Whiskey Delta – Chapter 15
“You can’t say civilization don’t advance — for in every war, they kill you in a new way.”
-Will Rogers
Fifteen folding chairs sat in the middle of the aircraft bay, their eight bodies occupying them. They grabbed the ones in the middle, leaving the outer edges unoccupied. All except for Braun who sat front right, the seemingly appropriate spot for the squad’s CO.
The regular maintenance crews had moved out and taken their compliment of Falcons with them. It appeared they had the entire place to themselves. If only they knew what awaited them. But of course, the squad had plenty of theories…
“I’ll bet is some kind of special forces shit,” said Mill. “This woman has been holding back til now. All this HALO jumping had to stop some time.”
“I doubt it,” replied Kobayashi. “I’ve seen special forces training. It doesn’t happen in a hangar.”
“Who cares, I’m just glad were done jumping. My feet are killing me.”
“Trust me, we’re not done with airdropping. We’re nowhere near where we need to be to pull off this op.”
Saunders words hung in the air for a second, an invisible sting, until Whitman chose to challenge them. He used his best Dana Carvey imitation for the occasion too.
“Well aren’t we special?”
Multiple voice oohed from the retort. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.
“Care to shut up, Private?”
Whitman turned to Dezba. “I’m sick and tired of her lording her training over the rest of us. She wouldn’t have shit on us if we were doing any kind of driving!”
“Like it takes skill to put it in drive.”
“Oh, the Cobb man decides to weigh in, big surprise.” Mill was quick to come to his defense. Braun took a deep breath and waited for the last of the bombs to fall. As usual, they were breaking along the basic fault line.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s no secret you two are banging. Just get it out in the open already!”
“Fuck you, White Trash!”
“Say that to my face, queen fairy!”
And that did it. Within seconds, everybody was joining in. Watt, Mill and Whitman on the one side, Cobb, Saunders and Kobayashi on the other. Airmen versus grunts, no room for neutrals. Dezba tried to shout over them but was quickly losing control. Braun felt his eyes on his back, wondering where their trust CO was. Rapidly losing his temper was where…
Slowly, he got up and turned around. He worked slow, summoning his drill master voice.
“Will you please shut the fuck up and SIT-YOUR-ASSES-DOWN!”
Very quickly, they all obliged. All eyes were on him too. Not another word, just the creaking sound of chairs scraping as the put them back in their proper position. Braun took a deep breath and summoned a more even tone. It had come at last, the big break that had been building up for the past three weeks. It was time for a pep talk.
“Alright, everybody… we’re tired and we’re sore. We’re sick and tired of being strung along. But we’re fucking soldiers. We got our orders, we got a priority mission, and a chance to take part in something truly momentous. If we screw that up because of some bruised egos or childish competition, what’s that make us?”
They all hung their heads. Nobody wanted to be those guys. Had to be said though. He decided to give Dezba that privilege.
“Sergeant, care to tell them?”
“The biggest fucking losers this war ever produced… sir.”
“Thank you,” he said with a nod, then looked to the rest of them. “Now sit your asses down. By my watch, briefing commences in one mike.”
They all did as they were told and Braun followed, setting his ass down in the folding chair and getting comfortable. For the next few seconds, no one said a word. Silence and peace, the bad juju having been exorcised for the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last though. Not when the date of their deployment was as of yet undetermined. As far as any them knew, they would be put through drills until they died. Or some crisis came along and necessitated they be rotated back to their usual assignments.
The silence didn’t last. T o their collective left a t the far end of the hangar, a loud crack announced the end of their post-flight afterglow. The doors began to slide, making a terrible din as they parted to let the afternoon light in.
Braun was on his feet before anyone else and walking towards the door. A shadow began to pass into view, a squad, square vehicle that was towing something behind it. When his eyes began to adjust to the light, he realized it was a runway tug and it was hauling an equipment cart behind it. At the time, he couldn’t quite see what was arranged on it. But it clearly came in components, and they looked man shaped.
Everyone was on their feet now. Scarcely a person could resist walking in the direction of the goods being offered. Some shadowy figures began to appear to, coming around from the other side of the caravan. The Colonel’s was unmistakable, but she had apparently brought some friends with her today…
“Morning, Squad. I trust everyone is rest up?”
No one replied. They were still somewhat in awe, and doing their best to get a clear glimpse of what they were being given. With the doors closing, it was becoming much easier.
“Intrigued?” she asked. “Well good. Because after the past few weeks you’ve had, we felt it was time for you to get a glimpse at your new hardware. Gather around.”
They did just that. Braun kept an eye on the two standing by the Colonel. A man and a woman, both smacking of the same air of special forces she had going on. At the moment, they were inert, subordinating themselves to the presentation she was making. Braun knew if he kept looking at them, one of them might give him the stink eye. He joined his squad just time for one of them to realize what they looking at.
“Holy shit! Is this Future Force gear? Are we fucking taking this stuff?”
The Colonel’s people smiled ironically. She was a bit more gracious. “Correct, Private. This is Future Force Warrior, as commissionded for the USMC some years back. We got them on loan, so don’t break them.”
Whitman pulled the nearest helmet off the rack and held it before him. His mouth dropped open as the sheer awe washed over him.
“Holy shit…” he whispered. “I’m the Master Sarge!’
“No,” said Dezba, grabbing a hold of the nearest rifle. “I’m the fucking Master Sarge, you’re the Piddly Private.”
“And those,” said the Colonel. “those are you new weapons. For most, this will consist of SCAR’s with upgraded optical sites that are wired to your Heads-Up Displays.”
A loud clank sounded from the other side of the car. Saunders stepped out carrying the biggest weapon she had ever seen. Her eye was comparable to Whitman’s.
“Is this the Barrett 500?”
“Yes it is… Kobayahsi?” she called. He emerged from behind the cart carrying a similarly large weapon. “You might have noticed your weapon isn’t exactly standard issue either.”
The big man was speechless. In his hands, he held a BFG, something even Braun didn’t recognize.
“Import from China, back before the First Wave. Should come in handy if and when you guys come upon a charging horde.”
Braun had all he could handle. He rushed to his spot on the rack, the one marked with his name above the helmet. The armor was all there, helmet, body cage, thigh covers, arms, and the suits portable computer. All the lines and cables were there, hanging limply from their mounts and waiting to be connected. At the side, standing erect by the cage, was a SCAR with a M203 launcher. He turned it around and noticed the rather fancy looking optical site on top. It too had a line running from it, alluding to the optical display the Colonel mentioned.
“What do you think, Lieutenant?”
Braun looked up suddenly to see her standing at his side. Her eyes gleamed with a strange intensity, like a happy parent pleased with the fact that her children were enjoying their presents. He didn’t want to disappoint.
“Very… Commanding Officer looking,” he said.
Her smile grew wider. “Good… now suit up. We’ll be conducting maneuvers in twenty mikes.”
The group grumbled with one voice. The Colonel simply smiled and began to walk off, issuing some parting words of advice.
“Familiarize yourself with the suit’s controls. All instructions are there in the manual provided. Made so simple, even grunts dumber than you could understand.”
Mill chuckled. “Have to be, if it was Marine Corps issue.”
“Oh,” the Colonel said, stopped and turned around. “And be sure to pay special attention to the suit’s environmental controls. Today’s is going to be a scorcher.”
