Kilo-61 (Damned of the 2/19th Book 19)- Ongoing

Naive Memories

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, let's get some hot food into you, get you some showers, and some clean clothing." The one of the right said. Like most of our instructors the last few months they didn't wear nametags, unit patches, or anything else, not even rank, just the US ARMY over their hearts.

"You are now entering Phase Five of your training." The one on the left told us, waving at us to follow them. The group of people in BDU's were throwing our rucksacks and dufflebags into the back of a deuce and half truck, working under the spotlights of the runway. "Now is when we teach you to take everything you have learned in the separate phases and combine them together. Unlike the other phases this part will be as intellectually demanding as it is physically strenuous. The emotional toll you will suffer here will be like nothing you have ever experienced."

"But enough of that, let's get you guys cleaned up and fed." The one on the right said, leading us toward a bus. It looked more like a modified Greyhound than the converted school buses that the Army usually moved us around in. "After that you will be assigned houses and house-mates for the next few weeks of training. If you cannot drive, you will paired with someone who can and you will attend driving classes. Those of you who can drive, will be paired with someone who cannot." He stopped at the door of the bus and smiled at us.

It looked alien on his face.

"Welcome to Blackbriar Ridge." The one on the right said as we boarded the bus.

Only two more months to go.

...I don't know if I can make it...

Nuclear/Biological/Chemical Warfare Field Specialist Training
Phase Six
Blackbriar Ridge Training Facility
Secure Military Facility
North Dakota, United States of America
1983

I stared at the table in front of us, scanning the contour map quickly then glancing at the weather report before checking the list of available assets. The Soviets 6th and 9th Armored Guards were moving in on the Fulda Gap, backed up by the equivalent of three infantry divisions. 8th Armor Division was mostly tattered, caught by the initial blast front of the Soviet nuclear surgical strikes, with most of V and VII Corps either gone or engaged in fighting with Soviet airborne forces that managed to get deep into Germany. There was much I could do, my assets were limited, so it wasn't like my plans would win the war, but I could make it too costly for them to prosecute the war or follow up on any advances they made.

I wrote down my answers, what I would do, the orders I would give out, and the estimated effects of the weaponry, then started planning for the second set of strikes that had less to do with the war and more to do with punishing the enemy for daring to attack those under my protection.

"Time." Came the word as I was halfway through secondary punitive strikes. I set down my pencil and compass, then grabbed the paper and got up, walking to the front and handing in my answer sheet to the instructor sheet.

When we filed out I bumped Bomber with my shoulder. "What scenario were you doing?"

"Fulda Gap." He said, shaking his head. We caught up to Vencilla and he took her hand. "What scenario, Pencil?"

"Afghanistan armor gambit." She said, shaking her head. "You guys?"

"Fulda Gap." We both said.

"Ugh, Juggernaut Scenario. You just can't win with that one." Vencilla said as we pushed out the doors and into the chill of the evening.

"The. Only Way. To Win. Is. Not." Bomber started with a bad imitation. Venicilla elbowed him in the stomach and he laughed.

William caught up with us, humming to himself, and smiling when he punched me playfully in the shoulder. "I got the Pacific Onramp again. You guys?"