Fee @Fi Fo Fum! Do you chew your toe nails as well?
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Summer break begins today!
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3 mos ago
I will continue to be one of the oldest members of this community in August.
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5 mos ago
If you are a fan of Warhammer 40,000 or Age of Sigmar, let me know. Maybe we can put together an RP. I play Ironjawz & Kruleboyz in AOS and Salamanders & Drukhari in 40K.
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Happy holidays, everyone!
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Summer break is almost over. Back to work/school and all that non-fun stuff.
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Bio
I am a veteran of the United States Army and the US Army National Guard. I spent three years on Active Duty serving in the 4th Infantry Division (Mechanized) at Ft. Carson, CO, and the 3rd Armor Division at Kirch Göns, West Germany. I spent 18 years in the Army National Guard with the 26th Infantry Division "Yankee" and 29th Infantry Division (Light), "The Blue and the Gray". I was deployed to Bosnia-Herzegovina with the 29th ID (L) in 2001 - 2002. I have also been reading military history articles and books since I was 10 years old. I do prefer Military Role Plays over all other genres, primarily because I have a vast knowledge of the subject including personal experiences. At the very least, my characters are always veterans.
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 35+ years but only got into forum-based Role Playing about eighteen years ago. I do enjoy Nation Role Plays and get into minute detail when designing my military. The only reason I enjoy excruciating detail in my militaries is because for me, it is fun. My education and experience on this subject afford me the insight to see the depth of the structure. It is not just a General and a large pile of soldiers. If someone wants assistance in designing an army, navy, or air force, please send me a PM. I will help. Please specify what level (echelon) or depth you would like me to go. When I say echelon, I mean Army, Corps, Division, Brigade/Regiment, Battalion/Squadron, Company/Troop/Battery, Platoon, and Squad/Section.
When I was a student in High School, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons. Recently, I have been DMing a 5e campaign of my creation for my son and his friends. 5e is so much less cumbersome than earlier editions of D&D. I do have an interest in Tolkien-esque fantasy-styled Role Plays as well. Time travel has always been a fun genre for me, but to do it well, one must have a firm grasp of historical facts.
There are only a few fanfictions I will participate in; Star Wars and Star Trek are two of them. I want to do an exclusively Klingon RP one of these days. I also avoid Canon characters.
I have real-world martial arts experience. I would love to write an RP about hand-to-hand combat, no fantasy magic chit, just hands elbows, knees, and feet. Maybe the occasional head butt thrown in to mix things up. I trained in Krav Maga for six and a half years. I earned a first-degree black belt in Krav Maga on 3 June 2017.
Krav Maga is an Israeli martial art form that employs practical self-defense techniques drawing forms & techniques from Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding, and aggressive. During the seven years I trained, I have bruised two ribs, sustained several muscle pulls, and various lacerations and bruises over my body. I have received a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist. Before the first black belt test, I received a bone bruise to my right shin; where my roundhouse kicks impact. Yet, I am stupid enough to continue training. [Regardless of the physical pain, it is more fun than any other physical activity I have engaged in. Fortunately, the bone bruise healed up prior to the third and final test. EDIT: I did leave the sport over five years ago. :(]
Over two years ago I completed my first novel, a science fiction set in the 24th century. It focuses on a Private Military Corporation solely employed by the earth government. I started a second book in November 2022 and hope to work on that this summer when I have more time.
Send me a PM for a Role Play or if you would like to see what sort of an army I could build for you.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 35+ years but only got into forum-based Role Playing about eighteen years ago. I do enjoy Nation Role Plays and get into minute detail when designing my military. The only reason I enjoy excruciating detail in my militaries is because for me, it is fun. My education and experience on this subject afford me the insight to see the depth of the structure. It is not just a General and a large pile of soldiers. If someone wants assistance in designing an army, navy, or air force, please send me a PM. I will help. Please specify what level (echelon) or depth you would like me to go. When I say echelon, I mean Army, Corps, Division, Brigade/Regiment, Battalion/Squadron, Company/Troop/Battery, Platoon, and Squad/Section.
