X James X
Peter had been shocked when I relayed my encounter. Chester's character change was very distressing. Peter suggested some sort of PTSD. We'd thought about staging a intervention, only to find out from a NRA pilot he'd already been redeployed.
More disturbing was the next day visit. Our aunt acted as if nothing was in the wrong. Victoria was the same. We didn't dare pursue the issue directly, and the visit seemed to have a thick air around it.
"I hear the war is still going on." Victoria said sometime later. We unfortunately had to confirm that thought. We'd received the news ourselves that morning. It was disappointing to many; for some even more. I'd seen it in the faces of wounded soldiers when I stopped by the hospital that morning. No one wanted to continue this fighting. I most certainly didn't; not when it was hurting what was left of my family. I could see the worry in their eyes every time we left.
"They're being asked for too much…"
"I think it's a terrible thing." Our aunt showed the first sign of fierceness. "It does horrible things to people. Why, I still remember when you boys were handsome and well mannered." This stuck me with a un-expressible disturbance. We'd kept our humanity, hadn't we? Out aunt returned to her rather distant self and we left an hour later, promising to come back as soon as we could.
The following day, we were conducting a training exercise along side the NRA Special Forces. Considering the history behind them, I still thought our force was very well trained. But watching them compete alongside battle-hardened Spec Op troops renewed my doubts. Hell, I nearly felt inadequate next to them.
Sgt. Anson seemed to particularly fit in with them. It was perhaps because sniping was generally associated with Special Forces. Or maybe it was mentality.
"I sure as hell wasn't trained for anything like that." Collins panted, brushing dirt off the chevrons on his shoulder. We'd agreed on the need for another officer to help lead, and Collins had been the most qualified.
"I wasn't either." I admitted, watching the exercise unfold from the hill. Army gunboats were crossing the artificial lake while live ammunition was fired a safe but close distance above them. As soon as they got close to the shore, the troops on board would dismount and crawl up the beach at a nearly un-human pace. It was almost like watching snakes move.
"I've only seen Marines move like that." I heard Sgt. Anderson comment somewhere to our left.
"Yeah, well we had to learn a few new tricks after the fighting at Scissors Basin." The Spec Ops Corporal responded. I turned my ears to the conversation; I'd heard Sgt. Anderson mention the place during training once. It was a mountainous but marshy land in Southern Lazuria.
"Again?!" Sgt. Anderson suddenly seemed angry, and several more heads turned towards him.
"Yes sir." For all their reputation, I couldn't blame the Corporal's hesitance. "Army Airborne troops and the Air Force were fighting there a few months ago." Sgt. Anderson snorted.
"My brother was a tank driver for the Marines. He died there trying to get his tank out of the mud." I looked in time to see Sgt. Anderson was no longer looking at the landing, but the sky. He'd never mentioned having a brother previously. Then again, he'd never mentioned how him and Sgt. Anson had become friends either, and several trainees had actually asked that.
"It was probably the circumstances…" There were few good ways to meet in a war.I'd never really found myself that curious about his past; I'd initially only known him from training, and the rest of the time we've been technically deployed. I waited, but he didn't elaborate. The Corporal didn't press any further, leaving my own curiosity burning. I wasn't the only one; Sam approached me later after training when a group of us were all heading what was apparently the last bar in the city.
"Kind of odd he'd never mention it." Sam said. The issue only seemed of interest to the three of us. Now that I'd thought about it, I couldn't blame him. If Peter got killed, I wouldn't be surprised. But it would still hurt…
"The war was a pretty horrible thing." Peter reminded us. "He lived through it. It's an amazing feat he is still sane."
"Because using live ammunition is the sane way to train someone." Sam's remark wasn't scolding, but somewhere between curious and worried. I felt a impulse to yell at him. Sgt. Anderson had been a good leader the past year, and he had trained us well. He'd even saved our lives on several occasions.
I realized in spite of that, I still barely knew him. He'd been a trainer for the past two decades, and a soldier before that. That's all we really knew. He knew even less about Sgt. Anson.
