Mutual Adaptation
It was week, "Whoknowswhen" at Forlorn Hope and anywhere between three to forty weeks after my failed leave when a recovery team came back without a body despite another recent failed Raid squad. The reason for this lack of retrieval was because of something new the officer of the detail found out there. They found three bodies of our guys completely surrounded by half buried yellow drums emitting radiation… Well, they couldn't prove that at the time given the team's lack of a Geiger counter. But, immediately after the team's return, some of the guys on that recovery job were checked over by the doc. Three of them were close enough for the doc's reader to show severe radiation. Although they didn't feel that way, it wasn't long before they were feeling woozy and throwing up everywhere. Three more troopers added to medical.
Though the doc had the stuff to treat them, they were still put in rest for a few days, and all night raid teams had ended. Both sides of the no man's were silent as the grave during this time. This was the Legion's chance to catch their breath, and ours… In a sense.
We celebrated the environmental disaster the Legion caused in no man's, and some of us placed bets on how they did it. There was no way to ever confirm how, but the consensus was split. Half of the troopers thought they brought out some rad suits for the special job despite their aversion to that sort of tech. The other half thought that they used a few slaves or recruit legionaries to haul those barrels out there, and die later; I was in that group. So, for the first time since the camp was made, we didn't have to worry about no man's. Although, the Legion adapted. They took that time to circle around the western mountains and hit our patrol groups. I was thankfully assigned to the northern routes during our week off the line. They also took that time to better hit the 95 since our guys had to move through the narrow canyons just to encounter a blockade. Again, the infamous "NCR Bureaucracy" was cast aside as command dealt with the situation.
Camp supply shortages were really starting to impact us at this point, and the Legion pinning us in the west made more supply runs difficult. The supplies sought after were radiation preventative drugs. With those, we could arm a few teams to excavate the barrels in an afternoon, but the doc didn't have any, only a handful of drugs to treat those on that recovery detail, and NCR didn't want to endanger any independent civilians with bringing them to us. That also made mandatory Rad-X care package requests from home a no-no. So, what command did was requisition a unit from back home for assistance in this matter. Since we couldn't get rad-resistant drugs, we could get rad-resistant troopers.
Two weeks after the discovery of the radiation problem in no man's (I think it was two weeks), the western Legion blockade was smashed through by a company from the 66th Assault Battalion. When I heard we were going to get assistance, I didn't know it would come like this.
The 66th were a specialized unit in the NCR military for all the misfits still wanting to serve in the army. They came in from the western trail heads ready to deal with our radiation problem. In case this wasn't clear, everyone in the little known battalion was a ghoul. I was in the western watch tower (Which was where I usually was during notable events if not on the Observation line), and writing a couple letters for my stack of unsent letters that kept growing due to this camp shut-in.
Side note: I had been keeping up with that Trooper Alisa from McCarran that I met during the whole leave incident, alongside Andrea and Stacy. Last I heard from the little Alisa, she had just gotten out of the New Vegas MP brig for something involving her friends and a fountain in front of one of the casinos (Apparently a typical place for drunken troopers to congregate and let loose). Then, Andrea was headed into the town of Redding with her Pop to sell some goods and buy some war bonds. Lastly, Stacy promised to send a couple pictures to me in celebration of her recently published research paper and recognition ceremony back in Boneyard. I was pretty eager to hear from all of them, but the camp issues and blockage of the western passes made my own letters que up.
Anyway, I was in that tower with a ranger when the ghoul company of the 66th emerged from the cliffs under their battalion banner and company signature "The Rotten 6s." The whole company of zombified troopers trickled their way out of the narrow canyons of our western trails, and headed by a sneering ragged irradiated man by the name of "Captain Donald Rathmore." I studied their banner and saw it was a white face that looked like the skin was sliding off, with two white stars on both sides, the whole emblem was on a dark yellow and black background, and written on the bottom of the company banner in white letters was that signature "The Rotten 6s." I found their banner emblem rather appropriate considering the leading Captain Rathmore's face looked just like their face symbol, but with a green beret sitting at a sharp angle above his murderous expression.
