camp Puller was just outside New Houston, not far from the edge of the quarantined zone around the ruins of the old city. For the record, southeastern Texas is hot as hell. And humid. And the worst of our training was thoughtfully scheduled during the height of summer.
A lot of people couldn't take it and washed out, even though the consequences of dismissal were grave for most of us. But the torment was more than just a weeding out process. The rest of us began developing a confidence we hadn't had before as we survived challenges we couldn't have imagined overcoming.
I almost lost my new found confidence when we started the classroom portion of training. Everyone needed some level of remedial work, but I hadn't seen a classroom since I was 8 years old, so I needed a lot. After the initial adjustment, I took to it pretty well, and by the time we wrapped up course work I had an education roughly equivalent to the one my father had, though mine was a bit more generalized.