History, Politics And Current Affairs

Poohbah wrote: ↑Thu Sep 05, 2024 5:44 pm

Jotun wrote: ↑Thu Sep 05, 2024 4:43 pm

Poohbah wrote: ↑Thu Sep 05, 2024 2:28 pm

Beetle was a little before her time, she graduated high school in 1983. By then almost all of the Beetles in the typical Southern California student lot were Baja Bugs and were usually driven by male students with a C- or lower GPA. The typical domestic shitbox compacts were Pintos, Vegas, and Chevettes. (Driving a 1978 Pinto with manual steering built character.)

Beetles were also the preferred car of an astonishing number of serial killers in the US during the seventies, most notably Ted Bundy

Back then, Beetles were . . . well, background noise. Practically invisible.

OOC: Hence why Bumblebee was a Beetle.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Sep 05, 2024 9:09 pm I also had another thought, what happens if it was deliberately designed that way? That way the military or the KGB could bypass the other's control to use it.

Thanks for the Nightmare Fuel…

Wolfman wrote: ↑Fri Sep 06, 2024 11:05 am

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Sep 05, 2024 9:09 pm I also had another thought, what happens if it was deliberately designed that way? That way the military or the KGB could bypass the other's control to use it.

Thanks for the Nightmare Fuel…

I have the feeling it was the military. If it was the KGB, the Lubbock stockpile would gone Instant Sunshine™.

12 May 1988
Lakeshore Inn
Stateline, NV

The Lakeshore Inn was just off Highway 50 on the eastern shore. Sophie and Marianne checked into their room, and headed out onto the patio area for some drinks.

Sophie was looking around and saw . . .

Dear God

And suddenly, she felt herself smile. "Marianne, you want to meet a couple of my friends?"

"Actually, yes."

Sophie and Marianne headed over to another table, and she said, "Josh, Roberta! What a surprise!"

Josh Mantell stood up and said, "Sophie!" before giving her a bear hug.

"Marianne, this is Josh Mantell and Roberta Kreider--"

Something in Roberta's goofy grin made Sophie pause . . . and then look at Roberta's ring finger. A standard PX wedding ring was there.

Roberta held it up in the standard women's "look at the rock I just got" fashion, and Sophie felt a moment of pure delight . . .

. . . that broke into tears.

Josh guided Sophie to a chair, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Josh . . . Adam's dead."

* * *

They were drinking slowly, savoring stories of Adam Lodge.

Josh said, "Good God. I thought Adam was . . . well, if he went down, what chance do I have?"

Sophie pointed a finger at Josh. "Listen here, you crayon-eating dipshit. Adam was working at the very edge of the envelope. He was doing seriously Secret Squirrel stuff. You're not at that level. You and Roberta are husband and wife; you have a reason to stay alive, something that'll help you not do stupid shit or take excessive chances."

Josh asked, "What about you?"

Sophie blinked.

"Huh?"

"What's your reason for staying alive?"

Sophie stared into her glass for a long moment, then said, "Um . . . I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

Roberta said, "Jesus, honey. Maybe work on that first."

"Maybe you two can give me reasons. How'd you get back together?"

* * *

30 March 1988
Camp Roberts, CA

2nd Brigade, 40th Infantry Division (Mechanized) was, to put it mildly, worn out. Their equipment was undergoing depot-level maintenance courtesy of General Dynamics Land Systems and FMC Corporation; their bodies, minds, and spirits were undergoing the same at Camp Roberts. The Army was, officially, putting them through some refresher training and integrating replacements.

Roberta Kreider was sipping wine in the O Club with Kim Grayson, her . . . well, girlfriend was not exactly it, although they did warm a bed together in the BOQ.

Kim had, in the wake of Helen's death, taken it on herself to rescue Roberta, in repayment for Roberta's having practically carried her through combat training at Pine Bench.

Roberta couldn't quite figure it out. Kim was, as near as Roberta's highly-reliable gaydar could tell, exclusively heterosexual . . . except that she'd promised to marry Roberta after the war, and she was a rather exuberant bedmate--and that wasn't faked or contrived.

