"Here, take this with you." A lingering voice from across an ocean. "This makes a great escape, just make sure to bring it back to me, ok?"
"I promise"
Daniel Jones sat in his makeshift tent under a shaded light, thumbing through the pages of a small, paperback book. It was a present tied to a promise: The Complete Alice in Wonderland, read the header in the top of each page; down the rabbit hole, "an escape to another world," or so he had said. Daniel certainly was in another world, one where he wasn't even Daniel anymore, but Locker: a closed off Corporal charged with making sure the men of Charlie company do their job.
Locker knew the men were scared and nervous. It's why he had moved back to his tent to flip through his book, take his mind off the concern he heard all around him. 'Ram was talking about ambush duty even though we don't even have a proper base of operations set up and word spread fast.' Everyone on edge made Locker close up tight. 'Let Anaconda handle ambush duty, he is the model team leader after all. Let the pro show us how its done, I have other things to worry about'
Ram sniffs deep, tilts his head back, then spits off to the side. Coughs. Hopes he ain't taking sick. He stares absent-eyed at a green leaning bush expanding out of the yellow earth. There's a quick vision of the VC all flooding in, jabbing flesh with their bayonets and ripping flesh off with giant claw-hands like bears. No one is left but Ram, surrounded by blood-drinking apparitions who shift and ghost towards him, and whatever happens to him there is worse than death.
As if there could eve be anything worse than death.
Alright, he tells the bush. Shit.
He goes and lifts the flap on Locker's tent. Bends under and comes in, eyes fixed on the back of the man's head. He is reminded of a Buddhist monk when he enters, but he doesn't know why. Jones. Ram coughs again, swallows the syrup from his throat. Hey, Jones. We got ambush patrol tonight, alright? You boys...
Puts his hand on his hips. Goes absent-eyed again. He remembers telling someone to take the left fork at a crossroads, down into the snake pit, knowing it was death he was sending the man to. Sees the book in Locker's hand - remembers, the short guy always with a pen and paper, always writing, always saying, One day, it'll be a book. It's the war for Christ's sake! People will want to know how it all went down.
Down the rabbit hole indeed.
You, uh, you guys stick around. Stay here at camp. Alpha's got patrol. But I need you boys making sure we are locked up tighter'n a liberal's ass. This here's all we got for right now, we can't take no chances.
Ram takes a step back to the stripe of light at the tent's flap. Here, he could be an astronaut turned sideways, the horizon tilted behind him - or a painter with turned canvas to get embellishments in at a certain angle. But he's not. He's in Vietnam.
once i get a feel for where everyone is, ram'll come hunt you fellahs down
"You, uh, you guys stick around. Stay here at camp. Alpha's got patrol. But I need you boys making sure we are locked up tighter'n a liberal's ass. This here's all we got for right now, we can't take no chances."
No, wait... a deeper sound, coming from behind. Locker's eyes re-focus as he sorts himself out, picking out the words, "... Alpha's got patrol..."
Closing his book up and replacing it in a waterproof case, Locker slips the square package in his jacket and heads out of the tent to get his men ready. "Yes sir," comes the delayed acknowledgment to Ram's order, "liberal-ass-tight, coming right up."
Looking at Ram, it seems like the man has something kicking around upstairs, something on his mind? Maybe, who knows. Normally Daniel would ask, see what's up.
Locker just walks on by to get his men ready for the relative safety of the camp's perimeter.
Couple minutes later, he sees Saint walking in. Weird look on his face.
You alright, soldier?
Noise drones on. He shakes his head. Cut the pussy shit, Ram. You know how a superior officer's 'sposed to stand, talk. They'll walk all over your ass.
Loud, barking: If you're done wandering around wherever you goddamn please, soldier, we got work to do around here. Where is your commanding officer? Stop standing there with your dick in the wind and find him, soldier, and bring him to me - you boys got ambush patrol tonight.
Ram's eyeballin' me again, dammit. Just pretend like you didn't notice...
"Huhn? Ya, I'm fine."
