Nosferatu
Disclaimer: I own none of the GI Joe characters save for Nosferatu. The first few scenes are borrowed from the film Thin Red Line somewhat. I also was inspired by Melanesian Choirs: Chants from the Thin Red Line for a lot of the writing. GM3 means gunner's mate 3rd class. (This means he's a 3rd class petty officer who's job involves firing big guns, rockets and other weapons on Navy ships.)
~ ~ ~ ~
A crocodile slid lazily into the tranquil waters of a small creek beside the stand of mangrove trees where a solitary man had made his bed atop his olive drab fatigue blouse. He was a leanly muscled fellow with a boxer's punched in nose, an intelligent oval face with deep set brown eyes, giving the impression of medieval nobility in his carriage and tone.
To no one in particular the man asked in a soft spoken voice with a hint of European in the accent, "What's this war in the heart of nature? Why must nature vie with itself? The land contend with the sea? Is there an avenging power in nature? Not one power but two?"
He watched several native Melanesian children playing on the beach with adults going about their daily chores. They lived simple, uncomplicated lives that were in harmony with nature. He had already introduced himself to the natives in as unthreatening a manner as he possibly could. They had accepted him two weeks ago and he spent those past weeks swimming amongst the reefs, helping the adults with various chores, and enjoying the gorgeous tropical days.
He alone dictated what he would do for the day, and that was what was so thrilling about this experience. Come what may, the beautiful harmony of nature all around him, of people who had become one with her without exploitation was simply heaven on earth. He contemplated this as he paddled about the reef and noticing several small children playing in the water he did what came naturally. He joined them in their version of undersea tag.
That afternoon was a more reflective period for the man, sitting on the beach beside the dugout canoe. "I remember my grandmother when she was dying. She was all shrunk up and gray. I was afraid to touch the death I saw in her. I couldn't see anything beautiful or uplifting about her going back to God. I heard people talk of immortality, but I haven't seen it. I wondered what it'd be like when I died. To know that this last breath I take is the last one I'm ever going to draw. I just hope I meet it the same way she did, with the same calm. Because that's where it's hidden, the immortality I hadn't seen."
He went up to a native Melanesian woman with a three year old child in her arms, "Kids around here never fight."
The woman replied, "Sometimes when we see them playing, they always fight."
The man asked, "Your baby's tired?"
The woman replied, "When she swims, she sleeps."
The man, known to his colleagues as Nosferatu but born with the name Armand-Jacques Montagnard, reached out to the child who recoiled. "Is she afraid of me?"
The mother replied, "Yes."
Nosferatu asked, "Are you afraid of me?"
"Yes."
Nosferatu asked, "Why?"
"Because you look Army."
Nosferatu replied, "Because I look army? Well it doesn't matter anymore."
He gave the child a half a fruit he had taken from a nearby tree and went off on his own. He watched as an old grandmother tenderly taught her grandchild how to cook a soup of some sort then stripped off his fatigue trousers. Wearing his SEAL swimming shorts, he went off to the reefs to start swimming again.
As the sun set over yet another perfect day, Nosferatu smiled as he tread water, looking at the gorgeous red disk setting over the Pacific Ocean swells.
The next morning, it was Sunday he could tell because the entire village followed an older man with a worn and weathered copy of the Bible in his arms chanting one of their lifting spiritual hymns that never failed to help his spirit.
It was after this ceremony that he saw a patrol boat coming his way. His face bore the look of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. Desertion, particularly from a unit like GI Joe, always had heavy consequences.
~ ~ ~ ~
The masked gorilla, an abrasive character known as Beach Head, walked into the brig of the SHARC transport. "You haven't changed at all, have you Nosferatu, or should I say Montagnard? All a man has to do is leave it to you and you put your head in the noose. How many times have you been AWOL? You were in the Navy for what, six years. Ain't it about time you smartened up, stopped acting like a pup recruit?"
"We can't all be smart." Nosferatu replied.
"We can't, that's a shame." Beach Head replied, "Look at you. The truth is, you can't take straight duty in GI Joe. If it were up to me, you'd be court-martialed and on your merry way to Leavenworth. I don't know what Torpedo and the Water Rats see in you, but it's saved your worthless hide. I'm sentencing you to a disciplinary outfit, Sergeant Slaughter and his Renegades are gonna have someone new to toy with for a month. And after that, Roadblock is gonna keep an eye on you to make sure you don't pull off anymore stupid stunts like this."
"I can take anything you dish out. I am twice the man you are." Nosferatu replied.