"Kim . . . we have to talk."

"You're not talking me out of this, Roberta."

"Uh . . . Kim, you're straight."

Kim smiled. "So's spaghetti until it gets wet."

"Kim, I'm not joking here. Look, I can tell who's got the hots for me, and who doesn't. You don't."

"More to marriage than sexual excitement. Although you do give me more than a lick and a promise."

Roberta laughed in spite of herself. "Damn it, Kim--"

"Roberta . . . I love you. I mean, really, I do. Look, maybe you meet the right woman--"

Roberta snickered. "Or man, honey. I did have my great love with Josh."

"And he's gone, but I'm here. Okay, maybe you meet the right person. But if you don't, I'll be here for you. I owe you. You kept me from eating a bullet at Pine Bench, you gave me a reason to live. I'm just going to do whatever's necessary to give you a reason to live if no one else does."

Damn it. Kim had, with her utterly terrifying precision, homed in on Roberta's weak spot: she'd lost both people she'd truly loved. Josh on Day Two of the war, in a burned-out barracks at Tustin--after a screaming match with him the night before the war started, no less--and Helen at Wichita.

Sometimes, the pistol she wore on her hip seemed a tad heavier than usual.

Kim looked over Roberta's shoulder, blinked, then turned to the bartender. "Yo, barkeep, what kind of joint you running here, letting those crayon-eating jarheads in? I thought we had standards!"

Roberta chuckled. She turned and watched the Marine officers head for the bar . . .

Oh my God

Her wine glass dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers and shattered on the tile floor.

Kim said, "You okay, Roberta?"

Roberta turned back to Kim, who suddenly had an alarmed expression. "Roberta, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I just did." She gulped, then said, "The tall one with dark brown hair and the silver wings? That's Josh."

Kim smacked the bartop and said, "Barkeep, she needs a double bourbon, stat!"

Roberta slammed down the drink in three swallows and felt its heat warm her stomach.

Kim said, "Roberta . . . you've been given a chance few of us ever get. And I'm going to tell you the same thing Helen told you about Josh, okay? Seal the deal this time. I am dead serious. Do whatever it takes to claim him. I can tell you still love him. This time out, don't let fear rule you. You're not that soft woman you were in 1985. You're his equal mentally, physically, and spiritually. Go to him, take him to your bed, and that way I don't have to worry about you going forward."

Something in Kim's voice gave Roberta a sense of purpose.

"All right."

She stood.

Walked across the room.

Stopped at Josh's table, directly behind him.

"Yo, Jarhead."

Josh spun around, a shocked expression on his face.

"Roberta!"

"Well, you still recognize me. That's good." She grabbed an empty chair, spun it around, straddled it, and sat down, leaning forward onto the back, bringing her face close to Josh.

She looked at Josh's fellow officers. "I need to clear the air with this lunk. I understand the bartender laid in a fresh supply of crayons." She made a shooing gesture with her hand. "Go on, git!"

The remaining officers got up and walked off, some of them staring at Josh and Roberta.

Josh was looking at her levelly.

"Roberta, I owe you an apology--"

"Stow it. I have spent two and a half years learning--the hard way, maybe the only way I could--that you were right. I was a spoiled child in a woman's body."

"I could have been a little more sensitive to your feelings."

"You'd spent two weeks being sensitive to my feelings--and not talking about yours."

She blinked.

"Dear God, you knew something was coming."

Josh said, quietly, "Not here."

* * *

They walked a ways from the O Club. Josh faced out into the setting sun.

"I have something to tell you. I wasn't at WTI."

Roberta remembered the Marine Corps Weapons and Tactics Instruction course he had supposedly been attending.

"Where were you?"

"With OGA, flying out of the other side of MCAS Yuma. Doing clandestine insertion and recovery of LRRPs into Mexico." He paused, then said, "It got bad at one point, and we said screw it, we're done. I don't know if anyone made any use of our info, but we held west of the Rockies, so I guess it helped."

Roberta felt her jaw drop open. "OGA" meant he'd been working for the intelligence community.

