You know, sleep is usually the only rest a grunt can get during boot camp.  When you are not training or being evaluated you are eating, shitting, or sleeping, people say that it is hell... so I humbly welcome you to the seventh circle of hell. 

The sudden rumbling and low whooping of the gunships threw me awake as I slammed my face into the rafter above my bunk.  Ignoring the pain of my now bruised face I grabbed my mark 3 EVA helmet; I jumped down and ran out into the open field in front of the barracks.  I stared in awe at the behemoth-like gunships slowly moving over my head.  After the slug of the sky floats by I go back into my barracks to wake up the rest of my squad, I'm Ben Hashford, known as Seer to my comrades, the rest of the squad are highly trained individuals who have fought alongside me during boot camp.  The first is, John 'Brutal' Richards, our Spec Ops assassin he has been a childhood friend since we were both dumped into the Spartan training program, he's one of our best.  Jacob 'Ringer' Stalin is the sniper of the group, he has the eyes of a marksman and the hands of a surgeon, he could light a match with a 20-millimeter at 2 miles, and he’s one helluva guy.  William 'Rock star' Holland is our explosives engineer, he's handy with tools which he said are from running a shop with his dad back in Michigan, which is why we trust him when he says he's gonna tune our warthogs, he's also the one who puts the 'holy' in 'holy shit' with his explosives.  Robert 'Rookie' Wallas is the latest addition to the group, he has basic training in almost every field, so occasionally he tries to show his stuff but he is still the rookie, hopefully, he'll earn his rep yet.  I walk in and the lazy sum’ bitches are still laying in their bunks covering their heads with what the grunts call 'crapsacks' because they used to be filled with feathers, but now are filled with microbe memory foam, God knows what that is.  As I rally the rest of them together, we arm ourselves with our helmets and 'anti-dumbass' ARs and run out the door towards the roar of a thousand recruits waiting to become official Spartans of the UNSC. OORAH!

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