"In this world a man himself is nothing. And there ain't no world but this one." Beach Head replied.
"You're wrong there, Beach Head, I've seen another world. Sometimes I think it was just my imagination." Nosferatu replied.
"Then you've seen things I never will." Beach Head replied and walked out of the brig.
"He hates you worse than poison." Torpedo said.
"I never thought he hated me, because I never hated him." Nosferatu replied.
"Armand, keep your ass out of any more trouble. You're neck deep in shit as it is, and I can only pull enough strings." Torpedo said.
"Yes sir." Nosferatu replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
Sergeant Slaughter regarded the SEAL standing at attention before him. He was a lean fellow, a Frenchman who had been a light weight boxing champion in his district before he somehow immigrated to the US and joined the Navy to become a SEAL six years ago. He should also have been a GM2 instead of the GM3 he was on his record. He had good marks in BUD/S and his probationary period as well as his time in SEAL Team 3. His troubles had started when he had been sent into GI Joe eight months ago. A string of AWOL offenses, fighting, and conduct unbecoming as well as a demotion were all on his record.
The Frenchman stood in his camouflage utilities, "Gunner's Mate 3rd Class Montagnard, reporting sergeant."
"You're codename is Nosferatu, use it." Slaughter said, "Any idea why you're here, and I don't wanna hear any crap."
"Insubordination, fighting and AWOL offenses, sergeant." "That's scratching the surface. I also know you're whole record by heart because for this month, you're my special project. You've been a damn good operator until you entered GI Joe eight months ago. Your old C.O. said on your recommendation letter, 'Gunner's Mate 3rd Class Montagnard is a capable and intelligent operator. He was among the top percentage of his unit to graduate BUD/S and has proven his performance in numerous operations.' How would you like me to write Lieutenant Commander Gerschwin that his capable operator is a liability and not an asset to his new unit?" Sergeant Slaughter replied.
"I would not like that, sergeant."
"Good, some progress has been made. Now, let's see how well you run obstacles." Sergeant Slaughter grinned evilly.
~ ~ ~ ~
Soon to come: Why is Nosferatu a difficult recruit? Why do he and Beach Head have a disliking for one another? Will Sergeant Slaughter change this man? Find out soon.
Disclaimer: I own none of the GI Joe characters save for Nosferatu. The first few scenes are borrowed from the film Thin Red Line somewhat. I also was inspired by Melanesian Choirs: Chants from the Thin Red Line for a lot of the writing. GM3 means gunner's mate 3rd class. (This means he's a 3rd class petty officer who's job involves firing big guns, rockets and other weapons on Navy ships.)
~ ~ ~ ~
A crocodile slid lazily into the tranquil waters of a small creek beside the stand of mangrove trees where a solitary man had made his bed atop his olive drab fatigue blouse. He was a leanly muscled fellow with a boxer's punched in nose, an intelligent oval face with deep set brown eyes, giving the impression of medieval nobility in his carriage and tone.
To no one in particular the man asked in a soft spoken voice with a hint of European in the accent, "What's this war in the heart of nature? Why must nature vie with itself? The land contend with the sea? Is there an avenging power in nature? Not one power but two?"
He watched several native Melanesian children playing on the beach with adults going about their daily chores. They lived simple, uncomplicated lives that were in harmony with nature. He had already introduced himself to the natives in as unthreatening a manner as he possibly could. They had accepted him two weeks ago and he spent those past weeks swimming amongst the reefs, helping the adults with various chores, and enjoying the gorgeous tropical days.
He alone dictated what he would do for the day, and that was what was so thrilling about this experience. Come what may, the beautiful harmony of nature all around him, of people who had become one with her without exploitation was simply heaven on earth. He contemplated this as he paddled about the reef and noticing several small children playing in the water he did what came naturally. He joined them in their version of undersea tag.
That afternoon was a more reflective period for the man, sitting on the beach beside the dugout canoe. "I remember my grandmother when she was dying. She was all shrunk up and gray. I was afraid to touch the death I saw in her. I couldn't see anything beautiful or uplifting about her going back to God. I heard people talk of immortality, but I haven't seen it. I wondered what it'd be like when I died. To know that this last breath I take is the last one I'm ever going to draw. I just hope I meet it the same way she did, with the same calm. Because that's where it's hidden, the immortality I hadn't seen."
He went up to a native Melanesian woman with a three year old child in her arms, "Kids around here never fight."
The woman replied, "Sometimes when we see them playing, they always fight."
