Chapter Six: Training
1968. The ruined city of Hue. Mighty and the rest of the platoon walked quietly through the smoking remnants of what was once downtown. Ray was limping slightly, his knee still recovering from his injury. Erikson led the way, careful to look for soldiers hidden in the rubble. He stopped by a broken wall, metal support rods sticking out at odd ends from the rubble. He pulled out his radio, as the platoon ground to a halt. While Erikson was trying to contact command, Ray walked over to Mighty.
"Hey, John? I'm pretty nervous about all this. It feels like every step I take, there's someone hiding in wait to jump out of the wreckage and open fire. I hope we get out of here soon." Mighty looked up from his cigarette, sighing and exhaling smoke.
"I know, Ray. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way. But look, you stick with me, alright? You stick with me, and we're getting out of here, man." Ray chuckled.
"I've stuck with you this far, I'm willing to go a little further." Mighty smiled, offering a cigarette to Ray. Ray declined, as Espio walked over and took a sip from his canteen.
"John, Ray, come on. We are moving out soon, and we need to be alert." Mighty nodded, and Ray nervously shouldered his rifle again. Mighty put out his cigarette and stood, joining Ray and Espio as they walked with the rest of the platoon. The looming rubble of the concrete and glass towers drew furtive glances and long looks, as each window or room might hold a sniper, an RPG or a heavy gunner. The distant sounds of gunfire and explosions from the rest of the city served as a strange musical accompaniment, the faint sound of the wind rustling through the abandoned streets, the bodies of civilians scattered across the demolished second floor of what was once an office building, or perhaps a warehouse. At this point, one couldn't tell what most of the buildings had been before the siege. Office buildings, apartments, warehouses, restaurants… It didn't matter now. All had been reduced to crumbling, barely standing upon ruined foundations. As the platoon kept up its slow, silent march, the loud cracks of gunfire burst out from a building. Erikson was hit, as the platoon scattered. Mighty grabbed Ray and dove for cover, yelling for Espio and Cody.
"ESPIO! CODY! GET OVER HERE!" As the two ran over, Cody was hit, the gunshots bursting out of his side and stomach. As Espio dove down to join Mighty and Ray, Cody struggled to get up and get over to them. Mighty ran out, amidst the cries of Espio and Ray. As gun shots whizzed into the street near him, Mighty grabbed Cody and helped hint o his feet. He slipped his rifle off his shoulder, opening fire in random directions, trying to get a glimpse of their attacker. He couldn't see anything, several ruins surrounding them, too many to look over while firing. He helped Cody back to cover, pulling his gun back in with him. Cody was coughing, spitting out blood. Mighty called Ray and Espio over, panicking.
"Espio, did you see where the medic was when we scattered?!" Mighty looked into Espio's eyes, blue eyes staring at yellow.
"I-I didn't get a good look, I think he was near Erikson.." Espio stammered, his panic showing through. Mighty reloaded his rifle, tightening his helmet.
"I'm going to go and get him. Keep Cody safe, try and stop the bleeding." Before he could get up and leave, Cody grabbed his arm.
"Mighty… Hurry up, man…" Cody's voice was weak, filled with pain and fear. Mighty nodded slowly, pulling his arm away from Cody and popping his head up from behind the rubble. He tried to get a bearing on where Erikson was, spotting his radio sticking out from what had once been a painted sign of a building. Taking care to be quick, he dashed out of cover, gunfire erupting almost immediately. Heading in the direction of where he;d seen the radio, he slid behind the sign, his eyes greeted with the sight of a medic tending to Erikson, blood seeping from his chest. Erikson looked up, a small trickle of blood outside his mouth. He called Mighty over, coughing violently, a disturbing gurgling accompanying it. It had been a lung shot, and they were rapidly filling with blood. He pulled Mighty close to him, the medic backing off slightly.
"Private Armadillo… Listen, the sniper is in the third office building, right past the… the white rubble… You… You've got to save the platoon and get them out of here… Take over for me…" He let go of Mighty's jacket, falling back into a coughing fit. Mighty nodded slowly, unsure if he was ready for that kind of responsibility. Erikson handed him a few clips of ammo and a grenade, before lapsing into another violent fit of coughing, finally laying still as his rasping breath stopped. Mighty grabbed the medic by the shoulders and pulled him over.
"Listen, you couldn't save him, but we have a wounded man back where we are. He's been hit in the gut and the side, and he's bleeding badly. Follow me and we'll get back there. You go out in front, while I distract the sniper." The medic nodded, waiting for Mighty's signal. Once it was given, he burst out of the rubble in the direction of Ray, Espio, and Cody. Mighty jumped out to open fire at the building Erikson had indicated. The sniper ducked back inside, Mighty's bullets smacking into the plaster and cement of the structure. Firing while running, he made it back to the others, sitting and reloading once he was safely behind cover. The medic began to treat Cody, Espio helping him to keep him still. Mighty poked his head out from behind the rubble, trying to locate the rest of the platoon. He saw a few bodies from the initial attack, and the rest huddled inside a building to the east.
