Author's Note(s):
Thank you for joining this new installment of the GATE story after GATE: Thus The US Army Fought There. If you were with us in the last story, then you will see some similarities, but you will see more of the new things that I included in this story. I wanted to try a new approach to this installment, so I am doing something a little daring, compared to my previous attempts at writing a story. If you are new to joining us, then you have no idea what I'm talking about, and that is okay. All that matters right now is that you get to enjoy the story that I have been fighting over whether to do or not. So without further adieu, I give you the new trailer/ prologue for GATE: Decades of War
Additional note for previous viewers of GATE: Thus The US Army Fought There: You can skip the trailer and head right to the prologue if you want, it is the same as the teaser I put out in chapter 5.
Trailer/Unofficial Prologue
13 / 03 / 2029 (dd/mm/yyyy) 15:07 Hours
Fort Campbell, Kentucky
Soldiers and base personnel go about their daily routines as several SB-1 Defiant helicopters power down their twin rotors. The UH-60M Black Hawk was given the go-ahead to be replaced, and already 50 new Defiant units had been delivered. For some, it was a sign of progression, as the Hawks had been around since the late '70s. For others, it was sad seeing the helicopters they had been transported on for years being phased out. It was especially disappointing for Captain Chris Miller as his company was the first to receive the new helicopters. He was attached to the hawks, and was sad inside he was going to lose another thing off his dying history.
"You shouldn't worry too much sir, after all, it is just a helicopter."
Chris is interrupted from his thoughts as First Sergeant Greg Henderson enters the hangar, escorted by both Sergeant Brittany Walkers and PFC Josh Smith. All of them were carrying boxes of manuals from the new SB-1 Defiant deployment program.
"Yeah sir, I mean, we know you love the hawks, and would rather serve on them, but you should move on. The new helicopters should provide the same if not better performance than the Black Hawks. And it is visually similar, besides the tail rotor pushing the helicopter, and there being two sets of top rotors."
The three set down the large boxes and start setting books and plans of the helicopter on the workbench. Chris picks up the first book and raises an eyebrow at the title.
"SB-1 Defiant Flying Manual, Refueling, Startup, and Combat Operations…" Chris reads aloud.
"I guess that goes in the helicopters' cockpits?" Brittany half-asks half-answers Chris's sarcastic reading. "I mean, it is probably a complicated system. Not to mention, they probably want to train their new pilots with something."
"Yeah, but a book this thick?" He drops it on the table and rattles a wrench onto the floor. Greg picks it up and sets it back on the table.
"It has a lot more electronic and automatic controls than the hawks, which probably needs more coverage than the manual controls of the hawk." Chris opens the Flying Manual and turns to the middle.
"There is a whole chapter on how to fuel the stupid thing. It's like they expected all of their pilots to be Millennials and Gen Zs."
"Hey …" All three say in unison as all of them fell in that category.
"Oh relax, I would be a hypocrite, as I am a Gen Z too. My problem is I am too stubborn to let go of a helicopter system that has worked fine for years."
"Well sir, we understand your attachment to the 101st and its backbone for the past few decades, but, a lot of us are ready to see what the new helicopter is capable of doing," Josh says as he starts stacking the manuals and plans in separate piles. Brittany picks up a finished one and carries it over to the pilots' inventory area. She starts back when her eyes go wide.
"Sir look!"
All of them look out of the hangar and see a large white building start to form between two hangars. It fit perfectly in a large space where a large hangar was going to be built. If Chris had to guess, the thing had to be at least two hundred feet tall. A large space about one hundred feet tall and about three-fourths of the width of the structure starts to carve itself out. Pillars held together by long octahedral beams of stone ran along the sides and deeper into the structure. A short burst of blue light causes everyone to look at it to squint for a second as it finishes its appearance.
"What in the world?"
"I have never seen anything like that before…"
"Uh, Captain? Should we do something?" Greg leans over towards Chris as he looks at the architectural masterpiece.
"No, I don't think we could be of any use. Besides base security," He points at numerous Humvees and trucks loaded with military police personnel as they pull up to the unknown structure, "has got it under control. We can watch here for a little bit, but then we have to get back to work."
"I wonder where it came from," Josh says with his mouth hanging. His jaw is suddenly thrust upward by Brittany's hand and he bites his tongue. He yelps in pain and starts moaning while holding his mouth.
