I don't know why this story got pushed to the front of my brain now and not a few months ago, but it was just raring to get told. Hope you all enjoy.

This story takes place around Christmas 2010 in San Diego, just one short week from embarking on the Crucible. I had been chosen to be the guard for the squad bay while the rest of the platoon went to evening chow.

They had been gone around 10-15 minutes when Senior popped in with a plate covered in tin foil. I think I got maybe a sentence of my report done when he told me to shut up, lifted the foil, and showed me what were the most amazing looking cookies I had ever seen. After explaining that his wife had baked them for his platoon, he offered me the first cookie.

This must surely be a trick, and my thoroughly indoctrinated ass wasn't going to fall for it. I politely yet firmly stated that recruits on duty weren't allowed to eat or drink. He nodded sagely, with a hint of pride showing in his eyes that I hadn't wasted the last 11 weeks on sleeping or getting distracted during class time. He let me know that it was OK and left the cookies on the footlockers that served as our duty desk while he went into the drill hut to do some paperwork.

A few moments later, his head pops out. "Have you eaten a cookie yet, Recruit Eldorath?" I again stated my orders, feeling a little chagrined at this needless integrity check. Had I not passed the last one? Must he rub the cookies in my face yet again? His reply was less mirthful than the last, simply telling me to "eat a fucking cookie so his wife's hard work doesn't go to fucking waste."

Now, nobody likes making a regular DI mad enough to curse, but when Senior cursed, you could only imagine what punishments could lay in store. Graphic visions of doing rifle pt in the sand pit, or him making me climb the Stairway to Heaven over and over again, filled my mind and made me weak in the knees. Faced with such terrifying yet unlikely punishments, I did the only thing my recruit mind could think to do.

I ate a cookie.

Time stood still. My mouth was filled with the wonderful flavors of chocolate, peanut butter, and sugar, yet my stomach churned with this blatant disregard for the rules. No sooner had I taken that first bite of Heaven's Mana when Senior barked, "I guess we eat on duty now, huh? Good, I'll let the Kill Hat know when he gets back. You'll have fun on the Crucible with him." My heart sank, the delicious cookie now tasting like sawdust in my mouth. I was now a recruit with no dignity, no honor, and no integrity. Chesty and Gunny Basilone must be looking down in shame at me now, and that coveted title of Marine would forever be marred because of my actions. It would have been better to just send me home than have me drag our warrior cult down.

It turns out that Senior could be a crafty bastard because upon seeing the look that formed upon my face, he grinned that sly grin he was known for and told me he always enjoyed fucking with the recruits left to guard the squad bay. Apparently, I had passed the sick game he was playing and would not be headed for a more miserable experience during the Crucible. My heart was still pumping loud enough that I almost didn't hear him say that he wanted me to pass a cookie to every recruit when they got back, and even got me a Santa hat to wear while doing so. Sgt R, wherever you are, thanks for looking out for us wayward recruits. You made a lasting impression on all of us.