supposed to bring. I chuckle a bit as I head towards the treeline reaching back and patting my butt pack suspended underneath my ruck.
The Mission
As I reach the treeline I walk along it a bit until I find a decent place to ground my gear. I take the Poncho I have wrapped up on my web belt off, unfold it just a bit and sit down on it. I open up my butt pack and start pulling stuff out of it.
My first aid kit is on top, next a Long Range Patrol meal, or LRP. These things are light weight and nutritious but they taste like shit. I always strip them down, keeping only the things I like, I always toss the rest. A pork patty and a peanut butter, I eat both of them washing them down with a couple of drinks from my canteen. The Chicken and rice is a good meal I have one of them also, but the beef hash tastes like shit, I swapped mine with Hernandez for the pork patties he had, two for one, good trade.
I then get down to the serious stuff, the stuff I wasn’t supposed to bring but that I feel naked without when I go to the field or on a mission. I pull out my lensatic compass, unwrap the cord on it and slip it over my head, open it up and watch as the compass arrow spins to find it’s home pointing north. Next I pull out a neatly folded cravat. Cravat’s are cool, they come in Army First aid kits, they are supposed to be used for making slings and as extra bandage wraps. They are olive drab, commonly called OD Green in color, in combat you wrap it over the white bandage for cover and concealment. They are so highly coveted for use as head covers and bandanas to fight away dust, they disappear instantly from the kits, being scrounged from them. As I unfold it, some of my fears start to slip away, for mine holds a special item. Yes, fears. I’m not going to lie to myself, this mission has got me scared. It has felt way wrong from the very beginning. I guess that’s why the memory of the time my Dad dumped me in the woods came up, I was scared then too. And here I am being dumped in the woods by myself once again.
As I fold it open it reveals my Gerber Mark II resting in it’s scabbard. Beyond a doubt the baddest ass knife ever forged from razor sharp stainless steel, seven solid inches of pure cutting heaven. I slide the bad boy out of it’s scabbard, a scabbard I painstakingly modified to keep the blade snug and secure. I took a section of mole skin and inserted a piece on both sides of the opening to the scabbard, the blade slides out totally silent because of it. I hold the grip in my hand feeling the comfort of the fit and perfect balance it has in my hand. I feel much less vulnerable with it in my hand. The last time I went to the PX, the guy behind the counter said the Post Exchange was going to stop carrying this model, they feel it’s too gruesome a knife, bunch of damn puss’s.
I take the roll of black electrical tape I always carry and attach the scabbard to the left support of my LBE strap. I always instal it with the handle down, one finger can release the snap and the blade just seems to flow out into my hand. It puts the Mark II in the perfect position to be easily reached and deployed. I wrap the cravat over the top of my head tying it off in the rear, it will help to keep the bugs and sun off my head of closely shaved red hair.
I’m still actually in a little shock and disbelief at being here. All this shit started just two weeks ago on a Monday morning. I was sleeping hard in my room in the barracks when the charge of quarters runner started beating on my door yelling for me to get up, get dressed, grab my A bag ruck and beat feet to the battalion war room. It was 03:30. As I got up, I could hear the CQ was beating the hell out of first Hernandez and then Jennings door’s also, barking the same directive. I slammed my uniform on and grabbed a razor and did a quick dry shave. As I broke out of my room I looked down the hallway, the CQ had the room keys and was unlocking the door to Jennings room and going in, he must have been sleeping hard. I just shook my head, didn’t have time to worry about him. A roll-out that early most likely meant we were getting into some kind of serious shit. I double timed down to Battalion HQ. When I got their my First Sargent was standing out back and called me over.
”What’s up Top?” He took another drag on his cigarette.
Exhaling as he’s talking, “I ain’t got a clue troop, but I know they got there panties in a wad over it.”
Top is a good First Sergeant, hell of a Ranger, he was nominated for the Medal Of Honor for action in Nam. Didn’t get voted for approval but just being nominated makes him the shit. He is not much to look at, balding, what hair he has left is white, we have a pet name for him. “Chicken Legs.” He has the skinniest, bony ass, bleached white legs you have ever seen in your life, they damn near glow, and standing in the dark there in his olive drab PT shorts and t-shirt his legs seemed to glow. I cracked a big ass grin as I looked at them.
”What the hell you smiling about troop?” He saw me looking at his legs. I looked up and made eye contact, “Get your damn gay ass in the war room, now.” “Move out your smelling up my AO!” He barked at me. I saw a smile break his iron face as I triple timed out.
I shouted, “Right away Top.” As I sprinted towards Battalion HQ.
”I done told you Bitches I ain’t no damn kids toy.” He shouted back. Yea tops cool like that.
As I came around the corner to the front of battalion HQ I saw a cab pull up. My team mate Zach got out dragging his A ruck behind him, he stripped the cherry off a Newport and put the butt in his pocket.
”Hey Bro, What up?” He asked me. I shrugged my shoulders.
”I ain’t got a clue Zach. You know anything?” He looked back and shook his head no.
”These assholes woke me up man, I still had an hour to sleep yet.” Zach’s rank gives him permission to stay off post.
I looked at him, “Why the cab?” He looked at me like I was stupid.
”You crazy man? I ain’t bringing the girl into this damn place going on a mission. And let these fool ass GI’s around here be able to covet and touch her, fuck that shit.”
His girl is his car, I think he would have sex with it if he could figure out how.
As we were talking, Hernandez hauled his slow ass up to us, out of breath, Zach looked at him trying to catch his breath.
”Hernandez, how many times I got to tell you, that damn pizza you eat is gonna kill you man, look at your sorry ass you can’t even breath.” Hernandez looked at Zach.
”Sergent it ain’t the pizza, its the Senoritas, they wear me out.” Zach looked back.
”Hernandez, the only thing the Senoritas wear out on you is your right hand, you been practicing birth control and wearing a glove on it right?” We all three died laughing as we moved into the Bn war room. It would be one of the last few times we got to laugh. At anything.
We entered the BN HQ and the Battalion Staff duty Officer, some new ass second Lieutenant butter bar asked us where Jennings was. We just shrugged our shoulders. I could tell it perturbed him, he’s a newbie to the BN. He has yet to earn his respect. He motioned to the war room.
”They are waiting in there for you.” We headed to the war room.
The war room is where all the company Commanders and first Sergeants meet to plan missions with the BN Commander. As we entered the room I took a look around. It’s not that big of a room and was made even smaller by the presence of a huge round table that takes up over half of it, the table is circled by chairs.
On the table was a black rifle with a scope, the stock was made from the same nylon material as the M-16, its laying on a green heavy cloth case. No one else was in the room. We all three took a seat on the side nearest the wall to the left.