When I was a student in High School, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons. Recently, I have been DMing a 5e campaign of my creation for my son and his friends. 5e is so much less cumbersome than earlier editions of D&D. I do have an interest in Tolkien-esque fantasy-styled Role Plays as well. Time travel has always been a fun genre for me, but to do it well, one must have a firm grasp of historical facts.
There are only a few fanfictions I will participate in; Star Wars and Star Trek are two of them. I want to do an exclusively Klingon RP one of these days. I also avoid Canon characters.
I have real-world martial arts experience. I would love to write an RP about hand-to-hand combat, no fantasy magic chit, just hands elbows, knees, and feet. Maybe the occasional head butt thrown in to mix things up. I trained in Krav Maga for six and a half years. I earned a first-degree black belt in Krav Maga on 3 June 2017.
Krav Maga is an Israeli martial art form that employs practical self-defense techniques drawing forms & techniques from Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding, and aggressive. During the seven years I trained, I have bruised two ribs, sustained several muscle pulls, and various lacerations and bruises over my body. I have received a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist. Before the first black belt test, I received a bone bruise to my right shin; where my roundhouse kicks impact. Yet, I am stupid enough to continue training. [Regardless of the physical pain, it is more fun than any other physical activity I have engaged in. Fortunately, the bone bruise healed up prior to the third and final test. EDIT: I did leave the sport over five years ago. :(]
Over two years ago I completed my first novel, a science fiction set in the 24th century. It focuses on a Private Military Corporation solely employed by the earth government. I started a second book in November 2022 and hope to work on that this summer when I have more time.
Send me a PM for a Role Play or if you would like to see what sort of an army I could build for you.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
Most Recent Posts
The sun was slowly rising in the East. Of course, the sun would not be seen in Burlington until at least 9AM, but its rays were spreading over the tops of the mountains. Ben and Preston waited in the shrubs until Joe and his guest and then the Army Sergeant and Danny emerged from the back of the State Police barracks.
"Ben, Preston, think you can set up and put eyes on the Russians and put some rounds on them?" Danny asked the brothers as he neared them.
Master Sergeant Morse added his two cents, “wonderful idea. Let’s get the fuck over to them woods before this thing blows up. I suggest you all double time. We need to get the fuck out of this AO as soon as God Damn possible.”
The southern squad ran to the power transfer station near the highway. Unbeknownst to Danny’s cell, Pete Couture’s boys rigged C4 to blow up the transformers corralled in the fenced in area.
When the Giguere brothers reached the woodline, they could not see the firefight going on near the Longhorn Steakhouse at Maple and St. George. “No Line of Sight!” They ran into the woods and found the terrain gently rising. When the reached the top of a slight hill; an elevation of only twenty meters, they could see the burning trucks and tracers flying back and forth between the militia cell and the dismounted Soviet soldiers.
“This is good, we have line of sight. Range is closer to three hundred yards,” Ben shouted to Preston and those who could hear him.
“No problem, Ben. Shimmy up these trees for a better view,” Preston announced. The two hunters slung their rifles around their necks and hustled up a pair of pine trees. After a two-minute climb they found themselves another ten meters up. They had a very fine clear line of sight, nestling their rifles in tree branches to help steady them. Using a tree branch was a trick their father taught them when they were boys. It was much better than using your own hands and arms. Nerves could wreck an easy shot.
The Giguere brothers, from their lofty perches took aim on the Russian soldiers fighting with the militia cell led by Ray Gagne of Essex, VT. The brothers began slowly engaging targets as they appeared. The Mark 14 was an outstanding platform for engaging distant targets like this. They had no problem hitting the Russians armed with their AK-12s. The shots were slow and methodical, like taking down a buck at three hundred yards. Only these targets didn’t jump into the brush every time one was struck. The Soviets had no idea two snipers were picking them off at range when they had immediate targets fifty to a hundred yards in front of them. For the Giguere brothers, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.
