Every Trooper's Dream

I honestly can't say how long I was at Camp Forlorn Hope, when the Legion took Nelson, or really when I arrived in the Mojave. I lost the date a long time ago, and the days blended together with boredom, danger, and misery. Although, I'm sure it's all on a military record somewhere. Even though I don't know the date, I can tell you about the time I went on leave, which was the best day of my life so far. Notice I said "Day."

Every trooper, especially every trooper at Forlorn Hope, dreams of their leave. Generally, troopers are given leave based on their pay and time in, for exceptional service, or after periods of strenuous engagement. Considering every trooper at Forlorn Hope was always serving exceptionally just by being alive in unending strenuous engagement, normal military procedure didn't apply to us. I think the commanders at Hoover Dam or McCarran assumed those of us at Forlorn Hope enjoyed life there because they were always "Stretched too thin" to provide a relief force… Unless a few troopers were killed 100 Yards out, then replacements would materialize out of the winds. So, leave at Forlorn Hope was granted based on names in a helmet (Not really, but might as well have been).

One day, that dream became a reality for me. During our time off the line, and at an evening muster, we were released for chow.

Sergeant Holms stopped me before I bolted for the chow line, and said, "Harton... It is with great pain for me that I tell you that you have been granted leave effective tomorrow morning at 0800."

I think he meant "Great pain" for him because it probably was a "Great pain" to know that I was selected of all people in our platoon. Initially shocked by the statement, my excitement made my mouth speak for me since I couldn't even think what to say.

"That's amazing, Sergeant! I wish I knew earlier so I could plan something for it." I said.

Apparently I made a mistake by saying that because he instantly said, "Well, since you don't have any plans, I'll ask you to please pick me up a new sidearm and see to bringing back your squad some essentials from the world out there…"

I thought, "Perfect. I always wanted to run errands for my sergeant on my one leave." But said, "Sure thing, Sarn't."

He asked, "Where you thinking of going? Back home, or to New Vegas?"

No question about that, anywhere out west I could even think of going was a minimum of 2-3 weeks walking, so I said, "New Vegas."

He then handed me a large stack of bills and gave me a direct order, "Once you reach New Vegas, use this at the first casino you see named 'Gomorrah.' Place half of this money on red at any table you see playing 'Roo-lay'. Then, keep the other half for another task…"

I don't think Sergeant really understood gambling. Not only was I pretty sure "Roulette" was pronounced "Roo-let" but he didn't even say what to do if he won…

Anyway, he went on with the order, "At the casino, find a woman of the evening who goes by, 'Darling Darla'. You may have to ask around a bit, but give her the rest and tell her the following, 'Holms never got your last letter, but thinks you have extravagant hair.' Can you do that, Harton?"

Not even processing his strange request, I was just too excited to leave this darn camp, and said "Yes, sergeant."

He then handed me extra cash and a note for the sidearm he wanted from some place near the east gate to the city, and told me that the squad from Forlorn Hope leaves out the western trailhead section 4, precisely at 0800.

I was somewhat surprised that none of my buddies in the platoon asked me to grab them things like the sergeant. Instead, when they found out where I was going, they all gave me the stink eye. I couldn't blame them though. There'd been plenty of people who made a big spectacle about their upcoming leave. Like I mentioned, leave at Forlorn Hope was an extra big deal.

Some of the troopers sent to the front from other stations learned that the three weeks of leave they saved up during their tour didn't really apply here. There'd been plenty of troopers who joined up and got a cushy job protecting some Mojave power station with air conditioning, only to turn into entitled mopers when they got reassigned to a Forlorn Hope infantry company (That's usually when the depression and fatalism sets in). I suppose I was lucky to have been "Born into" the dirt of Forlorn Hope; I didn't know any other kind of military life. None of that mattered that particular evening. I was going to finally check out the big Mojave jewel "New Vegas!"

I went straight to sleep that evening after chow, but was sure to boast a bit during the designated free time (as is leave tradition). I did the morning muster, yadda, yadda, and grabbed chow when the HQ Leave Officer asked for me at around 0700. I sprung up from my spot, ignoring the glares from jealous troopers, and reported in with a giddy salute. He rounded up the other eight troopers from the other companies destined for leave, and marched us to HQ. We weren't allowed inside the legendary HQ tent, but a tall 1st Lieutenant Accounting Officer came out with a small chest, and asked us how much we wanted to withdrawal for our vacations. We lowly troopers didn't get paid in cash like the NCOs did, so every time a trooper was paid, they'd be given an "IOU X Amount." Not on leave though. The people of the wasteland didn't accept official "IOUs" from the NCR government.

