Ron's Worst Nightmares
Rattenkrieg, Second Movement
By Pat Squared
"Platoon, Atten-hutt.
"At Ease."
Ron looked at the faces of his marines. For three weeks, he spent seven days a week, eighteen to twenty hours per day, pushing them and himself into a team. He examined them.
If Ron was alone, he would rush into France. However, he did not want to be responsible for the lives of the marines assembled in from of him. He did not want to be responsible to their families when they did not come back.
"Marines, the 45th Regimental Combat Team have the honor of being tasked going to gay Par-ree and kicking some butt. You have heard me yapping over the past three weeks, so I am going to keep it short.
"You all have proven yourselves the best marines in God's beloved Corps. Even thought the 2nd platoon, alpha battalion, 7065 Infantry Battalion, 45th Regimental Combat Team is an ad hoc unit slapped together from embassy marines and those of us who just happened to enjoy the hospitality of Landstuhl Regional Medical Center when the balloon came up. Never the less, history will still judge each and every one of you standing here today. What kind of legend will you forge?
"Let me tell you what kind of legend I expect you to forge. You will be brothers in arms that take care of each other in good times and bad. You will be another chapter of honor along with the Marines that fought at Tripoli, Bloody Ridges, Iwo Jima, Saipan, Iraqi, and Sudan.
"I am already so proud of you that if God gave me the choice of heaven without you or hell with you, you bet that the devil is gone to cower in fear that the marines of second platoon will come to kick his scrawny red ass and make him cry uncle.
"Gentlemen, we have our orders. In three days, we depart to take back France from the forces of evil. We have to defeat an enemy that is just as evil as Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mr. Mustache Hussein, or Osama bin Laden. As marine riflemen, we are tasked to clear out the cities, the sewers, and anyplace where the tanker and fighter jocks cannot go. We will get all the tough missions. We will have to clear the enemy from every rat hole and shit pipe in France.
"The enemy will try to kill us. The enemy will try to break our spirits. However, if you do your jobs and take care of each other, we shall all return home. Our goal is simple – No one get left behind, no one goes home on a medivac flight, or worse in a pine box. My order to each and every one of you is when the operation is over that we all muster back here and host a cold one. Oorah!"
"Oorah!"
"Boys, battalion cut us all twenty-four hours of leave effective 0001 tomorrow morning. I want you sleep, eat, and live it up until 1155 tomorrow night. However, I want you all be muster in condition to fight. Anyone that comes messed up will undergo a round of my usual workout. If anyone wants an idea, just think that what I am putting your though is my usual warm-up.
Ron hated his mission. It was one thing for him to risk himself. Now he had others to save. However, the first two pieces of advice that Major Parks gave him were that a leader cannot express uncertainty in front of the troops, and that the key to command is to lead from the front and beat into their minds that you will lead them all the way from the front.
Ron, with all his accumulated phobias, now lived in fear that he would break down into his old gibbering self when his marines needed a bedrock of courage. They needed someone like KP. They needed someone would could face down the world's supply of bad guys with confidence and without fear. However, fate tapped Ron, the boy never lead anything more than a certain naked mole rat to the nearest Bueno Nacho for some extra cheesy nacos, to lead these men into battle.
Despite living with humans for most of his life, Rufus could not understand them.
Something was wrong. Ron was not his usual self when he sent Rufus to Kim's siblings. He could smell Ron's child growing inside of Kim. However, no matter how hard Rufus tried, he could not get the pair back together.
Kim was breaking all the rules.
Naked mole rats were social animals whose colonies were built around the breeding queen. The queen was the center of naked mole rat society. Kim's mother was getting too old to breed so it was natural that Kim would step up to become the new breeding queen. The new breeding queen was supposed to remain with the colony. Kim was the new queen, yet she ran off.
Ron was Rufus' best friend. However, in naked mole rat society any breeding male was ultimately expendable. Ron was obviously Kim's breeding male. Ron was important, but not so important that the colony would collapse without him.
Rufus was not cold hearted. He had mourned Ron when Kim's siblings told him that Ron was dead. However, Ron managed to sire another generation before he died. Now that Kim was gone, Ron's child would be born without the support of the colony.
The colony was in a panic. Kim no longer kept in contact with her siblings or her parents. Now Rufus was really worried. Never before did Kim leave without Ron and Rufus by her side.
It was a mistake when the twins prevent Rufus from hiding in Kim's luggage. Kim was alone with the future of the colony growing in her womb. Without Kim, Rufus' colony would be peril. Kim's siblings would in due time locate breeding queens of their own, but it would be a long time before the colony would be certain that it would continue to exist to the next generation.