His responses come a half-second late, just enough to be noticeable but not glaringly obvious. He stares at Ram with his glassy eyes. Aside from the normal jungle smells, if one were standing close enough to Saint, one might notice a very faint scent.. like.. flowers maybe.. or soap.
"With all due respect, sir, sometimes a soldier has to take a shit. And sometimes that soldier ain't got a proper commode around so that soldier goes off a bit a shits in the woods. 'Course then he has to hear an S.O. barking at him but that doesn't mean he had to shit any less 5 minutes ago, does it, sir?"
Saint gives the officer a salute and goes off to find the Commander...
David is sitting alone in one the company tents, from a distance he watches a few of his company mates playing a game of cards. A slight smile crosses his face as he seems to take simple satisfaction in the fact these men can take relief in such simple pleasures.
His demeanor seemed oddly relaxed, rain seemed to have that effect on him. It was almost as if the world acknowledged his grief and the grief felt throughout this war. As if God was crying along side us. Even if it was just imagery conjured up in his mind- it brought him some relief..
He casually raised his watch and realized that his squad had patrol as soon as Bravo made their return.
David stands up and casually straps on his gear, he nods to the men before exiting the large tent.
He lights up a cigarette as he waits under the canopy, surveying his surroundings.
Egos on
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simonwolfi can feel a differencetoday, a differenceRegistered Userregular
He starts to say something after him, but just scowls. Fuck this place. All they got is each other's word that things will work, that structure will live. And if it don't? Who's Ram going to run to? The Vietnamese?
Yelling after Saint: You tell him to come meet me at my tent! On the double! And off he goes to wait, over the yellow earth and gray skies, past the storm of men doing what needs to be done, and to his tent, where he goes inside and squats down and picks up a handful of dirt, letting it drip through his fingers, and wishes this war hadn't happened.
Anaconda tosses his cigarette into the wind, after taking his last puff. He still hadn't seen any sign of Bravo company and it was about time that Alpha took over patrol.
A tad concerned, he makes his way to the Sergeant's tent. Keeping a casual but brisk pace.
Lifting the curtain to Ram's tent, Anaconda addresses his superior officer
Oh my mistake folks. I thought that "Saint gives the officer a salute and goes off to find the Commander..." would suffice and not be too repetitive. Didn't mean to drop the ball, lol.
Come on in, Corporal. You ain't gotta ask to come in when I call you. I might call you and I'm in here with my damn chest all ripped open by some gook with a machete and need help, and you're out there pussyfootin' around waiting for me to say, Alright!
His voice is low and even. Tired.
You and your boys got ambush patrol. Everybody else is fixing up camp. I need you all ready by sundown. Head west out the camp and start marching. Corporal.
Walks over to him. Looks him straight in the eye - this isn't chain of command. This is man-to-man. Human being to another living human being.
I want all them boys coming back tonight, too, and not so much as a sore throat from any of 'em. You copy me, Steinbeck?
simonwolfi can feel a differencetoday, a differenceRegistered Userregular
edited December 2009
It's still light out.
The men, ambling about as they are, are trying to get ready for the night's affairs.
Bravo squad still hasn't come back, but that doesn't raise any alarm bells - knowing Raven, he's probably got them just camping around and doing nothing, waiting until it's late enough that Ram will have had to make a decision over who's going on ambush tonight. Then he can just amble back with his team, stretch his arms and look at the hard work everyone else has done, mooch off it like the motherfucker he is.
Word's already spread around that Alpha team's going on ambush tonight, or so someone overheard. Charlie team, they're gloating about it, asking the people on Alpha if they can get their girl's phone numbers, so they know who to give a sympathy fuck to when they have to deliver the bad news.
Smoke's rising from somewhere to the east, miles away. A burning village or a burning campsite, someone wonders aloud?
Who cares, someone chimes in. Either way, we're still stuck here.
Bravo isn't back, and probably shouldn't be a concern for now.
If you want to challenge the Sergeant over his orders, Egos, it'll be a conflict!
Ram goes in the fading light and tells Charlie team to shut their fucking mouths. Anybody saying a goddamn thing gets to go out on ambush patrol forever, by their self, fucking forever.