"Then I owe you another apology. I had no idea--"

Josh chuckled thinly. "You weren't supposed to."

There was a long silence, one that became oddly . . . companionable.

Roberta laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Don't you feel it? How we can just be alone in silence together, like it was before? Before you started getting wound up about making Corporal . . . before I started pressing you for a hard commitment." Roberta sighed, "Before."

Josh said, "Before."

Suddenly, Roberta was crying on Josh's shoulder. "Josh . . . Helen's gone."

And then his arms were around her. He whispered, "I know she meant so much to you."

Roberta got the tears under control, then looked up at Josh's face.

"Josh . . . I have to say this. Helen was my other great love."

Josh nodded. "I kinda figured. I know she loved you as well."

Roberta's jaw dropped.

"Joshua Joseph Mantell--"

She felt herself actually spluttering.

Finally, she managed to ask, "How did you even know?"

"It was obvious in how you talked to each other. And Helen was telling you to 'seal the deal.' I think she wanted a resolution to the triangle."

A hint of evergreen--Helen's shampoo--crossed Roberta's nose.

Helen's voice came to her. Seal the deal, Roberta. He's the one for you.

Roberta whispered, "Yes."

She then kissed Josh with every last bit of herself she had left.

When they broke apart, she gasped for air, then said, "My room. Take me, darling."

* * *

31 March 1988
BOQ, Camp Roberts, CA

Roberta woke up and watched Josh sleep for a few minutes.

She bent over and kissed his forehead.

He stirred, then awoke.

Roberta smiled. "Hi, handsome."

"Morning, gorgeous."

Roberta trailed a hand down his chest and onto his stomach. "So, are you up for round--"

The Giant Voice system outside went off.

"ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR UNITS IMMEDIATELY!"

Josh sat up and rolled out of bed, searching frantically for his clothes.

Roberta was doing likewise. "Damn it!"

* * *

Roberta watched Josh continue down the street to the Marines' assembly area.

She jogged into the HQ Tent for D Company, 132nd Engineering Battalion.

"What have we got?"

The staff duty NCO handed her a styrofoam cup of coffee. "Not sure, ma'am. Word is get everyone mustered and loaded out."

Two minutes later, Captain Porton stuck his head in the tent. "XO, with me!"

Roberta raced after Porton. They went into the 2nd Brigade HQ TOC shelter.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, 2nd Brigade has been issued a warning order to provide support for civil law enforcement under the Revised Insurrection Act of 1986. 2nd Battalion, 26th Marine Regiment is getting attached to what is now Task Force GOLDEN GATE. If called, we will be assisting federal law enforcement in making arrests and, if necessary, maintaining or restoring civil order."

Roberta glanced around the tent. Most faces reflected varying degrees of shock, just as her own did.

* * *

Roberta watched as the Wolverines assigned to Delta Company from the Camp Roberts training pool were loaded onto tank transporters.

She saw Josh and waved him over.

"You guys loading up?"

"More like we're going to mount up and roll, so we're pulling PM on every LAV we've got. We rolled down from the Mountain Warfare Course at Bridgeport."

Roberta frowned. "Why were you guys taking a mountain course?"

"Get us away from the front, we're kind of worn out."

Roberta nodded. "Lot of that going around."

Kim Grayson walked up. "So, you going to introduce me to the stud muffin?"

"Captain Grayson, this is Lieutenant Joshua Mantell, United States Marines. I knew him in Irvine, he was a clerk at Tustin."

"Nice to meet you Josh. Let me get one thing clear with you: don't break her heart this time, or they'll never find you body, comprende, amigo?"

"Hoo-ah, Cap'n."

"Good, now that that's clear, I hereby relinquish any and all claim I might have had on Roberta to Joshua Mantell. And that means I can go back to dating men."

* * *

12 May 1988

Sophie shook her head. "And you decided to get married right there?"

Josh chuckled. "Pretty much. We just needed to schedule our leave after the San Francisco contingency turned into a nothing burger. We go back to Camp Roberts tomorrow, Roberta's unit goes back to Texas, my unit road marches back to Bridgeport, and then we go back to Texas as well."

