Lost Innocence, Part I
Disclaimer Same rules apply I own the fic but not the franchises.
"Another outbreak of the Biohazard virus has broken out approximately 40 kilometers east of Benghazi. Elements of the 5th Libyan Light Infantry, 11th Sicilian Infantry and 3rd Egyptian Armored regiments have been in combat since last night attempting to contain it." The Bayville morning newscaster said.
Utterances like these filled the air of the first period civics class, "Good God."
"As if Dyson City's biohazard isn't bad enough."
"Who cares about Africa." Came challenges from the less interested students who had to take civics as a required course for graduation.
Over the PA system came a call from Principal Kelly, "All students assemble in the Auditorium."
The principal made his announcement, "As you know, outbreaks of the Biohazard virus are being reported throughout the world. This is Major Henry Cray, United Systems Army. Major."
"The president has made a planet wide announcement declaring a state of emergency. I am here to announce that the draft is in effect. All young men age seventeen and up look at your draft cards as announcements are going to be made at every first period at this school. You will go to Basic training at your earliest opportunity."
As the major droned on several students had mixed reactions. Some feared the draft; others were wondering when they would be called up. A vast majority, however, with the typical feeling of youthful indestructibility looked upon the military service as a chance to make a name for them and as a big adventure a break from the humdrum routines of civilian life.
Seventeen-year-old Martin Sinclair thought his own thoughts in this sea of thoughts the next morning. The teacher read off the draft numbers, his came up. He looked around at his friends around him. It wasn't that he feared the Army; it was that he feared separation from all that he knew back in Bayville.
"Marty" asked Kitty Pryde one of his close friends, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Sinclair replied, "I'm just fine. I was going into the Army anyway. "
"Really." Kitty said, "Why?"
"Not to say that it hasn't been fun here in Bayville." Marty replied, "But I really don't want to stay here. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else around here. It's a personal issue."
"Marty, I understand. But what is it?" Kitty asked. She knew Sinclair lived in foster care after his grandfather died and he really wasn't happy about it.
"Sorry." Sinclair said, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Anytime you want to I'm there for you." Kitty said.
"Thanks" Sinclair replied.
Graduation came and all drafted graduates reported to the Military Entrant Processing Station for their processing and eventually reporting for Basic training. Once out of the way, Sinclair reported to the 16th Armored Division with a mechanized infantry company.
The 16th Armored and 7th Light Divisions later joined by the 88th Light Division were formed into Army Corps Africa and sent to Tripoli. Those who served in North African service had a unique bond that only service in a harsh environment far from home can foster.
Uniforms and equipment had to be fast adapted to the desert environment and much of it proved inappropriate. The standard uniform, long lace up canvas boots, breeches, uniform coat in olive green and pith helmet was quickly discarded by most Africa servicemen and replaced with soft shoes, short socks, shorts, shirt, and a soft log-peaked field cap. This comfortable and practical uniform soon became the trademark of the Army Corps Africa. Armament still remained standard issue.
Thus more suitably attired, the Army Corps Africa Divisions took their place on the frontline. As PFC Martin Sinclair and the rest of the 16th Armored Division's mechanized infantry boarded their vehicles they saw their first casualties being evacuated. These were men from the 3rd Egyptian Armored Division. The more seriously wounded were crammed into half-tracks and trucks while the less seriously wounded limped alongside the slow vehicles or held on to the sides of the vehicles. It was a ghastly sight for these new soldiers to behold.
Private Robert Higgins, a war correspondent took pictures off the troops sitting in the half-track. "Better to take photos on our return from the front not when we are going out." Staff Sergeant Collins, Sinclair's platoon sergeant said.
"What do you mean, sir?" Higgins said.
"They'll have grown beards by then." Collins replied, "The politicians will be ashamed to see the clean shaven faces of the troops. Tight-faced kids, innocents dragged right from momma's skirt. It's like a children's crusade. Fighting alongside them makes you feel so old."
The frontline was at El Agheila where the 11th Sicilian Infantry along with elements of the 3rd Egyptian were fighting a fierce holding action. Sinclair's first combat was when his platoon was providing support for a platoon of Egyptian tanks retaking positions held by the Sicilians. The tanks were firing high explosive shells into the buildings in front of them and after the barrage had lifted, the infantry were sent in.
