Thank you. I can’t do anything with the names, because they’re real to an extent. And as for the tabbing, it is tabbed. I lose all formatting when I copy and paste to this site. I’m trying like hell to strike, it’s hard as hell. Seems like everyone wants a published author.
Novel Treatments / Loss of Innocence, Chapter Five Version Two
CHAPTER 5: LAYING OUT THE PIECES
MONDAY, AUGUST 19 1991
FORT BENNING, GEORGIA
1735 HRS.
Drill Sergeant Bobby Malloy was sitting in the 1st Platoon office with his feet on the desk and the phone to his ear. He was gently rocking himself back and forth in the chair, coming ever so close to falling over backwards.
“Ryan, its Bobby Malloy.” He said cheerfully into the hand set.
“Hey Bobby, how’s life at Benning?” Ryan Pace greeted him from the other end of the line.
“Not bad, no complaints really. I would ask how things are out there, but I don’t really want to here about surf boarding injuries and shit.” Both long time friends shared a quick laugh. “No seriously though.” Malloy continued, sitting up straight in his chair. “I just wanted to give you a briefing on your boys.”
“Go on.” Pace said.
“I think you made a good choice with these two. Greer’s definitely got his head on his shoulders, and Geerts ain’t too bad either. You can tell that Gavin worked with his nephew before sending him here, but the boy’s got traits that you just can’t teach.”
“Oh yeah, what exactly would these traits be Bobby?” Pace asked, sipping the cup of coffee that sat on his desk.
“We ran them through the fear factor the other night, and he was gathering up the shaken members of his squad all the way up the range, then when he came to the wall, he made sure that everyone was over before going over himself. Geerts fed off that and stopped to help.” Malloy explained. “That brings up an issue.” He said. Pace shifted in his seat.
“What issue.” Pace asked, a touch of uneasiness in his voice.
“Nothing serious.” Malloy explained. “Just curiosity. Are these two-gonna be on the same team?” He enquired.
“No. Greer’s gonna be in team one-with Kensal, and Geerts will be in two-with Craft.” Ryan explained, with a confused look on his face. “Why? What’s up Bobby?”
“I think that’s a mistake bubba. These two are too good together. I think if you break them up you might lose something.” Malloy informed Ryan. Ryan Pace sat back in his chair and scratched his shaved head.
“To be honest Bobby, the thought never really entered my mind that they would form a bond there.” He confessed truthfully.
“Well the bond is there, and it’s a tight one.” Malloy admitted. “I figure Geerts never really had anyone, and Greer’s obviously used to holding someone’s hand. A little brother maybe.”
“I’ll tell you what Bobby. I’ll pull some strings and see what I can do.” Pace assured his friend.
“I just think it might be a smart thing to do Ryan.” Malloy told him. “And by the way, Greer smoked Shane Clark on assembly and disassembly, winning me a hundred-bones.”
“No shit?” Pace said with a snicker. “Clark always was a blow hard.”
“Well, gotta go get ‘em from chow. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Ok Bobby, thanks for the call, and I’ll see what I can do about keeping the boy’s together.”
“Thanks Ryan, will talk to you soon.”
1245 HRS.
SCHOFIELD BARRACKS, HAWAII
First Sergeant Ryan Pace placed the phone back in its cradle. He now focused his attention back to the man sitting across from him. Sergeant First Class Robert Kensal was known as Robby to his friends, which to hear him talk was few and far between. His philosophy was that if you didn’t have any friends, you couldn’t lose any friends. However, once you had a few drinks with the man, you were his friend. A little rough around the edges but he was your friend.
Robby was of average build; at five-foot eight-inches and one-hundred and seventy-pounds. He had sandy blond hair and eerie green eyes that seemed to look right through you. His face was long and narrow with a scar under his left eye, and showed years of bottled up pain. No body really knew where the man had come from, only that he had been a Snake Eater for forever and a day. The joke was that he was born a Green Beret.
Robby looked across the desk at Ryan.
“So how’s good ole Bobby doing these days?” He asked dryly.
“He suffered a back injury during a Blackhawk crash in the early phase of the shield.” Pace explained. “He’s keeping an eye on a couple of our guys at Benning while he heals.”
“Babysitting sounds like good work for Bobby.” Robby said with a grin. “So who’s he keeping an eye on?”
