FMABBC: Permission to Sympathize, Sir!
Title: Permission to Sympathize, Sir!
Beta: meredavey
Artists: bob_fish, ductapealchemist
Genre: Humor, Slice of Life
Rating: PG
Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, Olivier Mila Armstrong, Jean Havoc, Rebecca Catalina, Heymans Breda, Maes Hughes
Summary: Training is hard, but when you get to share experiences with others, it becomes a bit more worthwhile, right? -- A collection of one-shots on the training experiences of our beloved military men and women in their time as cadets.
A/N: I wrote this with some sort of multiple-writer diary in mind, so each part is written in a different POV. The time each part happens also varies. I don't think it matters whether you read it from the beginning, the middle, or the end.
***
The events recorded here are either products of the author’s hyperactive imagination or were based on the author’s real experiences with her own cadet training. And/or both. And no, she is not a soldier. Not really. XD
To my fellow cadet officers and non-commissioned officers, friends, commandants, senior officers, and to my beta, Mere---thank you! :D
Permission to Sympathize, Sir!
01: Reception
All was peaceful. It seemed like it was going to be a good day, a good start of a life as a soldier. But then they came
Double time!
They were shouting, and heading towards us. We were totally clueless. We were formed into groups. Two to three officers were assigned to each group; there were older cadets too. We were instructed to imitate what the senior cadet did; it differed from every “station”
Is that the best you can do?
They were barking at us like mad dogs. I was scared as hell, but I had to do what they were saying. If there’s one thing I knew about the military before I entered, it was that soldiers never complained, and that soldiers always did what was told. So I did just that.
Can’t take it? Might as well quit, while it’s early.
This tells me it’s not going to be an easy life in here. Oh well.
Dying?
It was then that I realized they were preparing us for death at the very beginning. They were taking us to the Gates of Hell themselves, only to pull us back out. And when you think you’re getting that glimpse of Heaven, they start punishing you again.
Crawl! Duck walk! Log roll!
I wonder if they’ll make us do something like, “human walk”, or play dead, or sit down.
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02: Follow Instructions!
Dozens of cadets sat in one of the many rooms of the East Military Academy. Backs straight, shoulders squared, heels together; they occupied only a fourth of their seats, as prescribed by training. The atmosphere was thick, stiff, heavy… one could tell these new cadets were nervous.
Who wouldn’t be, after getting a glimpse of Hell in such an early time of the day? And now, as they sat down to rest (though it was far from comfortable), they await another test of their strength. This time, it isn’t physical strength being tested, as it was in the reception; now, it is a test of mental strength.
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Directions: Read everything before doing anything else. Do exactly as instructed. Under no circumstances are you to speak or ask a question. Be sure to keep your eyes on your own papers. When you have finished, sit quietly until everyone is done with the test.
1. Read every instruction before you do anything.
2. Proceed carefully and cautiously.
3. Write your name on the top left corner of this page.
4. Indicate your rank underneath your name.
5. Circle the word "name" in sentence three.
6. Draw five small squares in the upper right-hand corner of this page.
7. Put an "X" in each square.
8. Put a circle around each square.
9. Sign your name in the lower left-hand corner of this page.
10. After your name, write "yes, yes, yes!"
11. Put a circle around each word in sentence number 8.
12. Put an X in the lower right-hand corner of this page.
13. Draw a triangle around the X you put down.
14. On the reverse side of this page, multiply 292000 by 4320.
15. Draw a rectangle around the word "page" in sentence number 3.
16. Snap the fingers of your left hand.
17. If you think you have followed these directions, write "I have" in the space provided below.
18. On the reverse side of this page, add 1234567 and 876833.
19. Put a circle around your answer. Put a square around the circle.
20. Beside these set of questions, draw an image of how you see yourself.
21. Above the paragraph of directions, write the full name of the Fuhrer.
22. After writing his name, stand up and say, “Yes sir! I like watermelons!”
23. Sit down. Tell your seatmate to your left, “I love you.”
24. Write down his/her response beside the image you drew of yourself.
25. Are you really following these instructions? Write your answer at the back of this page in capital form, with ten exclamation points.