Roberta said, "So, reason for staying alive: Adam would be really pissed at you if you decided to pack it in."

Sophie nodded. "That's been what I've been operating on." She sighed. "I'm not suicidal. But I keenly feel his absence."

Josh said, "So do I."

Sophie nodded. "Yeah, you guys were really tight." She smiled, a gentle, sad smile. "I know the sun will come out again. I know that there will be joy and laughter again. I know there will be better times than this. But right now . . . I really need to feel the sorrow."

* * *

That night, after dinner, Sophie sat on the couch in their shared room.

Marianne sat down next to her, remaining silent.

Sophie chuckled. "Trying to get me to talk?"

"If you want to talk, I'm listening. If not . . . well, I'm willing to just be here for you."

"So, what's your professional opinion?"

Marianne said, "You're handling Adam's death about as well as it can be handled. You're honest with yourself about your feelings, and you know that you need to grieve. There's no 'right' way to experience loss. There are some ways that are less healthy than others, but you're staying away from those."

Sophie sighed. "And those are?"

"Common ones are overworking yourself, self-medicating, or just simply refusing to acknowledge your emotions. You're staying away from those."

Sophie nodded. "How are you holding up?"

Marianne sighed. "It hurts me to see you in pain. My professional side and my personal side are having a catfight--scratching, pulling hair, et cetera. My professional side knows you have to deal with it. The side of me that cares very deeply about Sophie Henrix the person wishes I could wave a magic wand and make your suffering go away."

"And about why you're on vacation?"

"Another catfight. I must be schizophrenic. Part of me knows that Death wins out in the end, no matter what--but it's my job to make sure he doesn't get a free ride. I've held the hands of eighty-something widows who were in the final moments of their lives after they collapsed in the supermarket. I've watched hardened street thugs crying for their mothers as they bled out because they had too many holes in their cardiovascular system. And my personal side keeps seeing that little girl--the one who could've been me, or I could've been her. And yet, I continue fighting that sonofabitch because maybe that eighty-something widow needs to know her grandkid's okay . . . or that thug will turn his life around if he survives. And maybe . . . just maybe . . . that little girl is in Fiddler's Green."

Sophie was quiet for a long moment, then said, "I wish I could have a magic wand and let you know, in your heart, in the very marrow of your bones, that you're doing one hell of a job, and it's one that takes more courage than mine ever will."

"You're in shootouts, you jump out of airplanes, and you say my job takes more courage?"

"Bah! I actually enjoy jumping, I must be a damn lunatic. As for the shootouts . . . it's the price of victory. Nike does not bestow her laurels on those who shy away from doing the deed. But that's do or die courage, purely physical courage, the lowest kind. One of the generals who wants me to stay in told me that moral courage is needed far more often than physical courage, even for a special operator. Facing life and death in a firefight is easy; it's me or him, and I'm determined that I will dump used Jack Daniels on his grave. The courage to plant myself like a tree beside the River of Truth and to tell a world that's demanding that I to bow to the mob, 'No, YOU move?' That's hard. To do the right thing, AND stare Death in the face at the same time, saying, 'If you want her, come and claim her?' Holy shit, honey, I couldn't do that for very long. I'd break really quick."

* * *

19 May 1988
Passenger Terminal
Reno-Tahoe Airport
Reno, NV

Marianne handed a slip of paper to Sophie. "Here's my address. Please write."

Sophie nodded, and fished a business card out of the breast pocket of her cammies. She scribbled on the back and handed it to Marianne. "Here's how to write to me. I'll get it when I'm in garrison."

They embraced, and Sophie watched as Marianne walked to her boarding gate.

Interesting chapter.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Mon Sep 30, 2024 10:57 am Interesting chapter.

Took the words right out of my mouth, Jem.

I am very much enjoying the AU stuff.

THank you for the time and effort you put into it.

Belushi TD

Nicely done. Good job and well worth the effort.

Defense Ministry
14 October 1989
Ottawa, Canada

CW4 Sophie Lodge checked her viewgraphs one more time. She was of the Air Force Special Operations Command delegation for planning the final offensive in Canada and Alaska.

