Boot Boot

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

 

Boot Boot
By Hippin_In_Hawaii
 

“Happy birthday, Boot!”

Joan “Boot Boot” Laeres groaned and rolled over on her cot, turning her back to the well-wisher. “Lemme sleep,” she moaned.

“On your feet, tanker!” That voice, that tone, cut through the layers of fog and fatigue and activated an instinctive response, almost as if the sergeant had patched into her nervous system directly. She was on her feet and at attention before her brain even registered the fact.

The sergeant smiled. “Sleeping in is an officer’s privilege. Are you an officer, Boot? Did you get promoted for your birthday? Am I now required to salute you?”

“No, Sergeant!” she responded, pausing before asking “Did I?”

His laugh was deep and earnest, even infectious. Boot dared to crack a smile.

“Boot, it would be a waste. You are the finest driver I have ever seen! Promoting you would be a crime. Now move with a purpose; you’re on duty in fifteen minutes, and the chow line closes in five.”

Boot snatched her boots from the floor next to her cot and dashed out the door in her socks. Dignity took a backseat to hunger!

“Heya, Boot!”

“Happy birthday, Boot!”

“Nice boots, Boot!”

The handful of people who were also pushing their luck with last-minute chow all greeted her as she burst into the tent, boots in hand. She smiled and thanked them as she tried to juggle her boots, drinking glass, and cutlery while simultaneously ladling food into the separated areas of her dining tray. Reaching an empty slot at the only table still in use, she commenced to eat with one hand while putting on her boots with the other. She was quite accomplished at the feat; this was hardly the first time she’d opted for extra sleep over common sense. One might even say it was the practice by which she lived her life. As such, she’d become expert at combining all manner of physical tasks that seemed unlikely.

Lexus, the gunner of her tank, shouted back at her as he headed out the door “Best get a move on, Boot Boot!” 

That made her flinch. She’d tried to make her peace with her nickname, but hearing the full version still stung a little. Nicknames are a way of life in the military, and no one gets to choose their own. The names happen organically, are rarely flattering, and once applied can’t be changed. Boot Boot was no different. She’d tried, oh, how she’d tried, to get a new one. “Boot” was a demeaning name to be saddled with, one given to a raw recruit fresh from basic training. She was an E4 Specialist, dammit! But even if she rose to be a decorated general, she’d still be General Boot Boot. 

It wasn’t her fault! She’d enlisted in the Marine Corps with the desire and ambition to be a tank commander in a shock assault unit. Ever since she’d been a child, watching WWII films from her father’s lap, she’d wanted to command a tank in battle. As she grew, so did her ambition. She wanted a tank, a platoon of tanks, even dreamed of commanding an armored company, leading it into battle after battle. That’s why she joined the Marines; they were the first to be sent to trouble spots. How was she supposed to know that even as she was completing her basic training, the Marine Corps was deciding to dismantle their armor and artillery units? She found herself a boot in a service that no longer included her passion in its mission.

It was hard - requiring ridiculous amounts of paperwork, a couple of actual bribes, and promising many favors than she dreaded having to fulfill - but she’d managed to get a transfer out of the Marine Corps and into the armor branch of the Army. Of course, she had to start at the beginning, going through a second version of basic training. Which meant graduating to become a boot. Again. 

She hadn’t been smart enough to keep that fact to herself. The very first time she told the story to her new peers, someone hooted “Way to go, Boot Boot!” And that was that. It didn’t take long for the second “boot” to get dropped by most people in favor of brevity; she was very thankful for that small mercy!

Boot trotted towards her posting, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth as she went. It was against regulations to take food out of the chow tent, but it would be gone before anyone who cared could see it.

“Woah, hang up there, Boot,” called her commander, Sergeant Arsaw, as she approached their tank. “The depot master wants to see you. Something about your logbook being fubar’d. Doubletime it over there; we don’t want to be late for patrol!”

Flustered, Boot pivoted in the gravel and jogged towards the DM’s tent. She was certain that her paperwork was fine; she made sure that no ridiculous bureaucratic details got in the way of her time in a tank, but things in the service had a way of screwing themselves up. 

“Specialist Laeres here to see the DM” she panted to the corporal manning the front desk.

“Laeres, Laeres,” he murmured, reaching for a phone. “Chief, there’s a Laeres here for you.” He paused to listen before asking “You Boot?”

She nodded.

“Go on back, then.”

The tent was large and would have been spacious had it not been piled full of crates, parts, dollies, and tools. She wove her way deeper and deeper into the greasy maze until she came to a desk which was incongruously spotless and flawlessly organized. Behind it sat the depot master, a captain who would have been right at home on a recruitment poster. Her posture was ramrod straight, her uniform was clean, the creases crisp, and her decorations shone. She radiated order and perfection, making Boot feel like a lower form of life. 

“Boot?” she asked as Boot approached.

“Yes ma’am!” 

“Nice logbook. Clean, legible, accurate. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” Boot was confused, but knew enough to take the compliment and keep her mouth shut.

“I see it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, Specialist.”

This did nothing to alleviate her confusion, so she said the only thing that made any sense to say: “Thank you, ma’am!” 

“I believe you’re late for patrol. Dismissed.”

Boot turned and jogged back through the steamy labyrinth towards her tank. She wondered idly whether the DM made a point of calling all tankers in to congratulate them on tidy paperwork, but life in the service had taught her that puzzling over such things was just a waste of brain. As she was performing the mental equivalent of a shrug, she passed out from the dark depths of the depot tent and into the bright sunshine only to see her entire company gathered there.

“Happy birthday, Boot Boot!” they shouted in unison, following it with the traditionally obscene Army version of the birthday song. Boot stood there, overwhelmed by the feelings of belonging and camaraderie washing over her. In the middle of a deployment, they’d still found time to celebrate her birthday!

Sergeant Arsaw stepped forward, handing her a box. It wasn’t wrapped, but still, Boot found herself ridiculously excited to rip it open. Inside was a replacement steering yoke for their tank, one that had been customized. In place of the traditional design, the left and right hand grips had been molded into the shape of two boots!

She knew, from that moment on, she’d never resent being Boot Boot again.

Spoiler

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a world. Information on the world, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

[Person_Random 4,991]

It's time to celebrate Tanki's 12th birthday, and there no better time to gather 'round and take a seat to enjoy a feel-good birthday story by our resident storywriter Hippin_in_Hawaii. We hope you'll find Boot Boot as enthralling as we did!

 

[Dugin.DZ 8]

Translating it into Arabic was very interesting

[MadScienctist 0]

@LAKAMORA yes it was very interesting 

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

I'm in Arabic? So cool!!

[Lose 881]

Just realized I haven't commented on this - amazing story!

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

On 6/8/2021 at 7:44 PM, Lose said:

Just realized I haven't commented on this - amazing story!

Thank you! It all started with the word "boot."

[Venerable 2,967]

Feels great to read this beauty again...

[Incorp 2,084]

You know, when I joined the Forum, hippin already had the reporter avatar. It's so hard to look at his name and don't see the avatar now, I'm so used to it