Here We Go Again
Chapter 1: Bad News Doesn't Get Any Better With Age
"The fundamental mission of the tank platoon is to close with and destroy the enemy. The platoon's ability to move, shoot, communicate, and provide armored protection is a decisive factor on the modern battlefield. It moves, attacks, defends, and performs other essential tasks to support the company team or troop mission. In accomplishing its assigned missions, the platoon uses fire, maneuver, and shock effect, synchronized with other maneuver elements and with combat support (CS) and combat service support (CSS) assets. When properly supported, it is capable of conducting sustained operations against any sophisticated threat.
The tank platoon can survive and win in battle, however, only if it is well trained, effectively led, and highly motivated. Crews must be aggres-sive, and their tactics must reflect the tempo and intensity of maneuver warfare. Platoon training must prepare them to operate in hostile territory with the enemy to their front, flanks, and rear."
MARCH 15TH 2015, 1600 HOURS, CHARLIE COMPANY OFFICE, SECOND TANK BATTALION CP, CAMP LEJUENE, NORTH CAROLINA
"What the hell do you mean bad news?!"
Jasper Kincaid slammed his hands on the office desk, his face red with anger.
Sitting across from him, his close friend and platoon mate Corporal Parker Elton sat with hands behind his head. Elton had known Kincaid for years and as a result he knew how best to deal with the onslaught of irritation.
Sit there and let the man carry on.
"Bro this is bullshit, I get out this year."
Elton sighed. "Oh shut up bro, you don't get out till November. You still got plenty of time."
"But aren't they supposed to be going for other companies? I mean we just got done with DFT* at goddamn Pickett."
Elton finally sat upright. "Dude I'm just as pissed as you are, but this is coming down from waaaay high. You should be happy I'm telling you about it now." He paused for a moment as he fixed the rolled sleeves on his desert MARPAT blouse before continuing.
"The battalion is already short changed as it is most of the other companies are bracketed in for training and most of our company is gone. We're the ONLY platoon that has the bodies for this, is what is man."
"Platoon? Bro we're headquarters, like we're not even supposed to be sent anywhere. We have four tanks, two of which are the CO's and XO's and two others that are left overs from both of the old platoons. We're going against the very fabric of logistics itself! Who sends a headquarters platoon out to Japan for combined arms training, shit ain't adding up."
Kincaid sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Bro the company is supposed to be divesting soon anyways! What are we just putting that on hold? For fucks sake we don't even have a company first sergeant anymore."
Elton put his hands up and rolled his eyes. "You're telling me this like I have answers to it all bro. I don't, just take it for what it is man. Stranger things have happened before."
Kincaid sighed and began to calm down, he'd been through this ordeal before. Prior plans had been made and the Corps once again demanded its pound of flesh for some bullshit training op, but this time, it was personal. After four years of faithful service to the Corps Kincaid was tired. From the swamps of Camp Lejuene to a deployment to Afghanistan, he'd done his part.
With just a few months until his EAS* checkout process could kick in, hearing this news stung deep.
Who was he to complain though? He was only a Lance Corporal granted a veteran lance who had performed his duties as faithfully as possible, that still wasn't enough for his voice to gain merit even in the tank community. After realizing just how much bullshit he'd have to deal with just to pick up Corporal he promptly gave up on that notion and focused on just doing his job right and staying out of trouble.
Well, not getting caught while getting into trouble.
Kincaid walked to the company fridge paying close attention to drop change off in the cash jar before grabbing a cold Monster out of it.
Like many other Marines, Kincaid was a frequent consumer of energy drinks. The only difference was he was a frequent consumer even when he wasn't on the job. The sight of him having an energy drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other was regular to say the least.
Cracking open the cold beverage he took a whiff of the satisfying vapor and began to drink as he returned to the desk.
I fucking hate the green ones.
Making his way back to the desk, Kincaid could hear a crackle as Elton cracked his knuckles. Years of working on tanks certainly did wonders for one's joints. A fact not lost on either of the two men as Elton began to talk a look of assurance on his face.
