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Descriptive Essay: The Marine Staff Sargent

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“Get a move on!” screamed the Marine Staff Sargent. Veins popped out his forehead, covered with beads of perspiration, his jaw clenched, and his large, muscled biceps swelled underneath his sleeves. His eyes, dark and piercing, scanned the continuous stream of running marine recruits looking for anyone slacking. As swift as a hawk, he turned on his heal and ran to the back of the pack, singling out one recruit. “Are you a marine, or a grandma jogging?” hoarsely screamed the Staff Sargent, with his face just inches from the young man’s sunburnt face. “A marine, sir,” nervously responded the recruit. “Then act like one,” yelled the Sargent as he ran towards another slacking marine. “You’re about as sharp as the leading edge on a bowling ball,”

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