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

CQC

Battalion Aid Station
15th FSB Operations Area
Field Site 32
Fort Hood, Texas
CONUS
Thursday
17 October, 1991
2340

The day had been long. The Rangers and some other volunteers had pretended to be refugees with an assortment of ailments that, according to the book and my experiences in Africa, were common to people fleeing a war torn area. Three of the Rangers had pretended to be insurgents trying to sneak in, but the gate guards had done their jobs and caught them.

I'd spent the day walking around with my boonie hat on, supervising everyone and making sure that jobs were handled. A couple of the Rangers were still moving around the woods, doing simulated sniper fire to keep harassing the company. Three "refugees" had been wounded in a sniper attack, and two other members of Charlie had been eliminated.

Captain Jane and I used the rotation to go back for showers to "replace" the wounded and dead in order to simulate reinforcements. The enlisted got it, although it seemed to take a bit to explain to the XO, First Lieutenant Johnson, because she was a thick one if I ever met one. Of course, she was more concerned the enlisted would "fake injury" to go back, and I had to explain that any self inflicted "injuries" or actual injuries got them put on scut detail about six times before it finally sunk into her head. She was more worried about the enlisted "getting over on everyone" than she actually was the training or her soldier's welfare. Officers like that annoyed me, and I wasn't sure if it was a phase that some officers got stuck in or just the sign of a crappy officer.

As it stood, I was walking back from the 'helipad', my hips aching and rain dripping off my hat. I had my sunglasses off, the night was cloudy, and was looking forward to just laying down on my cot and crashing out.

I'd only gotten about 6 hours of sleep if you counted my hour nap.

Three of the enlisted were moving between the parked vehicles and I changed the angle I was heading toward the vehicles at in order to intercept them without them spotting me.

Walking silently came natural. Years at Atlas, Jungle Warfare Training in Panama, and a few other things made me pretty good at it, so I went from splashing through the mud to an almost silent glide within two steps.

I moved between two of the 5-Tons, stopping when I heard voices.

"One of you needs to keep a look out. Chief Cromwell is wandering around," A female said. PFC Seacord, from Ambulance Platoon.

"I'll watch. Her eyes glow in the dark, it'll be easy to spot her," A male said. SPC Geist, Treatment Platoon.

"That's so creepy," Seacord giggled. "She's so weird." I heard a lighter spark.

...goddamn Colonel Henry is a creepy fucker...

go away Stillwater, you're dead

"I don't know, she's better than the other officers," The third male said. PFC Gordons, Headquarters Platoon. "She's hardly ever in her office and at least she's always working with us in the motorpool and shit."

I heard the tailgate drop on one of the 5-tons and someone grunting to climb up in it.

"Just keep an eye out, I don't want her catching us," Seacord said.

"I doubt she'd care. From what I've heard, she's kind of hard core," Geist tossed in. "I'm watching for her."

I heard battle rattle jingle, then a lewd slurping noise.

"Oh, goddamn," Gordons gasped.

I listened for a moment, wondering what they were doing.

The slurping sound clued me in and I blushed furiously when the realization hit me.