"Dude look on the bright side its for a good cause, we'll be going to Japan and I know your anime loving freak ass will just love that. Anyways, word on the grapevine is with all the crazy shit going on in the world the Japs want their boys to be effective in combined arms. If shit pops off with China-"
Kincaid sighed. "Which it won't."
"If it does, the Japanese want to be assured that we can operate our tanks with em."
"Because the Chinese would be able to even set foot on Japanese soil in the first place."
Elton rolled his eyes. "Because everyone thought the Iraqis would be able to handle things once we pulled out too right? Should I keep going?"
Kincaid scoffed.
Elton shrugged. "Look man I'm just telling you now before we get the actual formation. Better to bitch now than later. Best get used to it bro weird shit's all over the place lately. Hell, goddamn Shinzo Abe amended the Japanese constitution so that they can technically deploy now-"
"Deploy in support." Kincaid raised a finger.
"Whatever, like I said bro. Shit's going crazy."
It was true. With the recent takeover of Iraq by the newly formed terrorist group ISIS as well as their expansion into several other countries, the world was on a bit of a powder keg. Russia had moved into Syria during the recent months and had begun fighting them there as well, or rather, notionally. Anyone who was anyone knew they were there to support Syria's regime in its fight against rebels, a small price to pay for Russia gaining influence there.
This was, of course, hardly a good follow up to the events that had transpired during their recent annexation of Crimea. The former and latter of which had put NATO on edge enough to not only consider looking back into combat operations in Iraq but also start massing armor near the Baltic states as part of a Black Sea rotation.
Which was what the rest of Kincaid's company were busying themselves with before the company was set to disband.
The usual "Everything Sucks" vibes.
Kincaid sighed. "How long we there for?"
Elton scoffed. "A few months."
"A few months?!"
Elton nodded. "Yeah a few months, then when we get back you can get ready to get the hell out of this shit."
"How we getting the tanks there?"
"Remember the training tanks over at 29 Palms-"
Kincaid dragged his cheeks down causing his lower eyelids to sink at this statement. "Is there even an advon* for that?"
"Relax the admin shit's already been done. We literally just have to get to California and get the tanks onto the ship."
Kincaid's expression twisted into one of shock. "Wait, fucking First Tanks took care of that?"
"Yeah crazy right? That's uncharacteristically sweet of them." Elton got a quick stretch in before returning to his original position. "If you had let me finish you would've heard that they're relieving us once we're done there."
"So why don't they just go first? They are called First tanks."
"Bro, I don't fucking know alright?" Elton pointed to the two chevrons on his blouse's collar with a black calloused hand. "See this? CORPORAL, not officer. I don't know bro."
Assured he wouldn't get any more answers to the questions that defied all logic Kincaid sighed. "So, it's the Black Sea Rotation...but Pacific style. With a flip-flop platoon of tanks."
"Yeep."
"Gonna assume Camp Fuji. It's the only place tanks could possibly go."
"Bingo."
Kincaid scratched his head, it was abnormal for tanks to train in Japan even if it was Camp Fuji Maneuver Center. In fact, usually the only places tankers ever trained was either back on base, Mojave California, or one of the many Army bases along the east coast. Shaking off the notion as just another unexpected bump in the road that was his Marine Corps career Kincaid merely stood there before trying to get understand the situation for what it was one last time.
"I still don't understand why don't they just send some of First Tanks. They're west coast, makes more sense to send them. Pacific is practically their backyard."
Elton shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. Maybe they're being prepped for the Middle East? I mean I've been hearing chitter chatter about some training thing eventually going on in Kuwait or some shit . Then there's the shit going on in Saudi Arabia with the Houthis n shit."
"Makes sense I guess." Kincaid groaned. "And don't tell me about the Saudis, fucking dumb asses can't even use our own shit right."
"Yeah, I've seen the videos." Elton scoffed remembering the shaky Youtube videos of Saudi M1A2 tanks being destroyed by Houthi rebels, an issue related to the undisciplined crews not the tanks. Still, it slandered not only the vehicle's reputation but that of the American tank community.
Nobody liked amateurs export tanks or not, and the Saudi's were right on the heels of the Iraqis who were suffering similar defeats in their own export Abrams tanks.
