smashing...

Music. Pleasure. It didn't happen often and only during the brainwashing videos of the first couple weeks to begin with. But once we started rifle training and were getting bussed to different ranges across the base, we were treated to whatever music the busdriver wanted to listen to. Usually this was R&B or, at the worst, talk radio, but what was most important was other people in the world, real people, were listening to the same damn thing. And you will take whatever validation you can grab to reassure yourself that you're still human.

Music provided the first time I felt real pleasure in the presence of a drill sergeant. About three or four weeks from the end, I found I needed to return to reception for some paperwork. I had been dreading this quite a bit considering I would be nearly singled out with a drill sergeant which was something I had been avoiding fairly successfully up to that point. Things turned even worse when I found out which drill sergeant would be taking us as well: he was probably the most anal retentive of the lot and had smoked the whole company nearly every time he was left in charge of us. Of course we made fun of his distinctive barking voice and pearlike physique behind his back, but there was nothing to laugh about facing a couple hours nearly alone with this man. Imagine my surprise then when we got on the van to go to reception and he promptly turns the radio to a station playing Smashing Pumpkin's "Perfect". What's more, when he looked in the rear view mirror and saw me smiling, the bastard smiled in return and turned the radio up. I had spent the weeks up until that moment comforting myself by believing that none of these people were still human. But here was one of the worst of the bunch moving to the beat with the rest of us and asking us about our homes and our families. When he started talking about Ender's Game too, I felt like my heart couldn't take any more. It would simply explode in my chest. The man had not changed and never hestitated to drop us right up until the day we left, but somehow the sweat did not feel as bitter just knowing he would be listening to something I would approve of when he went home each night.