Another World at War

Chapter 22: Discipline

Location: Idaho, USA

Unit: 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment–Delta, US Army

Date: July 23rd, 2021 CE

The twenty-seven Delta Force members sat in the sloped classroom, all chatting and flinging bands around the room. The room was coated with rough stone walls and a stone ceiling held up by metal pillars. 

Suddenly the door opened with a creek as fourteen more soldiers quietly filed into the back of the room away from the Delta Operators. One of the Operators snickered at the newly entered soldiers and stuck their foot out in an attempt to trip the final one over. Unlucky for this Operator the one he'd decided to pick on was ex-Joint Task Force 2 or ex-Canadian Special Forces.

The Canadian stopped right before the foot and looked at the Delta member, "You sure you wanna do this?"

The Delta member smiled, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

The Canadian smirked, "I see," taking one step forward, he slammed the front foot as hard as he could into the American's leg.

The US operator cried out in pain as he recoiled in shock, "What the fuck!" He attempted to stand up before getting immediately punched in the face knocking him back into his seat. The Canadian then grabbed the Delta member's shirt bringing him no more than an inch from his face.

"I give you this one warning, your platoon commander has pissed us all off by getting one of our air support pilots MIA," he paused, "So I'd consider your next move very carefully," the Canadian threw the American back into the chair before lifting his foot in the air and stamping on the leg again, "It should be back to normal now."

The Canadian stepped away as the American attempted to stand again, he succeeded, "How the hell?" he asked in disbelief.

He got no response as the final Canadian sat next to the rest of his unit.

The other soldiers sat quietly, watching the chatty Delta Operators below.

The Master Sergeant locked eyes with a well-built mixed-race man wearing a British Army uniform, but on his sleeve wasn't the union jack but rather the flag of South Africa. Looking away, he caught a glare from the South African soldier.

As he turned to look back to the front he saw an ordinary-looking man setting up a computer. Leaning over a small platform the man quickly typed something into the keyboard before an image popped onto the screen ahead of them, it was a map.

The man began to speak, "Good morning troops, I am Captain Mclaw of the GOU, I'm here to brief you on your next mission."

The man was also dressed in a standard British Uniform bearing the union jack. On his hip, he holstered what looked like an M45 sidearm at first glance. Of course, no one would expect a modern soldier to be carrying around a sidearm older than everyone in the room.

"Two months ago the GOU stumbled across a concealed NZA military compound in Northern Oregon," Mclaw spoke picking up a pointing stick.

One of the Delta members raised a hand and before Mclaw could deny him, the Operator spoke, "And who exactly are this G.O.U?" he spoke in a heavy Texan accent.

Mclaw sighed, "What it stands for and its purpose is above your clearance level, but the troops in it are those sitting behind you," Mclaw paused as the Delta Operators looked back before starting to speak again, "We been sending in Operatives to observe and identify prime targets in the base, these are the high priority targets."

The slide changed to a picture of several NZA soldiers and an officer looking into a crate.

The Texan Delta Operator spoke again, "Who's the officer?"