Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

A Day at the Range

Range 22
Field Training Areas
Fort Hood, Texas
CONUS
15 September, 1991
0900 Hours

I watched everyone finish loading the stripper clips into their magazines, my hands moving on automatic as I completed the same task on another magazine, the third stripper clip filling it up completely. I resisted the urge to pop out the top round to ease the pressure on the spring, but instead slapped it on the stack and picked up another set.

Captain Jane was loading her pistol magazines, going slow, just like the rest of the leadership of 2/19th. Donovan was sitting next to me, loading magazines for the M-3 grease gun, the M-9 Beretta, and his own M-16A2.

I looked at each member of the unit, wondering how often they'd handled their weapons since Basic, my hands still running on automatic. I'd done it so many times, so often, that I didn't even have to pay attention, everything running off of muscle memory.

Pick up the cardboard box of ten 5.56mm rounds. Open the box. Drop the metal stripper clip containing to bullets onto the table. Pick up the feeder. Put the feeder on the 30-round magazine. Open two other boxes. Pick up the stripper clip. Insert it into the feeder. Use my hand, tilted slightly, to press all 10 rapidly into the magazine. Pull the clip away, drop it in the garbage. Repeat. It was automatic now.

Once everyone was done I stood up, gaining attention. The members of Class-V from Alpha had quickly loaded theirs and were watching. There were five male and one female members, all 55B's, Ammunition Specialists.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen. Put on your helmets, secure your Kevlar vest and LBE, and lets go out to the range," I told them.

I knew that two members of Charlie were out keeping an eye on the crew served weaponry.

We left the small building, walking around the bleachers, and some people began muttering as soon as they saw what was sitting on the right side of the range.

Three wrecked HMMWVs. An ambulance that had rolled, a hard shell humvee that looked fine but the engine and transmission were shot, and a soft-shelled cargo truck humvee.

I walked up to the Range Control officer and NCO, shaking their hands.

"You walk without a limp, that's good, Major," I said softly as I shook the Range Control Officer's hand.

"Good physical therapy, Chief," he grunted. "My NCOIC, Sergeant First Class Juliet.

"Sergeant," I said, shaking his hand. He nodded respectfullly.

I released his hand, turning and waving at Charlie's command. I introduced them real quickly.

"This gonna be an all day thing, Ma'am?" The Range Control OIC asked Captain Jane.

"Yes, it is," she said, smiling. "My people need basic weapon familiarization, and the Chief, in her role as Training OIC, feel that being able to defend our patients is vital."

He just nodded.

"The Chief can be a bit militant," he agreed, walking with us. "That's not a bad thing."

The enlisted were muttering when they saw that I had two vehicles pulled up, one with a mounted M2A2 .50 caliber GPHMG in the ring mount, the other with a SAW, with the ammo glinting softly in the morning sun.

"You know her?" Captain Jane asked as I lengthened out my steps.

"We met briefly," he answered. "Just Cause."

"That was Panama, right?" Jane asked. The ROIC, Major Grumann, just nodded. Captain Jane took the hint and dropped it as we walked up.

"Be seated, briefly," I told everyone. The LT's of course stood up in front of the bleachers. Lieutenant Hendricks and 1SG Ramirez took off their helmets and leaned against the railing. I ignored it and kept speaking as the enlisted found their seats. Captain Jane and LT Johnson stood next to me, on either side. "This is a basic lecture, so just bear with me."