This new interest distracted my mind enough to the point I did not notice a tank commander walking towards us. "You're 12th Heliborne, right?" He asked.
"Yeah." Collins responded.
"Return to your barracks and grab your kits." He said. Behind us, the few Privates that had opted to follow us groaned out. "Some new orders came in. We're leaving in an hour." I felt bad when I realized we wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye to Victoria or our aunt. But we quickly hurried back to the barracks and had all our equipment ready for inspection by the time Sgt. Anson and Sgt. Anderson came in. Sgt. Anderson spoke to us briefly.
"Now, I understand some of you may be jumpy. Your fear is well founded." He nodded tensely. "Even more so since it's not immediately clear what we're doing." This caused some noticeable but non-vocal alarm.
"What?" It didn't make sense; the war was still going on, we should be getting clearer orders then that.
"What the hell kind of deployment is this?" Sam broke discipline and outright asked.
"I was wondering that myself." To our surprise, he wasn't reprimanded. Sgt. Anderson went on: "Apparently we'll receive further orders upon arrival." It was clear he didn't like the idea. "For those who did not hear, we are deploying to the city of Valdell, 243 miles west of here. It is of little strategic value, but I want everyone to stay ready. We will not cave, no matter what tricks Lazuria may attempt. Do you understand?!" He voice rose to a yell.
"Sir, yes, Sir!" Ours was much louder. I was confident none of us were lying. I knew I wasn't, This war was getting more destructive by the day. And we had to end it. By any means possible.
X Tim X
Fear was for pussies. Nothing could be gained from it, I'd repeated that much to myself my entire life. But it was the most appropriate word I could think of at the moment. Of what?
Sarah.
I didn't know what the fuck love was, but I still used the word. I still wasn't truly sure what kept us together, but we just worked like that. Balance, or something like that. I never could put words to any of that emotional crap. The simple fact was I cared about her, and I didn't want her to be hurt or upset.
Despite that, I wasn't oblivious to her character. Considering how she grew up and the effects of it she still felt to this day, I wasn't surprised that she sometimes broke down; it was a lot of shit to carry. The problem was she might become extremely violent during one of those episodes. I'd only seen it happen to other people, thank god. And it hasn't happened a whole lot; Clarissa being the most recent example out of maybe six other cases throughout the years.
I was worried there'd soon be another. In the two or so days we'd been in the Capitol, she'd refused to so much as to leave the apartment. I'd asked her more then once what she'd wanted to speak to me about, but she put it off. Not even Kim practically crying over us still being alive cheered her up, or the fact the two brats had apparently gotten together (I didn't know the details, and I honestly didn't give a fuck). She'd just sat around with some weird face.
I'd tried to act normal. I'd already gone and seen the Captain and explained about the helicopter. He'd said he'd look into it, but couldn't make any promises. Honest guy. But it did little to distract me. Something was wrong. And I was stuck wondering what the hell it would evolve into. Finding a kitchen knife lodged deep into the wall hadn't eased my fears.
She hadn't said anything when we found out we were moving out again so soon. She hadn't even complained when she found out we'd have to ride with the ground troops while the others flew ahead.
Maybe I was paranoid. But I hadn't taken chances. I'd stayed at the apartment the rest of our time there. Sarah noticed, but didn't complain. She actually seemed to enjoy my presence, spending hours at a time sleeping beside me while I watched the television repeats of past battles. I seemed to keep her calm.
And now that we were in the truck, I kept a arm firmly around her shoulder at all times. I tried to keep it normal though. The Marines in the truck just so happened to be one of the bunches that took the bridges, so there was some conversation.
"Whole goddamn plan went to shit when they hit the bridge." One of them was complaining. "And it was a brilliant fucking plan!"
"'No plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy.' That shit's still true today." They were mostly talking to each other rather then us. But they weren't entirely ungrateful bastards.
"Helicopters balance it out pretty well though." One of them nodded at us. I nodded back. It was pretty much impossible not to feel awkward, but I still responded.
"Eh, the AA was a big pain in the ass, so thanks for that."