The smashed remains of a pillbox large enough for three men and a machinegun on the outskirts of town were still smoldering when Sinclair, the man on point held his rifle at the ready with a round chambered. Sinclair could just feel what the Sicilians must have felt like when they saw that their guns had failed to drive off their attackers. The dead bodies of the three soldiers lay next to the derelict machinegun. It was then he heard a groan. Coming up behind him was a large zombie, the shell of a man that had once been the corpse of a Bedouin tribesman. He turned just in time to fire three rounds into the zombie's chest. It failed to kill the thing. Whacking it a couple times with his rifle butt killed the zombie and made him realize that he was in need of a close in weapon. One of the three dead soldiers was a sergeant with a pistol. Crouching at the dead sergeant's side he held his breath for the stench of death was overwhelming. He reached under the dead soldier unbuckling the pistol belt and taking both holstered pistol and belt, he placed them on his own waist.
At the bivouac Sinclair faced an arms inspection. His fire team leader, Corporal Harold Emory passed his rifle but asked him, "Well Sinclair, I don't recall a pistol being part of your combat gear."
"No corporal, it wasn't." said Sinclair.
"Well, looks like something I should confiscate." Said Emory. Sinclair thought, oh you fucking greedy bastard. It's my pistol; I found it fair and square.
"What's going on here?" Corporal Liam St. John, corporal of the squad asked.
"Unauthorized pistol." Said Emory, a stringy mustachioed man defined as a career corporal a soldier who would very likely spend his entire army career at that rank, never advancing past it. The son of a bitch was just flexing his muscle on the new recruits.
"PFC Sinclair where did you find that pistol?" said St. John.
"Off a dead soldier from the Sicilians." Sinclair replied.
"First law of salvage, Corporal Emory, finders keepers. Fire team you're dismissed." St John replied.
The fighting continued until enemy forces were finally driven out of El Agheila. Under the command of Lieutenant General Irwin Levarre, Relief Army Africa whose original mission was to bolster the units on the Libyan frontier instead took the war to the enemy.
Advancing rapidly, the armored spearhead supported by mechanized infantry was still encountering stiff resistance every step of the way. Night bivouacs came under attack by a new type of creature, the infiltrator as it was classified under official accounts but more popularly known as the Gollum among the soldiers because it's habits were reminiscent of the subterranean troglodyte featured in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It would sneak into the bivouacs steal intelligence documents and stealthily kill soldiers in their sleep. It was clear that these virus mutations were intelligent but the Gollum was their most intelligent creation yet.
Sinclair's unit received the unflattering distinction of being the first unit ever to be attacked by a Gollum raid.
0200 sunrise was just two hours away. Martin Sinclair lay on his cot, awakened when he felt a light breeze, as if something moved by swiftly in the bunker's dark confines. He had been a soldier in Relief Army Africa now for nearly four months. He felt as if something had leaped across his cot and to the adjacent cots. Suddenly he heard a strangled yell. It was coming from Emory's cot.
Corporal Emory, a career corporal and a career jerk as far as Sinclair was concerned had a pair of black long fingered hands around his throat. Sinclair grabbed his rifle and fired two shots into the creature and it let out a yowl of pain.
The shots and the yowl awakened every soldier in the bunker. Using bullets, knives and fists the soldiers drove the Gollums out of the bunker. The Gollums left three of their five raiders two dead and one wounded. Corporal Emory was one of three fatalities inflicted by the Gollum.
Half an hour later it was time for Sinclair to go on watch. As he stood his post outside the bunker watching the sun climb over the horizon he thought his way back to Bayville and why he had joined up. He thought of Kitty his friend back home. No she was more than that to him. He harbored deep feelings toward her, but he didn't reveal them for reasons of his own.
Martin Sinclair grew up in a foster home in Bayville owned by Lowanda Dumore. Despite Lowanda's soft seductive Southern accent and seemingly kindly ways to strangers, she took out her frustrations at being unable to find the right man on Sinclair and the two other male children at the foster home. His life there wasn't a very happy one. Although his physical needs were met, Sinclair's emotional ones were ignored at best or ridiculed at worst.