Another side note: I mentioned that each company at Forlorn Hope was from a different unit. I was still under the 4th Regiment, 2nd Battalion of Home Guard Infantry, and still with the camp major's old unit; Bravo Company. Even though just about everyone in my company who marched into the Mojave with me wasn't around anymore, the mishmash of troopers pulled from everywhere still belonged to the Hub's own battalion "The Maltese Bouncers". The emblem of our unit was what looked like a white bird with crossed rifles below it on a dark blue background. I'm not sure where the name came from exactly, but I heard from a few Hub troopers that it had something to do with a rough bar back at the Hub with a long history and infamous background.
I don't know the precise regiments and battalions of the other infantry companies at Forlorn Hope, but I knew one was from another Home Guard regiment, and though I didn't get the battalion, I knew they were from Boneyard. I also knew that their signature was, "The Bullet Farmers" (Woulda been better if they were part of supply), and their emblem was strangely a couple of shaving razors around a deathclaw skull. None of that unit's symbols seemed to make sense, but I probably didn't know enough about the NCR city of Boneyard or their history that could've inspired that... I guess that was something to ask Stacy about.
That other infantry company was a local Mojave one, although it was replenished by troopers from across the desert and from those back in NCR. Their unofficial name or signature was "Colorado Crossers" since the unit apparently saw its first action at Arizona Spillway. I couldn't tell you much more about the regiment or battalion the company belonged to, but since it was initially a conscript battalion, they had their own motto, "Beats a chain gang." I wasn't sure about that motto, all things at Forlorn Hope considered, but I suppose the motto matched their company banner. Outside their company's tent group and shack house, their banner gave no reference to their nickname regarding battle on the Arizona side of the river, instead focusing on their motto. That banner was dark green, and their emblem spanned the whole flag, showing an iconic white trooper helmet and goggles on the left, a "(Greater than)" sign, and a ball and chain on the right.
Getting back to the moment, the "Rotten 6s" of the 66th arrived and almost immediately got to work. They did however, take a long time to do the seemingly short task. While their command strategized, and some of their specialists set about their tasks, most of the new ghoul troopers were left to idle and await the moment they were needed. This made the new troops spend the first couple days mingling with us at the camp on or off the line. Their commander, that Captain Rathmore, was a careful man/ghoul. Chatting with some of the ghoulish troopers, I learned that the company was reassigned to us after patrolling the I-15 for Brotherhood of Steel ambushes south of the Mojave border. Captain Rathmore and the other officers in the ghoul company approached the new task with that sort of caution.
As the planning went slowly, and we adjusted to the new troopers, their arrival caused a stir in the camp, and not just because some troopers were uncomfortable with ghouls. Most issues came from the fact that they were more mouths to feed. Like I said, supplies were becoming a real problem, and CDL-2s were issued when a ghoul asked a camp veteran for a piece of his coveted stale bread he got two weeks prior. Other issues regarding food came from some believing that ghouls didn't have to eat or drink. I didn't know about that; I'd seen those ghoul troopers scarf down the disgusting mess hall chow, and even drink from the Forlorn Hope spring (Our irradiated shower) like people in desperation.
Trouble was stirred, but things remained largely fine as the ghouls continued their stay. I didn't mind the ghouls all that much, and most of the fellas who didn't care for ghouls, didn't care enough to be bigoted in that way. We were all largely thankful for the extra guns and bodies (rotting or not), and so the only real incidents were regarding the new troopers' ignorance to camp traditions (Like: how we violently storm the chow line)... That, and the ghouls' card techniques... Some Forlorn troopers learned the hard way how bad an idea it is to play a card game with a person who spent a bulk of their irradiated immortality perfecting their strategies for games of skill. Gambling was different, but one of the big CDL-2 incidents during the ghouls' stay was when one of the reserve company troopers couldn't stand repeated losses during a Tragic the Garnering tournament. Fists were thrown, insincere words were shouted, the jail had new occupants, and though most of us got along with the ghouls, everyone was wondering what the plan was.