“One of your’s and one of Brian Craft’s guys. Colby Greer and Ryan Geerts.”
“Greer?” Robby snapped. “As in?” His eyes widened in excitement.
Pace shook his head to confirm Robby’s thought.
“Fuck me. How the hell is Gavin these days?” Robby asked as he sat up straight in his chair in anticipation of the answer.
“He got out, and went into the Guard. Used his college credits to attend OCS, and is now a Major in the Arkansas Guard.” Pace explained. “Colby’s his nephew.”
“Holy shit!” Robby exclaimed. “Is the little shit anything like his uncle? That son of a bitch is as cold as ice when it comes to killing.” Robby had a huge grin on his face.
“Well it’s obvious at this point that Gavin’s worked with him, but to be honest, I hope he’s not exactly like Gavin.” Pace explained.
“Why? That fucker was bad ass in the bush.” Robby stated. “Killed like a damn robot.”
“Exactly!” Pace said quickly. “I don’t want a damn robot, and I definitely don’t want a shooter without a conscience.” His eyes were filled with intensity. “I think that’s what happened to Gavin. All of his ghosts caught up with him at once.” Pace leaned across the desk to Robby. “Listen, you and your Team Leader will have complete operational control of these guys, but let me make one thing clear. I think a lot of you Robby, but I don’t want these guys turned into mindless killing machines. They’re all top class soldiers and individuals. Take good care of them.” Signs of moisture showed in Robby’s eyes. He sat back in his chair, and looked to the floor.
“You have nothing to worry about.” He looked back up at Pace. “I’ll take care of these guys as if they were my own kids.” Pace rose from his chair and walked to his friend. He placed his hand on Robby’s shoulder.
“I know you will my friend, I know you will. Now come on, we gotta go talk to Brian Craft about something.”
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9 1991
FORT BENNING, GEORGIA
1405 HRS.
The member’s of E Company had been at the Nuclear, Chemical, and Biological Warfare [NBC] range all day. The morning’s physical training had been the march out. They had been served an early breakfast, and then took to the road at zero-six-thirty. The march out had taken two-hours, and all of the energy the recruits’ could muster.
Colby found something that he absolutely hated about the Army, road marching. He found this to be long, tiring, and somewhat painful. Not to mention unnecessary, what with trucks and helicopters at the Army’s disposal. Regardless, he had completed it, and hoped that he did not have to do it very often.
After arriving at the range, the Company had been run through a gauntlet of instruction. They were taught everything from how to react to a nuclear blast, to something as basic as donning their protective masks in six-seconds or less. Well, basic to most. Colby could barely get his on in the six-seconds. Ryan however, had no troubles at all. He was able to don and clear his in four-seconds or less. “Fuck you. You’re just used to wearing things like this to cover your ugly mug.” Colby had told him, after Ryan had gloated about finally beating Colby at something.
Now the men were preparing to enter the gas chamber. Every soldier had to enter the chamber for two-reasons. One was to show them that the masks worked, and the second was to give them a taste of what the masks protected them from. Colby and Ryan were completely terrified. Rumors of this place had been circulating the bay almost since the day they had arrived at E Company. As the men stood in line to enter the chamber, no one said a word. They all just stood quietly, eyes focused solely on the small cinder block structure. One by one each Squad was taken into the chamber. As one would enter, one would leave. Every time a Squad would leave they appeared panicked, and completely devastated. They would be all hunched over, with trails of snot hanging to their knees. It was obvious that they wanted to rub their eyes, but the Drill’s were there to warn them not to.
Soon enough the time came for 3rd Squad to enter the chamber. As they did so, all of their fears were realized. The room was small, roughly fifteen by fifteen. At the far end was a set of large metal double doors. In the center was what appeared to be a coffee can with a candle inside. The entire room was foggy with smoke. Although the men entered the room with their masks on, this didn’t protect the exposed skin on their hands and necks from the gas’ effects. As the troops lined the walls their exposed skin started to burn. Each man was rubbing his arms franticly. Suddenly things got worse. Drill Sergeant Malloy, who was positioned at the front of the room, informed the men that they were to break the seals of their masks. With much hesitation, they each broke the seal of their mask, and held it. Colby began to gag and cough immediately, and his eye lids began to burn. He desperately wanted to put the mask back on, but had been instructed not to. Not until Malloy ordered them to. After just under a minute, which seemed like hours, Malloy gave the order to reseal the masks. Placing the masks back on only aloud the men to see and breathe. The skin on their young faces was still burning, and their lungs were already contaminated with the invisible gas. Colby wanted out of the chamber more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. Then he heard the words that made his heart stop.
