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dreadnaught would do.
    “HR Ferrere,” the master chief said as Liege felt Frank tense up. “Fleet Marine Force.”
    “Oh, man, it sucks to be you,” Liege whispered.
    Most corpsmen stayed with the Navy, but still, the Marines required large numbers of them.  Liege knew that maybe 25% of the class would be assigned to the Marines, but she was surprised that Frank, at number three in the class, would be assigned to the Corps.  Now he had the 18-week, intensive Field Medical Traning Course on Tarawa staring him in the face.
    Unless he asked for it? she wondered, looking at him.
    She was on good terms with him, but she’d never asked him what he had requested.  Quite a few corpsmen wanted to serve with the Marines, so maybe he was one of them.
    Wondering about Frank, she almost missed her own assignment.
    “HR Neves, Fleet Marine Force.”
    What?
    Numb, Liege thought she must have misheard the master chief.  She’d hadn’t requested the Marines.  Far from it.  She felt the stirrings of panic rise within her.
    Some of the instructors had related horror stories of the FMTC, of how it kicked their asses.  True, HM2 Pagnotti had spoken of how serving with the Marines was the best thing that had happened to him, but some people liked to be tied up and pissed on, too, so just because one person liked it didn’t mean Liege would.  What he had described didn’t sound very enjoyable, that was for sure.
    Liege wanted to ask if her assignment was a mistake, but when seven of the next ten of them were assigned to the Marines as well, the reality of what had happened began to sink in.
    “I guess it sucks to be you, too,” Frank whispered.  “See you on Tarawa.”

TARAWA
     
    Chapter 3
     
    “You coming, Doc?” Jessie Wythe asked, poking his head through the hatch.
    Liege looked up from the small field desk where she was entering bio-stats into her M-PA.  It was a mindless, time-consuming task, one that Liege thought was ridiculous.  In today’s age of data integration, she didn’t understand why her “Private Doc” couldn’t simply take the data from the log net.  But instead of making it simple and easy, she had to download each Marine’s bio-stats onto a stylus and then upload them—after converting the data—into her M-PA.
    “Sorry, Jessie.  Chief wants this done before COB.”
    “It is COB, in case you didn’t notice.”
    “Your COB, maybe, but I guess not mine.  You guys go ahead.  I’ll meet you there.”
    “How late you going to be, you think?”
    Liege scrolled down the log repeater for a moment and then told him, “At least an hour.”
    “An hour?” Wythe asked.  “No big deal.  I’ll tell the rest to warm up at the E-Club.  You come and get us, then we’ll head to the Down ’N Out together.”
    “No, you don’t have to do that.”
    “Bullshit, Doc.  We’re going to get the two newbies drunk, and you got to be there, too.  ’Sides, I’m feeling peckish, and you know what that means.  Iffen anyone gives me some lip, I’m gonna lay ’em out, and I’ll need you to doc them up.”
    “Peckish?”
    “Yeah, peckish.  It means. . .hell, I’m not sure what it means.  Killer said it, so I’ll ask him.”
    “OK, Lance Corporal Peckish, you go ask Corporal Wheng what it means.  But for now, let me get back and finish this.  I’ll meet you all at the E-Club.”
    She had to smile at Wythe’s retreating back.  He was a character, for sure.  And he’d been very protective of her since the Imperial Stabiae —all the more so since the chief officially assigned her to Golf Company for the upcoming deployment.  Like most of the battalion corpsmen, she was a member of H&S Company, but she was now attached to First Squad, Second Platoon, Golf Company, for the duration of the deployment.
    She also knew that Wythe fancied her.  Oh, he’d never said as much, but it wasn’t hard to read him.  Given other circumstances, she might even give him a rodeo to see how he bucked,