The ghoul unit wasn't there for maybe more than 5 days in total. While most of them were idling with troopers on or off the line, some were pulled aside by their superiors and tasked with scouting the area, making notes on potential ambush spots, and calculating a response to any Legion action against their largely unknown plan. More delays were made when Captain Rathmore asked about the subsequent take back of Nelson… That was news to everyone who heard that, including the HQ boys I was running papers for during alert duty. I overheard Captain Rathmore talking about sending his troops in to finish what we should have at the start.
The only response from the camp major was, "Our orders are to hold this place."
That was met with anger from the zombified captain. He wasn't content with being assigned to assist our camp without any sort of victory. The captain then went on with shouting and loud anti-human slightly-racist rhetoric while the HQ guys let him. Still standing outside the HQ tent with papers in hand, I heard an ample amount of profanity to the point where the HQ trooper had me come inside, so as to limit the noise coming out the tent door that was turning every head in the camp. I don't know why the HQ trooper didn't just keep me outside, or take my reports before closing the door, but the belligerent ghoul captain went on about "General Wait and See." I was just fascinated to be inside the HQ command tent us regular infantry troopers weren't ever allowed in.
I stood by the door inside the tent and looked around at all the radio equipment, tables with papers, and electric lamps. Then, I felt something strange. It wasn't hot in there. Every other tent or shack in Forlorn Hope collected the heat in a way that made the outside sun preferable. Not this one though. I looked for some kind of explanation for the cool sensation and found it. On the southern end of the HQ tent was a little vented box clearly connected to the outside generators; it was an air conditioner. Just as I began plotting a trooper revolt to seize the means of cool air production, I saw the other interesting thing.
At a little table surrounded by consoles with a ham radio on top, there was a woman trooper sitting behind the desk. I briefly thought I died and went to some low budget military version of heaven (Or Quetzel). Was I getting heatstroke? Has there always been one woman at this camp? I thought all the women were removed weeks, months, years, or however long ago that was? I suddenly realized why we weren't allowed in the HQ tent. The air conditioning didn't matter; the troopers outside would tear this thing down just to get to the one woman at Forlorn Hope. Anyways, not long after trying to conceptualize the idea of a woman at Forlorn Hope, Captain Rathmore finished his rant. There, the angry rad-resistant captain stormed towards the HQ tent exit and said the only thing he ever said to me;
"Get the *Profanity* out of my way, you *Profanity* smooth skin!*
I was immediately and literally kicked out of the tent after him. Some of the troopers outside watched me go in, and some asked what I saw inside the Legendary HQ Mystery Tent. I said that there was a woman, and an air conditioner. As simple and honest as that was, the nameless troopers called me a liar.
In the end, the radiation immune captain abandoned his ambitions of fixing the stalemate after his true objective. The next day, he and his guys/ghouls executed their overly planned task. The whole company was marched out, about half of them hung back in a long line across the no man's while the other half excavated the barrels and long since decomposed troopers. Sure enough, the 66th was assaulted when the Legion caught wind of what was happening. But, the ghoul captain's preparations were accounted for, and the ghouls in reserve suppressed any kind of real ranged counterattack. The operation was again over in about an hour, the barrels were disposed of somewhere east of the no man's and the company of ghouls with it.
I have no idea where that company of the 66th went after that, but the radiation problem was over and dealt with, and the normal routine came back instantly. As soon as the valley was clear of ghouls carting drums of radioactive waste, guns were thrown back onto the Observation line. As the crimson wave came across the barbed wire and shell holes in the dusk, the order "Send'em Out!" was shouted in its familiar fashion, and the guns thundered left and right as the order turned to "Pour it on'em!". It was back to normal.
Thanks to "Xcom-Anders" for the idea of Captain Rathmore. The 66th Assault Battalion of ghouls is referenced in his story "The Lone Star Expedition" be sure to check that out!*