Punishments and Proud Serving
Even though the punishment sheet had many different names depending on who's looking at it, I'll refer to it as the "Crime Board" for the sake of clarity. Although, I feel it's necessary to explain that last name for it, "The MP Cat's Paw"…
"Cat's Paw" is an old magazine from the prewar days with pictures of beautiful women that people today still use for… Stress relief. The "MP" part of the crime board comes from troopers on the Strip who got in trouble by the military police. The MPs in New Vegas had their own crime board, but the relation between that and the magazines comes from angry troopers. Even though Forlorn Hope didn't have MPs, when a trooper is added to the crime board, they'll typically accuse the superior who added them of getting some form of erotic release by seeing the name they added… There you go: "MP Cat's Paw."
I mentioned my almost getting added to the crime board for my first experience with dip, but delaying with the ammo that evening got me a light "Camp Discipline Level 1" or "CDL-1".
You could get a CDL-1 for a lot of offenses, and I heard the punishments were easier in other Mojave duty stations, but Forlorn Hope was the frontline against the Legion, so discipline was elevated just a tad. There were a few punishments for the CDL-1, but the most common ones were: Assignment to the 100 Yard Line, or miscellaneous punishments like the one I got for my offense; Permanent Alert Duty or "Permalert."
The evening I was added, the 100 Yard Squad was full. Apparently some big incident filled up the list for the next few weeks, and that crew stopped getting volunteers a long time ago. Anyway, on Permalert, a trooper is literally forced to play courier for however long their punishment is deemed (four days in my case). Part of that had me accompany a ranger in a tower for that duty. Though the part of alert duty in the towers were usually a decent gig, it was made worse by the day hours spent running orders and reports around camp or to patrol teams. It was worse because I spent the days fighting hard not to pass out from the sun, and then had to spend nearly the entire night in a tower, knowing that if I pass out, the punishment would be extended.
What I would've given for a Legion attack on those nights. The gunshots would've woken me up with the adrenaline buzz. But no, Caesar himself knew I was in the tower those nights and had his boys at Nelson take a break for my entire punishment duration. Instead, I spent the days fighting heat stroke, and then spent the nights fighting to stay awake. It didn't help that the ranger in the tower wasn't particularly talkative, and so I had to resort to smacking myself, counting down the hours until 4am when I was authorized 5 hours of sleep. I did spend some of those nights thinking about a lot of things, but mostly ways people got a CDL-1 and how to avoid them in the future.
I said the CDL-1 was the lighter punishment, but that could be taken differently if you spent too much time 100 Yards Out. But, aside from delaying under fire, a person could get a CDL-1 for multiple reasons.
Probably the most common way people got CDL-1s was by doing something they shouldn't during their time off the line:
Having too fun of a time with your squad mates on guard duty? CDL-1.
Failure to report to mandatory religious morale service? CDL-1.
Said something unflattering about your corporal's Hub piece? You get a mark for "Creating unit friction" and a CDL-1.
You're feeling sad that Forlorn Hope isn't as pleasant a duty station as Helios One? Stop "Adding camp morale problems" and cheer up with a CDL-1!
That's right, you can get Permalert or sent 100 Yards Out by not being happy enough during a Legion night raid. You can get a CDL-1 for a lot of other things and Permalert again wasn't always the punishment. Sometimes it was extended guard duty, extra patrols, or even camp janitorial work. Occasionally, the punishments for a CDL-1 were creative. I remember seeing one guy who was forced to sweep the sand outside the command tent.
When asked about why he was sweeping sand outside a tent built on SAND, he said, "Sarn't caught me writing a letter to his wife asking her to send some pictures to chill him out a bit… Not my place, I suppose."
So, as poor as getting a CDL-1 and seeing your name on the crime board was, I suppose it wasn't as bad as the other levels.
Next up was of course a CDL-2. Those could be gotten for another number of ways but the most common was heatstroke. I know I mentioned that earlier, but heatstroke in the Mojave sun was still a common thing, and still punishable. Fights on the other hand were the second most common source of CDL-2s.
Most fights were started on the Observation line when people were becoming a bit too careless or agitated at the nothingness. Sitting in heat, waiting for attack, and chatting eventually leads into talk that goes a bit too far. What usually sets that off is a comment about what some trooper wanted to do with Trooper Bob's sister when the first trooper thought he wasn't heard. Pile all the terrible conditions I mentioned in previous sections, and you get what looks like a spark in a room full of gunpowder, but with more fists.