One example recalled was when he was fifteen and Kitty Pryde came over to study with him for a test. It was around then he recalled that his feelings for Kitty started to develop. Somehow Lowanda found out about that one when he was readying himself to go to school the next day.
"So I heard you've got yourself this little ole crush on Kitty Pryde." Lowanda said, "You know Marty that a girl like her has higher standards than a boy like you. You aren't politically correct, you aren't socially outgoing. I think the only reason that poor girl is with the likes of you is that she pity's you. I can't imagine why though."
Sinclair knew that he just wanted to leave that godforsaken hearth as soon as he could, and the Army seemed the best way to do it. Also he wanted to get away from hurtful situations like this as soon as possible. He knew there was no way Kitty would ever return his feelings so he left.
The sun rose again and the day's battling also commenced. They were advancing on Sidi Rezegh, a small town where enemy forces had firmly entrenched. Corporal Martin Sinclair was now the fire team leader, and as he watched the armored vehicles speed ahead into battle. Against a mass of giant scorpions and hidden energy sphere projectors, the fighting lasted all-day and even at dusk. The night did not bring about relief, and Sinclair and his men were on alert for Gollums that would sneak across the no man's land and into their encampments.
Finally the series of combat actions that wore down Relief Army Africa forced them to retreat all the way back to El Agheila, where they had first begun their campaign. But this didn't mean that they were giving ground easily.
Rear guard actions, coordinated with artillery pulled back during the night, helped hold back pursuit forces. Most effective were small infantry assaults that kept the enemy off balance.
On one such raid, Sinclair was readying his web gear when his first sergeant walked by as he loaded his pistol and stuffed spare rifle magazines anywhere he could. "Corporal Sinclair, how much spare pistol ammo do you have."
"Two spare clips, Top." Sinclair replied.
Opening a jerry can, his first sergeant handed him two boxes of 9mm pistol rounds and said, "You'll need a few more."
Finally making it back to El Agheila before the rains came, the men of Relief Army Africa entrenched themselves in positions outside the city as they awaited reinforcements.
Disclaimer Same rules apply I own the fic but not the franchises.
"Another outbreak of the Biohazard virus has broken out approximately 40 kilometers east of Benghazi. Elements of the 5th Libyan Light Infantry, 11th Sicilian Infantry and 3rd Egyptian Armored regiments have been in combat since last night attempting to contain it." The Bayville morning newscaster said.
Utterances like these filled the air of the first period civics class, "Good God."
"As if Dyson City's biohazard isn't bad enough."
"Who cares about Africa." Came challenges from the less interested students who had to take civics as a required course for graduation.
Over the PA system came a call from Principal Kelly, "All students assemble in the Auditorium."
The principal made his announcement, "As you know, outbreaks of the Biohazard virus are being reported throughout the world. This is Major Henry Cray, United Systems Army. Major."
"The president has made a planet wide announcement declaring a state of emergency. I am here to announce that the draft is in effect. All young men age seventeen and up look at your draft cards as announcements are going to be made at every first period at this school. You will go to Basic training at your earliest opportunity."
As the major droned on several students had mixed reactions. Some feared the draft; others were wondering when they would be called up. A vast majority, however, with the typical feeling of youthful indestructibility looked upon the military service as a chance to make a name for them and as a big adventure a break from the humdrum routines of civilian life.
Seventeen-year-old Martin Sinclair thought his own thoughts in this sea of thoughts the next morning. The teacher read off the draft numbers, his came up. He looked around at his friends around him. It wasn't that he feared the Army; it was that he feared separation from all that he knew back in Bayville.
"Marty" asked Kitty Pryde one of his close friends, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Sinclair replied, "I'm just fine. I was going into the Army anyway. "
"Really." Kitty said, "Why?"
"Not to say that it hasn't been fun here in Bayville." Marty replied, "But I really don't want to stay here. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else around here. It's a personal issue."
"Marty, I understand. But what is it?" Kitty asked. She knew Sinclair lived in foster care after his grandfather died and he really wasn't happy about it.
"Sorry." Sinclair said, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Anytime you want to I'm there for you." Kitty said.