"Doc, is Cody going to be good to move soon? We're going to regroup with the rest of the platoon, and then we're going to take out that sniper and move out." The medic looked up, still patching up Cody.
"He's going to need more care then I can give him, but I can keep him alive till then. If he's got to move, he can't move too fast, or else he'll risk more injury. I think you're going to have to take out that sniper now." The medic returned to working on Cody, as Mighty sighed.
"Ray, I want you to run over to the rest of the platoon and tell them Erikson's dead and that he put me in charge until we're out of this mess. Tell them to hang tight and that the sniper's in the third office building past the white rubble. Tell them to try and pick him off but be careful. And Ray…" Ray looked at Mighty.
"Take care, man. Be quick and make sure not to get shot, okay man?" Ray nodded, smiling slightly. When Mighty gave the signal, Ray ran out, ducking ahead of the shots fired at him, while Mighty and Espio provided cover fire. The medic was still working on Cody, using his field kit to remove the bullets in his body. Espio and Mighty ducked their heads back, Espio looking over at Mighty.
"Mighty, what should we do? We can't keep being held down by the sniper while Cody is injured. We need to call for backup and take out the sniper quickly."
"I haven't been able to get the radio working, Espio. For now, it's just us. And I'm going to kill that fucking sniper."
1971. Outside of the main tent, the officer led Espio and Mighty to a helipad.
"You boys should arrive in Fort Bragg tomorrow, meet up with the rest of the potential members. After that, it's a year of intense training before you're assigned a squad and shipped out for another three years of duty. Best of luck to you, boys." Shaking both of their hands, the two stepped into the helicopter and sat down. Mighty lit a cigarette, offering one to Espio, who accepted. Lighting Espio's cigarette, Mighty sighed.
"We did it, Espio. We made it to the Green Berets. God, man. Now we can get those bastards where it hurts, you know?" Mighty inhaled on his cigarette, as Espio chuckled, nodding.
"Yeah. Look, John… I'm going to try and be a little more expressive, you know? It's getting harder and harder to keep up a calm face these days. And considering what's in store for us, it might just prove impossible. I'm just glad that you're here with me for this, John. Shame Ray couldn't meet the physical standards for this."
"I know, I don't like the idea of him being left behind while we do this. Still, can't complain now. I'm going to get some sleep. I expect its going to be a long flight." Espio nodded, as Mighty got as comfortable as he could and fell asleep.
1971, Fort Bragg training grounds. The assembled group stood at attention, eight Mobians including Mighty and Espio. As they stood at attention, a Mobian wearing an olive drab trench coat and beret walked in front of them, flanked by two military policemen.
"I am Colonel Campbell. I have been instructed to train each and every one of you to be experts in survival and guerrilla warfare. I know that many of you are already skilled marksmen and have impressive records behind you, but none of that matters now. You are going to learn a new style of combat, one that can be used to take out the enemy on his own ground. You will learn how to survive and endure large amounts of pain and hunger. You will be forced to push yourselves far beyond your limits so that we may end this war in victory. You will live and breathe battle by the time you are finished training here. Dismissed." As the group saluted and dispersed, Mighty and Espio headed to the barracks with the other six. As they sat on their bunks, one of them walked over to Mighty.
"So, you two are the new arrivals, huh? Got a name?"
"John, though most call me Mighty."
"Interesting nickname, I suppose. I'm Joseph, Joseph Danforth. As for the others", he gestured around the barracks. "There's Colletta," He pointed in the direction of a gray squirrel. "Messner", this time a light brown fox. "Barry", a black cat. "Ortega", a gray wolf. "And Krakhauer." Mighty looked up at the name, seeing the dark brown wolf nod at him, along with the others.
"Krakhauer? Hold on… Any relation to Johnson Krakhauer?" Krakhauer looked over at him, replying.
"My brother. Killed in action I heard…"
"Yeah, he was in our platoon." Mighty sat up, nodding a greeting at the group.
"Well, I'm John and that's Espio. Just flew in last night on the chopper." The group nodded, as introductions were made all around.
The next morning saw them running ten miles, having no chance to eat before. Mighty was panting heavily, sweating quite a bit, knowing he could't break ranks. The others were also strained, Espio running at an uneven pace. Once they had completed the run, they were herded into the mess hall for breakfast. Eating quickly, they were herded out and made to run another five miles. Mighty was unable to keep down the meal, stopping to retch. A MP came over to hit him with a baton, foxing him to keep moving, after telling him he broke ranks and would run an additional ten miles. Most of the others retched as well, but after seeing what happened to Mighty, they made sure not to break rank, unless they wanted another ten miles to run. Once they finished, they were sent to a small classroom where an instructor began teaching them about demolitions. Paying rapt attention, they were first instructed about fuses. After the class, they were sent to another classroom, this one where they learned the native language to the Dragon Kingdom. Once the day was over, the group was tired and sitting in the barracks.