“Gentlemen, remove the masks.” Malloy ordered in a low muffled tone, from under his mask. Every man turned and looked at him as if he had just lost his mind.
“You heard me shit heads! Get the fucking masks off. NOW!”
Each man hesitantly removed the mask. After a minute and a few lines of cadence, the double doors opened, and the soldiers rolled out like a wave. Colby was coughing uncontrollably, and he had snot hanging almost to his knees. He wanted badly to rub his eyes, but could here the Drill’s screaming not to. This had to have been the worst experience of his young life.
After E company had completed the chamber, they were all next to their gear still drinking water, and washing their eyes out. The Drill’s were slowly making their way up the hill after shutting down the chamber. Without warning, Drill Sergeant Parks, from 2nd platoon, stepped out of the tree line, and tossed a smoke grenade into the middle of the company.
“GAS, GAS, GAS!” He yelled loudly.
Some of the men attempted to don their masks. The rest, Colby and Ryan included, bolted like spooked deer. The drill’s laughed long and hard, but it still did not stop them from making the one’s that ran do push ups.
0745 HRS.
HONOLULU INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, HAWAII
Rodney Crowler was trying to be patient as he stood in the isle of the plane, waiting for the over weight man in front of him to get his bag from the overhead bin. The flight had been long and exhausting, and Rodney desperately wanted to get off of this plane. As he stood there with his carry on, he allowed his mind to wonder, in the hopes that it would help to ease his frustration. Rodney was excited to find out what this new unit was all about. Master Sergeant Lars had been successful in making the unit sound inviting, however he had been vague with the details. Oh well, he thought. Special Forces was Special Forces. Rodney would take it anyway that he could get it.
Finally the large man in front of him had completed the task of retrieving his bag, and Rodney was allowed to move. A flood of relief fell over him as he stepped from the gate into the terminal. There had been an extremely attractive local Hawaiian woman placing leis of flowers around each passenger’s neck as they stepped through the gate. When Rodney’s turn came, he found that the olive skinned beauty had been replaced with a familiar blond headed man, wearing a large mischievous grin.
“Aloha Ser’nt, and welcome to the beautiful island of Oahu.” Kevin Daniels greeted him as serious as he could. It took everything Rodney had within himself not to laugh.
“When the hell did you get here asshole?” Rodney asked as he allowed a large smile to break across his face.
“A couple of hours ago.” Kevin replied.
“You mean you’ve been hanging around here waiting on me?”
“Nah, I went and bought a car and came back.” Kevin explained. “Let me rephrase that. I ordered the car over the phone a couple of weeks ago, and they agreed to have someone meet me early to pick it up.”
“I could have called the unit for a ride.” Rodney informed him.
“I wouldn’t think of it my good man.” Kevin responded as he grabbed Rodney’s bag. “Come on, let’s get the rest of your gear and get out of here.”
After they collected the rest of Rodney’s luggage, Kevin led his friend across the drive to the parking garage. Rodney watched as Kevin remotely unlocked a brand new, royal blue, corvette. He opened the hatch, and tossed the bags he had been carrying into the back.
“Just squeeze them in anywhere.” He told Rodney.
“Dude! You bought a vette?” Rodney asked in surprise. “A brand new vette?”
“I buy a new one every couple of years.” Kevin could tell by the look on his friends face that he needed to explain. “Family money. It’s really the only thing that I splurge on.”
“Got you.” Rodney informed him. “Where’s all your stuff, or are you just gonna buy everything new.”
“No.” Kevin laughed loudly. “I already dropped my things off at the unit. “ Left them with CQ.”
Rodney nodded his head in understanding. CQ or Charge of Quarters was similar to the fire guard. The differences were that with CQ two men were on twenty for hours, and they kept watch over an entire company. The two climbed into the beautifully designed sports car, and Kevin backed out of the parking stall.
“Are we ready?” He asked.
“Getty up.” Rodney answered.
Kevin popped the clutch, and the Corvette launched, squealing the tires all the way out of the parking garage.