"Like those pussies could stop us." He stabbed a finger to his chest. "If something's our target. We're sure as hell going to take it." I didn't doubt it.
The conversation died down, and half of us pretty much fell asleep till the asshole driver woke us up by driving off road. "Sorry boys, stalled Abram." That didn't stop us from cursing him out.
Sarah, yawned, stretched, and rest her head back against my shoulder. She didn't seem to notice the other people sitting nearby. Or didn't care. "What is she thinking?" Her calm attitude was a front, I knew that damn well. "All she has to do is tell me." She could've at any time.
But we fell back asleep and the ride was again uneventful for several hours until this time the horn woke us up. Sarah sat up and yawned again, kneading her hands anxiously in her lap and biting her lip. She looked at me in slight fear.
"What a shit hole." The driver commented. I looked out the back at the cracked and worn highway we were on. Now that I was awake, it was pretty damn bumpy. Sarah squeaked and shuffled her hands with each one. I leaned forward slightly so the Marines didn't see the red on her face.
The truck eventually crossed a large suspension bridge, also in shitty quality. "Why the hell would anyone want THIS city?" The Marine in the passenger seat commented. I turned around and looked through the small window. The city looked industrial, but everything had since closed down.
"The river below us?" A Marine suggested. "How far are we from the ocean?"
"At least ninety miles. I doubt Lazuria can launch another amphibious operation. This city doesn't make nothing good by the looks of it. It's probably just a stop on the supply routes."
"Sounds reason enough." The Marine next to him muttered. The truck entered the city limits, but I didn't take in the details. By the sounds of things, we might actually get another helicopter. We could get back in air and off-
"Eeeh." Sarah whined under her breath.
-these damn roads with these crowded trucks. It was another five minutes before the trucks finally started stopping and the officers began calling everyone to attention to lay out rules and instructions. We'd been told we had to find the air strip near the outer area of town. First though, other stuff.
It kind of pissed me off, seeing Sarah almost limp across the street red-faced. It made me want to punch someone. I stepped ahead and opened the door for her. The guy behind the restaurant counter looked up at us as we entered. Sarah quickly ran towards the back while I took a seat at the counter.
"Can I get you anything?" He asked, picking a dusty menu out from under the counter.
"Eh, sure." I reached into my pocket for that damn coupon book. What was a bite to eat? I hadn't been able to get one in the Capital. The guy looked relieved. I glanced at the menu while thumbing through the book. "Steak? Hell, I couldn't get one of those back in the Capital!" The manager nodded in approval.
"Steak coming right up." He said. It took five minutes for the steak to be put in front of me, and five for me to finish it. Sarah was absent the whole time. I sighed inwardly, realizing something was wrong. I got up and walked towards the back of the restaurant. Even standing in front of the door to the single bathroom I could hear a retching sound.
Sure enough, Sarah was vomiting her guts out when I opened the door. She looked up at me. I was worried at how pale she seemed. What the hell was wrong with her? She shook her head and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
"I'm fine." She pushed down on the lever and stood up. She swayed and ducked back down, gripping the seat before puking again. I sighed and stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind me.
"Sarah. I'm starting to worry." I rubbed her back. "For gods sake, what's wrong?" She wretched again before flushing and slumping back on the floor. She used the toilet to steady herself and stood up, wobbling on her legs.
"I just need some fresh air." She stumbled and would've hit the door headfirst if I hadn't grabbed her.
"C'mon." I picked her up and carried her out. She didn't complain. And I didn't care about the stares we were getting outside either. It was almost funny. A year ago, I'd never do anything remotely open in public. I walked till we eventually came to a highway overpass.
I let her down and she sighed and sat down against the concrete barrier. I stared at the road beneath. Deserted. "What a shit hole town." Where to start? Waiting for her to tell me wasn't the best course of action. I just wasn't sure how I suppose to convince her. I didn't need too.
"Tim? Do I ask too much from you?" Sarah asked. She turned and looked up at me. I stared back at her.
"What kind of question is that?" I looked back over the barrier. An odd question meant progress.