The Rangers had gathered on their respective assembly areas on the tarmac and began moving out as squads and platoons towards their objectives. The rapidly moving Ranger Special Operations Vehicles, looking like well-armed dune buggies quickly took up positions at the corners of the airfield as well as the roadways leading in. Their job was to prevent anyone from reinforcing or relieving the East Germans stationed there.
A small group of sappers with prepared blocks of explosives and hand grenades ran along the rows of neatly parked MiG-31s, Su-27s and Mi-24 helicopters. While the combat engineers destroyed fighters, another platoon of rangers headed towards the buildings on the north side of the runways where the East German Stasi and air crews were located. They began systematically clearing buildings and shooting the enemy. The entire affair was organized chaos.
Captain Dean Baker, was the first Ranger to exit the C17 when they jumped. He was the A Company Commander, a 31-year old graduate of West Point Military Academy. He grew up in suburban Detroit, but somehow avoided the stereotype of living the life of an economically depressed African American. He focused on his school work and played both football and basketball for his High School. He graduated from the top of his class and had two varsity letters upon graduation. It was an easy appointment for US Senator Carl Levin (D) Michigan. He knew choosing a black candidate with an excellent academic record would help him as the senior senator from his home state. Today, the retired Senator was probably at home somewhere in Detroit or making his way towards Chicago or St. Louis to avoid being swept up by the advancing Soviets. The retired 84-year old Senator was aware of the Arleigh Burke-Class destroyer named for him and wondered what the fate of the ship was. Captain Baker also graduated near the top of his class with a degree in Engineering.
Unfortunately for Captain Baker, he neglected to hook up to the static line on the starboard side of the aircraft. He never saw the C17 take hits from the Soviet built Air Defense Artillery system. He stepped out into darkness awaiting the impact of his chute opening. He counted the obligatory four seconds, but nothing happened. Due to the thousand-meter distance, Captain Baker’s body struck the tarmac below at terminal velocity, 129 miles per hour killing him instantly.
Unaware of his commander’s fate, 1LT Armando Lopez lead the assault force through the buildings commandeered by the East German Stasi. Obviously, he did not jump with the Rangers, but made his way onto the base with his security squad to mark the Drop Zone, taking precaution not to be detected.
“Darby zero six, this is Darby zero five,” Lieutenant Lopez spoke into the radio.
“Darby zero five, this is Darby zero six Lima. Be advised Zero six actual is dead, over.” Private First Class Wayne Pipps of Germantown, TN responded to the Company Executive Officer.
The report from the company commander’s RTO was deadpan, without emotion. The reality of it struck him hard. Dean is dead! No! That can’t be. He was such an intelligent man. He had such a promising future. The thoughts infuriated the Mexican American Infantry officer. Dean Baker was one of his closest friends. He wondered how many people they lost when the Globemaster burned in or from this raid. As the shooting dwindled down, he then put it together, he was the company commander and needed a situation report from his platoon leaders. He got on the radio tuned to the company’s frequency. “All stations this net, all stations this net. This is Darby zero five. Zero six is KIA and I am assuming command. I am now Darby zero six. All stations acknowledge, over.” The company first sergeant, communications NCO, each of the platoon leaders and the light weight company mortars as well as the attached personnel, the sapper squad all responded with a roger that acknowledging that First Lieutenant Lopez was now the A Company Commander, Third Ranger Battalion at Burlington International Airport in Vermont, a state currently occupied by the Union of Soviet Socialists Republic.
