Swofford entered the small, barren barrack that he would call “home”, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Was this really what he wanted to do? To become a Marine, or a Jarhead as they were infamously nicknamed.

If he had doubts now, there was no way of backing out. He had to stick through it, or suffer the relentless embarrassment of his peers around him.

With a tentative step, he made his way toward a small bed near the back of the room, taking a seat on the thin, cardboard like mattress. Swofford’s roommate was nowhere in sight, but he had a feeling he would be meeting them soon.