Nobody's getting lost. Nobody's gonna die.
Even the sun calls him a liar, though, as it gasps for life over the horizon.
Alpha. You guys suit up. You boys come back and see me personally after. Get to it!
Saint sniffles, wipes his nose. Digs into one of his various pockets (who knows what he's got in there) and draws out a pack of smokes. He lights up, the small flame of his lighter casting his face in a clearer view. Lot of lines around the eyes, pupils dilated just a bit, three days worth of stubble, his helmet is cocked to the left.
"Ya, looks like it. I'm ready to stretch my legs a bit anyhow. Git my mind off the god forsaken bugs." He takes a deep pull on his cigarette.
Locker rebukes Cowboy and his big mouth and preps his people up for guard duty, setting up a shifting patrol over the small encampment that keep three walking eyes on all angles, while two rest to make sure everyone on duty is fresh and alert.
Just letting you know I am watching, just seems like the scene is centered on Alpha team at the moment. Also, finals week. Sweet, sweet (temporary) freedom is so close.
Finding himself with a lot of nervous energy Saint busies himself checking his thompson. He flicks the safety a few times, checks the cocking mechanism to make sure the action is smooth, he lets the machine gun hang from it's strap while he doublechecks each of his spare clips, making sure the bullets are nice and tight, no shaking, he replaces the clips on his belt. He sniffs, then spits off to the side.
"Well, shit. All this standing around waiting is starting to get to me. Let's git this over with."
Oh np. I've just seen a few games implode unexpectedly and I was just trying to find out what was up.
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simonwolfi can feel a differencetoday, a differenceRegistered Userregular
edited December 2009
Sunset comes quickly.
Alpha team, they pack up for the night, tell some people they'll see them in the morning. Some of them even believe it.
Charlie team, they're getting ready for their duties for the night. Rushed, poorly made foxholes edge the camp's limits, each placed in positions that seemed good in the daylight. But there's so much space between them, it's an empty gesture at defense - if a gook company came down on them, there'd be no escape for any man in this squad.
Led by their corporal, Alpha team starts heading out, someone with a compass pointing in the right direction, telling them which way to the spot aerial sighted movement.
As if by magic or remote control, Bravo team comes back from their recon patrol right when Alpha steps foot in the jungle. Raven shoots them a look, all gloating and proud, says, "Good luck out there." Fucker.
Charlie team disappears into the jungle, and everyone keeps doing their business until the night's come.
= = = = = = =
Now it's midnight, and all the soldiers are set up in their crews.
Down in the depths of the jungle, either right on the edge of or in Cambodia, Alpha team's doing their thing. The detonation charges are rigged up on the slightly-beaten trail that aerial sighted, and the soldiers who aren't on watch? They're trying to get some sleep, choosing between using their jackets as bug protection or pillows. Not Saint, though; he's got watch duty.
Anaconda's flitting in and out of sleep, knowing that he's got a responsibility to protect all the men in his squad. With a fuckup like Saint on watch, that's right when the gooks would start marching through, walk right on top of the team before they got a chance to fire back.
Someone, twenty years from now, they'll find a bunch of skeletons hanging from a tree, dogtags reading names like "Steinbeck", "Jenkins", "White". They had it coming, the gook would say, before pulling off the dog tags, take 'em back home and sell them to tourists.
The noise of the jungle is overwhelming and quiet. Soldiers on duty, they're just waiting for something. Anything.
Back at base camp, Charlie team is toeing that fine line between too little and jsut enough attention to their duties. Some of the men are talking, guns at ease, sitting by the fire and laughing. Lit up bright like flares, could see them all the way from Saigon.
The rest of the men, the ones who are actually on duty, paying attention? They're looking at their comrades, thinking maybe they don't need to work so hard tonight. Been a long time since they got a chance to relax. Maybe the gooks won't know they're here yet. Maybe they're guarding this place for nothing, just this once.
Give it time, they'll all be doing their own thing. Guaranteed.
Alright, so, if you can't tell - Ram and Locker at still at base camp, Anaconda and Saint are on ambush patrol. You're free to interpret where you guys are and what you're doing when it begins, but this is the scene you're entering into.