Elton sat straight up fixing his sleeves once more before sliding a gear list alongside the required Marine net courses they all had to take. Marine net courses, the bane of any enlisted Marine anywhere. Tedious online classes that usually were just a check in the box, they were meant to brush a Marine up on skills or knowledge he'd need in order to operate in a given area.
They could range from basic language classes all the way to culture classes. More often than not they were simple click-throughs and easily wrapped up in an hour. Kincaid sighed as he reviewed the information laid out in front of him, he had a few months to gain a basic understanding of Japanese language and culture as well as do OPSEC* classes.
He suddenly raised an eyebrow as a realization came to him. "So, let me ask you this. Obviously Wilkes is going go to be our loader as usual, but who the fuck is going to be our driver?"
Satisfied they were going to be down a crew member Kincaid stood proud, a smile on his face. Elton promptly leaned over the desk with an even bigger smile.
"Oh, we had a boot drop today he's already checked in and at the barracks."
Kincaid grabbed the papers and his eight-point cover before storming out.
"What the fuck!"
After a few moments Elton smiled, looking at the Monster on the table. "Hey bro you forgo-"
Right on cue Kincaid came right back in. Gulping the rest of the drink in one go, he burped and tossed the can away. He then proceeded to storm out the door.
Meanwhile, the company XO, Lieutenant Aldritch came out of his office, his arms folded as he shook his head. Like most lieutenants, he was pretty young and also pretty stereotypical looking to boot. Well groomed hair, a young face that oozed with purpose. Many of the Marines had often wondered if there was some sort of factory mass producing young gallant faced men before sending them off to Officer Candidate school.
Aldritch hadn't been in charge of Charlie Company long, but he was a fast learner and many of his men had began to respect him for that. It was also worth noting that he had big shoes to fill seeing as how Charlie's actual CO was long gone and off in a different unit. Truth be told the lieutenant couldn't exactly fault Kincaid for his outburst, the man had a point. The company was meant to be breaking apart towards the end of the year another part of the Corps-wide downsizing process. With first and second platoon rotating through operating in Bulgaria and Mojave the company was very much indeed shortchanged.
Of course, since most of Headquarters was comprised of Marines who hadn't seen much in the way of deployments it almost made sense why the brass had chosen them. Experience was a godsend, and most of these very same Marines would be sent off to other companies within the unit once the company disbanded.
The Corps did work in mysterious ways after all.
"So he always bitch this much?" Aldritch groaned as he dismissed the prior notion in his mind focusing on the now.
Elton logged off the company computer, grabbing his I.D. card and cover before responding with a grin.
"Oh for about three years sir."
"Pleasant."
Once Elton sent up the afternoon report he was given permission to take his leave for the day. Now all he had to do was catch up with Kincaid, his ride out of there. As he darted out the company office and out the CP door, he could already see Kincaid making his way over towards his Jeep. He rolled his eyes before yelling.
"Hey fucker! You gonna leave me here? You know my Mustang is still in the shop!"
Kincaid sighed and merely stood beside his Jeep, sighing as he began to unlock the door. "Sorry man, I'm just pissed off!."
Elton sighed as he made his way down a concrete path flanked by freshly cut grass on both sides. Another humid North Carolina day, already he could feel himself starting to sweat. As he made his way down further, he paused before looking over towards his right.
There it was, the inert statue of a woodland camouflaged M1A1 Abrams. It sat there with its turret over the side, its gun elevated and in the air. To the uninitiated, the slopes and angled armor looked almost space age. Despite the design and technology the family of tanks the A1 belonged to had been around longer than half the tankers alive, thirty years longer to be exact. It was a tried and proven design one still being constantly upgraded even up till now. Of course, the Marines didn't get the latest and greatest.
That didn't stop the A1 from being any less lethal than the newer A2 SEPs the Army had, however. Especially not with U.S. Marines crewing them.
Parallel to the Abrams was the statue of an older M60A1 Patton, a tank from an earlier generation of warfare. Larger than its younger cousin it had all the trademarks of a typical "Hollywood" tank. Olive drab, massive, squat and almost turtle-like. The tank was there to serve as a reminder of how far tank technology had come, a throwback to the machine Marines used to serve in.