"Thanks" Sinclair replied.
Graduation came and all drafted graduates reported to the Military Entrant Processing Station for their processing and eventually reporting for Basic training. Once out of the way, Sinclair reported to the 16th Armored Division with a mechanized infantry company.
The 16th Armored and 7th Light Divisions later joined by the 88th Light Division were formed into Army Corps Africa and sent to Tripoli. Those who served in North African service had a unique bond that only service in a harsh environment far from home can foster.
Uniforms and equipment had to be fast adapted to the desert environment and much of it proved inappropriate. The standard uniform, long lace up canvas boots, breeches, uniform coat in olive green and pith helmet was quickly discarded by most Africa servicemen and replaced with soft shoes, short socks, shorts, shirt, and a soft log-peaked field cap. This comfortable and practical uniform soon became the trademark of the Army Corps Africa. Armament still remained standard issue.
Thus more suitably attired, the Army Corps Africa Divisions took their place on the frontline. As PFC Martin Sinclair and the rest of the 16th Armored Division's mechanized infantry boarded their vehicles they saw their first casualties being evacuated. These were men from the 3rd Egyptian Armored Division. The more seriously wounded were crammed into half-tracks and trucks while the less seriously wounded limped alongside the slow vehicles or held on to the sides of the vehicles. It was a ghastly sight for these new soldiers to behold.
Private Robert Higgins, a war correspondent took pictures off the troops sitting in the half-track. "Better to take photos on our return from the front not when we are going out." Staff Sergeant Collins, Sinclair's platoon sergeant said.
"What do you mean, sir?" Higgins said.
"They'll have grown beards by then." Collins replied, "The politicians will be ashamed to see the clean shaven faces of the troops. Tight-faced kids, innocents dragged right from momma's skirt. It's like a children's crusade. Fighting alongside them makes you feel so old."
The frontline was at El Agheila where the 11th Sicilian Infantry along with elements of the 3rd Egyptian were fighting a fierce holding action. Sinclair's first combat was when his platoon was providing support for a platoon of Egyptian tanks retaking positions held by the Sicilians. The tanks were firing high explosive shells into the buildings in front of them and after the barrage had lifted, the infantry were sent in.
The smashed remains of a pillbox large enough for three men and a machinegun on the outskirts of town were still smoldering when Sinclair, the man on point held his rifle at the ready with a round chambered. Sinclair could just feel what the Sicilians must have felt like when they saw that their guns had failed to drive off their attackers. The dead bodies of the three soldiers lay next to the derelict machinegun. It was then he heard a groan. Coming up behind him was a large zombie, the shell of a man that had once been the corpse of a Bedouin tribesman. He turned just in time to fire three rounds into the zombie's chest. It failed to kill the thing. Whacking it a couple times with his rifle butt killed the zombie and made him realize that he was in need of a close in weapon. One of the three dead soldiers was a sergeant with a pistol. Crouching at the dead sergeant's side he held his breath for the stench of death was overwhelming. He reached under the dead soldier unbuckling the pistol belt and taking both holstered pistol and belt, he placed them on his own waist.
At the bivouac Sinclair faced an arms inspection. His fire team leader, Corporal Harold Emory passed his rifle but asked him, "Well Sinclair, I don't recall a pistol being part of your combat gear."
"No corporal, it wasn't." said Sinclair.
"Well, looks like something I should confiscate." Said Emory. Sinclair thought, oh you fucking greedy bastard. It's my pistol; I found it fair and square.
"What's going on here?" Corporal Liam St. John, corporal of the squad asked.
"Unauthorized pistol." Said Emory, a stringy mustachioed man defined as a career corporal a soldier who would very likely spend his entire army career at that rank, never advancing past it. The son of a bitch was just flexing his muscle on the new recruits.
"PFC Sinclair where did you find that pistol?" said St. John.
"Off a dead soldier from the Sicilians." Sinclair replied.
"First law of salvage, Corporal Emory, finders keepers. Fire team you're dismissed." St John replied.
The fighting continued until enemy forces were finally driven out of El Agheila. Under the command of Lieutenant General Irwin Levarre, Relief Army Africa whose original mission was to bolster the units on the Libyan frontier instead took the war to the enemy.