0815 HRS.
SCHOFIELD BARRACKS, HAWAII
Kevin and Rodney climbed out of the car in front of the group barracks and Operations Center. They retrieved Rodney’s bags from the car and placed them in the day room along side of Kevin’s. The day room was more of game room. There was a pool table, some video games, and a large screen television. This was a place for the soldiers to relax while hanging around the barracks. After they had placed the bags in the day room, Kevin and Rodney reported to the CQ desk. The Sergeant at the desk took them back to the office in the rear left corner of the first floor. The sign on the door read Sergeant Major Pace. The CQ Sergeant knocked on the door and waited for a reply.
“Come on in.” They heard a male voice call from within the office.
The Sergeant opened the door and poked his head inside.
“Cap’m Daniels and Ser’nt Crowler are here to see you Ser’nt Major.” He announced.
“Send them in.” Pace replied.
“Go on in.” The Sergeant told them.
Kevin and Rodney entered the office to find that it was much larger than it appeared on the outside. There was a coat rack just inside the door, and Pace’s desk was at the far end of the room to the left. The desk was a large mahogany, custom crafted piece. In front of it sat two black leather chairs, and a matching sofa. There were several pictures and drawings of soldiers on the walls. Directly behind the desk was one of Pace receiving the Silver Star from President Reagan. Ryan Pace stood from his chair and walked around to greet the two soldiers.
“Cap’m, Ser’nt. Welcome to Hawaii, and Grip.” Pace said as he shook their hands.
“Thank you Ser’nt Major.” Kevin responded, for Rodney as much as himself.
“First thing’s first.” Pace said as he walked back around his desk. “Enough with the pleasantries. From this point on first name basis while it’s just the team, now have a seat.” He pointed to the leather chairs. “The name’s Ryan.”
“Quick question Ryan.” Kevin said.
“Go ahead.” Pace replied.
“You said Grip. What’s Grip?”
“Grip is the little nick name that I’ve given us.” Ryan informed them. “Global Rapid Response Group. You see, on paper we’re just a highly mobile quick reaction force.”
“And in reality?” Rodney asked.
“You know those guys that almost got you two-in Hafar Al Batin?” Pace asked. Both men nodded. “Well they and others are the new enemy of the United States. There are people out there who will seek to hurt this country by attacking its citizens instead of the military. They have started wit the military, but only to gain support. The country and mainstream military are not ready for this war. So with the help of certain departments of the CIA, FBI, and NSA we’re going to secretly wage this war.”
“By secret, you mean illegal.” Kevin implied.
“No. not at all.” Pace answered quickly. “We have permission from this president, and legally we’re not required to seek it from the next one.”
“So as of the first of next year, we’re on our own?” Rodney asked.
“We have the support of the three major defense and intelligence agencies and Special Warfare Command.” Pace explained. “Trust me gentlemen, we will be well taken care of.”
“So are we under the command of these agencies?” Kevin inquired.
“Nothing of the sort. They will supply intelligence, and assistance in anyway possible. All operations decisions are up to you Kevin.” Pace nodded towards him. “They will offer you what they have along with any suggestions, and you will have the final say as to how the op will be run, or even if you want to run it at all. The buck stops with you.” Kevin looked to Rodney, who nodded his approval, and then back to Pace.
“Well then, let’s get started.” He announced.
1605 HRS.
FORT BENNING, GEORGIA
The members of 1st Platoon had been in the bleachers, along the outside wall of the laundry room, cleaning their equipment after their day at the range. Colby was assisting Oscar Garcia with reassembling his trigger assembly, when he noticed a group of men enter the latrine next to the PT field. The group he noticed was affectionately referred to as the Broke Dicks. These were the trainee’s that, for some reason or another, were due to exit the Army. They were called Broke Dicks due to the fact that most of them were either hurt, or faking an injury. These men were left alone all day to clean the company area and other assorted chores.
“Excuse me Garcia, I gotta take a piss.” Colby rose to his feet and began walking towards the latrine.
Ryan Geerts noticed his friend as he passed Ryan’s position on his way to the latrine.
“What’s up dude?” He asked Colby.
“I’m going to the latrine, give me five and come down.” Colby informed his friend. Ryan gave Colby a quizzical look. “Just do it lurch.” Colby snickered. “Damn, You paranoid fucker.”
Ryan laughed and shook his head as he watched Colby walk off.