26. Once you have reached this number, say “I am nearly finished!”
27. Proceed to the next number.
28. Place your pen in the center of this paper horizontally, with the tip towards the left.
29. Shut your eyes for ten seconds.
30. Please ignore instructions five through twenty-nine, and follow the instructions in sentence numbers three and four, to complete this drill.
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I’m trying hard to stop my laughter; a lot of them are practically saying ‘I love you’s to their seatmates, screaming they’re nearly finished, carefully positioning their pens and whatnot. There were a few who remained seated though, and I could’ve sworn they were smiling too.
“I don’t think so.” I mumbled. I wasn’t actually planning to say anything. I was standing beside a cadet who was stuck on the fourteenth item. It seemed he was having such a hard time; he really wasn’t supposed to solve it. And either way, his multiplication was wrong. The blond cadet must’ve realized I’ve been standing there. He immediately let go of his pen and fixed his gaze up front.
“No worries, cadet. You’ve still got one trillion, two hundred sixty-one million, and four hundred forty thousand seconds to prove yourself in the Academy. No pressure.” I told him; I could’ve sworn he paled at the number.
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03: Not a morning person!
One, two three-one.
How many repetitions was it again? Oh, right, twenty-five. Twenty-five good repetitions. One, two, three-two. One, two, three-three. One, two, three-four. One, two, three-five. Twenty repetitions to go.
“Getting tired?”
“No, sir!” Me? Tired? No, of course not! I’m not tired! Who’s tired? Not me. Nope, not me. I’m not-
One, two, three-ten.
-tired. Nope, not tired. This is all in the state of mind! One, two, three-twelve. One, two, three-thirteen. I can do this. This is simple. I’m going to live four years of my life doing this. This isn’t so hard. This is fun. One, two, three-eighteen. Seven repetitions to go.
This isn’t so bad! My muscles aren’t hurting. I can do this forever! One, two, three-twenty. One, two, three-twenty-one. One, two, three-twenty-two. Three more! Two more! One more!
One, two, three-twenty-five! “Sir, done, sir!”
“Oh, so fast? Well, okay. Since you seem so tired, why don’t you take a rest in the corner-” I don’t know if I should be happy or worried about this… “You do know how to ‘take a rest’, right, Mustang?” If ‘taking a rest’ isn’t sitting on a chair, or lying in bed, I don’t know what it is. “Squat!” I thought so.
“Yes, sir!” Never call her ‘ma’am’. Never liken her to a polar bear. Never cross her path in the morning. No, never cross her path at all.
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A/N: Roy was being punished, and he had to do squat thrusts. (Just in case anyone’s wondering what the hell his counting meant.)
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04: SOP #23
“Take note of the following rules and SOPs. You are all expected to follow these throughout your stay in the academy. If anyone is caught violating these rules and SOPs, you know what comes next.”
Punishment. Demerits. Extra duties. How fun!
So far so good. I think I can follow these rules. Pretty simple. Always salute-in asking permission, in greeting… whenever you have to talk to a superior. Always greet your superiors-once in the morning, once in noon, once in the afternoon, and once in the evening. Always begin and end sentences with “sir”. Stand at attention when an officer is passing or speaking. Always ask permission to talk. Always move on the double. Always attend your duties.
Easy stuff.
“SOP #23: No smoking!” What? Could you repeat that? “No one is allowed to smoke within the grounds. Is that clear?” “Sir, yes, sir!” No!
“If you want to smoke, then go outside. Outside the academy. That brings me to the next rule. First years are not allowed to leave the grounds.”
This is going to be a long, long year. I can tell.
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05: Sincerely, but Squarely
I didn’t think there would be a different way of eating. I thought there was only one way to eat-spoon up the food, put it in your mouth, chew, and swallow. Then repeat. I didn’t think there was a ten-count way to eat food. Never in my dreams did this happen.
One. Hands on your lap.
Two. Hands across your chest. --- I honestly didn’t see why this is necessary, but…
Three. Pick up your utensils.
Four. Spoon up the food.
Five. Raise the spoon, mouth-level. --- I hate this the most. It seems that the food is so near, yet still so far…
Six. Put the spoon in your mouth.
Seven. Remove the spoon from your mouth. --- Quite similar to the fifth step, only now your spoon is empty.
Eight. Put down your utensils.
Nine. Hands across your chest.
Ten. Hands on your lap.
