0 Dark 30

The room was dark, quiet, and peaceful. An atmosphere that wasn’t very common in this place. Trainee Blaine North was afraid to turn over and look at the red numbers on the digital alarm clock next to the bunk bed in the cold squad room. If it was anywhere near time to rise, he didn’t want to know it. He was so tired, 30 weeks into State Trooper basic and only 3 more to go, Blaine just wanted to graduate. That way, he could finally settle in at his assignment, and finally get to spend more than a day and a half with his wife every week. Blaine was almost there, this is what he had worked for so very hard, for so very long to achieve, the prestigious honor of being called a State Trooper.  “It’s killing me to know what time it is.” Blaine thought to himself, as his two roommates snoozed. “0 dark 30, that’s what time it is, and I know that they will be rousing the company soon.”

         The training was starting to wind down at this point. All of the final preparations were being made to assure that everyone was equipped and ready to go on the road. Patrol cars were being assigned, and most importantly, making damn sure that everything is squared away for graduation in 3 weeks. This was it, the home stretch. The anxiety was building in Blaine’s body as he lay there in the most uncomfortable bed in the world thinking about graduation day. Wondering what it was going to feel like to march into that gymnasium with his classmates as his family looks on with overwhelming pride at their Trooper taking his place among the ranks of others who have come before him. Just at that moment, he heard the loud speaker in the hallway sound.

“Attention 113th basic session, signal 66!”

This was the sound that nobody wanted to hear at 4:30 in the morning. The sound of the Sgt. On duty giving the command to suit up for riot drill. Blaine and his roommates hop from there bunks like 3 soldiers in a barracks in the middle of an air raid. Blaine had it all in his head exactly what to don in what order. “Ballistic vest, class A shirt, trousers, shoes, tie, riot helmet, riot baton. GO!.” He thought.

Just as Blaine was about to head out the door to the formation, he noticed Allen, his bunk mate having issues with his riot helmet, so he stopped to give him a hand, because nobody leaves the squad room until everybody’s squared away. The screaming and thumping of the sergeants coming through the halls were getting closer. The trio stormed through the door and down the hallway headed for the darkness of a brisk early October morning, and filed into formation. One of the sergeants stepped forward with a stopwatch in hand. He was a large man, built like an NFL lineman. Square jaw, shaven head straight down to the scalp and wearing the campaign cover that everyone recognized as that of a State Troopers tilted down nearly concealing his eyes. “Fucking pathetic!” the Sgt. Shouted.

“Congratulations, all 53 of you, have at this time made it on the wall right in there, in the Memorial Gallery with the other Troopers who have fallen in the line of duty, because you’re dragging your asses around like a bunch of broke dick dogs. Your 3 weeks away from being Troopers, you should at this point move with purpose. We are going to remedy that at this time, with a little run in our riot gear!”

About 3 and half miles later, the company was dragging back into the barracks, tired, and sweaty already at breakfast time. Everyone showered and got dressed, ready to take on another day at the academy, or at least as ready as they could be.