Advancing rapidly, the armored spearhead supported by mechanized infantry was still encountering stiff resistance every step of the way. Night bivouacs came under attack by a new type of creature, the infiltrator as it was classified under official accounts but more popularly known as the Gollum among the soldiers because it's habits were reminiscent of the subterranean troglodyte featured in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It would sneak into the bivouacs steal intelligence documents and stealthily kill soldiers in their sleep. It was clear that these virus mutations were intelligent but the Gollum was their most intelligent creation yet.
Sinclair's unit received the unflattering distinction of being the first unit ever to be attacked by a Gollum raid.
0200 sunrise was just two hours away. Martin Sinclair lay on his cot, awakened when he felt a light breeze, as if something moved by swiftly in the bunker's dark confines. He had been a soldier in Relief Army Africa now for nearly four months. He felt as if something had leaped across his cot and to the adjacent cots. Suddenly he heard a strangled yell. It was coming from Emory's cot.
Corporal Emory, a career corporal and a career jerk as far as Sinclair was concerned had a pair of black long fingered hands around his throat. Sinclair grabbed his rifle and fired two shots into the creature and it let out a yowl of pain.
The shots and the yowl awakened every soldier in the bunker. Using bullets, knives and fists the soldiers drove the Gollums out of the bunker. The Gollums left three of their five raiders two dead and one wounded. Corporal Emory was one of three fatalities inflicted by the Gollum.
Half an hour later it was time for Sinclair to go on watch. As he stood his post outside the bunker watching the sun climb over the horizon he thought his way back to Bayville and why he had joined up. He thought of Kitty his friend back home. No she was more than that to him. He harbored deep feelings toward her, but he didn't reveal them for reasons of his own.
Martin Sinclair grew up in a foster home in Bayville owned by Lowanda Dumore. Despite Lowanda's soft seductive Southern accent and seemingly kindly ways to strangers, she took out her frustrations at being unable to find the right man on Sinclair and the two other male children at the foster home. His life there wasn't a very happy one. Although his physical needs were met, Sinclair's emotional ones were ignored at best or ridiculed at worst.
One example recalled was when he was fifteen and Kitty Pryde came over to study with him for a test. It was around then he recalled that his feelings for Kitty started to develop. Somehow Lowanda found out about that one when he was readying himself to go to school the next day.
"So I heard you've got yourself this little ole crush on Kitty Pryde." Lowanda said, "You know Marty that a girl like her has higher standards than a boy like you. You aren't politically correct, you aren't socially outgoing. I think the only reason that poor girl is with the likes of you is that she pity's you. I can't imagine why though."
Sinclair knew that he just wanted to leave that godforsaken hearth as soon as he could, and the Army seemed the best way to do it. Also he wanted to get away from hurtful situations like this as soon as possible. He knew there was no way Kitty would ever return his feelings so he left.
The sun rose again and the day's battling also commenced. They were advancing on Sidi Rezegh, a small town where enemy forces had firmly entrenched. Corporal Martin Sinclair was now the fire team leader, and as he watched the armored vehicles speed ahead into battle. Against a mass of giant scorpions and hidden energy sphere projectors, the fighting lasted all-day and even at dusk. The night did not bring about relief, and Sinclair and his men were on alert for Gollums that would sneak across the no man's land and into their encampments.
Finally the series of combat actions that wore down Relief Army Africa forced them to retreat all the way back to El Agheila, where they had first begun their campaign. But this didn't mean that they were giving ground easily.
Rear guard actions, coordinated with artillery pulled back during the night, helped hold back pursuit forces. Most effective were small infantry assaults that kept the enemy off balance.
On one such raid, Sinclair was readying his web gear when his first sergeant walked by as he loaded his pistol and stuffed spare rifle magazines anywhere he could. "Corporal Sinclair, how much spare pistol ammo do you have."
"Two spare clips, Top." Sinclair replied.
Opening a jerry can, his first sergeant handed him two boxes of 9mm pistol rounds and said, "You'll need a few more."
Finally making it back to El Agheila before the rains came, the men of Relief Army Africa entrenched themselves in positions outside the city as they awaited reinforcements.