Whoever had left these the tanks there had no doubt positioned them this way in order to capture a sense of stoic grandeur. They had once served in a past life, but were now gutted and filled with cement. Stage pieces to mark the CP as tanker territory. Elton couldn't help but reach out and give the side of the Abrams a reassuring pat on the side, a sign of respect despite all the stress the machine had brought him.
For many tankers such as himself this, tank had been a home, a way of life. Something that kept them safe during deployment. It was their craft, their way of war considered almost an art by some. Marine tankers considered themselves practically elite, a small community in an even smaller branch of service.
The Corporal shook his head before continuing on his way. He'd have plenty of time to "marvel" at the Abrams in the coming months, all through backbreaking labor. As he arrived at the Jeep he noticed Kincaid's smirk.
"And you say I love tanks too much."
"Man if you don't shut the hell up. You almost left my ass here, don't think I forgot."
"My bust bro, I'm just pissed off that's all."
"Yeah well me too, but you know shit is what it is. No sense bitching about it." Elton paused before shrugging. "Look man, beers on me tonight?"
"Fair enough."
As the two clambered into the Jeep Kincaid sighed before taking his cover off and lighting a cigarette. As he let his window slide down to let the smoke air out, a shit-eating grin formed on the lance corporal's face.
"I was gonna stop by the PX anyways."
"You trying to get smacked upside the head?"
"Just saying, heh."
Turning the key into the ignition, Kincaid let the Jeep's powerful V8 engine roar to life before putting the vehicle into reverse and getting them out of the parking lot. Meanwhile, Elton had plugged his MP3 player into the center console and began to play something mellow. He was just as pissed as Kincaid was, he just did a better job of hiding it.
Elton's Album of Awesome
Track 1: Flying Lotus "Mmmhmm"
Play?
"It cannot hide; just be who you are."
Soon the entire vehicle shook as the vehicles custom sound system kicked in. As Elton began to bob his head to the beat of the music, he took a cigarette from Kincaid's pack in the dashboard and lit up one of his own before turning to face his friend.
"So Abigail looks just like me now, crazy huh?"
Kincaid laughed as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Yeah well she's stubborn like you, how's the wife doing?"
Elton chuckled as he looked out the window. "Stubborn like her husband. She's pissed we're leaving too."
The two Marines laughed for a while until Elton asked the question he knew Kincaid was dreading.
"So...how's the trips to the MFLC* been going? Still having those night terrors?"
As the Jeep halted at a red light Kincaid took another drag.
"Jesus man, can we not talk about this? They're getting better alright?" Kincaid didn't avert his gaze from the light as Elton put a hand on his shoulder.
"No we can talk about this. We're brothers man, I worry about you sometimes that's all. Besides, it's been what? Months since our last training op? I just want to make sure you're gonna be okay."
As the light turned green, Kincaid sighed and took another drag giving the jeep some gas.
"Yeah...not as much, though. Same old shit, waking up in the dark trying to figure out where I am. Sometimes, though...sometimes it comes back."
Elton removed his hand from Kincaid's shoulder and looked back out the front window taking another drag before sighing.
"I don't blame you man, Raymond was a good guy, but you know how he'd want us to be living life right now. That shit was two years ago bro stop stressing it."
Kincaid saw the turn to the PX and pulled in, driving around for a few moments before finding an adequate spot. He sighed as he began to pull the vehicle in to park. "I'm fine, seriously. It's not like I'm hearing loud noises and hittin the deck. I'll be fine out there, we'll be fine. You can count on me man."
Elton smiled as he pat Kincaid's shoulder. "Alright, that's that then."
The two sat there quiet for a moment, there was a time long ago where they couldn't even have this conversation. It was a pain that never left many of the Marines from Delta Company, they had lost more than a fellow tanker.
They had lost a brother, family.
But today wasn't a day for grieving there would be plenty of time for negativity in the coming months.
"Dude."
"Yeah?"
"Let's get fucking trashed."
"Bet."