Once the acknowledgements were over, the company commander asked for a SITREP from each platoon and section. After receiving the message traffic from everyone, he wrote down notes on what he heard and realized the status of his company. First platoon, employing the RSOVs numbered 42 soldiers, taking no losses during the insertion at Jaycee Park. Second platoon was the main effort to clear the buildings on the north side of the airfield took eight casualties during the raid with two WIA. Their effective strength now numbered 32 soldiers. The third platoon, responsible for clearing the buildings on the south side of the airfield sustained seventeen KIAs and three WIA also numbering 22 survivors to complete additional operations. Their losses included soldiers that could not get out of the transport aircraft. The sapper squad reported eight personnel with zero losses. The LWCM section reported six personnel with no losses. The Anti-Tank section reported ten personnel with no losses and the headquarters personnel lost the company commander and the Operations NCO, SFC Gilberto Alverez. The company first sergeant, Robert Marsh sprained his right ankle on the jump, but was otherwise fine. The company, which numbered 160 prior to the operation had 125 soldiers ready to continue, six wounded and 29 KIA. Ammunition was still in decent shape with cross loading and the soldiers were able to top off their canteens from a local source.
Lieutenant Lopez called up his two RTOs, PFC Pipps and Specialist Philip Gaither of Palo Alto, California. “Specialist Gaither, I want to talk to Battalion headquarters, at Concord, NH.” The 20-year-old pulled out the Satellite Communications equipment which was a hardened cellular telephone. He dialed up the Tactical Operations Center and handed it to his new Company Commander.
The conversation with the battalion commander was encoded not requiring seven second transmissions or any other communications security measures. “Colonel Eddings, this is Lieutenant Lopez at Burlington. I have a SITREP for you, sir.”
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel David Eddings responded to the Alpha Company Commander.
“We have secured Objective ALLEN and consolidated our personnel. Captain Baker is KIA and we have lost a total of 29 Rangers during this operation. We have 125 soldiers fit for duty. We destroyed all OPFOR combat aircraft on this objective, a total of 42 fighter aircraft and eight attack helicopters. We have crippled the enemy’s combat effectiveness in this region. We will initiate Operation Wolverine on your command, sir.”
“I am very sorry to hear about Dean. I know you were close to him, Armando. HE was a good man. He should have outlived all of us. Take care of your dead and begin Operation Wolverine as soon as possible. I’ll see you when I see you, Lieutenant.”
“Roger that, sir. Good luck to you as well.” Lieutenant Lopez handed the SATCOM phone back to the specialist and ordered his company to begin Operation Wolverine. For the 125 Rangers of the Third Battalion, they would split up into squad formations and melt into the Vermont countryside. They would seek out The Green Mountain Boys, the local militia and become members of their unit working with the 10th Special Forces soldiers leading them. The largest item several soldiers had a difficult time parting with were the Ranger Special Operations Vehicles which mounted both a .50 caliber machine gun and an M240 machine gun. Before the sun would rise above the Green Mountains and shine down on Burlington, VT, the 125 Rangers would be in civilian clothing blending in with the locals of Northern Vermont.
The radio transmission went over the net to the 10th Special Forces soldiers working in the Burlington, VT area.
"Ben, Preston, think you can set up and put eyes on the Russians and put some rounds on them?" Danny asked the brothers as he neared them.
Master Sergeant Morse added his two cents, “wonderful idea. Let’s get the fuck over to them woods before this thing blows up. I suggest you all double time. We need to get the fuck out of this AO as soon as God Damn possible.”
The southern squad ran to the power transfer station near the highway. Unbeknownst to Danny’s cell, Pete Couture’s boys rigged C4 to blow up the transformers corralled in the fenced in area.
When the Giguere brothers reached the woodline, they could not see the firefight going on near the Longhorn Steakhouse at Maple and St. George. “No Line of Sight!” They ran into the woods and found the terrain gently rising. When the reached the top of a slight hill; an elevation of only twenty meters, they could see the burning trucks and tracers flying back and forth between the militia cell and the dismounted Soviet soldiers.
“This is good, we have line of sight. Range is closer to three hundred yards,” Ben shouted to Preston and those who could hear him.
“No problem, Ben. Shimmy up these trees for a better view,” Preston announced. The two hunters slung their rifles around their necks and hustled up a pair of pine trees. After a two-minute climb they found themselves another ten meters up. They had a very fine clear line of sight, nestling their rifles in tree branches to help steady them. Using a tree branch was a trick their father taught them when they were boys. It was much better than using your own hands and arms. Nerves could wreck an easy shot.