"Shit, man. 364 more days to go…" Danforth grained, laying down on his bunk. Barry kicked off his boots, cursing.
"Fucking hell… Having to run ten miles before breakfast and then five after… Christ, this better be worth it."
"I'll say. A whole year of this might just be too much. Least the demolitions class was interesting." Messner said, taking off his uniform jacket.
"Still, the whole thing's dinky dow." Krakhauer observed, setting his clothes under his bunk.
"I heard tomorrow we're gonna start training in guerrilla warfare, like he was talking about. Stuff like camouflage and stealth and such." Ortega pulled his blanket up, sighing as he closed his eyes. The rest followed suit, as Mighty sighed and turned over in his bunk, closing his eyes.
Over the course of the next two months, they learned about demolitions and languages, as well as physical training exercises. They were trained in unarmed combat, partnering up to practice drills and moves that could incapacitate potential enemies. Espio far exceeded the rest, already having learned a few martial arts back home. He was considered the most dangerous of the team without a weapon. They were trained how to fight effectively using knives and how to construct the same kinds of traps and pitfalls used by the Dragon Cong. Mighty proved his forte in survival and weapons training, earning the reputation as the stingiest and fiercest of the team. Three months in, they were officially named Baker Team and given olive drab bandanas, which formed the only part of their official "uniform". Messner found himself the demolitions expert, Ortega communications, and was promoted to de facto leader of the team, second only to the colonel who oversaw every aspect of their training. Barry was made medical expert, while Colletta became the teams field strategist.
Mighty and the others were training in unarmed combat. Mighty was paired with Espio, facing him in a fighting stance. By this point, Espio had bested all the other members. Espio took his own stance, as the two stared at each other. They were still friends, but they could not hold back in training.
"We train like we fight", Campbell had said. And that was exactly what they did. Mighty made the first strike, rushing at Espio and kicking him in the chest, which Espio was able to block in time with his arms. Espio countered with a swift elbow to the face, which brought Mighty off, staggering from the blow. Spitting blood and cursing, Mighty tried to sweep out Espio's legs, as Espio jumped up to escape the strike, landing back down as Mighty brought his foot up into his left leg, bringing him down. Before Mighty could finish his attack, Espio had swung his leg at Mighty while on the ground, tripping him up so that they were both on the ground. Espio was able to stand up, but Mighty was unconscious. Woken by Espio and helped to his feet they concluded their training session, Espio coming out the victor.
Mighty held the knife is his hands, turning it over at he looked at the dummy he was using for training. Rushing at it from the side, he slashed it once across the chest, driving the blade into the "neck" after that. Pulling it out, he sheathed it quickly, Campbell walking over.
"Exceptional work, John. However, why go for the slash first instead of the neck? You want to finish off the target as fast as possible. Listen son, you must be quick and efficient with your kills." Campbell examined Mighty's knife, noting how sharp it was.
"I keep it as sharp as possible, sir." Mighty said, saluting. Campbell nodded knowingly.
"Keep up the good work, John." As he walked off, John smiled slightly.
Mighty walked over to Krakhauer, after the group had dispersed, having finished listening to another briefing of the next phase of training.
"Delbert, I.. Look, I was there when your brother was killed, and…" Mighty struggled to find the words, Krakhauer looking at him as he sighed.
"We were sent on a recon mission into the jungle, search and destroy. We were supposed to find an enemy camp and raid it, by splitting into groups to search different areas. Your brother was in charge of the group I was in. We were ambushed, and he was killed. Most of us barely managed to get out of there alive." Mighty finished, Krakhauer listening quietly.
"It's good to know he died during duty. Thank you, John. Excuse me, i have to go and study." Walking off, Mighty sighed and went to join the others at the barracks, as Krakhuer walked off in a different direction.
1968, the ruins of Hue. Espio nodded at Mighty, as he clutched his rifle tightly, reloading. Peering out from behind the rubble, he spotted the sniper, taking aim from the fourth floor of the building. Moving the barrel of his rifle slowly into position, he angled it against the rubble, aiming carefully. He waited for the sniper to make his move, keeping silent. The sniper was aiming, and was about to pull the trigger when the report of Mighty's rifle sounded and a scream could be heard. Looking up, Mighty saw the sniper fall and land in a broken, bloody heap at the foot of the ruined building. As cheers came from the men huddled inside the ruins, Mighty smiled. He got the bastard. He killed the bastard, and now he was in charge of the unit. At least, until they had made it out of the city and back to friendly territory.