Colby entered the latrine and looked to his left towards the urinals. He saw no one there. He then looked to the sinks on the right. Then he heard low voices coming from behind the wall that shielded the toilet stalls. Colby slowly walked to the end of the wall and peeked around. There, at the far end, he found the five Broke Dicks hiding. They were all smoking cigarettes, and cautiously watching the window for Drill’s. Colby stepped from behind the wall and cleared his throat loudly. The men quickly looked to see Colby leaning against the wall, smiling, and staring in their direction. One of them held out a cigarette in Colby’s direction.
“Want a smoke?” He asked
“No.” Colby replied with a mischievous grin. “I don’t want a cigarette. I want a pack.”
“Come on dude, that ain’t cool.” The man replied. Colby just looked at him without wavering. “Fine.” the man snapped, and he tossed Colby a pack of the smokes.
“Thank you.” Colby told him. “Now, I want a pack every three days.”
“No way man!” the Broke Dick argued.
“I guess I could let the Drill’s know what goes on around here while we’re out.” Colby stated, still maintaining the grin. “In the laundry room, under the third dryer.”
“Fine asshole.” the guy responded. “Just keep your mouth shut.” The Broke Dicks started to file out of the latrine past Colby.
“Got a light?” Colby asked. One of the men handed him a lighter on their way out. “Thanks guys.” Colby turned and smiled as he watched them walk out.
As Ryan started to enter the latrine, he was almost run over by the Broke Dicks as they exited. He just shook his head at them and continued into the latrine. When he looked around and didn’t see his friend, he walked to the back where the stalls were. He spotted Colby standing at the far end, holding up a pack of cigarettes.
“No fucking way!” Ryan blurted out, as he all but ran to Colby. “Where did you get these?” he asked as he took the pack from Colby’s hand.
“I told you I would get us some eventually.” Colby answered. “Now shut up and smoke lurch.”
Ryan pulled two smokes from the pack, and handed one to Colby. They each lit their smokes, and took long hard drags off of them. A look of sheer ecstasy came across both of their young faces.
“Oh my god. That is so good” Ryan said as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs.
“Hell yeah it is.” Colby replied. “Better than sex at this point.” Both men laughed and enjoyed the smokes.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7 1991
FARMINGTON, ARKANSAS
0215 HRS.
Sarah Stokes gently pulled her arm out from under the body lying next to her, and slid out of the bed. She searched around in the dark for her cloths, and disappeared into the bathroom. She turned on the light, slipped into her cloths, and turned to face herself in the mirror. Her makeup was a mess. Her hair was extremely frizzled, and there was a small hickey on her neck. She tilted her head to get a better look at the bruise. “Shit!” She said to herself, then flipped off the light and left the room
Sarah quietly made her way across the house of passed out drunks, and out the front door. Climbing into her car, she flipped down the vanity mirror over the driver’s seat. She reached into the console, retrieving a tube of lipstick. She then looked to the mirror to apply the red shade to her lips. There on the mirror, was a picture of Colby Greer. Sarah gazed at the photo for a few seconds, and then tossed it to the floorboard on the passenger side. “What the fuck are you looking at, you left me.” She said angrily, with a slight slur.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11 1991
FORT ORD, CALIFORNIA
0925 HRS.
Sergeant Tom Stanley marched across the parking lot of the motor pool like a man on a mission. The look in his icy blue eyes said that someone may die today. His five-foot nine; one-hundred-and seventy-five-pound frame was slumped slightly forward, with his arms swinging at his side. The blond mop on top of his head was standing on end in several places, going in every direction. Stanley marched right through the door of the motor pool office, and pointed his finger directly at Specialist Woods. Woods was the Company mechanic, and was always pushing Stanley’s buttons by either being too lazy to work on his truck, or refusing him parts.
“Look here ya little shit! I’m a goat’s ass hair away from kicking your peachy little ass!” Stanley yelled. His upper lip was quivering so hard in anger, that his mustache appeared to dance. Woods slowly backed up to the wall next to his desk. The look in his eyes let everyone in the room know that he felt like Stanley just might do it this time.
“Listen Ser’nt, I honestly don’t have any transmission fluid right now.” The young mechanic protested in fear.
“I don’t fucking care asshole. I’ve needed it for two damn weeks, and I’ve watched you hand it out to every other damn platoon. Now we’re going to the field this afternoon, and you don’t have any of the shit.”
