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

Post Combat Confusion

Charlie Company Area
15th FSB Operations Area
Fort Hood, Texas
CONUS
Friday
20 December, 1991
1700

Our boots thudded as we got off the bus we'd taken from the airfield. I had to turn to avoid catching the barrel of the M-60 on the door frame, and almost thumped Nelfin in his junk, but he twisted his hips out of habit and took it on his mask carrier.

It wasn't raining, for a change, although the clouds threatened rain and the air was cold and damp feeling. The ice on the ground wasn't any big deal, and we just staggered our way toward the gap between the ground and the second floor. A few people were clustered up smoking, trying avoid details or make-work. To man they stared at us as we moved underneath the overhang. We were all dragging ass, but that was all right.

"Can we get soda?" Peel asked.

"Go ahead," I said, waving my hand. Half of Actual broke free and headed toward the soda machine.

Peel walked up to the soda machine, brought her M-60 back, and smashed the butt of the weapon against the front of the machine. The high-impact plastic shuddered but didn't break. Snarling, she let her LMG fall on the body sling, drew her 9mm, and shot the machine twice.

The people gathered up under the stairs took off running as Peel holstered her pistol then reached in and grabbed some cans of sodas. She jogged up to me, handing me a Pepsi. I cracked it and pulled down half of it in one long swallow.

"Dry mouth," she shrugged after she polished off the soda. She tossed the can to the side. I finished mine off and threw the can onto the grass, digging in my pocket for a cigarette.

People were coming out of the offices. Some obviously angry at the fact Peel had discharged her weapon, although I wasn't sure why.

She'd been thirsty, the machine had been there. What was the problem?

First Sergeant Hardwick came out, saw us, and began to yell at everyone to get back inside, that it was none of their business. Someone peeked out of Bravo Company, saw us, and slammed the door. Private March looked out of the door of Alpha Company, then ducked back in.

The guidon was out, so Captain Jane was in.

I went in first, cigarette held in my teeth, and just took a left so I was out of the way.

"Turn in your weapons and gear, stay here," I told Actual.

"Do we have to?" Peel asked, pulling her M-60 close like she was protecting a child. On the heat shroud was written "Wood Pecker" in white paint-stick.

"That's an order," I told her. She looked disappointed, pouting slightly, but nodded. "And turn in those ammo belts, Poncho Villa," I snapped, referring to the two 300 round belts of 7.62mm she was wearing crossed on her chest like bandoleers.

"Yes, Ma'am," she whined.

"Captain Jane in?" I asked Private March.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, staring at me.

I knocked three times on the door.

"Enter," Captain Jane called out.

I pushed open the door, walking into her office. Lieutenant Hendricks was sitting in the chair across from Captain Jane's desk, paperwork in her lap.

"Leave. Now," I snapped, stomping toward her.

She scurried out and I sat in the chair, the Pig across the arms of the chair, and pulled off my helmet, dropping it on the floor. It clonked when it hit.

Captain Jane was staring at me, her elbows on her desk, her fingers steepled, her chin resting on her fingertips.

"Welcome home, Chief," She said.