And then you can chew and swallow. Then repeat.
This is the sincere, but square meal. Everyone eats at the same time. At the same pace. And everyone finishes at the same time. I wonder… in what year will I be able to get enough privileges to eat sincerely and not squarely? Hopefully, soon.
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06: The Field Stripper
“It’s amazing.” A rather stout, red-haired cadet whispered. It was already past midnight; he was on duty. Little conversations like these helped in keeping them awake during night shifts. Though they had to keep in mind that almost everyone’s asleep, and they had to tone down their voices. Most of the time, their talks would be about the things they missed the most outside the academy-getting a smoke, or carefree meals-or the rumours and snippets of news that spread around. “One of the best, they say.”
“What?” His companion, a tall, blond cadet asked, whispering as well. “What’s amazing? What’s one of the best?”
“Not what, Havoc,” the first cadet hissed. “Who!”
“Then who?” Havoc asked, looking at his friend. It was pitch black, but after staying in the darkness for so long, his eyes were already used to it. His friend didn’t respond immediately; he was looking around in the darkness. “Hey, Breda! Who is it?” He insisted.
“Keep it down; we’re still on duty,” Breda reminded him. After a short moment of silence, he continued. “Cadet third class Hawkeye. One of the fastest field strippers, they say.”
“Huh? Cadet Hawkeye’s a stripper?!” shock was evident in Havoc’s whispered reply. “No way. They wouldn’t allow-”
“Not that kind of stripper,” Breda slapped a hand on his forehead. He could just make out Havoc’s eyebrows raising. “A field stripper.”
“…so, a stripper in a field?”
“Field stripping-the disassembly and assembly of a rifle.” Breda explained. He and his friend were both new cadets-fourth class. First years-and it seemed Havoc was still a bit lost.
“Oh, so field stripper-ah. Okay, I get it. I get it.” Havoc replied. Breda sighed.
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A/N: Seriously, and strangely, it really is called field stripping. XD
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07: Silent Drill
“Why is a female cadet going to lead the drills?”
“You mean the one who’s going to use the sword while we all use rifles?
“Just as I said-the leader.
“No way. It’s Armstrong, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Geez.”
The sound of a sword being unsheathed. The two conversing cadets turn to see who wielded the sword, but they already had a gut feeling of the person. Icy blue eyes stared straight back at them, her glares as piercing as her sword. There were no officers in the area. Just them, the cadets.
Oh no! She heard us! Please don’t come this way.
The sword was placed back into its scabbard. The blonde cadet started walking.
No! She’s headed this way!
A few paces away, she wields her sword once again. No! Don’t point it at us! And she marches forward, twirling the sword at its grip, between her thumb and her index finger, before throwing it up into the air and catching it, gripping a gloved hand on its handle. She continues her march, practicing the fancy sword drills that struck fear and awe in those who watched.
The Armed Forces are indeed unfortunate. What kind of men--future officers--are scared of swords? Useless men, aiming for high positions, just so they can sit back and watch war unfold before their very eyes. If you can't handle your weapons properly, what kind of commanding officer will you become?
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A/N: A silent drill is where the performers execute drills and marches which include precise manual of arms and fancy formations, all done without commands. (Philippine Military Academy: Military Activities, from Wikipedia.) And from experience, the flight leader (squadron commander, or whatever) uses the sword and does fancy drills with that, as opposed to the flight (or squadron) using rifles. X
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08: She’s On Latrine Duty!
Several pairs of cadets marched back towards the barracks-they had just finished the day’s exercises and drills. They walked in steady cadence, although tired and muddy, all eager to hit the restrooms to wash off and make a change of clothes before heading for dinner at the mess hall later on.
But they stopped, even before they stepped foot inside the lavatory.
It was all too clean. It was again another one of those days that they had to bear using the farther off latrine, in fears of dirtying the lavatory that seemed to have taken forever to be cleaned, only because of its immaculacy. Well, it didn’t really take forever; just half an hour of hard scrubbing. And because of that, the latrine actually appeared to be sparkling.