"Isn't it obvious? I am betting that it is part of that nanotechnology they were developing and are using it for a training exercise."
Chris and Greg's eyes open in fear from her method of explaining things to dumb questions and face the Gate. Everyone looks up as the hangar's announcement system comes up.
#"Attention! All base personnel is to acquire level IV body protection, a standard-issue rifle, or machine gun and are to stand by for further instructions. This is not a drill."#
"Alright everyone, let's roll."
They all exit the hangar and walk over to a newly built concrete bunker. It was the airfield's armory and was fully loaded for a rainy day.
"Should we get the M68s, or should we just get the M5s?" Josh asks.
"We should probably get rifles and sidearms. A big ol' belt eater will be too heavy to lug around if we are going to resume our regular work."
"That makes sense. I think I'll go for that."
As they near the bunker, Chris looks over to the new structure and sees that the security teams were fanning out in a defensive formation. Chris stops outside the heavy doors and keeps looking.
"Hey Sergeant," Chris calls over his shoulder but keeps his eyes on the structure, "get me a pair of binoculars. I wanna take a look at this."
Brittany hands him a pair, and he looks across the runway at the troops. All of them were pointing their rifles in one general direction, and Chris sees that it is fixed on a man with a staff, and a very medieval-looking robe.
"Who the heck thought it was a good idea to, gah!" Chris shields his eyes as a bright light comes from the man's staff and he pulls the binoculars down. The light dissipates and suddenly gunfire rings out from the security team. Chris looks through the binoculars and sees the man has a wall of light in front of him.
"Holy crap…" Suddenly the man throws his arms in the air and the light expands outward in every direction. It envelopes the entire base in just a few seconds and keeps going.
"Sir, what the heck was that?!" Josh says as he and the others run out of the bunker fully armed.
"I don't know, there is a man who looks like the pope that just launched a giant wall of light across the whole base. And judging by how we can see it expanding into space," he points up as the light gets dimmer, "I'd say it will envelop the entire planet."
"What do you think it means?" Greg asks as he too uses a pair of binoculars to look. Chris looks down from the sky back to where the structure was and notices that the security team had stopped firing. Several popping orbs of light were emanating from them. A slow wave of the particles starts to head towards Chris and everyone there.
"Uh, sir?" One soldier speaks up but is cut off by Chris waving his hand to be quiet. All of them aim their weapons at where the security team is while Chris walks up to the orbs. He stops at the end of the tarmac before the runway and kneels. He rubs his hand through the orbs but realizes it has gone past him.
"Huh, I have never seen anything so, ACH!" Chris jerks his hand back in pain as a burning sensation comes from it. More of the light particles appear on his arm and more pain follows. Soon, his legs start to hurt and he turns to run.
"Everyone run!" Chris shouts in agony from the fire sensation across his body. He falls over and the particles shoot from his body. Soldiers run up to help him, but he motions for them to stay back. Chris starts to scream and writhe in pain as his whole body is enveloped.
"Save," he pauses in pain, "save yourselves!" Chris screams out, which sends everyone running, but to their horror, the wave of particles speeds up and soon envelopes the entire base and its personnel. It would only be a matter of time before the entire world was enveloped…
Washington D.C.
Utter chaos is on the streets as several people demand an explanation for the wall of light. Not to mention, the wall of light took out everyone's cell phones and cars. It was no different in the White House. Secret Service agents scramble to figure out why their radios were no longer working and why the power had gone out. In the Oval Office, several White House aides and secretaries were bringing in candles to provide light while President Robert L. Dirrel sits at his desk. Several members of the Cabinet and some generals argue about the probable cause of the situation.
"It couldn't have been a nuclear attack, as we would all be dead now! It was most likely an EMP detonated somewhere in the city!" General Allan Hester says loudly to the Secretary of the Treasury, Catherine Baker.
"But one that emits a wall of multicolored light? I have never seen such a thing!" She fires back.
"It is the most logical thing left to explain this, as I see no other standing reason to believe otherwise!" Secretary of State Mike Howard fires back. The door to the Oval Office slams open and everyone turns to see Secretary of Defense Tom Brenton panting in the door. Vice President Dick Mcclure walks over to him.
"What is it, Tom? We have been arguing for a few minutes now about what the heck is going on. We were in the middle of a meeting about the situation in China when this bullcrap started."
