Pen Pals
(Dec. 2141-Jan 2142)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego franchise, but the alternate universe and Trooper Stanley James Eaker are my creation. The Farm is what ACME detectives call the place where they learn their trades (I made that up).
~ ~ ~ ~
14 December 2141
Dear Ivy,
That postcard you sent out reached the wrong soldier, your's truly. Barry Eden was his name, and they accidentally gave me his mail today. My apologies. He and I worked in the intelligence processing office down the hall from the field agent's wing so you might have seen us a couple times.
I decided to reply because I have to say Barry was wounded severely today somewhere in the jungle. It should've been me, I should've gone on patrol not him. But he decided to take my place because I was down with malaria. Anyway, I've best be going, I have duty.
Sincerely,
Tpr. Stanley Eaker
US Army, 3rd SFG
~ ~ ~ ~
22 December 2141
Dear Stan,
I do seem to have heard of you before somewhere around ACME. My brother Zack mentioned you once about you helping us nearly stop Carmen from stealing the Bayeux Tapestry. He handed me your part of the report with the huge coffee stain. I also remember sitting next to you all throughout our time at the Farm, you know the quiet kid who'd sit by himself in the cafeteria till I practically dragged you into sitting with other people.
About Barry, it's not your fault. You couldn't have predicted you'd come down with malaria. I actually have had it before, when we were chasing Carmen down the Amazon. Marco said I had a fever for a week and wasn't exactly lucid for three days after that.
Sincerely,
Ivy
P.S. If you're gonna write me again, quit being so formal.
~ ~ ~ ~
A lone soldier wearing faded olive drab fatigues and muddied black boots with a floppy bush hat on his head perked up when he heard his name at mail call, "Eaker!"
"Here!" Eaker shouted.
Eaker picked up the letter and sat upon an empty ammo case to read it. He set his rifle down across his knees and didn't remove his belt kit containing his ammunition and a couple water canteens. After reading the letter he smiled and started to compose one of his own.
31 December 2141,
Dear Ivy,
Your letter arrived three days ago but I was on patrol and didn't have time to respond. Sorry, I'll quit being so formal, it's not like I'm writing the Queen of England. Operations have been increasing in tempo so often it isn't funny. It seems like every time I turn around a patrol's being sent out.
Malaria is no fun, as I've painfully discovered. I hadn't taken my antimalarial's yet when I got bitten. I spent four days in the infirmary until I was released back to my duties. Northern South America isn't that bad a place, it's actually quite beautiful. The rainforest, the parts not infected by the Biohazard, are absolutely splendid in their exotic beauty. So it's a great New Year's Eve spent amongst so much natural beauty, but a terrible one because I know I'm fighting a war amidst a time of celebration. Oh well, duty calls trooper.
Sorry if this paper's a tad muddy, I was writing my reply letter when we had a mortar attack and I hit the deck instantly. Whenever there's any sort of barrage we're trained to find cover and hit the ground. You'll dig with your spoon if it helps because under an artillery barrage all you want to do is dig a hole and hide in it and wait for mom to come get you. Then training takes over and you wait for the inevitable attack. We didn't have any attacks that time around, but sometimes they'll follow barrages with massive assaults by ogres, which are their shock troops, or have a Gollum or two sneak into the compound and strangle someone in their sleep. Anyway, it feels great to have someone to write for once. How on earth did you wind up writing Barry anyway?
Cheers,
Stan
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey Ivy!" Zack said, as he saw his big sister walk into the house after a workout at the gym, "You got another letter, but weren't you supposed to write Barry Eden?"
"There was a big mixup and Stan got the letter instead. Actually he's a really nice guy." Ivy grinned, "At least that's what his first letter indicates."
"Oh you mean Stan Eaker, from the intelligence building. The kinda wiry guy with short black hair, with the Territorial (Reserve) Army." Zack replied.
"Just give me the letter Zack." Ivy said.