1700 HOURS, SECOND TANK BATTALION BARRACKS
Kincaid and Elton both grabbed a case of Samuel Adams and made their way to a large three-story brick building. To any casual onlooker this was a den of heathens, but to the Marines this was home.
Well, something close to it.
The pair watched as Marines chased each other in various states of undress around railed catwalks while loud music blasted from the various rooms.
Second Tanks' Album of Awesome
Track 2: Miley Cyrus "Party in The USA"
Play?
As they made their way to the building they saw a familiar face waiting for them on the second story railing. Smoking a cigarette and wearing his usual bucket hat and sweats, he looked like an absolute bum. Of course, a bum he was most certainly not, though he liked people to think that of him. In truth, he was highly intelligent.
When he wanted to be.
His name was Darian Wilkes Jr. and like Jasper and Elton, he was a veteran and former Delta Marine. A hulking brute of a black man, he had carved his name in the sands of Afghanistan as Kincaid's old driver. Now that he was a loader his reputation and nickname, Rampage, hadn't changed one bit.
Kincaid rolled his eyes and smiled. "You ever gonna change out of that stupid shit?"
Wilkes laughed as he watched the two Marines climb up one of the stairways, as they made their way to the front door he countered Kincaid's joke with one of his own.
"You ever gonna stop watching that freaky Japanese anime shit?"
Kincaid knew the drill, it was another one of their "Roast offs". A contest of who could make the other look like a bigger fool, as he unlocked the door with one hand, he countered.
"You ever gonna get a car?" Wilkes laughed and did an elaborate spin as he tossed his cigarette off the balcony. "You ever gonna get as much ass I have?"
Elton had laughed at this response, as the three Marines made their way into the two-person barracks room, Kincaid set his case into the fridge and hung up his blouse. "You ever gonna stop being so goddamn ugly?"
Elton gave a loud "Ooooh" before Wilkes chuckled. "You ever gonna stop getting your ass beat?!"
Within seconds Wilkes and Elton had dog-piled onto Kincaid and a three-person wrestling match had begun. Kincaid could scrap with the best of them, but against two well built African American males? He was at a loss.
This went on for a while until all three laughed, just another day in the barracks. Eventually, the beers were distributed and the three misfits made their way onto the catwalk, smoking all the while.
Elton took a long swig of his beer before turning to face Kincaid, "Hey, go ahead and text the rest of the guys. I have the gear list and shit in the room."
Not skipping a beat, Kincaid whipped his cell phone out of his cargo pocket and sent a mass text to everyone in the platoon.
Sure you're all tracking about the Camp Fuji shit show, gear list is in my room. Oh and by the way, BYOB. You fuckers aren't getting any of ours.
He finished the text with a heart emoji and snickered as he put his phone away. As he looked down the catwalk he noticed something that was a blight to his veteran eyes. A few rooms down, a short bulky Hispanic Marine stood there in front of his door in his service Alphas.
He looked absolutely lost.
Boot.
Kincaid downed his beer, and yelled at the PFC*. "Hey! Throw some goddamn civvies on and get your ass over here!"
The young PFC quickly hurried into his room and slammed the door.
"Oooh get em."
Kincaid rolled his eyes as he went to fetch another beer. "That's probably our driver. Woop dee fuckin doo."
Most new guys entering the fleet Marine force went through a long and arduous period of suffering before they could stand as equals with the more senior Marines. Unlike most other units, however, Second Tank Battalion was different in that it treated its new joins with a bit more respect than other units.
A bit more, take it or leave it.
In moments the PFC had come back from his room to the shock of the three senior tankers, he actually dressed like a normal human being. Something a lot of "boots" didn't do when they came into the fleet.
As he walked up Wilkes came around with a freshly opened beer and offered it to him. "Welcome to the fleet, thanks for not acting like a fucking boot. The name's Wilkes, but on the tank you call me Rampage, ya dig?"
In moments the PFC had downed the beer and lit up a cigarette, he was already making waves with his new crew. The three senior Marines looked at each other with smiles. They had gotten lucky maybe this new guy wasn't such a boot after all. Before Kincaid and Elton could introduce themselves the PFC had already beaten them to it.
