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

Staff Meeting

HHC 15th Forward Support Battalion Operations Area
1st Cavalry Division Area
Fort Hood, Texas
CONUS
4 Feb, 1992
1700 Hours

"Be seated," Lieutenant Colonel Krait said from the head of the table in the meeting room. We all sat down, except for Donovan, who was standing behind me, going from attention to parade rest, staring off into the distance. Colonel Krait looked at all over, looking at each of us one at a time before moving on. His forehead was beaded with sweat after the briefing that he and the CO's of the battalion's companies had attended. I'd seen Agent Timmons, guarded by two MP's, and Little-Bit leave while those of us who weren't Commanding Officers waited for the briefing to be finished so that Colonel Krait could let us know what was going on.

That meant Commanding Officers, Executive Officers, First Sergeants, and, strangely enough, just me.

Captain Jane's explanation for having me present during these briefings was so that I could modify the training schedule to match any shifts in the battalion's METL.

"First of all, I apologize for the lateness of this meeting. For those of you that don't know, the Brigade, and more recently, our Battalion, has been briefed today on the ongoing situation in the areas that Blackjack is responsible for in the Rapid Ready Brigade," Colonel Krait said, "There is additional information that was only recently cleared for dissemination that makes the assignment of a certain, shall we say, destabilizing element in our Battalion's perfectly clear."

He stood up, moving over to one of the easels and flipping back the top page to reveal a map of Africa.

We sat there, mostly me taking notes while the others just listened, as Colonel Krait briefed us on Somalia, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Liberia, the former Eastern Bloc, and Angola. More than few people were sweating by the time he was done, and I knew they had finally realized the exact thing I had been trying to hammer into everyone's head.

We were looking at sharp limited engagements against superior numbers, on their home terrain, with vague objectives and almost no support.

The questions were, to my mind, stupid. Mostly a variation of "why do we have to do it?" that put my teeth on edge and made me want to start screaming at them.

I ground up a propanolol between my teeth and washed it down with a Pepsi to try to keep the explosive rage down.

Finally he stepped back and sat down, swiveling to face us all.

"Chief Cromwell," Colonel Krait said, startling me from where I was making a notation to train the troops of Charlie Company in Land Nav in an Urban Environment classes by taking them to Austin, dropping them in random places with a map, and making them hustle to "evac areas." No weapons, just backpacks and civilian clothing, but I'd still need to coordinate with local law enforcement.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, setting my pen down.

"Can you explain the difference between your own MOS, which I believe is NBC Field Medical Specialist, and the MOS of the latest person to be assigned to 15th?" He asked.

I blinked, and it came out of my mouth before my brain could process it. "Who?"

He tapped his fingers on the table. "Staff Sergeant Anthony Stillwater, who is apparently," he consulted his notes, "A NBC Field Warfare Specialist."

I swallowed thickly.

...Let 'em have it, Actual...

...DANGER CLOSE FROM THE MIGHTY MO' IN THREE SECONDS!...

...get on 'em, get on 'em...

I pushed back the memories.

"I handle treating medical casualties as well as identifying dangers on the NBC battlefield," I started. "My job primarily consists of treating people who have been exposed to NBC warfare, as well as to conduct operations in an area at high risk for NBC warfare," I stopped, took a drink of my Pepsi. It was empty and I pushed it away, digging out my cigarettes.