The morning air at the training camp was heavier than usual—moist, dense, and buzzing with an unspoken anticipation. Inside the mess hall, the cadets sat in quiet rows, finishing their breakfast with mechanical precision. Trays clinked. Boots shuffled. A fan creaked in the corner, barely cutting through the heat.
Rivet poked at his half-eaten chapati, feeling his stomach coil tighter than his nerves. Keshav, sitting beside him, drained a steel glass of water and nudged him.
"You good?" he asked, voice low.
Rivet gave a tight nod. "Yeah. Just… feeling something different today."
Before either could say more, a sharp voice rang across the hall.
"ATTENTION!"
All heads snapped toward the door where Sergeant Rana stood, eyes like steel, voice even harder.
"Fall in line outside in three minutes! Today is your first on-field tactical drill. Forest zone. Full gear. No exceptions. MOVE!"
The hall exploded into a flurry of motion—plates dropped, boots stomped, and cadets scrambled to form lines like ants before a storm.
The March to the Unknown
Thirty minutes later, two military trucks rumbled through uneven dirt roads, tires kicking up clouds of red dust. Inside, cadets bounced in silence. Everyone had their field backpacks strapped tight, helmets fastened, and weapons secured.
The forest approached like a wall—dense, ancient, and humming with the sounds of nature that no city or training yard could replicate.
Rivet sat between Arnav and Keshav, his heart thudding louder with each passing tree. The forest wasn't welcoming. It watched.
The trucks halted. The cadets jumped off.
"In line!" shouted Sergeant Rana, his camo uniform blending into the green. "Welcome to Sector Delta, our designated field training zone. Today, you'll experience real terrain tactics. Not classroom theory. This… is where soldiers are made."
The group stood in attention, eyes scanning the towering trees and uneven ground.
"Rule one," Rana barked. "You move only when ordered. Rule two: silence is survival. Rule three: trust your squad, or die alone. This is not a picnic."
He began handing out topographic maps, magnetic compasses, and task sheets to squads of five.
"You will follow this map to designated checkpoints, marked as Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. At each point, you'll perform a task. Timed. Graded. You'll report to me at the final checkpoint."
Checkpoint Alpha – Navigation Trial
Rivet's squad—him, Keshav, Arnav, and two others—moved through the forest with controlled haste. Keshav led with compass in hand, navigating terrain that twisted unpredictably with dips, roots, and thick brush.
"Wait," Keshav paused, pointing to a rocky outcrop ahead. "This isn't marked. Either the map is old or we're off-track."
Rivet looked around, sweat streaming down his temple. "Let's circle left. Stick to the contour lines."
They finally reached Checkpoint Alpha—marked by a red flag tied to a tree. An instructor waited.
"Task one: Construct a basic observation post using natural cover. Go."
The squad scrambled. Arnav dragged branches. Rivet and another cadet stacked rocks, creating makeshift vision slits.
Ten minutes. Done.
"Improv skills—above average," the instructor noted. "Move."
Checkpoint Bravo – Ambush Simulation
They trekked through denser forest now. Bugs buzzed around their faces. One cadet slipped in the mud. No one laughed.
At Bravo, they were ambushed by two camouflaged instructors acting as enemy scouts.
"You're dead!" one shouted as a red flare went up.
"Shit!" Rivet muttered.
"Too loud," Keshav warned.
The task: Escape ambush and flank the enemy without being spotted.
This time, Rivet took the lead—crawling low through the underbrush, circling wide. His uniform tore slightly on a thorn bush. Breath short, he motioned to Keshav.
"Go!"
They struck from both sides. The 'enemies' raised their hands.
"Well done," the instructor grinned. "Not bad for first-timers."
Checkpoint Charlie – Rescue and First Aid
Their final task was the toughest: simulate a rescue.
A dummy soldier lay at the base of a gully, "injured" with a fake bullet wound.
"Stabilize and extract him within five minutes," the instructor ordered.
"Tourniquet," Keshav shouted, handing Rivet a strip.
Rivet hesitated—then remembered his CPR training. He wrapped the tourniquet, checking pulse. The dummy's 'bleeding' stopped (via a pressure sensor).
Arnav and another cadet formed a sling with rope. Together, they pulled the dummy out.
Clock stopped.
"Decent under pressure," the instructor nodded. "You'd save a life."
The Aftermath
The sun was already setting when the squads returned to base—faces streaked with mud, uniforms drenched, limbs heavy.
Some laughed. Some just dropped to the ground.
Rivet didn't speak. He walked to his room like a ghost, each step echoing in his bones.
Inside, he removed his boots, collapsed on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Every muscle screamed. His shirt stuck to his skin with sweat and dust.
But his eyes… still burned with something new.
Resolve.