So, the LT had a list of us destined for leave with our names and account totals. We approached individually, and the officer would ask, "How much?"

How much Was a good time in New Vegas? I mentioned that I didn't plan for leave, and none of the leave stories from New Vegas mentioned how much they withdrew from their army accounts.

Luckily, some troopers with better plans were in front of me, and one said, "3,000 Sir."

The officer withdrew $1500 from the chest and said, "Next."

You may notice that 1500 wasn't what was requested. That was how it was, and that's how each person was handled. The pattern was obvious and easy to manipulate until the person before me.

The trooper in front of me stepped up and said to the officer, "894 dollars and 33 bits, Sir. The whole of it, Sir."

The officer looked at the account and looked back at the trooper with a smirk. The officer said, "That's your entire account, trooper?"

The trooper responded, "I know, Sir. Since you half a trooper's request, I'm thinkin I can't do much with 400. So, I'd like the whole if you'd be so kind, Sir."

The officer apparently took pity on the young PFC because he counted out 894 dollars from the chest. Not having any bit pieces, the trooper didn't seem to care that only 33 bits remained in his entire army account. He walked back to the leave officer, smiling, and muttering gleefully about someone named "Dazzle."

I then stepped up, was asked the standard question, and decided to splurge. I said the usual amount, "3,000 Sir."

I was given $1500, and happily made my way over to the leave officer, who then escorted the leave group to the section 4 western trailhead. It was nearing the 0800 official start of freedom, and the leave officer appointed the highest ranking leave trooper to command.

The leave officer said to us all, "Since you all are going to New Vegas, there is no need for the home bound speech, but you are to all head there together. Take orders from Corporal Pittsley here, and ensure each other's safety. Use your free time wisely, and don't get into trouble. Remember to always use the buddy system to watch each other's backs in town and on the road. Though you are free from active duty, keep in mind that you are all still soldiers of the NCR, and should conduct yourselves as such. Remember 'The Three No's' of general leave conduct: No drugs, No stealing, and NO disgracing the republic. On duty, or off duty, what you do out there directly reflects what our armed forces here in the Mojave means to the people. Your leave starts… Now."

The officer handed the corporal in charge of the leave group a map for the route to New Vegas, what to do when we got there, where to turn in our weapons before entering the Strip, and a notebook for any reports or incidents. Thank goodness I wasn't in charge of the leave group. If everyone in the team got into trouble, it'd be the corporal's fault for not keeping us in line during our freedom. It still wasn't like the corporal was supposed to order us around. Whoever was in charge of the leave group was just supposed to serve as a rally point and someone to serve as a senior during any potential road engagements.

Either way, we were off, and everyone dropped their military demeanor instantly. Some of the others shouted profanities at the camp, saying, "See ya Forlorn Hope! I won't be missing you!" (Amongst other things) Others simply didn't look back, or spent that last minute before heading off to taunt the other mass of troopers stuck in camp (Those guys usually regretted those taunts when returning). I didn't do any of that, I was just too happy and my mind scrambled about all the things I could do now that I had my week of freedom.

I was a tad bummed that I withdrew so much money. Of course, I didn't use cash in the camp, but there was some agency back in NCR that withdrew cash from soldiers accounts to pay for stuff from catalogues and what not. Like, I never had to really buy anything since my remaining pen pals sent me everything I really needed. However, I was saving a grand for a special "Kitty's Cat's Paw. Issue Year 2240" that had my favorite pinup.

Being a post war card service, those "Kitty's Cat's Paws" were expensive, but had great pictures of beautiful women that work or previously worked in New Reno. Knowing the ultra rare 2240 issue had my favorite girl "Sophia Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez" and her original picture, I had to have it. Though she was an old woman by this time, back in 2240, her card showed her perfectly round and not too big or small… personalities… personality. I only bought those for the interesting profiles on the back.

Anyway, after leaving the section 4 trail, and past the patrol stretch, we exited the mountains and onto the stretch of desert leading to the 95. None of us cared about the heat, joking all the while about the miseries of Forlorn Hope that might as well have been a billion miles away. Everyone was incredibly hyped, detailing what they were going to do, all the stuff they were going to drink, and all the other badness I didn't really plan on. I still didn't know what I was going to do, but during the midday heat in full kit, I was imagining a shower from the Hope spring. Hearing stories of relaxing pools in New Vegas, I just wanted to get into some water, and maybe have a tall glass of cola.