The Giguere brothers, from their lofty perches took aim on the Russian soldiers fighting with the militia cell led by Ray Gagne of Essex, VT. The brothers began slowly engaging targets as they appeared. The Mark 14 was an outstanding platform for engaging distant targets like this. They had no problem hitting the Russians armed with their AK-12s. The shots were slow and methodical, like taking down a buck at three hundred yards. Only these targets didn’t jump into the brush every time one was struck. The Soviets had no idea two snipers were picking them off at range when they had immediate targets fifty to a hundred yards in front of them. For the Giguere brothers, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Burlington International Airport
The Rangers had gathered on their respective assembly areas on the tarmac and began moving out as squads and platoons towards their objectives. The rapidly moving Ranger Special Operations Vehicles, looking like well-armed dune buggies quickly took up positions at the corners of the airfield as well as the roadways leading in. Their job was to prevent anyone from reinforcing or relieving the East Germans stationed there.
A small group of sappers with prepared blocks of explosives and hand grenades ran along the rows of neatly parked MiG-31s, Su-27s and Mi-24 helicopters. While the combat engineers destroyed fighters, another platoon of rangers headed towards the buildings on the north side of the runways where the East German Stasi and air crews were located. They began systematically clearing buildings and shooting the enemy. The entire affair was organized chaos.
Captain Dean Baker, was the first Ranger to exit the C17 when they jumped. He was the A Company Commander, a 31-year old graduate of West Point Military Academy. He grew up in suburban Detroit, but somehow avoided the stereotype of living the life of an economically depressed African American. He focused on his school work and played both football and basketball for his High School. He graduated from the top of his class and had two varsity letters upon graduation. It was an easy appointment for US Senator Carl Levin (D) Michigan. He knew choosing a black candidate with an excellent academic record would help him as the senior senator from his home state. Today, the retired Senator was probably at home somewhere in Detroit or making his way towards Chicago or St. Louis to avoid being swept up by the advancing Soviets. The retired 84-year old Senator was aware of the Arleigh Burke-Class destroyer named for him and wondered what the fate of the ship was. Captain Baker also graduated near the top of his class with a degree in Engineering.
Unfortunately for Captain Baker, he neglected to hook up to the static line on the starboard side of the aircraft. He never saw the C17 take hits from the Soviet built Air Defense Artillery system. He stepped out into darkness awaiting the impact of his chute opening. He counted the obligatory four seconds, but nothing happened. Due to the thousand-meter distance, Captain Baker’s body struck the tarmac below at terminal velocity, 129 miles per hour killing him instantly.
Unaware of his commander’s fate, 1LT Armando Lopez lead the assault force through the buildings commandeered by the East German Stasi. Obviously, he did not jump with the Rangers, but made his way onto the base with his security squad to mark the Drop Zone, taking precaution not to be detected.
“Darby zero six, this is Darby zero five,” Lieutenant Lopez spoke into the radio.
“Darby zero five, this is Darby zero six Lima. Be advised Zero six actual is dead, over.” Private First Class Wayne Pipps of Germantown, TN responded to the Company Executive Officer.
The report from the company commander’s RTO was deadpan, without emotion. The reality of it struck him hard. Dean is dead! No! That can’t be. He was such an intelligent man. He had such a promising future. The thoughts infuriated the Mexican American Infantry officer. Dean Baker was one of his closest friends. He wondered how many people they lost when the Globemaster burned in or from this raid. As the shooting dwindled down, he then put it together, he was the company commander and needed a situation report from his platoon leaders. He got on the radio tuned to the company’s frequency. “All stations this net, all stations this net. This is Darby zero five. Zero six is KIA and I am assuming command. I am now Darby zero six. All stations acknowledge, over.” The company first sergeant, communications NCO, each of the platoon leaders and the light weight company mortars as well as the attached personnel, the sapper squad all responded with a roger that acknowledging that First Lieutenant Lopez was now the A Company Commander, Third Ranger Battalion at Burlington International Airport in Vermont, a state currently occupied by the Union of Soviet Socialists Republic.