"I'm George, George Benitez. Before you go asking, yes I can speak fluent Spanish and yes I can drive a tank without nose-diving into a ditch."
Definitely not a boot or at least, he certainly didn't act like one.
Had Benitez done this anywhere else he would've gotten a swift kick to the privates, but here in Charlie Company Second Tanks? Tankers stood together as a family. So instead of kicking his ass, the three senior tankers merely looked at each other and nodded in approval.
Elton took the lead this time and introduced himself. "I'm Corporal Parker Elton and no please don't fucking finish every sentence with 'Aye Corporal'. I'm your tank commander, over there is Lance Corporal Jasper Kincaid he's your gunner. Wilkes is obviously your loader if you haven't already guessed."
Benitez took the time to shake hands with each of his new crew members before Elton started up again. "You're lucky bro, you got put on the only veteran crew in this company. Just listen to us and you'll do fine, we're going to Japan next month just an FYI."
As he said this, Wilkes had gone inside and pulled out the entire case of beers they had been making trips to. "Might as well keep this shit out here."
As the Marines each lit up a cigarette and grabbed a beer Kincaid had a moment of enlightenment, glancing over towards Benitez.
"Yo, tradition demands you have a nickname when we're on the tank."
Each of the senior tankers nodded their heads in agreement, these were facts. Suddenly Elton came to a realization as he choked on a drag he had previously taken. He sputtered for a few moments as he tried to find his words.
"I got it! Let's call him Little John."
Benitez raised an eyebrow, he had been expecting something more stereotypical. "Why Little John?"
"Because you look like a fucking sidekick that's why."
Each of the senior tankers nodded and thus Benitez was christened Little John from that day on. Beer cans were clanked together as Wilkes rolled his eyes. "Welcome to our little piece of hell nigga."
Kincaid nodded in agreement. "Oh the adventures you'll have..."
As the night dragged on the rest of the platoon began to trickle over and gather with the newly formed crew. Introductions were quickly carried out, word was passed and things went right back to normal for a Friday evening.
A "Normal Friday evening."
Soon there was a whole platoon's worth of tankers running amok, beer cans were thrown, cigarettes were chain-smoked and Benitez figured out that Kincaid was a nerd much like himself. The anime posters in his wall locker and various merchandise was a dead giveaway.
This was, of course, met with jeers and laughter. Family or not nerds were still nerds.
After several hours of debauchery the Marines finally began to drunkenly make their way back to their rooms, Kincaid said his goodbyes to Elton and the others before going back into his room and locking the door. Soon he was met with the familiar sound of Wilkes snoring on his own bunk.
As the sound vibrated throughout the room Kincaid rolled his eyes stripped down into his boxers and laid down on his bed. He lay there for a few moments before checking his watch.
Might as well call dad and give him the bad news.
He groaned as he felt around his nightstand, once he finally found his phone he dialed in a series of numbers. After a few moments and some ringing, Kincaid's father, Jackson, picked up. "Hey pops, looks like the Corps is throwing the bullshit switch again. We gotta go train with the Japanse over at Camp Fuji."
"You're shitting me, the hell tanks gonna do over there?"
"Beats the hell out of me dad."
Jackson laughed through the phone as he heard the news. Usually there were only a few reasons why his son would call; to complain, to let him know he was going on leave, or to just check in with him.
This time, as usual, it was to complain.
"Well that's different, I didn't think tanks trained there."
"They don't, but I guess you would know better than I wouldn't you?"
Jackson was a diplomatic security agent, but more than that he was a twenty year Marine veteran. He had fought in the Gulf War, Somalia, and many other hell holes. As a result of him climbing the ranks he knew things and knew people. Though his new job wasn't as glorious as his old one he still concealed carried and was around very important individuals.
The pay wasn't too bad either, something not lost on Kincaid when he made up his mind to work alongside his father after college. He just had to get through his enlistment first, something this training op was standing in the way of.
"Well, just another day of the same old. ISIS or not son, the world is becoming a powder keg. Big powers are making their moves and the stage is set. It's only a matter of time before something pops off. I'm sure the Japanese just want to know we have their back, even if they do want our bases out of there. Anyways, just keep your head on a swivel. Hearing me?"
