My corporal in army basic training was a fair but hard character. I hated his guts at first, as did all the other lads in the platoon. For the first week, he did nothing but call us names, make us run to who-knows-where, call us names again, do a million pushups and situps, call us names again, and made it clear that our lives were HIS. We were scared of this guy, and he only stood five foot five. The only other person that I was scared of was my mom. She didn’t take any of my crap either.
My corporal also had his moments of madness. He once instructed me to ‘make love’ to my rifle and say to it, “I love you, darling” in front of my mates after I dropped it at the shooting range, nearly shooting him in the ass. I never dropped my rifle again, ever. Mostly because I never wanted to make love to a piece of steel again. He got us fit, disciplined, straightened out, and most of all, thinking about staying alive in the heat of battle. The thing was that we did everything he asked us to do — run, jump, shoot.
What a great, wise leader he was. He got to know us and we
Have a great day, Marcus van Wyk