"I'm worried I ask too much of you." She said. "You give me so much already. You put up with my mood swings."
"They aren't that common."
"You put up with me being a broken child."
"You're not broken."
"You don't care about my problem. Hell, you've held my hand more then once."
"Ehh…" The statement embarrassed me enough I didn't respond.
"What the hell have I given you in return?" She said seriously. "You practically gave me a reason to live! And here I am wanting to ask for something more."
"Now you're overstating it." I turned at her. "You gave a lot more to me then I could say. Have I ever said no to you? I don't know why you're still insecure after all this time. Be direct like you tried before."
"I don't know why I act like I little bitch all the time." She stood up and stretched. "I just do it without thinking about it."
"Sounds familiar." I commented. "I still don't have a fucking clue why I do what I do." She laughed and stood beside me.
"Alright, fine, I'll just come out and say it." She took a deep breath. "I want a baby." I turned towards her. She stared back at me intently. "I don't mean adopt either, I mean one we make." She looked anxious. "There…there's a surgery to fix it."
"Is there?" I said dumbly. I shook my head. Whatever I'd expected, this wasn't it. My brain had one of those shutdown moments.
"Yeah." She nodded, slightly more confident. "I asked a doctor about it after the night at the bar. They've developed a surgery since then. Actually, only four years ago." She said.
"That's great." I said absentmindedly. Then my brain came back online. "That- Holy shit." I stared at her. She smiled and flung her arms around me.
"It's not completely effective." She admitted. "If anything, my other problem will get worse. But I'll still be able to have kids." She leaned out and looked at me. "You'll give me some…right?" The cogs in my brain had to work out this one. I didn't let go of her, though.
Okay, I knew she'd already wanted kids. Hell, she really was a good person, and would probably make a good mother. On the other, she did have somewhat of a point; I felt like a asshole to admit it, but I was a bit uneasy about all the things she'd been asking me to adjust too. And, well…I didn't like kids. They were high maintenance, and you put a lot in for pretty much nothing in return. Plus, they ruined all your fun.
"But she wants it." I felt like a hypocrite; I'd told her I'd never say no, yet here I think I might actually say it. She looked at me expectantly, but no answer came to mind. Her face fell with each passing moment. She must've been worried I wouldn't react that well. I couldn't be, but at the same time I just couldn't go right along with it. "I'll have to think about it." She looked disappointed. "I'm sorry, but that's a lot to ask for." I defended.
There was another reason. Jealousness, as much as the idea made me laugh at my self. Life always seemed to be moving forward towards the better for her. I still hadn't gotten anything I got considered worth while.
"You get to keep her." A voice in my head pointed out. I turned and looked at her. She looked even less then the woman I'd known a year ago. She looked like the small, scared girl I'd met in the orphanage. The same one I'd fallen in love with.
…
…
…. "Whipped." I almost laughed. I turned and looked at the highway again. "This isn't where you wanted to tell me, is it?" I guessed.
"Yeah." She admitted, slumping back down. "I hoped for somewhere more private and where you were in a good mood. I was only puking because I was nervous I wouldn't get a chance before we got deployed again."
"Well, you told me. And I said I'll think about it. It's a step forward, isn't it?"
"I guess." She shrugged.
"Not enough for you anyway."
"I don't intend to do anything till the shooting stops, just know that, ok?"
"I know." I nodded.
"Good." She grabbed my leg and pulled herself up. Her face was still slightly red. I'm sure mine was too. "Not as disastrous as I thought it be." She almost laughed. We both just stared at the wrecked city outline for another minutes. I realized it was probably a good idea to keep the positive momentum rolling.
"Maybe we should go look and see if they have a new helicopter for us?" I suggested. "We may be able to find out how long before- gah!" She tried to tackle me.
"I still feel like I ask too much from you." She admitted. I patted her on the back.
"Well, don't." I said. She straightened up and smiled at me. When we started walking, I realized my earlier thoughts were pretty much true. "You like, I think I actually like it when you act more like a girl." She elbowed me and the side.
"Don't expect it all the time."