Ram shakes his head, watching the guys pretend they're at fucking summer camp, pissing around with each other. He tells them: Hey, you boys get any more of them magic pills save you from getting your cut throat by the VC, you make sure to share with the rest of us. See, we all gotta act like we're scared and actually keep watch on the place. No, don't nobody get up. Stay comfortable. Keep roasting your fucking marshmallows and telling your fucking ghost stories.
Walking off, he says, In a few days, you'll even be starring in your own.
He wishes he could slam a door.
He finds Locker somewhere, pulls water from his canteen, locks eyes. You need to tell your little buddies we ain't here on vacation. We got us a war to win. Sorry little shits. When Alpha team comes back and sees all our heads on big bamboo pikes, like Welcome to the fuckin' Sheridan, they'll wish they had someone other than me taking this shit seriously.
Looking at Ram, Locker breathes deep. The men were actually relaxed for a change, not high strung, it sounded so nice when everyone was a little laid back. That's probably why Locker had let his standards slide, good thing Ram is around to put things straight. Yeah, good enough.
Nodding to the Sgt, Locker gets up and goes about setting everyone straight. A quiet tension flows over the camp like a wave as Locker begins dousing fires and putting soldiers in their place. When its all done, Locker can hear the silence, whispering at his back with a dozen angry glares, but that is what it takes. He wasn't going to die here so a couple of the boys could have a good night.
"If you all ever want a warm bed again, somewhere off the ground, maybe with a little company, then you better cut this shit out real fast. I, for one, don't think the VC have the slightest clue we are here, and if we keep our goddamn heads down, it may just stay that way. Now do what you gotta do to get by, so long as it don't involve fucking 'kill-me' beacons."
With that said, Locker moves to his post, wraps up in a blanket, and watches carefully for any movement in the night.
David forces himself up, unable to get any sound rest. Slumping over and then pulling himself to his feet. He readies his rifle and glances around for any potential signs. Unable to find any at the current moment, he attempts to relax by leaning his back against a nearby tree.
Looking into the thicket, David becomes momentarily lost in its intricate weave. Its tad relaxing...
Turning back, his reaction is to reach out and pull out a cigarette. He does, but realizes lighting it could give away their position and subsequently stashes it back in the box.--- The odds were low but he didn't want to make a mistake. Perhaps this was the one time a sniper might have been watching. If he were alone...it wouldn't matter, but he would give away the position of the squad.
Looking over at Saint, David silently observes him. He is tempted to go over and ask him how things are going- but he surmises he would take it the wrong way.
Saint trudges through the swamp and jungle as quietly as he can. Between the four of them though, alpha team makes enough noise. He keeps his thompson inches from firing position, safety off. His dilated blue eyes darting in every direction. He doesn't say a word while Alpha team is out hunting, a yes or no grunt maybe, if he's directly addressed. The scrawny but non-the-less fierce looking Scandinavian was ever ready, his trigger finger ready, but he'd worked himself up for nothing it seemed. He started to worry that he was looking stupid. Fucking jungle. He could feel something tingling in the back of his skull.
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simonwolfi can feel a differencetoday, a differenceRegistered Userregular
edited December 2009
Post coming in the morning, guys - Chrismas shopping and work deciding to kick us in the arse before the break has significantly dug into my writin' time.
Wrapped up tight in his blanket, time crawled slowly by as Locker strained his eyes on the wall of darkness, seeking movement, sounds, anything to keep his attention off the dissatisfaction of his people on watch. Dousing the fires had been necessary, but with no Viet Cong in sight, it gave the men a single person to focus their fear and malcontent on. This is not going well and this entire mission is waste of time. Sure, sure, but here we are and surviving takes priority, right? It is just waiting....
A thump on the shoulder interrupts Locker's thoughts, causing him to turn his head to lock eyes with the chameleon himself. "Osgood, shouldn't you be watching the other side of camp?"