"Before the power was knocked out," He gasps for air, "the Pentagon's radar picked up the source from one of our military bases. Before it was emitted, they were giving us reports of a hangar-sized building appearing on their airfield. Then we lost contact with them, in the middle of a phone call. Before I could try him again, one of our generals ordered me to the radar room, and I was able to catch a glimpse of the image before it hit. Sir, I have never seen anything like it at all." He sits down in an empty seat and starts to set papers down on the coffee table.
"How did you get here so fast? I thought the power knocked everyone's cars out." Dirrel asks while motioning to all the government officials and police cars that were stopped on E St NW.
"I took a humvee that was still stationed to guard the Pentagon. The deal was that the military would continue guarding major government buildings until a year after the war. And seeing our cars not working, we went over to check and see if the soldiers' humvees worked. After ramming and weaving through traffic for six minutes, we arrived here with a bunch of angry people."
"Well, at least you have disclosed some important information. We have been trying to find an answer that would settle everyone's fears."
Dirrel takes another breath to speak but is cut off as several Secret Service agents burst into the room. They all had looks of fear and anger behind their sunglasses.
"We have to get everyone to the bunker!"
"What is it? I thought it wasn't a nuclear bomb." Dirrel replies. He looks out the window and sees that hundreds of people were screaming and running East. He noticed out of the edge of his visibility, several glowing orbs were approaching.
"Everyone let's move now!" An agent grabs Dirrel and whisks him out of the room and onto the West Colonnade.
"What about my wife?! Where's my wife?!" Dirrel shouts as he and all of the Cabinet are rushed down the halls.
"Don't worry sir, we'll find her," They say as they burst into the Palm Room, and past many frightened staff members. Many agents see the horde approaching and run ahead to clear the path through the Main Residence's Center Hall. They reach the East Colonnade and run down the halls. The First Lady, Charlotte Dirrel, appears out of the Family Theatre with a worried face.
"Rob? What's happening?" Dirrel grabs her wrist and tugs her along to the East Wing Elevator.
"I don't know dear, but we'll be fine. They are taking us to the Emergency Operations Room."
The agents pry open the doors and shove everybody inside. Only five out of the twenty agents manage to squeeze in as the rest force the doors closed. They open a panel in the wall and find the manual release for the emergency elevator drop system. An agent hits the release lever and the elevator drops five stories into the ground. The agents look around the corner into the Garden room and see the orbs starting to appear from the carpet. They brace themselves with fear and courage as the orbs reach them and start to send a burning sensation into their bodies. Little do they know that the same thing was happening five stories below in the elevator they had just dropped to save the President…
Prologue 1
22/09/1975 (dd/mm/yyyy) 17:23 Hours
12 Miles From DMZ, Vietnam
Five UH-1 helicopters skim the tops of Oak, Castanopsis, Pine, and other types of trees as they make their way toward an outpost that had been set up. Four of the helicopters were providing supplies, but the fifth had a different purpose. Six men were on that helicopter in all. Two pilots, two-door gunners, and two passengers. The first passenger was a battle-hardened veteran from the Korean War, Lieutenant Colonel Howard G. Baker. The other was fresh out of college officer who had no experience, Second Lieutenant Chris J. Miller. Chris had just arrived in Vietnam after finishing his airborne and new air assault/airmobile training and was being assigned to the 502nd Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division.
Howard looks over at Chris who is looking hard at the jungle below. He shakes his head and uncrosses his leg to move over towards Chris.
"What's the matter, Miller? Never seen a jungle before?" He shouts over the rotor's downwash.
"No sir, I have seen forests and jungles before when my family has been on vacation. I'm just worried about the NVA and Viet. Cong in this region."
"There is nothing to worry about, they are all way down south of this area. 1st Infantry and 1st CAV are doing their best to hold Pleiku from the 'little people."
"So then why are we going further north than them?" Chris finally looks at the older man with a relaxed stance, with a hint of fear in his eyes.
"I guess the brass didn't brief you, the Soviets have decided to get involved in completely chasing us out of Vietnam. But, instead of just advancing and scaring us off, they decided to attack one of our northern outposts that were nearly defenseless. The Bolsheviks didn't spare anyone and now have the full attention of the US Military."