"Sure sis." Zack replied.
Ivy plopped down on the couch, not even changing out of her sweaty workout clothes before she started to read. After she took a shower she got dressed in a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt and started to write.
4 January 2142
Dear Stan,
Belated Happy New Years! What do you mean you have no one to write? What about your family? Friends?
To answer your question, at HQ we started a program where we volunteer to pick a name of a soldier, sailor, airman, or marine and we start writing them. The Chief really got into it and started calling it Operation Pen Pal. It's so funny to see him walking (no pun intended) around with the four star general's helmet urging us to write our soldiers in the field. Anyway, I hope this letter finds you healthy and in good spirits.
Sincerely,
Ivy
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey Eaker!" said Trooper Eric 'Cartman' Klemm, so named because of his pudgy frame, shouted, "You got yourself another letter."
"Thanks man, pass it over here." Eaker replied. He was cleaning a 12-gauge pump action shotgun after a day's worth of immediate action drills where the men going out on patrol zeroed their weapons and practiced drills for contacts with enemy forces, setting up ambushes and the like.
As Cartman walked over to where Eaker sat on his cot a skinny little man ran by and grabbed the envelope. "It's from a chick, I can tell by the name and the handwriting! Hey Eek, you got a girlfriend you ain't telling us about."
"Oh shut up Longnose!" Eaker replied with mock annoyance. He referred to Trooper Ryan 'Longnose' Stanford.
"Aw chill out man," the skinny New Yorker with a long nose replied, "It's all good. Personally I'm all for one night stands..."
"Oh shut up, she's just a friend." Eaker replied.
"God Eek, you don't gotta be so sensitive about it." Ryan replied, and handed the letter over.
"Go eat some food you stringy little whelp." Eaker joked back to his buddy, "Lord knows, a man's gotta carbo load before going on patrol."
"Yeah, I might as well, after all I don't have enough blubber to last me for eight months like Cartman does...." Ryan began.
"Stanford!" Cartman shouted and barreled out of the wooden barracks building after the skinny little man.
"Walk for my life!" Ryan shouted.
Reading the letter Eaker grinned slightly as he started to compose his reply on a legal pad. Beside him was a small spiral notebook that he carried around throughout all his time at ACME.
9 January 2142
Dear Ivy,
Well I'm getting geared up for yet another patrol. I just finished an entire day's worth of planning, securing ammunition, immediate action drills and the like. Basically all I did was run around and shoot weapons and practice for whenever we encountered enemy forces. We fight the way we train.
To answer your last questions, my parents died when I was nine and I was raised for six hellish years by a Ms. Lowanda Dumore in Cold River, North Carolina. She was a Southern lady, wealthy, who kept her age well. My physical needs were taken care of my emotional ones weren't though. She always put me down, called me inferior and said I'd never amount to anything. She had a succession of six husbands, all of whom she divorced within a few years. She had the ethics of a shark, I absolutely hated her.
I shouldn't be ranting and raving about my family life, it's in the past. I ought to just live for now and let bygones be bygones. Once this war's over I'll get on with my life. I just want to meet the right girl, get married, have the house with the white picket fence and the two point five kids and go pleasantly to pieces. I have hope that it'll happen for me someday, I know it will. So what's new at ACME?
Cheers,
Stan
P.S. I'll tell you more stories about the six guys in the picture I enclosed. The guy in the center, kneeling down holding the shotgun and wearing an olive drab headband is me. Normal Army units frown on such things, but when you're lead scout you can't have sweat, mosquito repellant, and camouflage paint dripping into your eyes. Hence the head band.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey Ivy," Armando said, "You got another letter from your pen pal."
Maria, who was sitting a few feet away in the cafeteria said, "Who's your pen pal?"
"He used to work here. His name's Stan Eaker." Ivy replied.
"Oh you mean that creepy guy from the Farm who'd just sit by himself at lunch and watch people walk by and write stuff in the notebook." Maria replied, "I didn't like him at all, it's like he was stalking people."