Captain Lincoln Norwood IV, of Her Majesty's 22nd Special Air Service Regiment, smiled.

"Sophie, love, I'm sure you've got them letter perfect."

Sophie laughed. "My father received a job application when he was the operations manager at San Diego International Airport. One of the bullet points said, 'I am an expert poofreader.' I learned something from that."

"Maybe it wasn't a typo and the lad has amazingly good gaydar."

Sophie chuckled. She finished her review. "All right, no typos." She looked nervously at the door. "So where are the rest of our happy little working group?"

Just then, the door burst open to reveal Colonel Patrick McKenna, late of the Princess Patricia Light Infantry Regiment. "There you are! Come, come! It's official! Ceasefire goes into effect in thirty minutes! It's over!"

Norwood asked, "Seriously, sir?"

"Serious as a heart attack! Come on, it's time to break out the good whiskey!"

Norwood laughed. "For God's sake, it's 9:30 in the morning!"

Sophie said, "Sun's over the yardarm somewhere, damn it!"

"Good point, actually."

* * *

Sophie made her way back to her hotel room. She had to concentrate to walk in a roughly straight line; she'd drunk many toasts, offered several of her own, and she was feeling the booze hard.

She managed to get the key into the hotel room door on the third try, staggered into the room, and collapsed into the chair at the desk.

She contemplated the battered document case before her for a long time, then unzipped it and fished for an envelope.

The envelope had Marianne's handwriting on it: "Open only after the war ends. (No peeking. Seriously.)"

She stared at the letter for a long time, contemplating her friend's situation. She was working in a facility in the Sevier Valley region of Utah; her letter announcing the move had, in not so many words, told Sophie that Marianne was still working for General Lodge.

I am too fucking drunk to read this.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

* * *

She awoke in darkness, feeling dehydrated, with a headache coming on. She staggered to the bathroom and poured herself a tumbler of water, downed it, then another, and a third. She washed down two aspirin with the last glass.

She closed her eyes and fumbled for the light switch. After a few minutes, she decided she could open her eyes.

She headed back into the room, sat down at the desk, switched on the lamp, and opened the letter.

Marianne's handwriting, as always, was neat and easy to read.

May 14th, 1989
Sevier, Utah

Dear Sophie,

If you're reading this, we've reached the moment we've been working and praying for.

I have gotten to know you primarily through the written word. Yes, there were our face to face conversations, but it's through the past year of letters that I've really seen into your heart. You have read my confessions of where I've gone astray, fallen short, and you've shared your own. We've shared goals, hopes, and dreams.

You've helped me believe that I am as good a person, and as brave a person, as you say I am.

And I've clarified my hopes and dreams to one crucial truth.

Sophie Marie Henrix, I love you.

Whither thou goest, my love, I will gladly follow. "Your people shall be my people, and your God will be my God." I will help you make a home, wherever that will be, I will raise children with you, I will grow old with you, and I will love you to my dying breath.

If this sounds like what you want, come out here and claim me. I will wait for you as long as I have to.

In the meantime . . . go and celebrate. Get drunk, get laid, whoop it up, whatever you want. You've earned it, my hero . . . my love.

All of my love and hope,

Marianne

Sophie reread the letter several times, then took out stationery and a pen.

And then she stopped.

What do I say?

After a moment, another thought came to her.

Best to sleep on it.

She grabbed a shower and went to bed.

* * *

Adam was there before her.

He smiled and said, "You made it."

"I made it. Too bad you didn't."

"Hey, God had other plans for me. Don't worry. I'll be here when it's your time."

"Marianne wants to marry me."

"You could do far worse. She's a sweet person, and she is smoking hot."

"Great, my ex is going to be perving on me from the afterlife."

"About all I'm good for at this point. Sophie . . . I want you to be happy. I think you'll be happy with her. You both love each other."

"Do I love her? Really?"