The thoughts went on as I imagined more of what I could do. After my dip in the pool and glass of pop, I'd probably put in a decent chaw and go up to one of them fancy rooms I heard about. I might approach the evening with a musical show at that "Tops" casino described by troopers as "Just ok" but pretty much anything beat the sound of tired troopers singing Caesar's Ballad or "Big Bad Bear" (That song was awful. There is such thing as Too moto).

Recalling the faint lights I'd see over the northern cliffs during lonely lights on the Observation line, I imagined myself finally walking amongst them. Never being within the neon lights that city was known for, I didn't even know what to imagine. For some reason I thought I might need sunglasses though. After taking in the sights and action on the streets of New Vegas, I'd go back to my room for some deep, deep, deep sleep. No worrying the night will be interrupted by "Send'em Out!" or "Pour it On'em!" No worrying about a psycho Arizonan cutting my throat as I fight consciousness on the 100, No worry about the sun giving me heatstroke while I'm in dreamland, or using a helmet and rolled up undershirt as a pillow. I was gonna pass out on a comfy made bed on the top floor of whatever casino I decided to stay in, and sleep, sleep, sleep.

After reaching the 95, a couple more hours went by as we went north. My dreaming, and the enjoyment went on and on well into the day. The sun was almost gone by the time we reached the 188. The place was fairly dead, only a few tents, and the only people were a few dots roaming a perimeter. Beyond the little trade post, the lights of New Vegas were fully on.

I spent the night at the 188 on that 3rd day in the Mojave before going to Nelson, but it didn't look anything like what I remembered. Having no frame of reference before the awfulness of Forlorn Hope, I saw the lights of New Vegas this time in an even more magical way.

Too dark to go further, the corporal group leader said we should camp there and head out first thing in the morning. We all agreed, and set out our basic camping gear with eyes fixed on the lights of New Vegas. The corporal said the map showed we weren't too far from the south perimeter to Camp McCarran, and that upon entering the NCR Mojave HQ, we'll take a working train into the city. At that, I was excited to ride in a train, but my thoughts went on when the corporal said we'd be checking into rooms by noon tomorrow if we got up early.

No disagreement from the rest of us. Camp all set up, I threw my head onto my dirt and helmet pillow, passing out with thoughts of the pool, that cola, and that bed.

That was my Day of leave.

When morning came, some of the leave troopers were packing up, and I instantly did the same. Spirits were unbelievably high as the sun peeked over the east, knowing that our dreams of heaven were going to be realized in only a few short hours. As the trading post came to life in the dawn, some of us grabbed a bite to eat at a little Slop Shop by the overpass. The whole leave crew was still laughing and joking, and I noticed a patrol of troopers come in from the New Vegas direction. Minutes later, we were all done, and another group came in from the south, popping a squat at one of the other picnic tables. Both of the groups were sour faced and grumbling for some reason, and one of the fellas in the leave crew shouted at the table;

"Why so glum, boys? Sun ain't hit yet!? Still wishing for a Nuclear winter!? Haha!"

Everyone on the leave crew joined in on the laugh, and one of the grumblers shouted back, "Why so cheery, Trooper Tom!?"

"Trooper Tom" though that wasn't his name, shouted back, "We're going on leave! F-ing New Vegas baby!" I cheered at that with the rest of leave group.

The same sour trooper at the other table stood up, and shouted towards a tent with an NCR flag waving out front, "Heyoh! Sarn't Tincan! Got a radio in there!?"

A large power armored man with bear insignias all over it slowly approached and stood between the two tables. "Sarn't Tincan" asked the trooper, "Yeah we got a radio… Why?"

The trooper asked in a smug way, "What was that word from McCarran?"

The metal outpost soldier said, "McCarran got radio from Forlorn about raids along the southern patrol route. Camp Golf got confirmation with Searchlight's north reports as well, and now the roads are closed…"

"And that means?" asked the formerly glum, but now smug trooper.

Metal man responded, "… That means lockdown for the whole Colorado Sector. Why?"

None of us said anything. Everyone in the leave group knew what that meant. All patrols were ordered to the nearest NCR installation or outpost for lockdown until further notice. Our leave was over, and we were stuck at the 188 with two patrols who took shelter there after hearing the order. Then, we were the target of the laughing and joking.

Nobody in our group laughed. The corporal slammed his fist through the picnic table, startling a woman in a hideous robe at another table, and I swore out loud for the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, and all the way up to the thousandth time in my life.