Chris nods now that he understands. He looks out of the helicopter and then back to Howard. He adjusts his helmet and grips the sling of his M16 and rucksack tighter.
"So, why don't we just nuke 'em?"
"Well, after Nixon left the end of his second term, Dirrel issued an order to not use nuclear weapons, unless the enemy fires first."
"Great, that sounds swell," Chris says sarcastically as their helicopter gains altitude over a hill and starts to reduce speed. Both of them look out and see the clearing in the forest that was where the forward base had been set up. The group of helicopters circles around and lands a few meters from the base's defensive "wall". Chris and Howard exit the helicopter and head toward the entrance.
"Alright miller, welcome to your new post. Do you have any questions before I leave you?"
"Uh, let me think…. Oh yeah, what is the lax level of everyone here?"
"What do you mean by that?" Howard adjusts his helmet and looks at the young officer with confusion.
"I mean, how much discipline is still involved here? I heard back in the States that several platoons were a bit low on what is deemed military discipline." Chris says while wiping the fog off of his glasses.
"Oh, I see. Well, I honestly don't know. Each platoon is different, and has its perks and faults."
"So…"
"Just don't go in as a highly praised officer. Just go in casually and determine the response of your new squad. If they see you as someone they can trust, then they will start to follow your orders more with respect, and you can sharpen them up if they need it."
"Okay, thanks." Chris turns away and starts walking towards the HQ tent when another question comes to his mind.
"Hey, sir! What's the fragging rate here?!" Chris shouts as the helicopter they were on starts up its engines.
"Don't worry about it! Just don't be a jerk to your men" Howard shouts as he climbs into the helicopter. He waves to Chris as it takes off and disappears over the hill and treetops.
Chris lets out a sigh and walks into the tent with a sign marked with "1-502 BTN/2-502 BTN HQ". The rolled-up walls on the sides and towards the back cause Chris to raise an eyebrow, but he shrugs it off and walks over to a wooden desk. He stands at ease while waiting for the major of one of the battalions to finish ordering a corporal to type a report on a typewriter. He turns and sees Chris as he throws up the salute. The major returns the salute.
"Welcome to Camp Open Door lieutenant, I am Major Leon Barrett, how may I help you?" He shakes Chris's hand and sits down on one of the metal folding chairs.
"I have been sent here on orders from command," Chris hands him a piece of paper, "to command one of your companies' squads."
"Oh yes, I see the top is finally implementing that new command structure on all of its units."
"What do you mean sir?"
"Well, it used to be a second lieutenant taking command of a platoon, but because the top determined it to be too much for a fresh officer out of the academy or wherever, they changed the whole command structure of the Army."
"Oh. I didn't know there was a change. In ROTC they trained us under the new method. I thought that was how it was from the beginning." The major let out a scoff and sets the note in an empty 50. Cal ammo box full of papers.
"Well son, we're about to see if that new command method will pay off. I am about to send out a unit report that will inform HQ back in Saigon about our current situation. They will no doubt send us further up north once they hear that we are itching for a fight."
"I can't wait, sir. In the meantime, could you point me in the direction of my squad?" Leon organizes a stack of papers in his hands.
"Yes, if you go out to the left, 1st Battalion A Company's tent is the fifth on the right. Captain Brock Good will get you settled into your new squad and you can meet your new crew."
"Thank you, sir." Chris salutes and Leon returns the salute. Chris turns and walks out of the tent into the sun. He realizes why the tent had only its front down as the setting sun was angled right at the front. Chris wipes a few drops of sweat from his forehead and faces left. He walks several yards past four tents before stopping at the fifth, with a sign marked "A Company,1 BTN HQ". He walks in and goes through the whole process of saluting and talking with Captain Don Good. He is eventually escorted by Good to the tent barracks to find his new squad.
"So Lieutenant, how is life back in the States? Are women still hot?"
Chris lets out a small suppressed chuckle and clears his throat.
"They're Vietnam Hot."
Brock looks at him funny.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Sorry sir, I'm just not used to this kind of heat. I grew up in the mountains of Wyoming and the ice of Montana and North Dakota. It does get to the upper 70's, but it was never humid."
"Oh, for some reason I took you more of a city boy. With the blonde hair and the glasses. To me, it just makes you look like a young professor from a large city college or business. So what'd you do in those states?" They pass several enlisted men relaxing without their jackets on and letting the hot breeze cool their white undershirts.