Adam nodded. "Sophie, you have a big heart, and you've been her confidant and sounding board . . . just as you were for me. You've helped her get through those dark, cold nights we all have when we feel all alone . . . just like you did for me. Yes, you love her."

Adam took her hand in both of his. "Sophie . . . you deserve a lover who's actually alive and there for you. I release you. Please let go of me; be there one hundred percent for Marianne."

* * *

She awoke to drunken singing in the hallway, and what sounded like two women and a man enthusiastically--and clumsily--engaged in conjugal relations in the next room. The clock by her bed said it was 0331 Canadian War Time.

She climbed out of bed, went to the desk, and switched on the light.

15 October 1989
Ottawa, Canada

I was in Ottawa for a staff conference when the news arrived. It's just after 3:30 AM, there are drunken idiots in the hallway outside my hotel room and a drunken threesome in the very next room, so sleep is kind of pointless.

I got thoroughly hammered before lunchtime. Lots of toasts. Hey, you only reach the end of the war once. I may be the only sober person in this whole city, but only because I got started and finished early.

I read the letter.

Marianne . . . I love you as well. I will be your wife, your lover, your partner, all the way to the end of my days on this damp rock.

I doubt I will be able to make precise plans regarding when at this time. As I've said, I'm a low density, high demand asset, and there's likely some work left for me.

But my plan is simple enough: when I can, I will journey out to Sevier Valley, and tell you, face to face, that I love you.

And throw you onto your bed for the purpose of screwing your brains out.

(The exact order of events hasn't been determined yet. <grin> )

As always, you are in my prayers.

With all of my love,

Sophie

* * *

20 October 1989
Joint Task Force 251 HQ
Fort Bragg, NC

Sophie looked at the basic information on the proposed operation and felt her jaw drop open.

"Jesus, I thought COBRA KAI was big!"

Colonel Mattinson said, "Welcome to GABLE COTTONMOUTH, our part of BUCCANEER FURY. We've got fifty POW camps across Cuba to hit. If this goes, we will be throwing every special operator in the Grand Alliance at Cuba."

* * *

29 October 1989
Joint Task Force 251 HQ
Fort Bragg, NC

Sophie said, "We're gonna need a few TACP units, sir. And by 'a few I mean 'every swinging dick and wiggling va-jay-jay who's ever gotten an outstanding grade at the Nellis or Sacajawea JTAC Course.' Not joking. We need to keep the Cuban Army away from the extraction sites, and the weapons we can carry on insertion aren't gonna do it, sir."

Mattinson frowned. "Operation keeps getting bigger."

"Go big, or go home, sir. You want to win the big pot, you have to go all in."

* * *

04 November 1989
1st Battalion, 26th Marines
5th Marine Division (Reinforced)
Marine Corps Base (Provisional) Camp Strank
Marathon, TX

Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Hardcastle waved Joshua Mantell into his office.

"Sir, Major Mantell reporting--"

"--as ordered, as if you'd ever do otherwise." Hardcastle gestured to a chair opposite his desk. "Have a seat. You'll need it."

Mantell sat down.

Hardcastle asked, "How's Lieutenant DeSalle as a leader?"

Mantell said, "He's a little raw--who isn't as a butterbar? But with 1st Sergeant Pennington guiding him, he's good."

"Okay, that satisfies my one remaining question. Here, catch." Hardcastle gently tossed a sheaf of papers held by a binder clip to Mantell.

The first thing he saw was "ORIGINAL ORDERS," and he groaned. "Great, they're sending my ass to--Fort Bragg, sir?"

"Notice that you're supposed to check in at the Fort Bragg garrison. Now, that makes absolutely no sense, because if you were going to jump school, they'd just send you there, and there's no other Marines on Bragg. They're not sending you to 18th Airborne Corps, they're headquartered in Brownsville right now. There is literally no reason that I can think of for them to send you to Bragg, which tells me you're going to be met by whoever's really gaining you."

Mantell looked over the orders. "I'm outta here by the 9th."

"Which means you start checking out immediately so you can have a couple days with your wife before you get on the Herky-Bird."