But the reason why they couldn’t really bear to dirty the place was because of the one assigned to it. She stands at the side of the latrine, eying not who came in-or at least, attempted to come in-but their boots. Whenever cadets-be it those below her or above her-would come, her eyes immediately fall to their boots. Her mere presence seemed to say, “Muddy boots are not allowed!” And her hawk-like gaze-which seemed to say she was ready to attack the dirty boots if they ever soiled her clean latrine-was… to put it simply, scary.
She’s on latrine duty! They would say, as they cautiously shed their dirty boots and instead, just carry them inside-socks and all-or wearily tread a different path in search of another latrine less immaculate as the one guarded by Cadet Hawkeye.
( art by bob_fish )
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A/N: This one’s my favorite, lol. I’ve actually experienced having a clean latrine being messed up by fellow cadets and their muddy shoes. XD
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09: Give Me Twenty!
Major Olivier Mila Armstrong didn’t enjoy training cadets. No, it wasn’t because the thought of making children suffer pained her heart. No, that wasn’t it. She’d probably be more than happy to punish them for their incompetence if she had to.
What she didn’t like about training cadets was that she had to deal with inexperienced men who had no idea who she was, or what she could do, and were totally clueless with how to act towards her. Okay, so the occasional “ma’am” is forgiven. Only when she isn’t in the mood to tell them off about it.
But probably the biggest insult is to have someone mistake your name and rank. Or worse, to not know you at all. Well, it couldn’t be helped; she really wasn’t from the East. She had attended the Academy at Central, and was currently working there-and that was where she really should be right now, if only she wasn’t assigned to substitute one of the senior officers who went on a sick leave
Perhaps the only reason she’s enjoying the job right now is because the cadets are having weapons training. And today, they’re handling swords.
On second thought, maybe she isn’t enjoying it as much as she hoped she would. There’s clanging everywhere, and hardly anyone could hold their swords properly. Olivier’s had enough of the falling swords. Enough of the noisy clatter.
Too bad for the first cadet she saw though.
“You,” she called, pointing at a tall, blond cadet, who had just bent down to pick up his dropped sword. If there was anything Olivier didn’t like about swords, it was the dropping. It was noisy, and it dented the metal. Dropping such a weapon should have an equivalent punishment. “Give me twenty!”
The cadet was surprised at the command. He looked confused at first, but after a second or two, sheathed his sword and… dug his hands into his pocket. What is he doing?
He held out his hand to her. In his shaking palm were two small coins. Twenty cenz… “…pfft.” Olivier stared at the coins held out to her by the cadet. Quite witty, Cadet Whoever-He-Was; he almost made her laugh. “Your name?”
“Ma-er, Sir, Jean Havoc, sir!”
She smirked, picked up the twenty cenz, and said, “Twenty cenz won’t be enough to pay for a broken sword. It won’t even be enough for a single glove.” She gave the coins back. “On the floor, Cadet!”
Havoc followed immediately, the sword at his hip clanging in the process. Olivier winced at the sound. “Now, give me twenty!” And now they understood each other; he pushed himself up from the floor with his hands, and then pulled himself back down again; and this repeated twenty times. Twenty push-ups.
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A/N: I’m sorry that I have to bully Havoc again. XD He’s just so… bully-able. Haha. Oh, hey, Microsoft Word recognized the word, “bully-able”! XD
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10: Does Love Feel Like a Battlefield?
“You know, Riza,” a young woman mused. She was at the firing range with a fellow cadet. They both held rifles, and were currently positioning themselves. “If you don’t fall in love, you’ll miss half your life!” A series of gunshots was heard, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air for a moment.
“Sometimes I wonder why you’re in the military, Rebecca,” a young Riza Hawkeye asked before taking her position once again and firing a few rounds. “It seems your dreams are far from militaristic.”
“Well, yeah,” Rebecca Catalina replied thoughtfully. “But love is like a battlefield, you know.”
Riza raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah! It’s like fighting for someone you love; it’s a battlefield that way. The third party’s the enemy. You’ll have to put up your best strategy so they won’t kill you off. You’ve got to be armed.” Rebecca explained, smiling. After receiving a strange look from Riza, she then said, “Well, that’s one way of putting it. There always someone who’s bound to win, and one who’s bound to lose. Depends if it’s meant for you.”
Riza smiled, but shook her head.
“That, and probably persistence. No harm in trying, right? Just keep pulling the trigger,” Rebecca said, taking her aim. “And perhaps you’ll hit the bull’s eye-and he’ll love you back too.”