"My dad is the CEO of a large oil and mining company. He started his company in the east and moved to the west. So far he has been pretty successful."
"And what did he think of you for joining the Army and coming here to fight?"
"He was originally against it when I first joined ROTC back in 71, but when the Soviets attacked the Army a few months ago, he sent me a letter wishing me good luck and to kick some bolshevik tail."
"Sounds like a rich bigot when it comes to the military."
"Well, he sometimes lets the news shape his opinions, and when he heard about soldiers being shamed, he was looking out for me. But when everyone saw the need for the military to return, they cheered and sent them back."
They stop outside a tent with its sides rolled up. Inside were several hammocks chairs, and tables all occupied by men chanting on group playing cards. Based on the looks of it, Chris was able to determine that it was a game of poker. In the background, a radio was playing a song he had never heard before. He listens to the lyrics for a few seconds, indulging in its tune.
#"...It'll rain a sunny day, I know shinin' down like water…"#
He is brought out of thought when Don is spotted by one of the men and shouts attention. Cards spill out over the table as the soldiers throw their cards quickly and stand up.
"At ease." He looks at Chris and back to the men all relaxing their shoulders. "Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to your new squad leader, Lt. Chris Miller."
Chris gives a small nod and waves to them. He tried to act as relaxed as he could, even though he was stressed to the max.
"Well, I'll leave you to introduce one another. I have some paperwork to deal with." Chris gives a quick salute and watches as his only remaining source of security leaves out of the tent. He turns around and sees everyone is looking right at him. Chris clears his throat and adjusts his cap a little bit further back on his head so the bill wasn't over his eyes as much.
"I guess since you guys now know my name, It'd be fair to get yours."
One man moves from the table to the front and sharply comes to attention.
"Sir, Staff Sergeant Greg Henderson. I would like to welcome you to the squad. Over there we got Corporals Ben Doyle and Sam Rose," Ben nods, and Sam gives a quick two-fingered salute. "And at the table is Specialist Darius Hogan, PFC Alejandro Harmon, PFC Winston Maynard." They make greeting gestures as their names are called. "And the ones watching the game are Privates Lewis Rees, Asher Calderon, and," Greg pauses shortly, "Brittany Walkers." All of them wave at Chris who nods back.
"It's nice to meet you all. And Sergeant, with all due respect, you all don't have to come to attention whenever I enter the room. You guys can keep to your activities unless I am accompanied by another officer who would say otherwise. I don't want to have to lose track of your hands," Chris motions to the table where a whole mess of cards was strewn across its surface.
Greg looks at Chris dumbfounded. The previous new officers assigned to them in their squad and their platoon were usually all high and wound tight. This was the first time they were not being yelled at for playing cards out in the open for everyone to see.
"You guys can continue with your game. I'll just go find an empty place to set up my stuff." Chris walks to the back of the tent and looks out to the treeline about a hundred yards away. He looks a little down and sees where a trench was in the dugout. It had sandbags and wood boards all providing a little more cover than the dirt.
"Is something wrong lieutenant?" Greg walks up to Chris as the sound of another round of poker starts.
"I was wondering, where are the guards for that trench if an attack comes?"
"You are now part of them."
Chris looks at him, then realizes that all the tents next to them were infantry tents. Every infantry tent was placed to the outermost trench so that the soldiers would be able to quickly jump into the fight and provide sufficient fire until more reinforcements came.
"Have there been any attacks at all?"
"Out of the three months of being here, we have only faced two attacks, but from the small squad to platoon-sized units. Our regiment-sized unit here has been able to hold up against everything that has been thrown at it."
"That's good to hear." Chris's nervousness goes down a little, but still lingers upon realizing he has a large chance of being shot while he slept.
"Don't worry," Greg puts his hand on Chris's shoulder, "when I first was deployed, I was just like you. Scared of attacks, nervous, and also feared if I could fit in with everyone. But after about a year of serving, all of those went away."
"I am more nervous about any of you guys turning on me. I have heard many stories and reports about officers getting fragged by their men." Greg raises an eye, then starts to chuckle.
"Lieutenant, you won't have to worry about that. None of us have ever done that. Our last officer who you are replacing was killed six weeks ago during the second attack on this position. He was grazed on the side of his head and had his ear blown off. We were able to get him on a Huey, but the Cong dongers hit the helicopter which crashed."