* * *

07 November 1989
HQ, 3rd Brigade
40th Infantry Division (Mechanized)
Camp Thunder, Sanderson, TX

Roberta was stepping out of the HQ shelter.

Roberta stared at Josh's seabag asked, "Wait, you got orders?"

"Yeah. They're sending me to Fort Bragg."

"What the hell for?"

"Beats me. But right now, I have a 48 hour pass until I have to get on the Herky-bird, so I want make the most of it."

"Give me a minute."

Roberta ducked back into the HQ shelter, and came out ten minutes later with a female Colonel in tow.

"Colonel Kellson, this is my husband, Major Josh Mantell. Major Mantell, my brigade commander, Colonel Teresa Kellson."

Josh saluted crisply, and Kellson swiped her right hand in the general area of her BDU cover's visor.

"Major, I understand you have orders to Bragg. So do several of my people. I have no idea what's going on, but try to not get killed doing anything stupid."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

Kellson made a shooing motion. "Now you two get out of here and go have your way with each other."

* * *

09 November 1989
Fort Stockton, TX

Roberta kissed Josh, then said, "Try to not be a hero."

Josh nodded. "Abso-damn-lutely, darling. I'll see you when I see you."

Roberta watched Josh walk out to the C-130 and go aboard.

Be careful, darling.

Going big in Cuba, four Iowa Class, 2 Des Moines Class, any other battleship available, B-52s and B-1.

That's round one.

Round two TBD.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Mon Oct 07, 2024 12:18 am Going big in Cuba, four Iowa Class, 2 Des Moines Class, any other battleship available, B-52s and B-1.

That's round one.

Round two TBD.

So… that means North Carolina and Massachusetts for sure, and maybe Alabama, if she’s had her damage from GULF HAMMER repaired…

10 November 1990
Joint Reception Center
Fort Bragg, NC

"Major Joshua Mantell, reporting as ordered."

The duty officer looked over his orders, then said, "Sir, you're to report to a specific unit--all I have is a phone number. I'll notify them to come pick you up."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

* * *

10 November 1989
HQ, Joint Task Force 251
Fort Bragg, NC

The first surprise was seeing Sophie.

The second surprise was the mission.

Sophie said, "One way or another, our people are coming home."

"All right. You shouldn't need more CQB specialists--"

"We don't. We need JTACs. Word is you're a damn good one."

Mantell smiled. "I hold my own."

"Good. But you're going to have to volunteer to attend jump school and free fall training. And since you're a major, I'm going to recommend you be in charge of the training program for the tactical air control parties after you graduate."

Josh sighed. "My wife told me to try to not be a hero."

Sophie nodded. "I understand. Believe it or not . . . I want to stay alive, too."

Josh looked at her carefully for a moment, then said, "I'm in."

* * *

27 November 1989
Airborne School
Fort Bragg, NC

"Major Mantell?"

"Yes, Airborne Sergeant?"

"The regimental CO wants you in his office ASAP."

"Not the battalion CO?" The CO of the 1st Battalion was also the jump school commandant.

"Correct, sir. Colonel Schuster."

Oh, this can't be good.

* * *

27 November 1989
HQ, 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment
Fort Bragg, NC

Two Air Force generals were with Colonel Schuster in a conference room. One looked like an older version of Adam Lodge.

Mantell braced to attention and saluted. "Sir, Major Mantell reporting as ordered."

"Good morning, Major. This is Lieutenant General Lodge, with the Defense Intelligence Agency, and Lieutenant General James Murtha, the Deputy Chief of Staff of the Air Force for personnel."

Schuster then said to the generals, "By your leave, gentlemen?"

Murtha said, "Granted."

Schuster stepped out, and Murtha said, "Major, before you ask any questions, please read this." He took a folder from the conference table and handed it to Mantell.

Mantell opened it and saw a Marine Corps bulletin. "REVERSION TO PERMANENT GRADE OF BREVETTED OFFICERS."

He read it quickly. "Well, gentlemen, this doesn't quite surprise me. I believe it would make me the most senior Lance Corporal in the Marine Corps."

Lodge said, "Very funny, Major."