The man asked, "Your baby's tired?"
The woman replied, "When she swims, she sleeps."
The man, known to his colleagues as Nosferatu but born with the name Armand-Jacques Montagnard, reached out to the child who recoiled. "Is she afraid of me?"
The mother replied, "Yes."
Nosferatu asked, "Are you afraid of me?"
"Yes."
Nosferatu asked, "Why?"
"Because you look Army."
Nosferatu replied, "Because I look army? Well it doesn't matter anymore."
He gave the child a half a fruit he had taken from a nearby tree and went off on his own. He watched as an old grandmother tenderly taught her grandchild how to cook a soup of some sort then stripped off his fatigue trousers. Wearing his SEAL swimming shorts, he went off to the reefs to start swimming again.
As the sun set over yet another perfect day, Nosferatu smiled as he tread water, looking at the gorgeous red disk setting over the Pacific Ocean swells.
The next morning, it was Sunday he could tell because the entire village followed an older man with a worn and weathered copy of the Bible in his arms chanting one of their lifting spiritual hymns that never failed to help his spirit.
It was after this ceremony that he saw a patrol boat coming his way. His face bore the look of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. Desertion, particularly from a unit like GI Joe, always had heavy consequences.
~ ~ ~ ~
The masked gorilla, an abrasive character known as Beach Head, walked into the brig of the SHARC transport. "You haven't changed at all, have you Nosferatu, or should I say Montagnard? All a man has to do is leave it to you and you put your head in the noose. How many times have you been AWOL? You were in the Navy for what, six years. Ain't it about time you smartened up, stopped acting like a pup recruit?"
"We can't all be smart." Nosferatu replied.
"We can't, that's a shame." Beach Head replied, "Look at you. The truth is, you can't take straight duty in GI Joe. If it were up to me, you'd be court-martialed and on your merry way to Leavenworth. I don't know what Torpedo and the Water Rats see in you, but it's saved your worthless hide. I'm sentencing you to a disciplinary outfit, Sergeant Slaughter and his Renegades are gonna have someone new to toy with for a month. And after that, Roadblock is gonna keep an eye on you to make sure you don't pull off anymore stupid stunts like this."
"I can take anything you dish out. I am twice the man you are." Nosferatu replied.
"In this world a man himself is nothing. And there ain't no world but this one." Beach Head replied.
"You're wrong there, Beach Head, I've seen another world. Sometimes I think it was just my imagination." Nosferatu replied.
"Then you've seen things I never will." Beach Head replied and walked out of the brig.
"He hates you worse than poison." Torpedo said.
"I never thought he hated me, because I never hated him." Nosferatu replied.
"Armand, keep your ass out of any more trouble. You're neck deep in shit as it is, and I can only pull enough strings." Torpedo said.
"Yes sir." Nosferatu replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
Sergeant Slaughter regarded the SEAL standing at attention before him. He was a lean fellow, a Frenchman who had been a light weight boxing champion in his district before he somehow immigrated to the US and joined the Navy to become a SEAL six years ago. He should also have been a GM2 instead of the GM3 he was on his record. He had good marks in BUD/S and his probationary period as well as his time in SEAL Team 3. His troubles had started when he had been sent into GI Joe eight months ago. A string of AWOL offenses, fighting, and conduct unbecoming as well as a demotion were all on his record.
The Frenchman stood in his camouflage utilities, "Gunner's Mate 3rd Class Montagnard, reporting sergeant."
"You're codename is Nosferatu, use it." Slaughter said, "Any idea why you're here, and I don't wanna hear any crap."
"Insubordination, fighting and AWOL offenses, sergeant." "That's scratching the surface. I also know you're whole record by heart because for this month, you're my special project. You've been a damn good operator until you entered GI Joe eight months ago. Your old C.O. said on your recommendation letter, 'Gunner's Mate 3rd Class Montagnard is a capable and intelligent operator. He was among the top percentage of his unit to graduate BUD/S and has proven his performance in numerous operations.' How would you like me to write Lieutenant Commander Gerschwin that his capable operator is a liability and not an asset to his new unit?" Sergeant Slaughter replied.
"I would not like that, sergeant."
"Good, some progress has been made. Now, let's see how well you run obstacles." Sergeant Slaughter grinned evilly.
~ ~ ~ ~
Soon to come: Why is Nosferatu a difficult recruit? Why do he and Beach Head have a disliking for one another? Will Sergeant Slaughter change this man? Find out soon.