Either way, a CDL-2 usually also involved getting put in the camp jail for two-three days depending on the crime, and was its own process. I'll use the heatstroke example to elaborate.
Once the trooper passes out, and is discovered, they are carted to the doc where they are brought back to life, given plenty of water, and plenty of food to get their strength back. Then, the trooper is docked pay for the extra resources he wasted, escorted to the jail, given time to recuperate, and then given half rations as punishment. Since we almost never got Legion prisoners, the jail was still used plenty by us, and was predominantly full of troopers who simply failed to hydrate. Again, the jail and half-rats (Half rations) weren't too bad, but accompanying the CDL-2 was a mark on the trooper's record, reduced pay, and even higher priority on the 100.
Next but not last was a CDL-3. Though fairly rare, the CDL-3 was almost the worst thing someone could get for things that aren't treason. I have seen a number of troopers from the other companies executing the punishment or receiving it.
How to get a CDL-3 was largely unknown to most troopers stunned by constant discipline and fear of attack, but I do remember meeting one man who got such a punishment. He was a supply man who came in with one of the enumerable caravans during the Camp Hope fortification back when we still had Nelson, and ended up sticking around when it fell. His name was Corporal Oscar Hutsgy.
I only remember his name because of my time off the line shortly after the women left. My group's guard post was along the Colorado end, sandwiched between the ranger watch tower and the supply tent. Me and the fellas chatted rather loudly sometimes since the Legion almost never tried to cross the Colorado at the point we guarded, and occasionally heard a man chuckle on the other side. Eventually, the man made his own window in the tent side and joined us in our talking between the LT's rounds. Usually, corporals felt like they were too high and mighty for the lesser PFCs, specialists, or privates, but Hutsgy was a rather friendly one, and very pleasant company. He was a slim man of lighter complexion, and bore the same Forlorn Hope makings of a beard that most troopers had at this point. He was the assistant to Quartermaster Mayes, and dealt directly with camp supplies.
He definitely had some great jokes and funny stories to lighten the mood, but when some of my mates mentioned the moonshine their girls back home smuggled them, I'd later understand why his fate spelled "CDL-3."
Corporal Hutsgy said, "Your gal smuggled you a bottle of shine in that loaf last week? Amateur move if you ask me, Ha!"
Many troopers think themselves pretty crafty in getting their contraband past the mail inspectors. Needless to say, they were a bit intrigued about the corporal's statement. He went on to vaguely say what he did for the camp in his off time, and it wasn't in a command authorized capacity. We knew little about the man, all he said during that time off the line was that he was from New Reno, and "Moved around a bit."
When asked about what he did before joining the army, he said, "I got a knack for knowing what people want, and how to get it to them."
Some of my squad mates more familiar with New Reno knew what that meant. Although, the corporal knew us fairly well through our jawing, and knew to say "Nope. Not that. There's more things people need in Reno than that *Profanity*."
They were talking about drugs, but that wasn't what he gained a reputation for.
I still don't know how he did it, or where he got his surplus of items, but he really did help the camp through his side business. If a trooper got a new toothbrush before he could write a request from home, it was from Hutsgy. If a trooper felt a bit too lonesome, he got some photographic assistance from Hutsgy. He was essentially an unofficial camp store. If you needed something strange or practical, and couldn't wait for someone back home to send it, you'd probably be able to trade a few cigarettes or a pinch of chaw for it with the corporal. I eventually had my own reputation for getting things from my two girlfriends and "boyfriend" pen pals, but after learning about the corporal and having a full que from others, I'd always say, "Go find Hutsgy."
The man intrigued me, since I've always found stories about my fellow troopers interesting, and I never learned exactly why Hutsgy joined the army. However, I did learn that he willingly joined the logistics corps and was fairly disappointed by being here at Forlorn Hope (But who of us wasn't). He had great stories from the streets of New Reno, but never much about the last engagement with the Legion, always joking;
"100 Yards Out? What's that? That must be some infantry *Profanity*! Yeah I'm a POG and proud of it, Ha!"
The logistics guys were part of the HQ company, and had all the ego that came with it. Though all of us were in danger of a full on Legion wave, the HQ company that ran the camp operations were largely exempt from the On the Line duties. Hutsgy's safe position was only solidified by the fact that officers from across the camp came to him for the same thing we troopers did, whether that be new undershirts, or packets of coffee. But, his comfort later got to his head, and I started off by talking about his CDL-3 for a reason.
