Medic!
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 2: Combat Conditioning Course
0547 hours. The sky over Coronado was still dark, stars fading as dawn approached. Maria stood at the starting point of the combat conditioning course with her medic bag strapped tight and her rifle slung across her chest. Forty-two pounds of medical gear, plus another fifteen pounds of weapon, ammunition, and body armor.
The eight SEALs of Team Five were already there, looking far too alert for this ungodly hour. Their gear sat ready—plate carriers, rifles, assault packs loaded with sandbags to simulate operational weight.
Morrison checked his watch. “Perez, you’re familiar with the obstacle course?”
“Yes, sir. Ran it during indoc.”
“Good. This isn’t indoc.” He gestured toward the course stretching into the darkness—rope climbs, wall traverses, water obstacles, and four miles of sand running. “Full combat load, full speed. You fall more than fifty meters behind, you fail. You drop your bag, you fail. You need help over an obstacle, you fail. Questions?”
“No, sir.”
Brad Simmons adjusted his plate carrier and grinned. “Don’t worry, Doc. We’ll keep it at a light jog for you.”
The others laughed. Maria said nothing. She’d been up since 0430, running her pre-dawn ritual: stretching, hydration, mental preparation. Her medic bag was packed for balance, heavy items centered, nothing rattling or shifting. She’d run this course twice during her FMF training. Never with this much weight. Never with this much riding on it.
Morrison raised his hand. “On my mark. Three ... two ... one ... move!”
They exploded forward into the darkness.
The first mile was sand running—the soft, energy-draining hell of beach training that had broken countless candidates. Maria’s legs churned, boots sinking with each step. The medic bag bounced against her back despite the tight straps. Her rifle barrel dug into her shoulder.
Ahead, the SEALs moved like a pack, their longer strides eating ground. Thompson was on point, setting a brutal pace. Brad ran sweep, occasionally glancing back.
Maria focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Rhythm over speed. Endurance over sprint. Her legs burned but she kept her cadence steady, refusing to let the gap widen.
They hit the first obstacle: a fifteen-foot cargo net climb. The SEALs went up like spiders, their upper body strength making it look effortless. Maria reached the net and started climbing. Her arms screamed under the combined weight of gear and body. Hand over hand. Foot placement. Don’t think about the burn. Just climb.
She crested the top and swung over, controlled descent on the other side. The team was already moving toward the next obstacle. She hit the ground running.
The course was designed to break people. Every obstacle was harder with weight, harder with fatigue, harder when your hands were slick with sweat and your lungs were already screaming.
Rope climb. Wall traverse. Low crawl under barbed wire. Each one extracted a price.
Maria paid it without complaint.
At the two-mile mark, they hit the water obstacle—a fifty-meter swim across a retention pond, weapons and gear held above water. The SEALs entered the water in a tactical line, rifles high, moving with practiced efficiency.
Maria waded in. The cold water was a shock after the heat of running. Her boots filled immediately, adding weight. She kept her rifle high with one hand, used the other to pull herself forward. The medic bag dragged like an anchor.
Halfway across, her legs cramped.
She bit down on the pain and kept moving. Stroke. Kick. Breathe. The far bank looked impossibly distant. Her arms shook. Her vision tunneled.
Don’t stop. Don’t slow. Don’t give them a reason to doubt.
She reached the bank and hauled herself out, water streaming from her uniform. The SEALs were already fifty meters ahead, moving toward the next obstacle. She ran after them, boots squelching, legs heavy.
The sun was rising now, painting the sky orange and pink. Beautiful and indifferent.
At mile three, they hit the wall series—eight-foot, ten-foot, and twelve-foot vertical walls that required momentum and upper body strength to clear. The SEALs attacked them with aggressive efficiency, using foot placement and explosive power to launch themselves over.
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