Kincaid sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, I hear ya Gunny."
Jackson laughed, "I'm not in the Corps anymore son, either way, make sure you call your sister and let her know you won't be coming home next month. I'd hate to see her drive all the way from Mississippi only to find out her brother isn't home."
With that, father and son said their goodbyes and hung up. Kincaid stared at the ceiling for a few moments before letting out a sigh and drifting off to sleep.
Of course, that didn't last long before it came back to visit him. A "Gentle" reminder of his past.
"Fuck Four is hit! Repeat Four is hit!"
"All tanks this is Tiger Four Lima, my actual is knocked out and my gunner is dead! Multiple contacts from our direct rear! I've got eyes on small arms and RPGs! We're sitting ducks out here, we've lost track!"
"Hang in there Four, we're turning around!"
"Christ Wilkes! Keep your fucking head down! I'm bringing the gun right! Coax on the way!"
Kincaid violently woke up, sweat clinging to his body as his eyes darted around the room. He sat there breathing hard for a few moments a tear running down his face as he began to calm down.
Another night terror, another flashback.
He slowly began to lay down, burying his face into his hands all the while.
"I was supposed to be done with this shit."
JUNE 10TH, 0800 HOURS, PORT OF SAN DIEGO
From atop his tank Kincaid shifted uncomfortably over the gun mantle and lowered his boonie cover over his eyes. Being at port always meant work when on the Corps' timetable. Kincaid looked around the dock at the four tan tanks and their M88 recovery vehicle. They were arranged in a line formation with their gun tubes max depressed over the rear and cinched down with cables.
The platoon had been there for a few hours now and as time had gone on other Marines from various other units began to trickle in as well. The only ones who knew when their "ride" would be there were the Navy personnel monitoring radios. With all this time available many Marines including Kincaid had tried to squeeze what precious little sleep they could in. They'd have a lot of work ahead, might as well enjoy the peace while they could.
Kincaid rolled his eyes as he watched Aldritch and his platoon Sergeant Johnson laugh from in front of the Lieutenant's tank. Whatever the joke was, it couldn't have been that funny. Higher ups always found humor in the most mundane of things, their underlings merely nodding their heads like the good subordinates they were.
Dismissing the thought from his mind, Kincaid lit a cigarette and powered up his phone in hopes he had a show long enough to pass the time. He had only been a few minutes into an episode before Benitez took up a seat next to him, the burly Hispanic's grinning face slowly rising up from the front of the turret's edge.
"Whats up man?"
Benitez shrugged. "Can't sleep man...the hell are you watching?"
"Honestly I have no idea, I just typed best anime harems of two thousand fifteen into the search bar and just downloaded some random crap."
"Harems bro? Really? Jesus how do you watch that shit, like the guy never fucks any of the girls at all. They're practically begging for it too!"
"Man, that's not all I watch."
"Oh really? Enlighten me, I brought fucking Bakemonogatari and Big O."
Kincaid shook his head as he began to school his driver. "My man, my man. You do realize that ole boy in Monogatari likes little girls right? Now Big O I'll let slide because that's big mother fucking O, a goddamn classic. What you need to get on is Hellsing and Jormungand."
"Dude Araragi does not like little girls."
"Oh he doesn't?"
"Hell to the fuck no."
Kincaid let out a cloud of smoke. "Yeah okay, give it some time. As for my harems? You do realize it'd be full-blown hentai if they fucked the girls right? I mean don't get me wrong, I'd die before I ever turned a hot ass fox girl down. But that's just how the genre goes."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
Benitez raised an eyebrow. "So...what's so bad about them becoming hentai?"
"Dude, I've seen hentai that's worse than some of Wilkes's porn collection. Believe me, you don't want to go down that road. It's just fucking weird."
"Well I mean..."
"Dude, seriously?!"
Before Benitez could defend himself a groan came from behind. "Yo if you two nerds don't shut the hell up, you can go bonkers all you want when we get to Japan."
Elton had been sleeping in between the tank commander's and loader's hatch his cupola offering a fair degree of shade from the sun. Meanwhile, snoring began to rumble forth from the bowels of the tank. Wilkes had hit the comfortable stage of his sleep cycle, the stage where his snoring left everyone else everything but comfortable.