"He wasn't that bad, he was just shy." Ivy replied, "He's actually a nice guy, a little clumsy at times, but not bad."
Ivy pocketed Stan's letter, she was gonna read it later on when she was ostensibly typing reports. To tell the truth, she actually looked forward to Stan's letters. She didn't know him all that well in the years they worked at ACME, because they worked in different departments and Stan was a bit of a loner by nature who'd scribble things into his notebook. But it seemed by their first few letters she was getting to know him. Despite his painfully shy and awkward exterior he seemed to be a nice enough guy who's heart was in the right place.
Later Ivy sat at her desk and read the letter. She felt visibly upset, how could someone grow up like that. No wonder Stan was so painfully shy, he had been enduring six years of emotional neglect until he moved to ACME and three more years of being the shy outsider. He had enlisted as a Territorial soldier for some extra money at the minimum enlistment age of sixteen, from what she remembered, shortly after they finished off at the farm. He was a year younger than her nineteen years. She saw the picture of a six man unit which had the words, "My Real Family" written underneath it.
Ivy began to write her reply. Over the past few weeks she had gained a new friend from someone she had previously seen around the building but never actually talked to since the Farm aside from the occasional hello or good morning/afternoon. She wondered why it had to be a major war that got her to know something about a person she saw every single day at work.
~ ~ ~ ~
Stan Eaker chambered a round into his shotgun as he and the five others of his six man patrol disembarked from the SH-57 Chinook cargo skimmer, a hovercraft vehicle with a maximum service ceiling of just over 10000 feet. They were dropped off in the midst of a grassy clearing.
Without having to utter a word, 2nd Lieutenant Frank Rhodes watched as Stan and the other four soldiers under his command formed a perimeter around the landing area. He tapped the wiry eighteen-year -old's shoulder and the six men silently and swiftly disappeared out of the elephant grass into the jungle.
~ ~ ~ ~
To be continued.....
(Dec. 2141-Jan 2142)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego franchise, but the alternate universe and Trooper Stanley James Eaker are my creation. The Farm is what ACME detectives call the place where they learn their trades (I made that up).
~ ~ ~ ~
14 December 2141
Dear Ivy,
That postcard you sent out reached the wrong soldier, your's truly. Barry Eden was his name, and they accidentally gave me his mail today. My apologies. He and I worked in the intelligence processing office down the hall from the field agent's wing so you might have seen us a couple times.
I decided to reply because I have to say Barry was wounded severely today somewhere in the jungle. It should've been me, I should've gone on patrol not him. But he decided to take my place because I was down with malaria. Anyway, I've best be going, I have duty.
Sincerely,
Tpr. Stanley Eaker
US Army, 3rd SFG
~ ~ ~ ~
22 December 2141
Dear Stan,
I do seem to have heard of you before somewhere around ACME. My brother Zack mentioned you once about you helping us nearly stop Carmen from stealing the Bayeux Tapestry. He handed me your part of the report with the huge coffee stain. I also remember sitting next to you all throughout our time at the Farm, you know the quiet kid who'd sit by himself in the cafeteria till I practically dragged you into sitting with other people.
About Barry, it's not your fault. You couldn't have predicted you'd come down with malaria. I actually have had it before, when we were chasing Carmen down the Amazon. Marco said I had a fever for a week and wasn't exactly lucid for three days after that.
Sincerely,
Ivy
P.S. If you're gonna write me again, quit being so formal.
~ ~ ~ ~
A lone soldier wearing faded olive drab fatigues and muddied black boots with a floppy bush hat on his head perked up when he heard his name at mail call, "Eaker!"
"Here!" Eaker shouted.
Eaker picked up the letter and sat upon an empty ammo case to read it. He set his rifle down across his knees and didn't remove his belt kit containing his ammunition and a couple water canteens. After reading the letter he smiled and started to compose one of his own.
