After what felt like a few hours, the BTR-50 came to a sudden stop, sending a few conscripts into one another on account of their inability to use their arms in their restrained state. There was a short pause before the side hatch was thrown open from the outside and Bokep was dragged out of the cramped compartment and onto the ground, driving his shin into the metal door frame and practically face-planting into the pavement below it. Dragged to his feet by two more Euruskan soldiers, Bokep had to squint to see just about anything. There were numerous floodlights pointed at the small collection of vehicles who themselves were gathered in a sort of half-circle around the entrance to what must have been an Euruskan Military Base. There was an assortment of soldiers in full tactical gear ordering Bokep’s fellow conscripts around. Several Ka-52 helicopters flew overhead, their own searchlights adding to the ongoing assault on Bokep’s vision. The recruits were taken first to a station where blood samples, finger-prints and names were logged, then they were each given buzz-cuts and subjected to a mix of chemical and other liquid “hose-downs”. There was one man who tried running, fully nude. He had hardly made it fifteen meters before he was gunned down by a BTR gunner. After seeing yet another summary execution, Bokep was taken to a medical room where he was given a general exam and inoculated for several biological weapon agents, alongside half-a-dozen vaccines; the last of which being particularly painful. It was only after all of this, and once the sun had begun to rise, turning the pitch-dark sky into a gray overcast, that Bokep was given a set of clothes and placed inside a barracks. There were no lights, but there was enough natural light from the few small windows to allow Bokep to find an unclaimed cot and fall asleep.

What felt like seconds, but may have been minutes, or perhaps hours after Bokep had fallen asleep, the barracks’ door was either kicked down, or thrown open. Regardless, Bokep startled awake, still sore from the plethora of injections to see what he thought was a drill instructor, accompanied by three armed soldiers holding stock AK-74Ms with black polymer furniture.

“Get the hell up Cyka, welcome to the army!”, barked the instructor in heavy Russian. Bokep darted out of bed as the lights in the room were turned on and the others gathered themselves at varied rates.

“I am Yuri Karponikiv, but you will call me sir, or Praporschik! You will say, “Yes, Prapor” when I speak to you. Do you understand conscripts?”, the man continued.

“Yes, Prapor!”, replied Bokep and the others.

“You will find at your bunks, a pair of boots, a pair of socks, a book, a notebook, and a pen. You will put on your socks, you will put on your boots, and you will never lose your effects and your pen! If I find a conscript without any of the Euruskan property which has been given to him, he will be punished, his squad will be punished, and his unit will be punished! Do you understand me?”, the Prapor yelled again.

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“Yes, Prapor”, replied the conscripts as they began to dress and gather their effects.

The recruits were led to a concrete “field” where they were run through a series of exercises. Most of them were body-weight: pushups, situps, and the like. Some did well, but most didn’t on account of varying levels of malnutrition. This lasted for about half-an-hour before they were once again escorted under armed guard to a mess-hall where they were given the first proper meal they had eaten in quite some time. Most of them quickly ate what they were given, some did it so fast that by the time the last conscript had sat down, the first had finished. The Prapor, knowing that if he didn’t feed his conscripts, that would just die of starvation or worse, gave them a small mercy by allowing most of them to enjoy their meal. But as soon as he felt it was right, he took them right back out to the “field” and made them run, losing many, the only good thing they had ever eaten as what went down came right back up.

The first several days went like this. Wake up, PT [Physical Training]. Get something to eat, throw it up doing more PT. Get organized into squads, do a few classes, more PT. Eat, night classes. Eat, then sleep. Bokep had been one of the few conscripts to be chosen to become a squad leader. One of the first non-physical exercises they had done was a sort of “test” to figure out what everyone was best at. Either Bokep wasn’t skilled at anything, or someone/something thought he was good at telling other people what to do. He didn’t mind though, as this pseudo-promotion got him out of one or two PT slots a week for extra instruction. Slowly, overtime, his unit’s Prapor introduced pieces of kit to their regimen. A plate-carrier here, a backpack there. Eventually they were rucking in full kit, blank rounds and all. There were also basic war-fighting classes, squad level tactics, and a few more advanced ones for the squad leaders (SLs) and the one or two officers selected out of their bunch.

By the end of the second week, they had finished with what the Prapor called “Demolition”, next came construction. The unit, which was around forty or so men and women, were taken to conduct basic field exercises in positioning and marksmanship. Each was only given one round at a time in order to prevent any would-be runners, but luckily for Bokep, his comrades were relatively bright and didn’t have a death wish. By the end of their twelfth week of training, the platoon had finished their training and was integrated into a mechanized unit bound for the city of Lost Angels. Their officer corps was all experienced veterans, and anyone who wasn’t a foot slogger was sent off to another unit for more training. Bokep had commented to a member of his own squad that they were likely only given the basics because they weren’t expected to survive long enough to need it… this was something he had decided to not think about again given the implications. So on the last day of their training they were given a speech by their Prapor; something about how they were going to give the Europans what was coming to them, and how they should feel honored to serve their country. Some of the more susceptible conscripts bought this, Bokep did not, but made careful effort not to show it. After that, they boarded yet another convoy and were sent to join their unit, the 509th Mechanized Vanguard Brigade.