Once the acknowledgements were over, the company commander asked for a SITREP from each platoon and section. After receiving the message traffic from everyone, he wrote down notes on what he heard and realized the status of his company. First platoon, employing the RSOVs numbered 42 soldiers, taking no losses during the insertion at Jaycee Park. Second platoon was the main effort to clear the buildings on the north side of the airfield took eight casualties during the raid with two WIA. Their effective strength now numbered 32 soldiers. The third platoon, responsible for clearing the buildings on the south side of the airfield sustained seventeen KIAs and three WIA also numbering 22 survivors to complete additional operations. Their losses included soldiers that could not get out of the transport aircraft. The sapper squad reported eight personnel with zero losses. The LWCM section reported six personnel with no losses. The Anti-Tank section reported ten personnel with no losses and the headquarters personnel lost the company commander and the Operations NCO, SFC Gilberto Alverez. The company first sergeant, Robert Marsh sprained his right ankle on the jump, but was otherwise fine. The company, which numbered 160 prior to the operation had 125 soldiers ready to continue, six wounded and 29 KIA. Ammunition was still in decent shape with cross loading and the soldiers were able to top off their canteens from a local source.
Lieutenant Lopez called up his two RTOs, PFC Pipps and Specialist Philip Gaither of Palo Alto, California. “Specialist Gaither, I want to talk to Battalion headquarters, at Concord, NH.” The 20-year-old pulled out the Satellite Communications equipment which was a hardened cellular telephone. He dialed up the Tactical Operations Center and handed it to his new Company Commander.
The conversation with the battalion commander was encoded not requiring seven second transmissions or any other communications security measures. “Colonel Eddings, this is Lieutenant Lopez at Burlington. I have a SITREP for you, sir.”
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel David Eddings responded to the Alpha Company Commander.
“We have secured Objective ALLEN and consolidated our personnel. Captain Baker is KIA and we have lost a total of 29 Rangers during this operation. We have 125 soldiers fit for duty. We destroyed all OPFOR combat aircraft on this objective, a total of 42 fighter aircraft and eight attack helicopters. We have crippled the enemy’s combat effectiveness in this region. We will initiate Operation Wolverine on your command, sir.”
“I am very sorry to hear about Dean. I know you were close to him, Armando. HE was a good man. He should have outlived all of us. Take care of your dead and begin Operation Wolverine as soon as possible. I’ll see you when I see you, Lieutenant.”
“Roger that, sir. Good luck to you as well.” Lieutenant Lopez handed the SATCOM phone back to the specialist and ordered his company to begin Operation Wolverine. For the 125 Rangers of the Third Battalion, they would split up into squad formations and melt into the Vermont countryside. They would seek out The Green Mountain Boys, the local militia and become members of their unit working with the 10th Special Forces soldiers leading them. The largest item several soldiers had a difficult time parting with were the Ranger Special Operations Vehicles which mounted both a .50 caliber machine gun and an M240 machine gun. Before the sun would rise above the Green Mountains and shine down on Burlington, VT, the 125 Rangers would be in civilian clothing blending in with the locals of Northern Vermont.
“Commence Operation Wolverine!”
The radio transmission went over the net to the 10th Special Forces soldiers working in the Burlington, VT area.
My hair is dark brown. When I was an infant/toddler, it was a brownish red color. It slowly darkened through my youth so that by the time I was of HS age, it was dark brown. Today, there are wisps of gray in my temples. When I grow a beard, it is dominated by gray hair, with black and brown hair mixed in.