"As long as you don't expect me to act soft all the time." I lightly shoved her back. This continued on for several minutes. "I definitely don't want to lose this." But still, kids. The idea killed the good mood. It was a hell of a lot to ask for. Plus, there were other details I'd have to ask about. What if the surgery was dangerous?
A lot to ask. A lot to think about. Then again, I'd faced a lot worse. And besides, this was a good thing, or at least it was suppose to be. I shouldn't be negative about it.
It didn't mean I wasn't worried about it though.
X James X
This city had looked horrible from the air. I was almost thankful when we didn't have to enter it. Instead, we had landed at a make-shift airstrip outside of it's boundaries (but unfortunately close to the dirty river that ran through it) and stayed there the night till the tanks had arrived. Then our odd orders finally took shape.
"That right there. That's beautiful." A tank gunner commented.
"It's certainly a powerful image." We'd only been here for an hour, but our purpose was already clear: we were being rearmed. Apparently, according to the active commander of the garrison in this city, we were one of the few units still capable of operating, so we'd be going straight back to the front lines.
The news hadn't been well received, but only vocally expressed that much by the lower enlisted. They were, however, giving us 'compensation' for our new role. During the fighting, equipment had been put out of battle when they're crews were killed. We were exchanging some of our older equipment for that equipment.
Our light tanks were being exchanged for Abrams, our towed artillery for self-propelled Paladin Artillery, and our Humvees for APCs. Though the Captain apparently insisted on keeping some M2 light tanks and Humvees; speed still had it's uses on the battlefield, the 12th Battalion was effectively a heavy tank Battalion now.
Our Air Wing also got a boost. The F-4s were taken away in exchange for F-15s. They even tried to convince the Sky Raider pilots to change. They disagreed, as did I on a personal level; we'd definitely need the air support they were famous for. Plus, I had doubts the pilots had time to train for such a jump. In the end, they gave up the bid and let them retain their planes.
"It's for the better."
There were also helicopters. There was a slight warmth in my chest as we walked past the airfield to where they were. It had been so long since I'd seen a proper infantry Chinook, I was practically as awe-stuck as I'd been when I first enlisted and saw one.
It was black for probably night stealth missions. "Unnecessary now." I thought regretfully. I recognized the blades are specially modified for increased aerodynamics for better speed and lift. A shiny, lethal M60 Heavy machine gun poked out of a side port near the front, ready to help deliver troops into the middle of a fight. It shown scratches and bullet marks from past operations that had failed to stop it. "Our perfect weapon."
"This is perfect. Just what we need to end this war." I said. We had it quickly too. What if Lazuria got a opportunity to launch more raids on the Capital? It couldn't be guaranteed civilians wouldn't be hurt again.
"They won't know what hit them!" Sam grinned.
"Damn straight." Sgt. Anderson nodded.
"You're the Air Assault troops then?" A NRA officer came over. "Gotta tell you, we're glad to get rid of these things; not enough troops to fill them anymore."
"We're glad to have them. Better then what we've been using for the past year." Sgt. Anderson responded. The officer nodded.
"Our supply lines have been under a bit of stress because we don't have that many dedicated transport craft. Those helicopters will definitely help."
Despite the uneven trade off, the NRA seemed content with the exchange. The whole thing seemed routine and logical, at least till later. I'd been sitting at the ground and cleaning my rifle; I'd no doubt need it soon, when Captain Brenner had come over to examine the new Air Wing. The Lieutenant, Will, and a female civilian were following.
They wordlessly observed all of the new vehicles, perhaps planning on ways to use them. I kept a eye on them still while I reassembled my rifle with ease from constant practice. My attention was drawn suddenly to the river.
The Typhoon was sitting there, with the glare of welding tools brightening like fireworks every few seconds. They were apparently installing a rocket delivery system in place of the gun battery it'd lost in the artillery duel with Lazuria. The gunboats sat behind it. It was not a comforting image.
The front line would still be the islands. Though we packed a much more respectable punch on land, the islands were not primarily land combat. Ships and planes ruled there, and we did own a significant quantity or quality of those. We were liable to suffer heavy casualties out there…
"But I'll still do what I can." I had to.