31 December 2141,
Dear Ivy,
Your letter arrived three days ago but I was on patrol and didn't have time to respond. Sorry, I'll quit being so formal, it's not like I'm writing the Queen of England. Operations have been increasing in tempo so often it isn't funny. It seems like every time I turn around a patrol's being sent out.
Malaria is no fun, as I've painfully discovered. I hadn't taken my antimalarial's yet when I got bitten. I spent four days in the infirmary until I was released back to my duties. Northern South America isn't that bad a place, it's actually quite beautiful. The rainforest, the parts not infected by the Biohazard, are absolutely splendid in their exotic beauty. So it's a great New Year's Eve spent amongst so much natural beauty, but a terrible one because I know I'm fighting a war amidst a time of celebration. Oh well, duty calls trooper.
Sorry if this paper's a tad muddy, I was writing my reply letter when we had a mortar attack and I hit the deck instantly. Whenever there's any sort of barrage we're trained to find cover and hit the ground. You'll dig with your spoon if it helps because under an artillery barrage all you want to do is dig a hole and hide in it and wait for mom to come get you. Then training takes over and you wait for the inevitable attack. We didn't have any attacks that time around, but sometimes they'll follow barrages with massive assaults by ogres, which are their shock troops, or have a Gollum or two sneak into the compound and strangle someone in their sleep. Anyway, it feels great to have someone to write for once. How on earth did you wind up writing Barry anyway?
Cheers,
Stan
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey Ivy!" Zack said, as he saw his big sister walk into the house after a workout at the gym, "You got another letter, but weren't you supposed to write Barry Eden?"
"There was a big mixup and Stan got the letter instead. Actually he's a really nice guy." Ivy grinned, "At least that's what his first letter indicates."
"Oh you mean Stan Eaker, from the intelligence building. The kinda wiry guy with short black hair, with the Territorial (Reserve) Army." Zack replied.
"Just give me the letter Zack." Ivy said.
"Sure sis." Zack replied.
Ivy plopped down on the couch, not even changing out of her sweaty workout clothes before she started to read. After she took a shower she got dressed in a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt and started to write.
4 January 2142
Dear Stan,
Belated Happy New Years! What do you mean you have no one to write? What about your family? Friends?
To answer your question, at HQ we started a program where we volunteer to pick a name of a soldier, sailor, airman, or marine and we start writing them. The Chief really got into it and started calling it Operation Pen Pal. It's so funny to see him walking (no pun intended) around with the four star general's helmet urging us to write our soldiers in the field. Anyway, I hope this letter finds you healthy and in good spirits.
Sincerely,
Ivy
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey Eaker!" said Trooper Eric 'Cartman' Klemm, so named because of his pudgy frame, shouted, "You got yourself another letter."
"Thanks man, pass it over here." Eaker replied. He was cleaning a 12-gauge pump action shotgun after a day's worth of immediate action drills where the men going out on patrol zeroed their weapons and practiced drills for contacts with enemy forces, setting up ambushes and the like.
As Cartman walked over to where Eaker sat on his cot a skinny little man ran by and grabbed the envelope. "It's from a chick, I can tell by the name and the handwriting! Hey Eek, you got a girlfriend you ain't telling us about."
"Oh shut up Longnose!" Eaker replied with mock annoyance. He referred to Trooper Ryan 'Longnose' Stanford.
"Aw chill out man," the skinny New Yorker with a long nose replied, "It's all good. Personally I'm all for one night stands..."
"Oh shut up, she's just a friend." Eaker replied.
"God Eek, you don't gotta be so sensitive about it." Ryan replied, and handed the letter over.
"Go eat some food you stringy little whelp." Eaker joked back to his buddy, "Lord knows, a man's gotta carbo load before going on patrol."
"Yeah, I might as well, after all I don't have enough blubber to last me for eight months like Cartman does...." Ryan began.