When you start thinking the rules don't apply to you, that's when you open the door for trouble. Probably the most useful man in camp was turned into the camp's enemy almost overnight. I never caught the details, but I heard it had something to do with graduating from under the table sock supplier to chem pushing... The very thing he initially said he didn't do from disgust.
Two privates from Alpha were caught with drugs, and they instantly ratted their supplier to avoid their CDL-4s in exchange for CDL-3s. Orders from McCarran say drug pushers in the army are to be hanged or shot, and I must've not heard the whole story because I was on the trailhead part of the Observation line one day when the famous corporal walked past me at dusk with the rest of the 100 Yard Squad.
His CDL-3 involved the standard punishment of daily flogging, jail, reduced rations, and permanent duty on the 100 Yard Line. No longer was he the man to go to for extra things a trooper might need. He spent his days in the camp jail alongside the other CDL-3 or 2 recipients, given a daily meal of one can of beans and a small slab of meat, and only taken out for ten lashes from the HQ night guard officer before grabbing a rifle to join the 100 Yard Line. He never made that joke about the 100 Yard Line again.
I never learned how long a CDL-3 lasted. 1s and 2s were only carried out over a few days, but after the trench line was removed, I'd see Corporal Hutsgy walk with the rest of the 100 Yard boys, and head down dusk after dusk. The punishment never got to him the way it did some others. Treat a trooper with daily jail, beatings, and less food, then give him a rifle and the 100 Yard assignment, and he may use it on himself, but not Hutsgy. He headed down to the no man's land night after night, rifle on his shoulder, and returned in the mornings. He lost a small piece of his fun loving and charming salesman personality every night until he didn't come back.
A couple weeks before my CDL-1, I was on the night watch on the Observation line when the gunshots came from the 100. Too dark for us, the day boys awoke with guns facing south while the rangers with night vision did their work. Another Legion raid repelled by the 100 Yard Line, but at the expense of a few conscripts and regulars of the MP Cat's Paw. The sun rose, everything was silent, and the 100 Yard Squad came back.
Our LT asked for a brief on the raid last night, and one of the CDL-1 troopers responded with a sigh, "Caesar finally got Hutsgy. No need to send a Recovery Team, Legion'll probably give him back or have'm decorate a cross."
Sure enough, hours later, a new cross was erected on the cliffs of Nelson, just out of "Mercy range." Corporal Hutsgy ended up as just another tan fatigued skeleton to decorate a crosses on the other side of the no man's land.
So, the last punishment a trooper on the front could get was a CDL-4, which was plain and simple; death. I'd only heard of one trooper who got that punishment, but heard only rumors about how the punishment was carried out. A trooper from who knows where was caught trying to desert, and though I'm sure he wasn't the only one. He was picked up by an armed escort from McCarran and taken there. Word says that he was shot at the NCR's primary HQ in the Mojave...
There was a post jutting out from the side of the generator shack that grew stories around it. Around side from the spring, the post stuck out of that scrap building, and troopers whispered to one another that it was for hanging deserters. Though none of us had seen that happen, the bit about the guy taken to McCarran put those rumors aside at least for a while. Put any group of soldiers together and they can make a story about what a particular rock is used for, but it was true that CDL-4 meant the NCR had no more use for you anywhere. I'm not sure how I heard this, but command would have shown the depressed at Forlorn Hope what desertion or other CDL-4 crimes meant, but I guess they didn't want to decrease the already low morale. We already knew what was worthy of execution, and they didn't want to constantly remind us. If we needed a reminder of what certain death looked like, all one had to do was look at the crosses on the cliffs around Nelson.
All that said, I never saw a CDL-4 carried out, but I heard stories from other companies occasionally wondering where "Trooper So-and-so" went. The troopers would look south, not see him, or be unable to see him, and conclude that he learned the extent of NCR discipline. Minds would wander and sadness would hit, but then the Legion would attack again. All the while, the troopers knew at least Trooper So-and-so deserted in the right direction. Deserting south was probably a lot worse than the other directions. Still though, whatever actually happened to Trooper So-and-so didn't matter anymore since he was no longer helping his pals repel that next assault.
So, whether you were sleeping on watch, caught with contraband, passed out from the heat, fighting with your pal, or trying to desert your mates, there were a lot of different ways to be punished. The punishment always brought down the victim's morale, but regardless the tragedy stemming from those at Nelson or those in a green beret, there was one light that was always still there no matter the darkness… And no, it wasn't the light of the Star Father's beacon from Quetzel. That light was the one you could only see on particularly dark nights glowing over the northwestern mountains.
*Shoutout to Xcom_Anders for the idea of Corporal Hutsgy*