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!IT5VxStGLw 11/10/08(Mon)19:12 No.2975003I lost track of how long it took us to make it to our planet. Maybe months, hell, maybe a year or two. Can't really keep track of time in a grey metal room, and that was where we spent most of our time. Sleep, eat in the mess hall, train, train, train some more, get a little recreation time out of our room, then spend the rest of our time 'praying and reflecting' in our room. I did learn a few things though. Not from command, of course. They never see the value in telling the grunts anyways. They seem to expect us to die long before telling us anything would get a return on their investment.
That last bunk never filled up. And the commissar, whenever he would stay in the room with us, always ended up falling asleep in that chair. I don't know how he managed it. When he was gone at one point I tried to sit down in that thing. Hurt my back after a while. I don't know, maybe that's why commissars are so damned pissed off all the time. Then again, from what I've heard from other guardsmen we got lucky with our's. He's a gruff old man, but he doesn't talk a whole lot. The few other commissars that I've had to deal with looked ready to shoot me if I so much as sneezed too loudly. Not that our commissar was a little angel. When he was awake and in the mood to talk, he only gave orders. Deliver this, train more, pray more, or criticism. Your helmet's askew a little, your lasgun shouldn't be that far away from you, you messed up the prayer, so on and so on. |