Rufus was not a young naked mole rat. Odds are that he would not live long enough to ensure that Kim's siblings would sire another generation to save the colony. He had to bring Kim back to the colony. He had to ensure that Ron's offspring would grow up part of the colony. The colony had to continue at all costs.
It was just like the missions that he went on with Kim. The worst part was always the waiting. Waiting gave fear time to cannibalize the mind of its victim. The worst part was that the part of Ron's brain called Vasilii Boiarskii would not kick into gear. Vasilii was the warrior. Ron was the sniveling coward who freaked over the smallest thing.
2nd Platoon (Marine) was spread out over a two LAV-25's and eight Humvees for the ride into France. Alpha Company consisted of a tank platoon (1st platoon, call sign Wiley Coyote), two infantry platoons (2nd and 3rd platoon, call signs Tramp and Lady respectively), a weapons platoon (4th platoon, call sign Thumper), and company headquarters section (call sign Road Runner).
The problem was that Alpha Company was an ad hoc unit with a shortage of infantry officers. The company commander was an armor officer and wore a second hat as the tank platoon leader. The executive officer was an artillery officer and wore a second hat as weapons platoon leader. 2nd Lieutenant Vasilii Boiarskii was the onlyofficer with infantry experience assigned to alpha company. 3rd platoon was lead by Sergeant First Class Daniel Rodriguez who doubled as the company sergeant.
All units were under strength and untried in combat. However, the ranks were sprinkled with hopefully enough combat veterans to bind the untried unit together.
The vehicles past a horde of refugees fleeing toward the German-French border. A modern western nation became a third world nation. It was the twenty-first century counterpart to the old black and white films of Eastern European refugees fleeing the Nazis and the Soviets during the Second World War.
The mission was simple. Take Route A4/E50 west though Metz, Verdun, Châlons-en-Champagne, Reims, Château-Thierry, Meraux, and then sweep through the south side of Paris on the way to the Channel coast, clearing every city on the way. Intelligence from on high stated that the bulk of the French forces were in Paris. However, it was the same intelligence shop that once told Ron's superiors that the Sudanese Islamic Militia would not risk a direct confrontation with the American military.
Simple missions were always the ones that went FUBAR. Take a small stretch of beach – Dead marines. Take a small little island – Dead marines. Clear a short stretch of road – Dead marines. The pattern was simple. Seven cities – Seven chances to for the enemy to convert live marines to dead marines.
It started at Verdun. Despite it being 92 yearsafter the brutal battle where German General Erich von Fahkenhayn futily tried to bleed the French army dry, one could still see the remnants of the ancient trenchs and shell holes. Over 400,000Frenchmen and a like number of Germans met their end in this area. 92 years later the second battle of Verdun would be fought between the 45th Regimental Combat Team and elements of the 2nd French Foriegn Legion.
Just like the first battle, the first shots were perversely launch by artillery. However, instead of high explosive shells, both sides fired smoke and tear gas. The anti-gas alarms went off and the marines put on their MOPP suits. Just like the Marines at Belleau Woods, the thoughts of poison gas began to terrify the marines.
From inside the LAV-25, Ron felt the recoil of the 25-mm chain gun as it fired upon suppected enemy positions. The tanks were providing direct fire support. However, it was second and third platoons' task to clear the eastern edge of town. The LAV was pulling forward. Then it lurched as the crew opened the doors.
"Go, go, go, go"
Marines exited the eight wheeled armored vehicle and quickly moved to their assigned positions.
Ron grabbed his Hooligan tool and slamed it into the door.
"Grenades up!"
Once it was time toact,the part of his mind that he grew to accept as Vasilii Boiarskii took over. Doubt surrendered to certain. The platoon had to take over this block andthe next so that the enemy could not cut off supplies as the 45th RCT went deeper into thecity of Verdun. Vasilii yanked the bar and the door popped open. One of the men spray the entryway with his M4 carbine while Sergeant Reyes toss in two fragmentation grenades. Everyone hit the deck.
BOOM, BOOM, and a scream.
Vasilii's nosetook in the coppery order of blood as he dashed inside. Inside it was too close to use the heavy 7.62x51mm NATO Springfield Armory battle rifle. Vasilii quickly slung the rifle and drew his Berretta M9 pistol. 115-grain round-nose was not known for its stopping power, but with the retirement of the venerable Colt M1911A1 .45ACP semiautomatic pistol and the legendary 230-grain full metal jacket slug it threw, Vasilii knew that only a head shot would be fatal in today's era of ballistic armor.