The rebuke only draws a smile from Osgood as he offers a flask to the huddled team leader. Locker eyes him, knowing Osgood is a man of few words, and accepts the flask, taking a deep swig of the fiery refreshing contents before handing the metallic canister back to the best point man this squad has ever known. Without so much as a grunt, the chameleon fades back into the night, moving into position to keep his post secure.
Locker settled back in, somewhat reassured. Looks like someone appreciates the need to survive. It feels good to know we got a couple folks with a lick of sense in them.
Despite the cold and darkness, a fresh fire burned inside of Locker, and he relaxed a bit, letting the hours slip by in sweet silence.
No rush, just wanted to give this a bump to keep it going. I just got back from visiting the family for the holidays myself so I know how busy it can be.
Posts
"I promise"
Daniel Jones sat in his makeshift tent under a shaded light, thumbing through the pages of a small, paperback book. It was a present tied to a promise: The Complete Alice in Wonderland, read the header in the top of each page; down the rabbit hole, "an escape to another world," or so he had said. Daniel certainly was in another world, one where he wasn't even Daniel anymore, but Locker: a closed off Corporal charged with making sure the men of Charlie company do their job.
Locker knew the men were scared and nervous. It's why he had moved back to his tent to flip through his book, take his mind off the concern he heard all around him. 'Ram was talking about ambush duty even though we don't even have a proper base of operations set up and word spread fast.' Everyone on edge made Locker close up tight. 'Let Anaconda handle ambush duty, he is the model team leader after all. Let the pro show us how its done, I have other things to worry about'
As if there could eve be anything worse than death.
Alright, he tells the bush. Shit.
He goes and lifts the flap on Locker's tent. Bends under and comes in, eyes fixed on the back of the man's head. He is reminded of a Buddhist monk when he enters, but he doesn't know why. Jones. Ram coughs again, swallows the syrup from his throat. Hey, Jones. We got ambush patrol tonight, alright? You boys...
Puts his hand on his hips. Goes absent-eyed again. He remembers telling someone to take the left fork at a crossroads, down into the snake pit, knowing it was death he was sending the man to. Sees the book in Locker's hand - remembers, the short guy always with a pen and paper, always writing, always saying, One day, it'll be a book. It's the war for Christ's sake! People will want to know how it all went down.
Down the rabbit hole indeed.
You, uh, you guys stick around. Stay here at camp. Alpha's got patrol. But I need you boys making sure we are locked up tighter'n a liberal's ass. This here's all we got for right now, we can't take no chances.
Ram takes a step back to the stripe of light at the tent's flap. Here, he could be an astronaut turned sideways, the horizon tilted behind him - or a painter with turned canvas to get embellishments in at a certain angle. But he's not. He's in Vietnam.
No, wait... a deeper sound, coming from behind. Locker's eyes re-focus as he sorts himself out, picking out the words, "... Alpha's got patrol..."
Closing his book up and replacing it in a waterproof case, Locker slips the square package in his jacket and heads out of the tent to get his men ready. "Yes sir," comes the delayed acknowledgment to Ram's order, "liberal-ass-tight, coming right up."
Looking at Ram, it seems like the man has something kicking around upstairs, something on his mind? Maybe, who knows. Normally Daniel would ask, see what's up.
Locker just walks on by to get his men ready for the relative safety of the camp's perimeter.
You alright, soldier?
Noise drones on. He shakes his head. Cut the pussy shit, Ram. You know how a superior officer's 'sposed to stand, talk. They'll walk all over your ass.
Loud, barking: If you're done wandering around wherever you goddamn please, soldier, we got work to do around here. Where is your commanding officer? Stop standing there with your dick in the wind and find him, soldier, and bring him to me - you boys got ambush patrol tonight.
"Huhn? Ya, I'm fine."
His responses come a half-second late, just enough to be noticeable but not glaringly obvious. He stares at Ram with his glassy eyes. Aside from the normal jungle smells, if one were standing close enough to Saint, one might notice a very faint scent.. like.. flowers maybe.. or soap.
"With all due respect, sir, sometimes a soldier has to take a shit. And sometimes that soldier ain't got a proper commode around so that soldier goes off a bit a shits in the woods. 'Course then he has to hear an S.O. barking at him but that doesn't mean he had to shit any less 5 minutes ago, does it, sir?"