In terms of the Special Forces soldiers, this is what happened with the militia "Platoon" our team is part of. One militia cell conducted an ambush to the north at the Long Horn Steak House at the corner of St. George and Maple Tree Pl. The third cell conducted a similar ambush to the south based on the Sunoco Gas Station and DD. Their purpose was to isolate the raid our cell is conducting at Williston VSP barracks. Their intent was to prevent the Soviets and East Germans from reinforcing or relieving anyone at the VSP barracks. The cell to the north destroyed one truck in its kill zone and stopped a second carrying a squad of Soviet infantry which they are now in a fire fight with. The southern cell destroyed a VSP cruiser after the AMerican police man left his motor vehicle. You can see the arc of the doomed C17 as it flew over the area and crashed into the parking lot blowing up at the Walmart across the street. I hope this gets us all on the same sheet of music.
The Giguere brothers are in the back of hte VSP barracks, waiting for the rest. They will head to the woods to the East of their objective. Maybe link up with the other two cells when we all try to get away from the Russians at the Long Horn Steak House.
The Burlington Raid is detailed in this post.
Eighty-nine people made it out of the doomed aircraft alive as the C-17 rolled to the right and dropped nose first toward the ground. The over-sized transport took seventeen lives with her as it struck the Walmart off Harvest Lane. The bulk of the aircraft continued to slide along the pavement of the parking lot following the impact into the adjacent Home Depot less than a thousand feet from where Joe Sullivan, Danny Douglas and the others from their cell were just starting their raid on the Williston State Police Station. A large mushroom cloud shaped fireball erupted into the morning darkness casting a wave of heat to spread over anyone out of doors in the Route 2A/I-89 area.
@Xandrya Walmart might be an interesting place to have your character hiding. Read this passage I wrote last year...
In the morning, just around sunrise, the crashing C17 slid through the Walmart parking lot and hit the building itself. It would have shaken the structure significantly. A large plume of fire and smoke mushroomed up over the crash site. None of the crew survived the impact.
...When the lumbering Transport Aircraft dropped below the clouds, he knew something was there, but couldn’t tell what it was. Tracers again arced up into the sky. He could hear the chopping sound of several rotary wing aircraft to the west a bit. The transport aircraft then burst into fire along one of the wings. It appeared as though something was dropping from the aircraft but he could not tell what it was immediately. Then he recognized the sight of several parachutes dropping toward the ground. He witnessed the C17 roll to the west, lost altitude and strike the Walmart. He didn’t know where it landed. He assumed it was near exit 12, about a mile and a half from where he stood. He did however see the very loud mushroom cloud of brilliant orange erupt into the darkened sky. It lit up the entire area, illuminating the CH-47s lifting up and away from the park, where they had landed.
In the morning, just around sunrise, the crashing C17 slid through the Walmart parking lot and hit the building itself. It would have shaken the structure significantly. A large plume of fire and smoke mushroomed up over the crash site. None of the crew survived the impact.
@Gunther Haha. My mom has somewhat given up hope of getting any grandchildren from me. And I think I'm glad. I don't want kids and I'm not very good at being a boyfriend, forget how terrible of a husband I would be. I also don't think I'd be a good father. I'm very irresponsible and lazy. I'd be a fun uncle though. So it's up to my sister.
If I ever do find someone maybe I'd knock them up once. If they wanted.
Is it a matter of maturity? If so, you can always wait. I was 39 when I got married. Maturity was my excuse.
Happy Birthday to me. Home alone in bed. All my friends are unavailable and my best friend bailed on me to go get my first tattoo today. So I'm just sitting in a tin can. Far, far away...
Hope you guys are having a better day than I am. I'll be posting within the hour.
Happy birthday, Raptor. I'm 8 days behind you.
EDIT:
"Are you getting enough sleep? When am I going to get grandchildren?"
I remember once about 30 years ago, my mom made a similar statement to me; well, the second question. I looked at her flushed and asked, "which do you want first, a daughter in law or the grandchildren?" My sisters both married before me, by at least 10 years. They also got divorced, but that's beside the point.