"Well, thanks for calming my nerves down even more," Chris says sarcastically while rolling out his hammock on the ground. He sets his pack on one of the tent supports and leans his rifle on the pack.
"Relax, just remember your training. But I will warn you this Lieutenant," Chris looks at Greg while tying the strings of his hammock, "if or when the enemy attacks, they will be ferocious. The two small units we engaged in did a lot of damage and caused many casualties. So to add to your training, keep your head down."
"Thank you, sergeant, I'll leave you to your game," Chris says as he finishes tying up his hammock.
"No problem, just let me know if you have any questions." He starts to walk off and Chris thinks of something he saw earlier.
"Hey, sergeant." Greg stops and turns. He walks back to Chris.
"Yes?"
"What is with Walkers?"
"What about her?" Greg says with a frown.
"With no disrespect, but why is a woman in an infantry squad?" Chris whispers as the table starts to get louder from the game.
"Command wanted to see how women could handle combat. Also, she passed at the top of her training group. When they asked what she wanted, she replied with infantry." Greg pauses as they watch Brittany show her cards. It was a high hand as everyone at the table either groaned or gasped. "At first command denied her request, but then they decided to see how she would hold up."
"That's a bold move. I have heard that women here are given hard times by soldiers from both sides. I have even heard that some are tortured in ways that could curdle milk."
"Yeah, well they had pressure from Congress and the American public to incorporate women more in the armed services."
"Well, I don't doubt her abilities, I just hope she doesn't get into trouble," Chris says with a smile as everyone starts handing her cigarettes, MCI rations, and dollar bills.
"Me too, since she and those other two privates are fresh from the states like you."
"Well, we can only hope the four of us don't get gunned down fast." Chris sits down on his hammock. "Thanks again, sergeant. I think I'll unpack my loose stuff then I'll take a tour of the outpost." Chris reaches out his hand and Greg shakes it. Greg walks back and takes a seat at the table.
Chris leans over and starts to pull out small items from his pack. He sets a windup alarm clock on the table next to his hammock, followed by a book, a small knife, and an M1911. He sticks a magazine into the pistol and slides the gun into a holster. He straps on the holster and stands up. He walks past his new squad and out into the orange-lit outpost. Around him, several soldiers were lighting lamps and fires as the sun had slid behind the trees, leaving behind pink, orange, and red-colored clouds. The temperature was going down, but Chris knew it would still be hot throughout the night as he learned while spending a few days in Saigon. One thing he noticed immediately was that almost every soldier around him had taken off their OG-107 uniform blouses and was just wearing their trousers and white undershirts. It looked nice, but Chris was about to meet with his new platoon commander, so he chose to keep his blouse on and suck-it-up. He arrives at his platoon's commanding squad tent just as they start to untie the straps of the sides. They fall and are secured by straps tied by soldiers. Chris walks in and finds his platoon's first lieutenant, John Jackson.
"Sir, Second Lieutenant Chris Miller reporting," Chris says with a snap of his boots and a sturdy salute that could crush a bowling ball. He puts it down as John salutes him back and shakes his hand.
"So, you're the man that completes my platoon. It's good to know you made it here in one piece. Those AA guns can pack a punch into our helicopters and leave only your charred corpse left behind. Anyway, welcome to the white platoon of Alpha Company. You got lucky, cause I heard the boys in Red Platoon give new officers a heck of a time when they arrive, and Blue Platoon, well they are already full."
"Thank you. I am glad I am being welcomed as I have been. I have heard stories about some unfortunate events with new officers that were giving me some concerns."
"Well, those stories were from before we returned to fight the commies. Now, everything should be different circumstantially. We are still fighting the Vietnamese, but we will mostly be fighting the Chinese and Russian military, who are like us, conventional, inexperienced with the terrain, and don't know how to hide in plain sight. We will be fighting something like World War 2 or like the Korean War, just on another battlefield."
"I hope you're right, cause I heard that the NVA and Viet Cong were falling back to meet up with the Soviets and show them how to navigate."
John sighs and walks over to a map. Chris follows and looks down at it. An entire map of Vietnam was laid out with several flags and chips over it.