Saint gives the officer a salute and goes off to find the Commander...
His demeanor seemed oddly relaxed, rain seemed to have that effect on him. It was almost as if the world acknowledged his grief and the grief felt throughout this war. As if God was crying along side us. Even if it was just imagery conjured up in his mind- it brought him some relief..
He casually raised his watch and realized that his squad had patrol as soon as Bravo made their return.
David stands up and casually straps on his gear, he nods to the men before exiting the large tent.
He lights up a cigarette as he waits under the canopy, surveying his surroundings.
Yelling after Saint: You tell him to come meet me at my tent! On the double! And off he goes to wait, over the yellow earth and gray skies, past the storm of men doing what needs to be done, and to his tent, where he goes inside and squats down and picks up a handful of dirt, letting it drip through his fingers, and wishes this war hadn't happened.
We can assume Saint went off to get high. heh if you want to do that.
A tad concerned, he makes his way to the Sergeant's tent. Keeping a casual but brisk pace.
Lifting the curtain to Ram's tent, Anaconda addresses his superior officer
"Sir, permission to enter?"
its just Saint is shady...so y'know :P
His voice is low and even. Tired.
You and your boys got ambush patrol. Everybody else is fixing up camp. I need you all ready by sundown. Head west out the camp and start marching. Corporal.
Walks over to him. Looks him straight in the eye - this isn't chain of command. This is man-to-man. Human being to another living human being.
I want all them boys coming back tonight, too, and not so much as a sore throat from any of 'em. You copy me, Steinbeck?
The men, ambling about as they are, are trying to get ready for the night's affairs.
Bravo squad still hasn't come back, but that doesn't raise any alarm bells - knowing Raven, he's probably got them just camping around and doing nothing, waiting until it's late enough that Ram will have had to make a decision over who's going on ambush tonight. Then he can just amble back with his team, stretch his arms and look at the hard work everyone else has done, mooch off it like the motherfucker he is.
Word's already spread around that Alpha team's going on ambush tonight, or so someone overheard. Charlie team, they're gloating about it, asking the people on Alpha if they can get their girl's phone numbers, so they know who to give a sympathy fuck to when they have to deliver the bad news.
Smoke's rising from somewhere to the east, miles away. A burning village or a burning campsite, someone wonders aloud?
Who cares, someone chimes in. Either way, we're still stuck here.
If you want to challenge the Sergeant over his orders, Egos, it'll be a conflict!
Nobody's getting lost. Nobody's gonna die.
Even the sun calls him a liar, though, as it gasps for life over the horizon.
Alpha. You guys suit up. You boys come back and see me personally after. Get to it!
After receiving his orders, he walks over to Saint. He sighs
"Looks like Alongi is on schedule as usual.."
"Ya, looks like it. I'm ready to stretch my legs a bit anyhow. Git my mind off the god forsaken bugs." He takes a deep pull on his cigarette.
"When are we heading out?"
Anaconda largely ignores Saint's signs of recent drug use. Either due to ambivalence or ignorance, its hard to say.
"Sarge seems a be taking himself extra seriously today. If possible we should try to have our men look as professional as possible."
"Well, shit. All this standing around waiting is starting to get to me. Let's git this over with."
or should we just assume, they are acting funky,simon? and something is up?
I'll get something posted today, moving us on to a new scene.
Alpha team, they pack up for the night, tell some people they'll see them in the morning. Some of them even believe it.
Charlie team, they're getting ready for their duties for the night. Rushed, poorly made foxholes edge the camp's limits, each placed in positions that seemed good in the daylight. But there's so much space between them, it's an empty gesture at defense - if a gook company came down on them, there'd be no escape for any man in this squad.
Led by their corporal, Alpha team starts heading out, someone with a compass pointing in the right direction, telling them which way to the spot aerial sighted movement.
As if by magic or remote control, Bravo team comes back from their recon patrol right when Alpha steps foot in the jungle. Raven shoots them a look, all gloating and proud, says, "Good luck out there." Fucker.
