18 Months Later
USMC FOB
Helmand Province, Afghanistan
"PFC Bartowski reporting as ordered, Sir." Chuck said, stopping just in front of 2nd Lieutenant (LT) Jack Ryan's desk and coming to the position of attention. LT Ryan waited several seconds, reading the paper in front of him, before he looked up.
"At ease, Bartowski." He said. He watched as Chuck relaxed from the position of attention. "I've got Staff Sergeant Harris's after action report from the raid yesterday. Now I want to hear your version." Chuck slowly let out a breath.
I knew this was going to come back to bite me in the ass. He thought to himself. Oh, well…no good deed goes unpunished I guess.
"Well, Sir, it was a textbook raid, at first. The patrol secured the perimeter and the breaching team entered the building on schedule. We encountered light resistance in the building until we reached the rear room on the upper floor. Lance Corporal Edison, PFC Wyles and myself engaged three hostiles in the hallway, with another hostile firing from cover behind the door. After a brief exchange of fire, we eliminated the resistance in the hall and stormed the room. The only subject in the room, presumably the one who had been firing on us, ignored our order to surrender. At the time he was doing something with a laptop. It only took a second or two but we realized it was attached to enough C4 to level the block. PFC Wyles killed the subject, but not before he activated the bomb. Luckily he wasn't able to detonate it immediately." Chuck said.
"And then?" LT Ryan prompted.
Chuck swallowed nervously. Even now after having graduated from Paris Island, Infantry training at Quantico, and being in country for the last three months, he was still somewhat the nervous kid he had been in high school and college.
"The bomb was on a timer controlled by the laptop. We had two minutes top on the countdown." Chuck continued. "There barely enough time for Lance Corporal Edison to shout out the rest of the breaching time, never mind evacuate the block. So…so I…uh…tried to defuse it."
"I'd say you did more than try, Bartowski." Jack said, grinning slightly. He picked up the paper in front of him and read from it. "While Lance Corporal Edison relayed information about the danger to the breaching team, PFC Bartowski proceeded to hack the laptop, and using the residence's satellite Internet, connect the laptop to the web. He then proceeded to disarm the bomb by crashing the laptop by going to a Serbian porn site and infecting the laptop with a fast acting virus."
"Uh…yes sir." Chuck replied. "It was a Prism laptop, sir. We used to sell them at the Buymore I worked at in college. I knew it had a DOS overwrite I could get to. And I had just had a letter from my best friend back home that mentioned the virus." Jack chuckled slightly.
"Well, I doubt the boys over at EOD would have approved, but it worked. You did good, Bartowski." Jack said, handing another piece of paper over to Chuck. "Staff Sergeant Harris has recommend you for a commendation. The Captain's already endorsed it. Also, as of today, you're no longer a PFC. Congratulations, Lance Corporal." Jack stood and shook Chuck's hand, then motioned to the chair in front of the desk. "Sit, Bartowski. There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"Sir?" Chuck asked as he sat.
"I'm going to be blunt. What the Hell are you doing here Bartowski?" Jack asked. Chuck didn't say anything, unsure of what the LT meant. "I've seen your jacket. So has the Captain. Top five in your high school class, 1500 on your SATs, full ride to Stanford. You're clearly very smart. You had your pick of just about any technical MOS you wanted. Yet you chose the Infantry. Why?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Chuck asked. Jack nodded. "Well, if you've seen my file, you'll know I didn't finish Stanford. I was kicked out, for cheating. I spent three months feeling sorry for myself. Then September 11th happened. I decided I was done feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to make a difference. So I enlisted."
"Bartowski, I know all this. I have a hard time believing the cheating part. Looking at your high school record, your ASFAB score, and your records from boot camp and infantry school, you're smart. Real smart. Too smart to have to cheat. What happened?" Jacked asked.
Chuck sighed, running his hand over his head. He really didn't want to retell the story. He had worked hard to put it behind him but it seemed to keep cropping up.
"My ex-best friend/roommate, Bryce Larkin, framed me. I'm not sure how or why, but he did. And then after I got kicked out, he went and stole the girl I was going to propose too." Chuck said, not really sure why he added the last part. He had spoken to LT Ryan only briefly before, but the LT was a good officer who seemed to care about his men.
"That sucks, Bartowski." Jack said, feeling sorry for the kid. "But why the Infantry?"
"I just figured if I was going to do my part, I wanted to commit all the way." Chuck replied.
Six Months Later
Aboard UH-1N Iroquois (aka Huey) Helicopter
"Still no luck, LT?" PFC Wilkison asked as Jack turned off the satellite phone.
"Nope. Same response as always 'thanks so much for the memo but'" Jack said, dejectedly. "Doesn't help that the sat phone keeps disconnecting."
"You should have Bartowski look at it when we get back." Corporal Jones said. Jack grinned. Ever since the laptop incident, Bartowski had been steadily gaining a reputation as the go-to guy whenever someone needed something electronic repaired or modified. And it wasn't just in that arena that Bartowski was gaining a reputation. He was probably one of his best Marines in the field. In fact, Jack and the Captain had just finished submitting a package to Battalion that would hopefully mean a better career path for him.
"Yeah, I just may do that. Maybe he can –" Jack started to say, but was interrupted by a loud bang and the helicopter beginning to descend.
"Mayday, mayday. This is Red 2-1, we are going down!" Jack heard the pilot say into his radio. "I say again, this is Red 2-1, we're going down, our current location is…"
Several Hours Later
USMC FOB
Helmand Province, Afghanistan
Chuck sighed as he lay down on his bunk, reflecting on the last few hours. Three members of his platoon dead in a helicopter crash, two more injured, and LT Ryan with a broken back.
It's a shame. LT Ryan was one hell of an officer. Chuck thought to himself. The LT had a way of connecting with the men of the platoon while still maintaining the proper respect for the differences in their ranks. There wasn't a Marine in the platoon that wouldn't have walked through hell and back for him. Chuck especially felt a deep comradeship with the LT. Despite the differences in the end of their academic careers, both had decided that service to their country was more important than what their schooling had prepared them for. And now he's gone. Hopefully the docs at Ramstein or Bethesda will be able to fix his back.
Two Months Later
USMC FOB
Helmand Province, Afghanistan
"Lance Corporal Bartowski reporting as ordered, Sir." Chuck said. In front of him, 2nd LT Marcus Little, LT Ryan's replacement, looked up from his desk.
"Pack your bags, Bartowski. I've just received new orders for you." He said. Chuck's eyes widened slightly in confusion; after all, he still had several months left on his deployment.
"May I ask where, sir?" he said. LT Little handed him a sheet of paper.
"Back to the States. Before his accident, LT Ryan and Captain Johnson recommended you for Force Reconnaissance training. Congratulations." LT Little replied.
Chuck stood in shock for a moment. Force Reconnaissance was the closest the Marines had to a dedicated special operations force; only the best of the best were even considered for it. Additionally, it was an arduous process to complete the training necessary. No less than 1 ½ to 2 years of additional training were required before completion. On the one hand, Chuck was not happy at the prospect of abandoning his platoon while they were still in the field. On the other hand, Force Recon, along with the other military special operations forces, were the tip of the spear against America's enemies.
"Aye, aye, sir." Chuck replied.