Behind our flotilla, I noticed a much larger, but no less older going by the weathered look, ship sailing down river towards us. The Cruiser docked close to the shore and a party dismounted from it.
Though they'd been leaving, the Captain and his group stopped while the other party approached. The leading man wore a ship Captain's uniform and appeared very old. The hair that cropped from his hair was solid gray. He even walked in a slightly slouched position. Behind him were a few other naval officers, and one Air Force pilot. The pilot walked with a slight limp. They stopped in front of Captain Brenner. The two parties saluted each other.
"I'm Captain Rhodes of the RNS Silver Fox." The ship Captain introduced himself. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd used it far too much. A bell started faintly ringing at the back of my mind.
"I'm Captain Brenner, 12th Battalion." The Captain responded. Rhodes nodded.
"Well, Captain, you're my CO now." The sentence was enough make me pause in my cleaning. Will looked started. Captain Brenner similarly. At my best guess, Rhodes was at least thirty years his senior. At the puzzled expressions, Rhodes continued.
"Well Captain, we have our Cruiser, four landers, Airmen Clemens here is a A-10 pilot, with two more behind, a infantry squad, and we have part a artillery battery with us. The NRA has given us orders to be folded into your unit. It's just us now, the rest are in a city just a little west of here."
"Yeah, the NRA doesn't exactly want us anymore." The pilot, Clemens, gave a humorless smile. There was something about it that sent a chill down my spine.
"Doesn't want them anymore?"
"What is the artillery battery's composition?" Lieutenant Lin asked.
"Three of those rocket trucks." Rhodes reported in the same scratchy voice. I scratched my head. Three ground attack craft, a anti-air warship, mobile artillery, and men? Without a trade off? The NRA's charity was welcomed, but it still puzzled me.
"The landers and Cruiser's will be very useful." The Lieutenant mused. I reflected it was probably intentional; how else could we move troops into the channel. The Captain still seemed disturbed, but didn't say anything out right.
"I can offer you command of the 12th's naval resources." Brenner addressed Rhodes. Though Captain Davenport had been a calm, orderly, and effective leader, something I'd deducted by watching 12th Battalion ships, seniority, experience, and a bigger ship did mean something. To our surprise, he shook his head.
"I have no interest in the post Captain, but thank you." He bowed his head. They answered more questions from the Lieutenant, but I'd already gotten up; the bell in my head had finally made sense. It might've been a trivial matter, but one I thought I'd report anyway.
Sgt. Anderson and Sgt. Anson were closer to the town, far away enough not to see the river. They were discussing some unknown matter amongst themselves, and I hesitated on the matter of disturbing them. Sgt. Anderson still noticed me.
"What is it Corporal?" He asked. I straightened up and pulled the bandanna up to hide my slightly red face.
"Sir, what you be familiar with a Navy Captain by the name of Rhodes?" Judging by the way leaned back, he did.
"We served from a vessel under his command." Sgt. Anson answered. There was something in his voice. It took a moment I recognized it as emotion. The idea surprised me to the point I couldn't figure out what it was. "Why, Corporal?" His voice resumed it's stony tone.
"The NRA has ordered several ships and troops to integrated into the Battalion." I explained. "The Cruiser Silver Fox is the crown piece. I recall you mentioning the ship previously." I explained. Sgt. Anson's eyes narrowed. Sgt. Anderson stared in the direction of the river.
"Is that ship in the river?" He demanded.
"Yes sir." I nodded. They both brushed past. As it was in the direction of the airstrip, I followed them. Then Sgt. Anson turned back to face me.
"Coleman, go gather the rest of the unit and assemble at the airstrip." He ordered.
"Yes sir." I answered. They walked off. The Cruiser had had two helicopter pads near the front and back of the ship. That meant we could probably use it as a base of operations like they had during the Great War. The idea was both exciting, yet frightening.
