C Squad Pride
For the past couple of days, there has been an investigation going on in our squad. A few kids were taking too many triple C's to get the Prep school out of the their heads. But no motion goes unnoticed here, and eventually the truth caught up to them. Four people from our squad ended up leaving: Beadsley, Scott, Lind, and Kinkenborg. There was a lot of snitching and backstabbing going on for a while. Apparently, when Scott was questioned, he ratted out as many people as he could and even blamed some people who weren't involved. I suppose he thought it would keep some of the heat of himself. One of the boys' best friends told on him. Maybe because of fear for his safety or fear for her own, I don't know. Scott wanted to be a pilot. He came here with big dreams of flying. Kink was a great guy that went to Mass we me on Sunday and taught forth grade CCD class. Truthfully, as much as I hated Beardley, he was decent enough. Lind was probably good as well, I just didn't know him. The real thing now is that they're all gone and Major Nesmith was in our squad all last night waiting to catch people fucking up.
We have to coupe though. Our bond as a squad is greater than the four boys leaving or the half dozen that are going to be kicked out after Christmas for their grades or military performance. We're a bunch of fuck ups that are bonded by our desire to become something better then ourselves. We may hate eachother, but we will always defend eachother because at the end of the day, its Us against Them, and we need all the manpower we can muster.
Which is probably why, sometime, in the middle of the night, a bunch of the football players Klink played with snuck outside long enough to spraypaint his name over the spirit rock and push it down the side of the mountain. To you, this means nothing, to us, it means everything. That rock is massive, and probably weighs 2000 pounds. We were told, "You all hear the stories, but don't roll the rock down the hill, just don't." So they had to. THey had to honor Klink. I can just imagine them. Four or five guys, four or five teammates, brother in arms, shoulder to shoulder, grunting and sweating trying to push that rock to edge of the cliff. They probably got to edge and looked over it. They can see the houses in valley, some with the Christmas lights on, the snow still clinging to the ground. The all smile at eachtoher, and with one final push, the rock thuds to the bottom of the hill, getting faster and faster until it hits the bottom into a darkness so vast the boys don't even see the rock fall. They proabably hug and holler, grabbing Kink and holding him tight. My eyes well up just thinking about it.
Today, Colonal Jones will have to call a truck to come haul the rock back up, and when they do, and place it back on the grassy yard by our squad, the commader, the truch driver, and all the preppies walking by will see Klink's name on that rock and they will remember that goofy kid who never stopped smiling. They will realize that good people, people willing to give a damn, can still be successful out of the P. They will understand that life does not end here. This is not a place where ambitious kids go to die, nor a place of salvation that gives you a single shot at redemption. This is only a year of our lives. We are all just college students trying to figure out what we want out of life. We don't care about getting other people in trouble, or being the best, or getting noticed by our AOC. We just want to have fun, and learn, and grow. Klink was a great guy, and I was glad to know him. But I'm not sad that he is gone. I am happy for him. This was not the place for a person as passionate as he is.
We have to coupe though. Our bond as a squad is greater than the four boys leaving or the half dozen that are going to be kicked out after Christmas for their grades or military performance. We're a bunch of fuck ups that are bonded by our desire to become something better then ourselves. We may hate eachother, but we will always defend eachother because at the end of the day, its Us against Them, and we need all the manpower we can muster.
Which is probably why, sometime, in the middle of the night, a bunch of the football players Klink played with snuck outside long enough to spraypaint his name over the spirit rock and push it down the side of the mountain. To you, this means nothing, to us, it means everything. That rock is massive, and probably weighs 2000 pounds. We were told, "You all hear the stories, but don't roll the rock down the hill, just don't." So they had to. THey had to honor Klink. I can just imagine them. Four or five guys, four or five teammates, brother in arms, shoulder to shoulder, grunting and sweating trying to push that rock to edge of the cliff. They probably got to edge and looked over it. They can see the houses in valley, some with the Christmas lights on, the snow still clinging to the ground. The all smile at eachtoher, and with one final push, the rock thuds to the bottom of the hill, getting faster and faster until it hits the bottom into a darkness so vast the boys don't even see the rock fall. They proabably hug and holler, grabbing Kink and holding him tight. My eyes well up just thinking about it.
Today, Colonal Jones will have to call a truck to come haul the rock back up, and when they do, and place it back on the grassy yard by our squad, the commader, the truch driver, and all the preppies walking by will see Klink's name on that rock and they will remember that goofy kid who never stopped smiling. They will realize that good people, people willing to give a damn, can still be successful out of the P. They will understand that life does not end here. This is not a place where ambitious kids go to die, nor a place of salvation that gives you a single shot at redemption. This is only a year of our lives. We are all just college students trying to figure out what we want out of life. We don't care about getting other people in trouble, or being the best, or getting noticed by our AOC. We just want to have fun, and learn, and grow. Klink was a great guy, and I was glad to know him. But I'm not sad that he is gone. I am happy for him. This was not the place for a person as passionate as he is.