• Published 5th Mar 2012
  • 6,357 Views, 144 Comments

Wings of Gold - totallynotabrony

  • ...
9
 144
 6,357

OCS

May, 1999

Pensacola, Florida

Fourteen weeks didn’t sound that long. It was three and a half months. It was less than a semester of college. It was also shaping up to be the worst time in Rainbow Dash’s life.

She’d arrived at Officer Candidate School happy and looking forward to the process. She was now a naturalized US citizen, had a bachelor’s degree, and earned a private pilot’s license. Rainbow felt on top of the world, and was eager to begin the first step of a military career.

Upon arrival at the base, she was informed that her new name was Indoctrination Candidate Dash. Her belongings were put in storage and she was issued new ones. Then, people began screaming at her.

It was nothing she hadn’t expected. The recruiter in Indianapolis had been very clear that Officer Candidate School was going to be a very different experience from what she was used to.

“They’re going to have you up in the early morning, out late at night, running in circles, and being verbally abused. On top of that, you’ll be learning navigation, damage control, and all sorts of book work.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” said Rainbow confidently.

“It’s like Full Metal Jacket, but maybe not quite so bad.” At the recruiter’s suggestion, she had rented the movie. It was an eye-opener.

At least the Marine Drill Instructors and Navy Recruit Division Commanders who were doing all the screaming seemed to have no idea what to do with a pony. None of them seemed to know whether she needed a haircut, had the same physical standards as humans, or how to inspect her uniform.

Some of it was good. After all, they couldn’t bust her if they didn’t have a reason. On the other hand, many of them just enjoyed yelling and never missed an opportunity.

There had been ponies, albeit very few, in the US military before Rainbow. She was the first to be admitted to Navy OCS. As such, pretty much all her gear was custom-made.

With the precise measurements, most of it fit decently, but she was unused to wearing clothing at all. At least there were holes cut for her wings. It was unknown if shoes would even stay on her hooves, and at any rate, only one pair was supposed to be issued. The requirement for Rainbow to wear them was eventually waived.

Years previously, she had consulted with an engineer at college and gotten a pair of “claws” made. They were metal bands that fit snugly on her front hooves, and each had a hook. They were out of the way enough so she could walk. After learning that Rainbow would be unable to do many things required of her without the claws, she was allowed to keep them. It was a good thing too, as fastening shirt buttons would have been nearly impossible otherwise.

Perhaps the hardest task that was assigned to Rainbow was rifle drill. She had to balance and walk upright while carrying a weapon. She soon regretted admitting that she was capable of standing on her hind legs. If it weren’t for her wings giving her balance and the claws to operate the practice rifle, she would have had a real problem.

The drill rifles were deactivated M16s that had been battered around by hundreds of people over the years. One she learned how, Rainbow could yank the charging handle, inspect the receiver, tap the bolt release, and pull the trigger without really thinking about it.

Marching drill was better. Rainbow had to figure out how to coordinate four hooves with the cadence, but she enjoyed being in step with the group. It reminded her of flying in formation.

She did make some mistakes, though. They were usually corrected with a Marine DI giving her “incentive training.” In other words, an incentive not to screw up again.

Rainbow did not mind pushups. She was usually one of the best at group-wide physical training. Her front legs were stronger than most humans’ arms, and her wings could provide an added boost. As a result, she required a lot more incentive than most.

After a particularly bad violation in which Rainbow had forgotten the name of the person who was eighth in her chain of command, she was made to go facedown on the asphalt drill area and pump out pushups for nearly an hour.

Candidates were often quizzed at random times about general military knowledge. The names of the people in the chain of command were part of that, and she had been expected to know them.

The drill instructor approached. “Learned your lesson yet, Dash?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The candidates were divided, and had DIs of the same gender.

“You can stop now. Just to let you know, you set the new record for time spent in the front leaning rest. I never thought it would be all in one sitting, though.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The DI smiled. “Get your feathery ass off my drill deck.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

It was another lesson for Rainbow. She couldn’t afford mistakes. She should have known that she’d be asked about the chain of command, and been expecting it. She would just have to plan ahead next time.

As OCS went on, candidates were allowed more accommodations. It wasn’t until week nine that makeup was approved. Some of the women with Rainbow acted like they’d found an oasis in the desert. She was just happy to be allowed dessert at dinner.

Since the incident with the chain of command, Rainbow had cut down on mistakes of all kinds. As a reward, she was given command of a sub-group of the class. Until that point, she hadn’t realized how much of the officer experience that she hadn’t thought about. It was more than just a rank that she had to have to fly a plane, it also came with responsibilities.

Now, she had to look out for those under her and be accountable for them. Rainbow wasn’t sure she could handle a leadership position, but like everything so far, she gave it her best. She learned that she always had to be thinking about other people, rather than just herself.

In the closing weeks, all who were still in the program had been promoted to Candidate Officers. That meant there were some minor changes to their uniforms, and things seemed to be getting less difficult, although Rainbow couldn’t tell if the instructors were nicer or she was just becoming used to it.

On the day of graduation, there was excitement in the air. So many weeks were about to pay off. Rainbow reminded herself to keep cool and not do anything stupid.

The candidates were gathered together. One of the lead trainers made a speech.

“Navy owned, Marine Corps trained. That’s what you are. You came to us as nothing, and we’re sending you to the fleet as officers. We could apologize for all the hell you’ve been though. We could tell you that we’re sorry for shouting in your face because you had a thread out of place on your uniform. Of course, we aren’t.” There were a few nervous laughs.

The man went on. “What you’ve been though has taught you how to be an officer. It’s more than just spit and polish. It’s more than toeing the line of regulations. It’s about making decisions under pressure. It’s about leadership. Honor. Courage. Commitment. They say that the strongest steel is tempered in the hottest flame. Your training forms a strong core that will carry you through any challenges you may face. Candidate Officers, you are ready for commissioning. Make us proud.”

It wasn’t much of a speech, Rainbow reflected, but it got the point across. What’s this? Were her eyes watering? She moved to the room where the commissioning ceremony would be held.

Her five closest friends had managed to make it for graduation. They smiled and gave her encouragement for what was about to happen next.

Rainbow raised her right hoof and repeated after the prompter.

I, Rainbow Dash, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic;

That I will bear allegiance to the same;

That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion;

And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.

So help me Celestia.

Author note:
Navy Aviation OCS is supposedly 14 weeks, while "regular" is 12. In the old days, it was 16. So you can see my confusion regarding some of this, and I hope someone in the comments can straighten me out.
I’d like to thank VADM John Harvey for inspiration in writing the speech.