Rilfe Qualifications - BCG's

The 7 of us walked into the room at 2000, nearly 16 hours after we had left that morning. Disheartened by my inaccuracy on the very first day of the beginning of rifle week, I dropped my load bearing vest and camo-pack on the ground and sat at my desk without saying a word. The rest of my room mates began to settle in.

Lt. Texas, a burly marine with a low voice and a big smile, dropped his gear and sat at his desk. Being a Texas native, gun's were his sport. He began to wipe the left over gun powered and carbon from his hands with a towel.

Lt. Jimmy, a scrawny but experienced Lt. of TBS, dropped his gear next to me and took out his phone. He had been dropped to the holding company for a while, then picked up with our company. He was in high spirits as he was used to the long days already.

Lt. Pittsburgh, a graduate of the Naval Academy, dropped his gear and stood next to the wall by the sink. Although he was small, his scrappy nature complimented his confidence and made up for his small stature. He took out a bag of beef jerky and started to have at the dried meat.

"How'd yall shoot?" Asked Lt. Texas to the room
"Not bad. I mean, I haven't shot since the last time i qualled, but all my shots were in the black." Said Jimmy
"I don't know. I did alright," said Pittsburgh, "the targets were a lot bigger at the academy. I still hit black though."
"Yah, I hit some of the fives and fours as well." Said Texas. "But then again its easy to hit anything at 36 yards."

Their conversation continued, and they noticed that I stayed silent. They knew why. Lt. Pittsburgh, being rash as he was, broke the silence.

"Hey Brian, I saw that you didn't hit jack shit on the target today. What happened?" He asked.
"Well, my sights were a little off. I got them fixed though before the end of the day" I responded.
"You know," Lt. Pittsburgh said leaning forward, "It's not too late to head back to medical and get yourself some BCG's.I mean, if you can't see the target from that far..."

The room laughed. He gave a smile with his little joke. I gave one right back. BCG stands for "birth control goggles", or the military issued glasses that they give marines here. They are about half the size of your face and the lenses are rather thick. They make a person look rather unattractive to say the least.

"Tell you what, ill make a little bet with all of you." I said. The room turned their chairs and listened.

"Lets all put in five bucks. At the end of qualifications, we'll all go to the bar together. The person with the highest rifle and pistol score will win the pot and use it to buy drinks for themselves. The lowest total score... has to wear the BCG's to the bar the entire time."

Everyone laughed and smiled in approval.

"You sure about this Brian?" asked Texas.
"Why wouldn't I be?" I said.
"We're all pretty good shooters. It might be unfair for ya." said Jimmy.
"Don't worry about me. But what I am worried about is how Pittsburgh might look at a bar with those glasses falling off his face." I said
"HA! ok, I'm in on that one." Said jimmy.
"I'm down for it." Said Texas.
"Brian, i'm going to be laughing like all hell when i see you in the bar with those specks on, dude." Said Pittsburgh.

More smiles and more banter went back and forth in the room. We all sat, uniforms soaked in sweat, waiting to be secured for the day so we could shower. We could all smell 'Subway' from down the hall, and our stomachs grumbled from not eating. Mine especially. Finally, the word was passed that we could turn to our free time. One by one, each of us took a shower and went strait to bed before 9pm hit.

Although the growling in my stomach had ceased after a foot long sub, my head was still grumbling. My confidence was seriously low from missing most of my shots at 36 yards. But I was determined not let that mess with me too much. I needed a goal and new motivation to get me out of the divot I was in. And I found it.


I am not going to be wearing those BCG's so long as I can help it.



Thanks for reading.