Stanley was from a small unnamed community in Kentucky, and had a temper straight from hell. He came from a long line of soldiers that had served in every major war or conflict. At two packs of cigarettes a day, and more coffee in his veins than blood, Stanley was hardly the idea image of a soldier. Despite these flaws, he was probably the smartest and toughest leader that any of his troops would ever have. He earned the title Meanest Ranger, when he road his partner’s ass heavily, to win the 1990 Best Ranger Competition. As Stanley continued to tear into Woods, the phone rang. Private Nolan answered the phone. Upon hanging up, he looked at Stanley, almost afraid to speak.
“What the hell is it Nolan?” Stanley demanded.
“Uh, the First Ser’nt wants to see you Ser’nt.” Nolan responded.
“What did you do ya little chicken shit, call Top the second you saw me coming?” Stanley snapped, whipping his head to look at Woods. “Don’t matter none. He can’t protect you. I’ll be back to deal with you ya little shit bag.” He turned and stormed out of the door.
First Sergeant Terry Bolan was waiting by the CQ desk when Stanley came to a screeching halt in front of the Company area. Stanley jumped from the Humvee and marched right for Bolan.
“What ever that little shit gets he deserves!” Stanley barked.
“Shut the hell up Tommy.” Bolan ordered. “I don’t care about you and Woods’ bull shit.”
“If this isn’t about that, what is it then?” Stanley asked.
“There’s a Special Forces Master Sergeant by the name of Lars in my office for you. Now get your ass in there.” Stanley quickly shut up and walked into the hall. Bolan looked to the Specialist on the CQ desk.
“Looks like I’m finally gonna get rid of that hard ass son of a bitch.” He said with a smile.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 12 1991
FORT CHAFFEE, ARKANSAS
2145 HRS.
Newly promoted Staff Sergeant, Eric Gill stood on a wooded hillside. Overlooking the low clearing, in which the field artillery unit that he had been trailing had decided to set up for the night. He had purposefully allowed the unit to move through out the day, escaping any incidents. He followed all day patiently waiting for the unit to settle in for the night, and let their guard down. With all of the movement that the field artillery boys had done through out the day, the gun bunnies were destined to be worn out.
Eric was working as a member of the Joint Readiness Training Center Opfor, or Opposing Force. He came here from the 75th Ranger Regiment, and was the best that the Opfor had. At six-foot one-and one-hundred-and ninety-pounds, Eric had an awkward look about him. His upper body appeared to be longer than his lower body. Despite the awkward look, Eric was very graceful in the field. His stealthy movement was second to none. He had a very tall head, which he kept closely shaved, and dark brown eyes. He grew up just outside of Detroit Michigan, where he could not wait to finish school and join the Army.
Once he had seen the flash light activities settle down, Eric decided to make his move. He climbed on his all terrain vehicle, and moved down closer to the unit’s position. He was just about to leave the vehicle when his radio broke silence.
“Preacher, this is Deep Rain over.”
Eric just looked at the radio, and walked away. He started to move to the east side of the clearing, on the units back side, when he noticed a vehicle approaching. He held up and laid low in the tall grass. Just ten-meters passed him, the truck stopped. It appeared to be challenged by a rear security position. Eric realized that it was the Platoon Leader returning from a briefing. He quietly moved up and climbed up into the back of the truck.
Once the truck had come to a stop, Eric stayed put until he was sure that both the Lieutenant and his driver were gone. He swiftly exited the back of the Humvee, and took up position under it. He calmly waited for all of the Gun Chiefs to come to the Tactical Operations Center [TOC] for a briefing from the Lieutenant. Once he had counted all four-of them pass, Eric rolled out and began to execute his attack plan. One-by one-he laid a satchel charge at each cannon, spotted only by the Observer Controller [OC]. These were the referees for the mock war. When finished, Eric gave a thumbs up to the OC, and moved out smartly.
Now one-by one, the OC made his way to each cannon, tossing out an artillery simulator. These made a loud explosive noise to simulate the satchel charges going off. He even tossed one on the TOC, where Eric had set his last charge before leaving. The Lieutenant appeared from the TOC, extremely upset to find out that all of his cannons were destroyed, and three quarters of his unit had been killed or injured.
Eric approached the ATV to hear his radio once again.
“Preacher, this is Deep Rain, are you out there Gill?” Eric picked up the radios hand set and placed it to his head.