Mantell smiled. "You have to admit, there is an element of absurdity in this, sir."

Lodge guffawed. "Well, you do have a point."

Murtha said, "Absolutely. Major, there's three problems. First, you are in the Regular branch, not the Reserve. Second, you were confirmed for promotion by the Senate, as required by law. Those two factors mean that Marine Corps cannot legally do this--not that this is going to stop Gray from doing so. Third, you are slotted in a critical billet for this operation's success, and we can't have a Lance Corporal as the training officer."

"All right, sir, so what's the proposed course of action?"

Murtha said, "I have the authority to accept any request you might make to be commissioned into the Air Force. You will retain your lineal seniority--well, once we figure out what it is."

Mantell thought for a few seconds, then said, "Sir, I hereby request to be commissioned into the United States Air Force."

Lodge stepped to the door and asked Colonel Schuster to come back in.

As he came back to witness the ceremony. Lodge placed a hand on Mantell's shoulder and spoke quietly. "Joshua, I know your father would be very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir."

Fifteen minutes, ten signatures, and one oath later, Joshua Mantell was a Major in the Regular Air Force, and he was on his way back to the school.

Another thing for Gen. Gray to be roasted by a Congressional Committee after the war.

Anyone going in on the POW camps near Havana should expect a tough fight-go heavy, go hard, and bring body bags, because not everyone's coming back. Doubly so for the MOD Interrogation Center.

And hopefully Gray loses his pension…

Wolfman wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 12:38 pm And hopefully Gray loses his pension…

That and a new title:

EX-MARINE.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 1:33 pm

Wolfman wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 12:38 pm And hopefully Gray loses his pension…

That and a new title:

EX-MARINE.

AMEN!

One thing we missed, instead of sending a full bird to get Josh to transfer, USAF sent two three stars including the American Prince of Darkness (someone please come up with a better nickname for Sam Lodge).

Either the Air Force is seriously ticked off at Gray or something else is going on.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 10:03 pm One thing we missed, instead of sending a full bird to get Josh to transfer, USAF sent two three stars including the American Prince of Darkness (someone please come up with a better nickname for Sam Lodge).

Either the Air Force is seriously ticked off at Gray or something else is going on.

Lodge's nickname in the Air Force is "Rolodex," due to his uncanny ability to have contact info someone with a very particular set of skills (specifically, the exact set of skills needed) whenever someone asks.

Poohbah wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 11:09 pm

jemhouston wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 10:03 pm One thing we missed, instead of sending a full bird to get Josh to transfer, USAF sent two three stars including the American Prince of Darkness (someone please come up with a better nickname for Sam Lodge).

Either the Air Force is seriously ticked off at Gray or something else is going on.

Lodge's nickname in the Air Force is "Rolodex," due to his uncanny ability to have contact info someone with a very particular set of skills (specifically, the exact set of skills needed) whenever someone asks.

Someone once said, "The secret to being a high-speed operator is doing the fundamentals extremely well." Lodge starts talent scouting people in the sandbox from people he knows.

He found his nephew (no surprise), Sophie, and now Josh. I'm really hoping he's passing on his lessons to more than Sophie, and now Josh.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Oct 10, 2024 12:02 am

Poohbah wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 11:09 pm

jemhouston wrote: ↑Wed Oct 09, 2024 10:03 pm One thing we missed, instead of sending a full bird to get Josh to transfer, USAF sent two three stars including the American Prince of Darkness (someone please come up with a better nickname for Sam Lodge).

Either the Air Force is seriously ticked off at Gray or something else is going on.

Lodge's nickname in the Air Force is "Rolodex," due to his uncanny ability to have contact info someone with a very particular set of skills (specifically, the exact set of skills needed) whenever someone asks.

Someone once said, "The secret to being a high-speed operator is doing the fundamentals extremely well." Lodge starts talent scouting people in the sandbox from people he knows.

He found his nephew (no surprise), Sophie, and now Josh. I'm really hoping he's passing on his lessons to more than Sophie, and now Josh.

Remember, Kathy Barzanian is the closest thing he has to a daughter.