He then grabbed me close and I told him, “Hey, we can do this dance all day if you want. But don’t touch my face.”
I know it’s a weird request considering we’re supposed to be fighting and all, but I hate getting bruises on my face. Call me what you want, but every time someone hits me in my face, I kind of black out. It feels like being bitch slapped or something, and I have to redeem myself. It’s psychological I know, but there it is.
Well, Lawrence and I wrestled for a bit while our bunk mates cheered us on. Most were rooting for Lawrence, which I thought was crazy considering he was bullying folks, and then some were rooting for me.
I saw Alex just watching with his arms folded as if he was disgusted at me for something. I frowned at him, telling myself I would ask what his problem was after I was done with Lawrence.
I finally felt Lawrence’s resolve leaving his hold on me, so I loosened mine as well. I figured he was finally tired, and we would go back to glaring and name-calling, but I was totally mistaken. When we let go of each other, I stood remembering that I wanted to talk to Alex when the son of a bitch swung at me. He hit me on the side of my face, making me stumble slightly.
I know you’re wondering how the hell I let that happen. Well, I sort of didn’t. I did react to his swing and ducked, but it wasn’t far enough from his reach. So now I see nothing but red. My ear is ringing from where he hit me, and I knew he left a mark. I was beyond angry. I wanted nothing more than to rip his limbs from his body and beat the snot out of him using them, but since I’ve matured somewhat, I knew I couldn’t do it.
But I could beat him senseless, and I was about to do just that when our recruit division commander (RDC) walked in the door.
“What the hell is going on in here?” the RDC instructor for our unit barked.
We all snapped to attention, as our instructor Chief Petty Officer Dennis Dillon walked in the room. Dillon was about 5’8” and lean, but a very mean SOB.
I reached for my face as I stood next to Lawrence seething. I wanted to pound his face in with my boot, and I think Chief Petty Officer Dillon could smell it on me.
He walked right up to me and Lawrence.
“You two have a problem?”
“No,” I heard him say.
But I didn’t agree. I was fed up and wanted blood.
“SR West, what seems to be the issue?”
You’re called Seaman Recruit in basic training, SR for short.
I looked him directly in the eye even though we aren’t supposed to, and said, “SR Lawrence McPhee is in dire need of getting his ass kicked, sir.”
“Is that so?” He looked me over and smirked.
“Yes, sir,” I said simply.
Now in one of our quiet sessions with our RDC instructor, he revealed to us that there would come a time when we would want to knock each other senseless when we’re out to sea. Because we live in tight quarters wherever we end up, most ships have ways to relieve stress. His was the ring, which prompted me and Alex to smile. He told us if ever there came a time that we needed a stress reliever, you got three one-minute rounds to put-up or shut-up. Well, now I was requesting the option of using that stress reliever, and this was the time to know if our RDC instructor was full of shit, or if he meant every word. Dillon looked at me once more and then looked at Lawrence.
He said, “What about you, SR McPhee? You have some things you would like to discuss with SR West here?”
“Yes, sir. I do,” was all he replied.
Chief Petty Officer Dillon smacked his hands together and smiled.
“Well, gentlemen, I have to say this is the first time in the history of boot camp where this has happened so soon. Maybe it was the SEAL Challenge you just finished that has the two of you all ramped up. But if you need to relieve some stress, let’s hop to it.”
CPO Dillon led us down to the basement of the barracks and opened a locked room with a key he had stashed on his key chain. Once the door opened, and he turned on the light, there was a full boxing ring in the center of the room.
I headed straight to the ring with a tail following me. When I looked back, I wasn’t surprised to see Alex behind me.
I asked, “What the hell was that look you gave me a while ago?”
He looked at me strangely, as if I asked him a stupid question.
He said to me, as he grabbed a set of boxing gloves, “Really? You’re worried about a look I gave you?”
I knew it was irrelevant, but I wanted to know. I gave him my fists, and he began taping them. I watched him go to work as if this was his livelihood.
“Yes, I want to know what the hell was that look for.”
He sighed, “You were pissing me off.”
“Why? Because of the fight?” I asked him, as he finished with one fist and began on the other.