Riza straightened up from her position, a bit puzzled with her friend’s words. “Just keep pulling the trigger until then, huh?”
“Yep!” Rebecca beamed at her. She turned to look at her friend, whose eyes were focused upon the target a couple of meters away from them. “Aww, don’t worry about it, Riza; I’m sure he’s thinking about you too!”
“Sure, whoever he is…” …he’d better not. Soldiers who talk about love on the battlefield tend to die early.
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11: Does This Look Clean To You?!
Spring cleaning. Not that the barracks needs any more of it. We clean up everyday, so it’s unlikely to be greatly dirty. But for some reason, Captain Brainard wants to do some spring cleaning. So that’s what we did. Right after lunch, we all headed back to the barracks. All belongings were placed on each cadet’s cot. All the closets and shelves were empty.
So we wiped and swept and mopped and brushed and scrubbed-we cleaned. We’ve gone through all the shelves, through every corner, all the windows, underneath all the cots, behind every door, inside every closet. And now it’s clean. All of it. Spic and span.
And so, after more or less four hours of cleaning, Captain Brainard let us go. We picked up our rifles and we marched out of the barracks, tired but eager for today’s target practice.
But we-me and Roy-were lucky enough to be the last men to leave.
And you know what they say about the last men… no, not “save the best for last”. It’s “the last man will suffer.” Well, technically, the last men will suffer, since we had to be at least, in pairs all the time.
Captain Brainard had a bit of an obsessive-compulsive disorder. He was a neat freak. “Hughes, Mustang,” he called us, just as we were about to leave. “Does the floor look clean to you?”
“Yes, sir.” I replied. We’ve swept it and mopped it a while ago, so yes, I’d have to say it did.
“What about you, Mustang?”
Roy side-glanced at me. I was telling him-through my eyes-to say yes, it was clean. I think he didn’t read the signal; light must’ve hit my glasses or something. “N-No, sir.” No, Roy!
“Crawl or log roll?” He asked.
Before Roy could say anything else, I answered. “Crawl, sir!” I knew it. He’s going to make us clean it.
“All right then, crawl your way out to the door,” he said, as he walked ahead of us.
So we found ourselves on our bellies, rifles on our backs, and we were crawling out the barracks. “You should’ve said it was clean!” I whispered.
“Yeah, but it obviously wasn’t!” Roy replied, whispering as well. “Everyone’s been stepping on it for who knows how long! No matter how much you sweep and scrub and mop it, it will still be dirty.”
Point taken.
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12: Graduation Ceremonies
Ah, finally. The day long awaited by every cadet. It seemed just like yesterday that we were ticking off how many thousands of days left till we become full-fledged officers. But now, here it is. We’re finally graduating from this Academy, and we’re finally soldiers.
No more morning reveille, no more square meals. Goodbye, strict officers, goodbye barracks.
Although this is a day I’ve been anticipating for some time now, I can’t help but think that I’ll miss training. Sure, it was hard, and it was like living in hell, but when I look back at it, it was actually quite fun. They say there are many ways of leaving the Academy, graduation being the most difficult, but nevertheless the most fulfilling. Perhaps the feeling of having accomplished and overcome those tasks and obstacles is what really made it memorable.
This is the end, but also a new beginning. The tasks and duties of being a cadet are past me now, but I am faced with new responsibilities. Well, I’m not that high up yet; I probably won’t be having my own troops till later on, but I’ll work my way there.
For my dreams, my ambitions… and for this country, I’ll do my best. I will protect the citizens, and I’ll bring happiness to them too. As a soldier and as an alchemist, this is what I ought to do.
“…congratulations."
Caps flew into the air as the Fuhrer, after his final message, extended his congratulations. Now, we were no longer mere cadets. We were soldiers who would serve the country and help Amestris reach its goals.
The hard training is over. Now it’s time for some real action. It’s time to face the battlefield.
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A/N: And that’s the last of it. Haha!
On a side note, I thought of using "Permission to Sympathize, Sir!" as the title beause... well, I just remembered old training days. When one of us was being "punished" by a superior, we'd all ask for permission to sympathize with our suffering mate/buddy. We were usually declined though. xDDD