"Stanford!" Cartman shouted and barreled out of the wooden barracks building after the skinny little man.
"Walk for my life!" Ryan shouted.
Reading the letter Eaker grinned slightly as he started to compose his reply on a legal pad. Beside him was a small spiral notebook that he carried around throughout all his time at ACME.
9 January 2142
Dear Ivy,
Well I'm getting geared up for yet another patrol. I just finished an entire day's worth of planning, securing ammunition, immediate action drills and the like. Basically all I did was run around and shoot weapons and practice for whenever we encountered enemy forces. We fight the way we train.
To answer your last questions, my parents died when I was nine and I was raised for six hellish years by a Ms. Lowanda Dumore in Cold River, North Carolina. She was a Southern lady, wealthy, who kept her age well. My physical needs were taken care of my emotional ones weren't though. She always put me down, called me inferior and said I'd never amount to anything. She had a succession of six husbands, all of whom she divorced within a few years. She had the ethics of a shark, I absolutely hated her.
I shouldn't be ranting and raving about my family life, it's in the past. I ought to just live for now and let bygones be bygones. Once this war's over I'll get on with my life. I just want to meet the right girl, get married, have the house with the white picket fence and the two point five kids and go pleasantly to pieces. I have hope that it'll happen for me someday, I know it will. So what's new at ACME?
Cheers,
Stan
P.S. I'll tell you more stories about the six guys in the picture I enclosed. The guy in the center, kneeling down holding the shotgun and wearing an olive drab headband is me. Normal Army units frown on such things, but when you're lead scout you can't have sweat, mosquito repellant, and camouflage paint dripping into your eyes. Hence the head band.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hey Ivy," Armando said, "You got another letter from your pen pal."
Maria, who was sitting a few feet away in the cafeteria said, "Who's your pen pal?"
"He used to work here. His name's Stan Eaker." Ivy replied.
"Oh you mean that creepy guy from the Farm who'd just sit by himself at lunch and watch people walk by and write stuff in the notebook." Maria replied, "I didn't like him at all, it's like he was stalking people."
"He wasn't that bad, he was just shy." Ivy replied, "He's actually a nice guy, a little clumsy at times, but not bad."
Ivy pocketed Stan's letter, she was gonna read it later on when she was ostensibly typing reports. To tell the truth, she actually looked forward to Stan's letters. She didn't know him all that well in the years they worked at ACME, because they worked in different departments and Stan was a bit of a loner by nature who'd scribble things into his notebook. But it seemed by their first few letters she was getting to know him. Despite his painfully shy and awkward exterior he seemed to be a nice enough guy who's heart was in the right place.
Later Ivy sat at her desk and read the letter. She felt visibly upset, how could someone grow up like that. No wonder Stan was so painfully shy, he had been enduring six years of emotional neglect until he moved to ACME and three more years of being the shy outsider. He had enlisted as a Territorial soldier for some extra money at the minimum enlistment age of sixteen, from what she remembered, shortly after they finished off at the farm. He was a year younger than her nineteen years. She saw the picture of a six man unit which had the words, "My Real Family" written underneath it.
Ivy began to write her reply. Over the past few weeks she had gained a new friend from someone she had previously seen around the building but never actually talked to since the Farm aside from the occasional hello or good morning/afternoon. She wondered why it had to be a major war that got her to know something about a person she saw every single day at work.
~ ~ ~ ~
Stan Eaker chambered a round into his shotgun as he and the five others of his six man patrol disembarked from the SH-57 Chinook cargo skimmer, a hovercraft vehicle with a maximum service ceiling of just over 10000 feet. They were dropped off in the midst of a grassy clearing.
Without having to utter a word, 2nd Lieutenant Frank Rhodes watched as Stan and the other four soldiers under his command formed a perimeter around the landing area. He tapped the wiry eighteen-year -old's shoulder and the six men silently and swiftly disappeared out of the elephant grass into the jungle.
~ ~ ~ ~
To be continued.....