Chapter Text
I didn't hate being on base, in fact, it's quite the opposite. As much as I like to bitch about the relatively subpar living conditions sometimes, it's not completely fucked here. Three course meals a day, always usually the same flavorless slop, but still digestible. The bunks aren't too bad either, as long as you don't end up with a bunkmate who snores or takes the cash stash from under your pillow. Overall, the base and its living conditions are leagues better than what they were back in basic training.
The main thing, pretty much the source of most my 'bitching', is the fucking superiors. I've met a lot of jackasses in my time, hundreds more now in the British Special Forces, but these 'higher-up' fuckers are on another level. "STAND AT ATTENTION!" "ON YOUR FEET PRIVATE!" "FIX THAT BUNK!" I swear since getting on base I've lost a few fucking hertz of my hearing, and by the time I get to corporal I'll be deaf. They don't just yell from across the yard, no-no-no, they get right up next to your ear and scream bloody murder. There were a few instances that I just wanted to go on and scream back but, hell if I did, they'd tear me a new one in about five seconds flat. I like to bitch but I know better than to do it right to a fucker's face, especially one that is about three times my size.
Speaking of guys three times my size I saw this fella, HUGE fucker, had to be six foot or taller, he comes skulking down the halls looking like the grim reaper himself. All black, Skull balaclava, M13 in his hands. The monstrous fucker passed me in the halls and I'm man enough to say I about took a step back when he was right beside me. He was one huge ass bitch, scary fucker too. All I know is the guy calls himself 'Ghost', whatever that is supposed to mean. And, apparently, he works with some elite task force. Their supposedly real infamous on base. Really didn't know much about them though, or this 'Ghost' motherfucker till I got here.
Anyway- shit- I've gone and went off topic again. I've only got about twenty seconds left on the recording, so I'll just finish with this: Good luck.
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The tape abruptly cut off and the room fell silent. The Sergeant coughed to break the silence.
"So, care to explain?"
Those words were the trigger, the barracks erupted.
"'Monstrous fucker' he said!"
One of the men yelled from the crowd, bent over practically splitting his sides with laughter.
"Like the grim reaper himself!"
Someone else called out and another round of laughter ensued.
"QUIET DOWN, ALL OF YOU!"
The Sergeant let his stern gaze roll over the men. The laughs died out, except for a few stifled chuckles from the guys in the back.
"Private Jacobs, like I said before, mind explaining?"
"I-Well.. Sergeant.. I was just a recording the message for myself. Some guys keep journals or logs, I have my tape recorder. I didn't intend for anyone else to hear it."
Jacobs directed a glare at his bunkmate, the fucker that caused this all. He had gone to the lunch hall for supper and that conniving bastard must have rummaged through his stuff and found the tape recorder. Knowing James, he probably didn't spare a second calling over the boys to listen to the recording. But for the Sergeant to have gotten involved, they must have been making a big fucking deal of it. What a surprise it was heading back to the barracks to get some shut eye only to be greeted by the Sergeants sour face at the door.
"The recording, delete it. And refrain from making recordings like it in the future. As for the rest of you.. GET TO YOUR BUNKS! LIGHTS OUT!"
The others ran to their bunks as soon as the Sergeant barked out the order. The Sergeant handed the tape recorder back to him and headed out the door, flipping off the light switch as he left the room.