"Here is our current position, ten miles south of the DMZ. Our most recent scout survey put the enemy at fifty miles north of the DMZ. At their current rate of travel, they will reach us by the end of next week. We are currently waiting for 1st CAV to helicopter into our location, but with the Vietnamese causing too much trouble in Pleiku, they have been delayed from reinforcing our location."
"How many Soviet troops are on the way?" Chris says observing the red chips resembling the Soviet troops were close to the DMZ line.
"We are not sure. Our spy planes and scouting groups are reporting anywhere from a single division to ten just to counter us."
Chris's eyes go wide after hearing the numbers. He sits down in a folding chair and runs his fingers through his hair under his helmet. He looks up at John.
"And how many of us are there currently?"
"Without the 1st CAV units, there is about a regiment-sized unit of 101st troops."
"Where is the rest of the division? I thought the whole 101st got deployed."
"All the other units are spread out across our ten miles from the DMZ outposts. The entire 101st is the current defensive line, as well as the 82nd. There are only two divisions total, spread out to counter the Soviet advance."
Chris stands up and looks at the map. He sees the blue flags marking American outposts along the DMZ area.
"So what are our orders? Are we going to wait till they can gun us down, or are we going to face them head-on?"
"I don't know. The report on our readiness was sent out with the resupply helicopters back to HQ in Saigon. We will have our orders when they send up the CAV units. They should be here in one to five days, about two weeks later than they were supposed to arrive."
"That's good. It will be nice to have more firepower to hold off the Soviets."
"Yup, but until then, we are to remain on alert." John goes over to a box and pulls out a manila file marked with Chris's name. "Here is what you are to do with your squad for the next week. I want you to get them ready for the possible battle we are about to engage in. Drill your men to quickly get up and rush to the defense trench on random days and times, just make sure to communicate with other squad officers first and the company CO. We can't just waste ammo cause some boys think there is an actual attack. In between those drills, I want you to have your men conduct fast-paced marches and exercises with full gear around the outpost for an hour each morning and towards the evening. And every so often, take your men on a jungle patrol about a mile out of the outpost, navigate around for a while. Then make your way back." He hands the folder to Chris and shakes his hand once again.
"Thank you, sir. I will do everything in my power to make sure they are ready for whatever comes their way." Chris turns to leave after giving a quick salute.
"Good, and one more thing Lieutenant." Chris looks back.
"Make sure that if you happen to run into trouble on your patrols, call it in and call for backup. We don't need a case where we have to search for a squad and put others at risk."
"Yes, sir."
Chris leaves the tent and takes a deep breath. He looks around and notices that most of the tents had their sides down for the night. Some were still open as people worked. Several oil lamps and campfires light the outpost as the colorful sky starts to fill with stars. Chris starts walking back to his tent and looks over the file. Each piece of paper had each thing John wanted to be done laid out specifically. At the bottom, there was a place where Chris had to fill out each time they did the exercise and sign it off. He reaches his tent and finds some of his squad outside smoking cigarettes and talking. The sides were down as well, as the light was coming from the inside. He walks to the door and some of them salute, only to remember what he said earlier. Chris just gives them a nod and goes inside.
Inside, he finds Greg, Brittany, Alejandro, and Darius all playing cards surrounded by the rest of the squad. All the lamps in the tent were lit and were turned down as low as they would burn. Chris walks right past them and goes over to his hammock. He sits down on a chair and finally removes his helmet after wearing it all day. He takes off his boots and sets them next to his rucksack and rifle. He leaves on his belt and other equipment. He turns and grabs his alarm clock, which he winds up and sets the alarm for 05:30. Before setting it back down on his table/nightstand, he looks around to see if there were any other alarm clocks for the others. He gulps when he doesn't find any others around.
"Well, I hope these guys are early risers, cause if not, then they are going to hate me."
Chris turns the knob on his lamp until it goes out, and lays down in his hammock. He takes one last look over at the group of card players and chuckles one last time as all of them burst out in an uproar when Brittany plays another winning hand. He then rolls over and slowly falls asleep, wondering how the next day was going to go for his first day in command.
Author's Note(s):
As you may have noticed, we are now in the Vietnam War. I told you guys that the story would have a big change in it. The story will remain in the prologue/backstory setting for the next 1-3 chapters. I think it would be better to give a background than have to explain things in short sentences that don't make sense. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first prologue chapter and hope to see you for the next one.