“Preacher here.”
“It’s about time man where have you been?” The voice on the radio asked, sounding annoyed.
“Working.” Eric replied.
“The artillery battery?”
“Out of the game.” Eric informed him.
“Good. Need you to get back here ASAP. There’s a Master Sergeant Lars from Special Forces here to see you.”
“Give me an hour. I have to do the after actions.” Eric told him.
“Ok, see you in an hour. Deep Rain out.”
Eric dropped the handset, and retrieved his canteen. As he drank his water, he wondered what in the hell some Special Ops guru wanted with him.
1730 HRS.
WAILUA, HAWAII
Colonel Tommy Nyte, Sergeant Major Ryan pace, and Lieutenant General William Hanks were having dinner, and discussing the progress of the new group. Ryan had just finished taking a call on his cell phone.
“Well, Gill and Stanley are in.” Pace informed them after he closed the phone.
“Very good.” Hanks responded. “Now what?”
“I put the three-that I have here on leave for a couple of weeks until these two-get here. I figure they can take the time to find off post housing.” Pace informed the General.
“You sure you want these guys living off post?” Hanks asked.
“We want them to be able to relax and forget about the Army when they’re off duty.” Tommy explained.
“Makes sense.” Hanks replied.
“After that, I plan on taking everyone to Benning to watch some of the young guys go through their phase two testing.” Pace added.
“Well, sounds as if everything’s going according to plan.” Hanks commented.
“So far so good.” Tommy said.
“I expected nothing less from you two.” Hanks told them with a smile. “Now let’s eat.”
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BrokenPoet12 reviewed Version 1 -
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Your writing style is evolving into a more comfortable flow. Colby is in the swing of things right there along with the reader. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with Eric Nylund but your writing reminds me of several of his recent books. You haven’t left any of your characters behind either, which can be hard to keep up with when you’re writing or posting in several different parts. I remember each one and it’s nice to see them in the story.
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JeanJefferies reviewed Version 1 -
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The opening is strong and paints a great picture of a military man. You may want to consider swaping one of the names, greer and geerts, esp if you intend to use them throughout the book. there are a zillion names to choose from. Unless there is some significance in swapping one letter, you may want to adjust.
Malloy informed Ryan. Ryan Pace you may want to make this a new line, if this is two peoples actons. Also I think you could go through and cut some of the name usages, if these two are even mild acquaintances they most likely would not be stating their names
He confessed truthfully. this may be implied in the remark and therefore subject to being cut.
Pace assured his friend. same with this, it may already be implied in the comment.
hate to suggest it again, but robby bobby may be improved if altered.
and the comment about the sergeant not wanting his men to be stone cold killer tells me they ain’t marines, navy perhaps? :)
or less. “Fuck you. Id start this dialog on another paragraph
would be all hunched this may read stronger as “all be”
I would also suggest indenting each paragraph with a press of the TAB key, just for formalities sake
began to burn by cutting this down to “burned” you streamline and add strength
you may want to add a clause nea the beginnign defining the term DON I assume its put on your mask, but…
Kevin replied. you may be able to cut alot of these throughout your piece, just the break of the new line lets the reader know who is talking and it distracts from the dialog, it may be best to pnly use things like this when it may be in question who is talking, when its implied its not needed
he clutch, and the Corvette for emphasis and clarity you may want to add “punched the gas” after clutch
said as he walked back not always, but sometimes you can streamline by “said, walking” you get to cut two wodrs this way
and could you use Global Rapid Insurging group, or insurgency, or insertion, just to make the I work in grip? just a thought. I like insertion
hurt, or faking an injury. this one is totally just a suggestion but I think you could add “or jut total pussies” or something to that effect here, it just felt like one more clause was needed, yeah after getting to the part where he jacked the pack of smoes I really think te pussy line adds
possibly when she mentions the hickey thing you could add how “luckily women had cover up” just seem to fit and make her seem more intelligent, again this is purely a suggestion
you left me just nit picking but maybe “you’re the one who left.”
the mustache dancing got a laugh from me, alwasy a bonus another good line was temper straight from hell
now your hearing this from a guy who loves military men and who if would of has ESP would of kept his criminal record lower so he could get in. So military stories are near me favorite. That being said you hae set up a nice crew of hard legs that seem to have a specific and interesting goal. I wish you good luck. Your Genre is hot right now so stike.
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