Charlie team disappears into the jungle, and everyone keeps doing their business until the night's come.
Now it's midnight, and all the soldiers are set up in their crews.
Down in the depths of the jungle, either right on the edge of or in Cambodia, Alpha team's doing their thing. The detonation charges are rigged up on the slightly-beaten trail that aerial sighted, and the soldiers who aren't on watch? They're trying to get some sleep, choosing between using their jackets as bug protection or pillows. Not Saint, though; he's got watch duty.
Anaconda's flitting in and out of sleep, knowing that he's got a responsibility to protect all the men in his squad. With a fuckup like Saint on watch, that's right when the gooks would start marching through, walk right on top of the team before they got a chance to fire back.
Someone, twenty years from now, they'll find a bunch of skeletons hanging from a tree, dogtags reading names like "Steinbeck", "Jenkins", "White". They had it coming, the gook would say, before pulling off the dog tags, take 'em back home and sell them to tourists.
The noise of the jungle is overwhelming and quiet. Soldiers on duty, they're just waiting for something. Anything.
Back at base camp, Charlie team is toeing that fine line between too little and jsut enough attention to their duties. Some of the men are talking, guns at ease, sitting by the fire and laughing. Lit up bright like flares, could see them all the way from Saigon.
The rest of the men, the ones who are actually on duty, paying attention? They're looking at their comrades, thinking maybe they don't need to work so hard tonight. Been a long time since they got a chance to relax. Maybe the gooks won't know they're here yet. Maybe they're guarding this place for nothing, just this once.
Give it time, they'll all be doing their own thing. Guaranteed.
Walking off, he says, In a few days, you'll even be starring in your own.
He wishes he could slam a door.
He finds Locker somewhere, pulls water from his canteen, locks eyes. You need to tell your little buddies we ain't here on vacation. We got us a war to win. Sorry little shits. When Alpha team comes back and sees all our heads on big bamboo pikes, like Welcome to the fuckin' Sheridan, they'll wish they had someone other than me taking this shit seriously.
Nodding to the Sgt, Locker gets up and goes about setting everyone straight. A quiet tension flows over the camp like a wave as Locker begins dousing fires and putting soldiers in their place. When its all done, Locker can hear the silence, whispering at his back with a dozen angry glares, but that is what it takes. He wasn't going to die here so a couple of the boys could have a good night.
"If you all ever want a warm bed again, somewhere off the ground, maybe with a little company, then you better cut this shit out real fast. I, for one, don't think the VC have the slightest clue we are here, and if we keep our goddamn heads down, it may just stay that way. Now do what you gotta do to get by, so long as it don't involve fucking 'kill-me' beacons."
With that said, Locker moves to his post, wraps up in a blanket, and watches carefully for any movement in the night.
Looking into the thicket, David becomes momentarily lost in its intricate weave. Its tad relaxing...
Turning back, his reaction is to reach out and pull out a cigarette. He does, but realizes lighting it could give away their position and subsequently stashes it back in the box.--- The odds were low but he didn't want to make a mistake. Perhaps this was the one time a sniper might have been watching. If he were alone...it wouldn't matter, but he would give away the position of the squad.
Looking over at Saint, David silently observes him. He is tempted to go over and ask him how things are going- but he surmises he would take it the wrong way.
A thump on the shoulder interrupts Locker's thoughts, causing him to turn his head to lock eyes with the chameleon himself. "Osgood, shouldn't you be watching the other side of camp?"
The rebuke only draws a smile from Osgood as he offers a flask to the huddled team leader. Locker eyes him, knowing Osgood is a man of few words, and accepts the flask, taking a deep swig of the fiery refreshing contents before handing the metallic canister back to the best point man this squad has ever known. Without so much as a grunt, the chameleon fades back into the night, moving into position to keep his post secure.
Locker settled back in, somewhat reassured. Looks like someone appreciates the need to survive. It feels good to know we got a couple folks with a lick of sense in them.
Despite the cold and darkness, a fresh fire burned inside of Locker, and he relaxed a bit, letting the hours slip by in sweet silence.