Chapter 3

Getting Aquainted

Paul began unpacking his gear, his sleeping space was nothing more than a green canvas cot with a small table that had a drawer in it. He looked to the cot next to him, the table was cluttered with small accouterments such as 12 gauge shells, sun glasses, empty pistol magazines, and some strange mechanical looking things that he could not identify. There was a Heckler & Koch 21E leaning against the table, the 21E was the support weapon of the Titan forces, a light machine gun, it fired 7.62x51 NATO and had a dyzing fire rate of almost 2100 RPM. They were designed to be carried by two people but they could be used by one if the situation called for it. Miles had no idea who the cot belonged to but he would soon find out. He shifted his glance back to the table and he identified the unknown objects as extra receiver/firing pin combinations for the machinegun. He moved his attentions back to his pack.He placed his rifle against the table, like every one else had. He the porceded to unsnap the top ruck straps and rolled his blanket out onto the cot. He then took out his folded night time jacket and stuffed it under his bed. He placed his helmet on the table that belonged to his cot. He opened the smaller front pouch and took out a small book and pencil that he placed in the drawer. He was getting ready to take off his WEB belt when suddenly, the owner of the machine gun and cot next to him walked over.

He was a monster of a man, he stood at least 6'5 and must have weighed 250 pounds, most of which appeared to be muscle. He had extremely short, bordering on bald black hair and a large scar across his left cheek. He hadn't shaved in days and had no shirt on. Needles to say, he was quit an intimidating sight to Paul. He looked straight at Paul and spoke to him, his voice was deep and commanding.

"Hey black booter, were you eyeing my sunglasses?" Paul froze.

"I asked you a question FNG. Were you eyeing my sunglasses?" Paul continued to be still

"I think you were." Suddenly the man reached behind his back and drew a USP tucked into his waste band and pointed it straight at Paul's head. Paul suddenly felt sick and turned a shade of white that most humans never get to see he was completely frozen. The massive mountain of man continued to stare at him for a few seconds when he suddenly broke out into a smile and started laughing histeriacly.

"Ahhahahaha, guys! Did you see the shade of pale he turned? Fucking Christ these Black Booters have NO sense of humor!"

Miles found absolutely nothing humorous in this situation. He nearly fainted from the shock of it all and felt like he was going to vomit. The man continued to laugh loudly and eventually calmed himself enough to tuck the pistol back into his waste band. Paul noticed that the man had a First Seargent shevron on his flack vest and Paul worked it out of himself to salute the man. The man put out his hand and pushed Paul down he spoke once more.

"My name is Jack Gillman, people around here call me Animal and so can you." He put his hand out in a handshake and Paul returned almost wincing under the mans grip.

"First thing, don't slute me. In fact, don't salute anyone because when you do you do nothing but make them a target for Snipers. And I don't want my brains splattered on a wall 15 feet away." Paul nodded in acknowledgment.

"Second thing, make yourself at home. The guys here will give you a hard time for about a month, don't take it personally. Third thing, clean your rifle three times a day, unless you want it jamming up on you at a bad time." Miles continued to nod under the massive size of the man. It brought him some comfort to know that this bear was on his side, but not enough to get rid of the nausea. The man was about to speak again when suddenly he diverted his glance to someone behind him. There was another man behind him, with short blonde hair, for some unknown reason he was going through Pauls bag.

" Steve, what the fuck are you doing?" Said Animal

"I'm going through the new guys bag, whats it look like I'm doing?" Replied the man in an annoyed tone.

"Why are you going through his shit?" Asked Animal

"Because I need new boots, and I'm going to take his, mine are worth shit right now."

"Steve, get out of his bag and keep your shitty foot ware to your shitty self." Said animal in a commanding tone,

"Hey Jack, how bout you fuck off?" Said the gangly looking man in a serious tone.

"Hey cunt rag, how bout I rip you a new asshole?" Said Animal back in an even more serious tone

The man looked at Animal, also dwarfed by his size and the looked at Paul with a menanacing glance. He made a grunt of contempt and then walked off to a cot a little ways down the tent.

"Don't mind him" Spoke Animal "He's short" And indeed he was, he stood only 5'11, and he left Animal and Paul alone with good reason, he diden't seem to be in the good graces of Animal.

Animal sat down on his cot and reached for his machine gun. He took it by the handle and placed it in his lap. He took a bullet out of the drawer and sued it to push in a pin that made the machine gun split in half. He hen took out a part and placed in on the table. It looked exactly like the others, except it was blackened and scratched up from 60,000 rounds of usage. More and more and more often your weapon would need cleaning until it just saw so much usage that it was necessary for a full replacement of the interior workings. Machine guns saw more use, so naturally they required a lot more matience. Paul was almost done unpacking his things, he looked over to Animal who was now working on his gun with a half burnt cigar in his mouth. He opened the drawer in his night stand and took out an old Zippo oil lighter. He lit the cigar, took a big puff off of it and went back to his gun. Seing Animal light the cigar reminded him that he hadn't smoked in almost a week. He thought of bumming a cigarette from someone, but decided that it might be better to keep his head down for a little while. He dove back into his almost empty bag and extracted a small black box. He placed the box on his bed and opened it. It contained the NBC-241 mask that was issued to troops on Titan. Usage of Chemical weapons was forbidden by planetary pact, as such the Galactic Union and IPTC didn't use this. However, the Killmar would make attacks with tear gas and sometimes nerve agents, all though the latter was extremely rare. Paul was just tarting to take his WEB belt off again when a man walked into the tent. Suddenly the entire platoon stopped what they were doing and looked towards them man, saluting him. Paul quickly took to saluting him. The man looked over the tent and then gave the "At Ease" command. The man looked at Paul and started to walk towards him. He stopped in front of Paul and looked straight at him.

"You must be my Black Booter. I'm Lutenet Asta I'll be your Commanding Officer." He didn't wear normal officers clothes, instead, he looked like one of the NCO's. Paul figured it to be for purposes of blending in with the crowd, so he didn't become a target for snipers. It was rather smart, most of the officers Paul had met preferred to shake there dicks around and look all important, all that did was piss off NCO's and attract the wrong kind of attention to you. The Lutenet spoke to Paul again.

"Two standing orders in this Platoon. One, don't salute me in the field. Two, clean your rifle. Understood?" Paul nodded in response.

"Good!" Replied the Lutenet. He the walked back to the front of the tent and proceeded to stand on a box.

"All right ladies, listen up!" The tent fell silent and every one brought there attentions to Asta.

"Allright, we're going back into Appolo city. We almost had the IPTC troops pushed out of the area, but word from Intelligence says that they just brought in 3 companies of Reinforcements." The entire tent erupted in loud noises of disapproval. Animal shouted at the Lutenet

"What the fuck do they want us to do about it!" The company's 23 under strength as it is!" He yelled

"That not withstanding we won the distance lotto, and were the only combat ready troop deployable in the next six hours. Now I want the complaining to stop, get you shit in order, get some sleep and I want every one in the breifing room in three hours! Is that clear?" The troops responded with a loud "Sir, yes sir!"

"Dismissed!"

The platoon went about there ways, but in a much more grim way. Men began separating from there card games and going to the sleeping areas. They began to gather gear up, loading magazines, putting greands into pouches. Paul knew it was comming, and nothing could have prepared him for it.