There were refuges in the building. No more grenades for now.
"If it has a gun, shoot it. Otherwise, zip them up!"
Twenty seconds later, Vasilii heard the rip of automatic gun fire and two words that Ron Stoppable did not want to hear, "Man down.
Vasilii looked down on his vest.
Police Special Tactics and Weapons Teams throughout America have perfected the use of distraction devices, more commonly known as a flashbang. Although most of his marines only heard of the devices, Vasilii was bless to have two marine corps reservist whose other job was kicking down doors on meth labs and crack houses.
"Miller and Obyo. Flash on my command. Your three, follow me in. Everyone else, if we don't call clear in twenty, toss in a couple frags."
Miller and Obyo nodded.
"Go."
Miller and Obyo each tossed in a distraction devices.
Vasilii rushed in, made an immediate left and spotted the stuned Legionaire. Before he realized what was happening, Vasilii had his muzzle in the mouth of the enemy. The three others cleared the room, called off the frags, and started zip tying Vasilii's prisoner. Hospital Corpsman 'Doc' Billy Holloway was started to treat the down marine. PFC Norris was hit just below the vest.
"Parley voo English?"
The stuned Legionaire responded with a "No."
Vasilii did not have anyone who was fluent in Frog, just a couple kids who took some French back in high school.
"Fuller, you supposedly took AP French back in high school. You ask this guy to tell you where his boss is sitting."
Fuller asked the stunned Legionaire the question.
"Negative, LT. He is just giving us the big three."
"Doc, everyone get Norris back to the LAV. I am going to have a man-to-man talk to our pal."
The marines looked at their LT.
"Get Norris back to the LAV and back to the aid station. Fuller, I need you to translate everything I say verbatim."
Vasilii looked in the eyes of the Legionaire and saw fear. The man did know enough English to understand that Vasilii was contemplating not playing by the Geneva Convention. Especially when Vasilii removed his gear and his shirt.
Vasilii pulled his K-Bar knife out of the sheath.
"Private, I will speak very slowly. Please tell our friend here that I have learned from the best in the business on how to keep a man alive. My friend, they kept me alive for twenty one days. They show me how to break a man with pain. No one can hold out forever. I am living proof. The best in my business were all taught the way I was taught. I learned via pain. It was twenty-one days before my own saved me, but it was too late. I learned to savor my own suffering. I dumped my little red headed bitch and found a little slut that loved my attentions. Pain can be so much the pleasure."
Vasilii cut himself in the arm and took in a deep breath. He rolled his eyes as if he was on the verge of an orgasim.
"After a while, you get to enjoy inflicting it. Both on youself and others." Vasilii cut himself again and made a moan of pleasure. "I remember the last one. I remember his eyes. The eyes are the window to the spirit. There is a love that exist between giver and receiver. Between one that cut and one that is cut. I miss that love. I miss that pleasure."
"Sir, I cannot translate that verbatim."
"Private, do your best. Our friend here will understand. Now or after a little waltz with me and Matilda here.
The prisoner was on the verge of crying. The look of pleasure when the scared man cut himself was too much.
The prisoner confessed, "I speak English, not well, but well enough to understand. My chef ... my officer is to the northeast of the church, a red brick warehouse with a company of infantry."
"Too bad the press of duty prevents me from showing you a pleasure that most men will never know. The love of the blade is perhaps the truest of all loves. Private, get someone to accompany you and take our pal here back to Major Candles."
When Private Fuller left with the prisoner, Vasilii covered his cuts and put on his gear before calling in his platoon sergeant. They had a company of enemy to boot out of Verdun before going on the road to Châlons-en-Champagne and eventually Paris.
Kim Possible awoke in a hospital bed.
The last thing that she remember was the car sliding out of control off the road, over the grass, and into a wall.
All she could feel was a neck brace strangling her and pain everywhere else.
Her arms were locked inside a cast and the neck brace prevented her from looking down.
Kim Possible laid in the bed for what seemed like an eternity. However, she felt no movement. The baby always moved.
Kimmie, you fucked up. You lost Ron and now you lost your daughter.
Kim Possible now had no reason to carry on. She deserved to be hanged, beheaded,gased, shot,or whatever the Germans now did for capital punishment. She screwed everything up and now there was no hope of salvation.
Kim Possible contemplated ending her own life. She had lost everything worth having. She lost the one man who loved her. She lost her child. She disobeyed her family when she went off to seek Ron. She now reaped the whirlwind of her own shortcommings.
Kim Possible closed her eyes and prayed that somehow God would end her life before she would wake up in the morning.