Time/Date Error (Damned of the 2/19th-Book Six) - Done

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GrafenwöhrUS Army Training Area
Training Site 22
2/19th Company Area
West Germany
29 October, 1987
2145 Hours

A quick check in with Range Control out in Wildflicken told me that nobody had tried to contact us through that messed up band. Another call to the Pentagon told me that nobody had cracked the War-Fighter Tunnels again, even though someone was trying different codes to get in. My contact at the Pentagon told me that they had rescinded all the external codes, so anyone with a code brick wasn't getting in.

I also called Blackbriar and let them know just how completely they had failed by sending that incompetent cooze out to my AO with a head full of stupidity and an ego driven desire to give orders her brain wasn't sufficiently evolved to handle.

The map still hadn't changed. Whatever Stillwater was doing, he was doing it without oversight, and that fact made my balls shrivel up and try to climb up into my guts. He was bad enough, and barely tolerable, when he had clear cut orders out at that shit-hole site of his, surrounded by that pack of dick sucking morons. The Ranger's mission control had taken one look at the weather report, another look from halfway up the mountain, one last look at the weather report, and called the mission off. Saving his men's life, yeah, but leaving Stillwater without backup. There were no air assets, and no sats in position to get a look at what he was doing. He was running without commo, and I had no data on what he was facing.

Which meant he was on his own.

One of the hammerhead retards from Motorpool poked his head into the tent, fresh snow on his helmet, "Sir, Major Dryer and Lieutenant Colonel Harmon are here to see you."

Oh fucking joy, Humping Harmon and  Dryer the Kid Diddler, what a great top-off to this cluster fucker, I thought to myself, but waved at the private anyway.

The two men came into my tent. Both of them slim, and to my eyes, weaklings. Dryer was a chinless wonder with a face like a child molester, a perfect fit from what my contacts told me. Harmon was little better. He looked fine at first glance, but the petulant crybaby look of someone who was denied things he wanted out of life hid beneath that wad of playdough flesh he called a face.

They both stopped in front of the table I was sitting at, with the schematics of the Group Area in front of me. That Texas retard was on his was from that shit-hole Atlas, and I knew that he and that goddamn idiot Nagle knew the Group Area better than they had any right too. Bomber would probably show up first, driving like a bat out of hell from that shit-hole Stillwater had left him in charge of, but goddamn Nagle.

Christ, I should have but the kibosh on that stupid fucking teenage romance as soon as I found out about it. She was fucking 27 and fucking a 17 year old rock headed retard from backwoods Washington, and worse yet he was her direct superior.

But no, I figured that maybe it would temper that goddamn killer I could see lurking behind his eyes that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up every time I looked in his eyes.

I'd seen that before. In Vietnam, when I'd been drafted when I'd only been a year older than him, in 1966. Men who were good at killing, who deep down enjoyed the carnage of combat. Some had retained their humanity.

Many didn't.

I'd hoped that his little puppy-love affair with Nagle would stabilize him, but then she had to run off and marry some fucking REMF shitbag out of 11th ACR while he off facing off against whatever had happened on that god-forsaken island. From what little birdies and my snitch had told me, she was careless and self centered as all hell, constantly gushing over her new husband and how great he was.

I should have put a stop to their...

"Chief Henley," Dryer said, and I had to resist an urge to pull out my pistol and shoot him in his child-fucking face. I made a mental note to make sure that one of the rabid animals under my control found out about his sexual predilections and then got a few moments alone with him where there were no cameras or witnesses. I knew one of them would beat him to death and the world would be a safer place for all those little girls he'd never touch.