Before Kincaid could think of something slick to respond with a thought crossed his mind. "Shit man, funny how after years of my family living overseas I don't get to go to visit Japan until my ass is in fucking tanks."
Benitez raised and eyebrow as he lit a cigarette of his own. "No shit? Jesus amigo, ain't your mom like in Singapore and your dad off in goddamn Sudan?"
"Nah man, mom's in goddamn..." Kincaid paused as his eyes went wide. With all the moving his mom did, he had completely forgotten for a moment. Not that he faulted himself he was too busy being self-absorbed in Marine Corps drama to keep tabs on everything else. Kincaid sighed before finishing his response. "I'll get back to you on that, all I know is that it's somewhere in southeast Asia. But yeah pops is off in Sudan."
"Christ." Benitez shook his head. "Jamaica, Africa, Singapore right? I mean, before you enlisted."
"Yep, and visited plenty others."
"You guys sure as hell get around."
It was true, a divorce between two parents working for the government could do that for you. While his mother worked for the state department his father had been acting Detachment Commander for each embassy Kincaid's mother went to. This meant Kincaid and his younger sister Janice had long lived a life abroad full of adventure and luxury.
Of course, all good things eventually came to an end. It was surprising enough that Kincaid's parents had made it far enough to even have another child as well as keep the facade of everything being fine between them. Once the family hit Singapore, enough was enough.
Eventually, a split began to form and became a full-on tear. The crescendo of it all being a sixteen-year-old Kincaid waking up to his mother sobbing in their kitchen, his father off in Iraq working for Black Water after his recent retirement from the Marine Corps. From that day on nothing would ever be the same for the Kincaid family.
Faced with a difficult decision as the oldest of the two siblings Kincaid had to choose. Go back to the states with his father or continue to live abroad with his mother. Regardless of what decision he made his sister would come with him, his parents having long agreed that the siblings would never experience the pain of growing up separately.
So Kincaid made his choice, one that to this day he believed in his heart of hearts to be the right one. What followed after that was a long journey of maturing with lessons both good and bad, the climax being where Kincaid was today.
A United States Marine a dirty tanker no less.
Meanwhile, Kincaid's mother continued to work abroad at embassies, her last post having been the Hague Netherlands before she went off to god knew where.
The Netherlands had been a fun trip though.
The good news was that Kincaid's parents had long reconciled their differences for the sake of the children and stayed on friendly terms. That been said, the Kincaid siblings had to live with the arduous process of seeing their mother once a year. It was a fact of life they had long gotten used to and one the broken family had actually gotten stronger for.
Everyone was in a good place after all. Well, mostly.
Eventually Benitez clambered down the front of the tank and into his driver's station leaving Kincaid quite literally alone to his own devices. Sighing to himself he lit another cigarette and looked for something on his phone to mellow him out.
After what felt like a lifetime of searching for the right song, Kincaid finally found one that suited the unfortunate situation he was in.
Kincaid's Album of Awesome
Track 3: Nirvana "Come As You Are"
Play?
"Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be. As a friend, as a friend, as an old enemy."
Rubbing his thick mustache, he let out a good yawn and took his glasses off. Between the sounds of the ocean waves and the music, sleep soon caught up to the gunner.
A temporary moment of relief at best, even over his music he could hear the distant sound of a foghorn going off. A quick glance under his boonie cover confirmed the rest.
A distant grey rectangle had began to take shape over the horizon, a U.S. Navy ship.
Soon the sounds of shouting began to usher forth as Kincaid and the other Marines began to wake up and get their tanks prepped for loading.
The Wasp Class amphibious assault ship USS Iwo Jima had arrived.
"Take your time, hurry up. The choice is yours, don't be late."
Jargon/Acronyms
DFT: Deployment For Training
EAS: End of Active Service, getting out of the Marines
PFC: Private First Class
Advon: Advanced Echelon. Essentially the guys who go ahead of the rest of the unit and prep things for them.
MFLC: Military and Family Life Consultant. Essentially a counselor.