"I prefer dying in the field, not when a gunboat lands a lucky hit on the Cruiser." I set off the find the rest of the unit. They were probably all at the air field, but Sgt. Anson and Anderson clearly wanted a private conversation, and I wasn't going to contest them.
I found a few privates, including Cerutti, observing the new attack helicopters we were being granted. They were narrower then Apaches, a smaller target, but still as heavily armed. A more deadly guardian angel.
"Alright, everyone needs to report at the Chinooks within the next ten minutes." I waved. "Hurry up, it's a important announcement." I continued my search, finding another group lounging around closer to the water already observing the Cruiser. I gave them the same message.
I found Peter and Helen next. They were both sitting on the dead grass and talking. As I was walking up, unnoticed, Peter reached forward and clasped Helen's hands and pulled them up. She leaned back, flustered. I stopped as well, and quickly decided I'd get them later.
It wasn't jealousy; I just realized it wasn't a time to interrupt. Honestly, I didn't blame him; she was pretty and compassionate. But we'd both agreed to store away our civilian emotions and habits as long as we were soldiers; they could get in the way of our duty. There'd be time for romance afterwards, I'd always told myself that. I just hope Peter remembered that.
"Not my business." I decided. What happened between them was their business. What was my business was organizing the unit. I stopped as I noticed a Marine attack helicopter, probably the local garrison's, landing nearby. My mind darted to Chester. Where was he right now? What was wrong with him? I honestly wished I could try to talk to him again…
It took me several moments to realize I was standing around staring into space. I ducked my head and quickly went to find the rest of the unit. Word spread, and I only had to locate two stragglers before everyone was gathered.
I took a accustomed spot near the front of the lined-up Privates. Sgt. Anderson stood in front of us, behind him were Sgt. Anson and Captain Rhodes. The aging sailor looked a bit more lively now. I could only imagine the conversation the three had had.
Sgt. Anderson launched into a vigorous and loud speech about the value of naval power in warfare. It was a bit odd, hearing him praise the value of battleships. Though he quickly brought the conversation around to relevance.
"This beauty right here, one of the finest ships in the whole damn Navy-" Sgt. Anderson motioned to the Silver Fox, Rhodes beamed a toothless smile behind him- "is capable of carrying helicopters. We may very well be deploying from this ship in the future. Therefore, I have decided to need for another training exercise." He announced.
The recruits looked both anxious and annoyed. Due to the projections, we hadn't thought necessary to train them in the naval aspect. I could still remember clear as day the joint training period we'd shared with the Navy and Coast Guard.
The training mainly consisted of teaching us how to rescue sailors and aircraft pilots who went down in the water. It had also covered anti-ship operations. It was written somewhere in our doctrine, as well of the Marines, that if needed, we could take part in searching commercial ships or even seizing enemy naval vessels. The idea originated during the Great War, where Lazuria had used some the first helicopters to move troops onto the flight deck of a disabled carrier. Because of this, they had effectively seized the carrier and refurbished for their own navy. Though the Marines mainly over saw maritime infantry roles, the Army had to be adaptable as well. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was quite possible I'd soon be clearing the halls of a battleship somewhere in the ocean.
"I do admit it is getting late and we need some time to organize things, so we'll do them tomorrow." Sgt. Anderson accepted this fact with slight bitterness. "But before, I want to make something perfectly clear to you all: you need this training. Where we're going, you'll either have it, or you'll get killed.
I didn't doubt his words.
XX Author's Note XX
Sarah is a very unstable, irrational, and emotional character in reality, more so then I could probably show even if it was still in her POV. But she is still very much human; they both are. That plot point has been in the works for months; a lot of subtle hints in the previous chapters. It was the second point I did not what to spoil for when the prologue was in her POV. As for why it is not mentioned in Tim's prologue, there is a very good reason, I assure.
I also decided it was time we start to explore the voices of reason and order in James story. What made them how they are? What were they like before? I'm sure everyone whose read has wondered that.
I was going to include another original battle in the next chapter, but I decided to just go ahead to History of Hate; we've been too long without a game chapter. I will do the battle later. For now though, I'm going to refurbish the 1st ten chapters; few people read past them.