Someone yelled, Fire in the Hole! Gigger knew that meant explosives had been set and it was time to leave. HE grabbed his brother and the two headed back out the same door he had just come in. He knew there was a firefight going on out there and tried to be as careful as possible. So far none of the Soviets had made it around to the back of the building yet. Someone yelled for the other team to get the hell out or maybe they heard the Fire in the hole call go out. They weren’t there any longer; except the one man who wouldn’t be going anywhere anymore; slumped halfway across the entrance to the Williston barracks.
The sun was casting rays across the Burlington area. The sound of the burning police car was crackling from the street. Other Vermont militiamen were moving about trying to get a peek the enemy dying on the street. Gigger wondered what was going on at the airport. There was sporadic gunfire now. Most of the intense gunfire had quieted down. [i]Who controlled the airfield now?[i] Preston Giguere thought to himself. He and Ben ran to the bushes away from St. George’s Road and away from the building. He and his brother would cover the withdrawal of the rest of the team as they moved.
There were militiamen like him all over the place now. He didn’t want to shoot one of them and he wasn’t sure what the bad guys looked like. They may have had different uniforms. He was scared and this was crazy. How the hell did I get myself into this shit? Preston thought to himself.
“Better off dead than telling his friends what we look like,” Master Sergeant Tyus Morse told Danny after he killed the Stasi officer. He turned to leave and said, “fuck the Geneva Convention,” in hushed tones. Well today, anyway. The Sergeant moved with Danny getting their asses out of the building. He chased after the Giguere brothers; about a minute behind them. He could see where they were hiding as soon as he came out and took up a position with them, aiming his rifle in the direction of where the ambush had happened. Now it was a firefight between the survivors.
“We need to get out of here, most riki-tik,” Sergeant Morse muttered. Softly he spoke under his breath, “blow the building Danny. Let’s get out of here.”
The sun was casting rays across the Burlington area. The sound of the burning police car was crackling from the street. Other Vermont militiamen were moving about trying to get a peek the enemy dying on the street. Gigger wondered what was going on at the airport. There was sporadic gunfire now. Most of the intense gunfire had quieted down. [i]Who controlled the airfield now?[i] Preston Giguere thought to himself. He and Ben ran to the bushes away from St. George’s Road and away from the building. He and his brother would cover the withdrawal of the rest of the team as they moved.
There were militiamen like him all over the place now. He didn’t want to shoot one of them and he wasn’t sure what the bad guys looked like. They may have had different uniforms. He was scared and this was crazy. How the hell did I get myself into this shit? Preston thought to himself.
“Better off dead than telling his friends what we look like,” Master Sergeant Tyus Morse told Danny after he killed the Stasi officer. He turned to leave and said, “fuck the Geneva Convention,” in hushed tones. Well today, anyway. The Sergeant moved with Danny getting their asses out of the building. He chased after the Giguere brothers; about a minute behind them. He could see where they were hiding as soon as he came out and took up a position with them, aiming his rifle in the direction of where the ambush had happened. Now it was a firefight between the survivors.
“We need to get out of here, most riki-tik,” Sergeant Morse muttered. Softly he spoke under his breath, “blow the building Danny. Let’s get out of here.”
...As a sophomore last year I mentioned an interest in joining the military and they just about died :/ I tried to explain that if I join JROTC this upcoming semester, it doesn't mean I'm obligated to join the military, but it will certainly help with skill building, leadership, and also break me out of this shell I've been in forever.
I mean, I might be petite and weigh like 100lbs wet, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the first one to want to join the military!
Your size as a sophomore is irrelevant. You are not done growing. I was 19 or 20 when I finished growing; picked up 3/4" between 18 and 20.
I am of the opinion young people should go on some sort of quest and mission to find themselves. Who and what they really are going on into maturity. Something rife with trial and tremendous challenge which they must confront and overcome.
I would agree with that completely.
I have had three or four very trying moments in my life that were rife with trial and a challenge.
1st. Basic Training, age 18
2nd. Officer Candidate School, age 23
3rd. The birth of my oldest child, age 40 (This one was mental/emotionally challenging)
4th. The black belt testing process, age 52
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