My 14-year old daughter flew a real airplane today. I am so jealous. She joined a Venturing Crew (BSA) that is all girls. They went to summer camp this week and went for a flying lesson.
Gunther Member
Captain, Infantry (Retired)
STATUS: The dot over a lowercase i and j has a name! It's called a tittle, which is a noun meaning "a tiny amount or part of something". Like the dot over an i or a j. 1 yr ago
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The dot over a lowercase i and j has a name! It's called a tittle, which is a noun meaning "a tiny amount or part of something". Like the dot over an i or a j.
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2 yrs ago
Cows don't leave the slaughterhouse, steaks do.
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3 yrs ago
Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless, like water Put water into a cup, becomes the cup Put water into a teapot, becomes the teapot Water can flow or drip or crash Be water, my friend --Bruce Lee
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3 yrs ago
The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.
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3 yrs ago
Mr. Clark, your daughter is a very good kisser.
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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 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 for over 48 years. I do prefer Military Role Plays over all other genres, primarily because I have a vast knowledge on the subject to include personal experiences. At the very least, my characters are always veterans.
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 34+ years, but only got into forum-based Role Playing about fourteen 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 (Edition 1 & 2). Later editions came out after I quit that game. 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. I love doing this form of role play, especially since I have a solid foundation on the past.
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 three years ago. :(]
In July, 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.
Send me a PM for a Role Play.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 34+ years, but only got into forum-based Role Playing about fourteen 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 (Edition 1 & 2). Later editions came out after I quit that game. 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. I love doing this form of role play, especially since I have a solid foundation on the past.
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 three years ago. :(]
In July, 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.
Send me a PM for a Role Play.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
Most Recent Posts
I rarely remember my dreams. About two and a half years ago, I dreamt about a daughter my wife miscarried. She told me her name was Kadence. I instantly knew it was a daughter and not one of the three who are alive.
Hello Eme! I read your original post. What was it? 7 months ago? Maybe you’ve been updating?
Most of your requirements are cool with me. I am a big time Harry Potter fan, it is the only book series I read more than once. Instead of HP, I had some ideas about Percy Jackson or Firefly that I would be willing to try. Actually, it isn’t Percey Jackson, but an RP based on Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey. I guess Percy Jackson and ACO both have Ancient Greece in common. There is the parallel. We could either take on the roles of Alexios and/or Kassandra or maybe original characters set in that universe. We can chase down the Cult of Kaos members while skirting around the Peloponnesian War waging around us between the Spartans and Athenians. Maybe bump into Medusa, the Minotaur or the Cyclops.
If you are not up to a bit of Ancient Greek History, there is always Firefly. The book I am writing is set in a similar time frame as Firefly, but with a very different setting. Firefly was very dark and gritty which works for me. My book's setting allows that earth will continue to grow and succeed in an ever expanding universe; it is more positive. I actually saw the movie, Serenity, just recently. I never saw the TV show and wished I had. I loved the movie. When the show was on TV, I was working for a railroad averaging 72 hours a week and didn’t have time for TV. Even a story like Firefly could progress in a similar manner as Odysseus’ Odyssey in Homer’s tragedy if we write a sufficient amount of obstacles. We may even be able to borrow some of the mythical creatures from Homer's Odyssey and apply them to a 26th century setting.
EDIT: Keep your cookies. ;)
Most of your requirements are cool with me. I am a big time Harry Potter fan, it is the only book series I read more than once. Instead of HP, I had some ideas about Percy Jackson or Firefly that I would be willing to try. Actually, it isn’t Percey Jackson, but an RP based on Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey. I guess Percy Jackson and ACO both have Ancient Greece in common. There is the parallel. We could either take on the roles of Alexios and/or Kassandra or maybe original characters set in that universe. We can chase down the Cult of Kaos members while skirting around the Peloponnesian War waging around us between the Spartans and Athenians. Maybe bump into Medusa, the Minotaur or the Cyclops.
If you are not up to a bit of Ancient Greek History, there is always Firefly. The book I am writing is set in a similar time frame as Firefly, but with a very different setting. Firefly was very dark and gritty which works for me. My book's setting allows that earth will continue to grow and succeed in an ever expanding universe; it is more positive. I actually saw the movie, Serenity, just recently. I never saw the TV show and wished I had. I loved the movie. When the show was on TV, I was working for a railroad averaging 72 hours a week and didn’t have time for TV. Even a story like Firefly could progress in a similar manner as Odysseus’ Odyssey in Homer’s tragedy if we write a sufficient amount of obstacles. We may even be able to borrow some of the mythical creatures from Homer's Odyssey and apply them to a 26th century setting.
EDIT: Keep your cookies. ;)
@The Harbinger of Ferocity I would agree with your statement.
That was HeySeuss' affair. I only brought an Airborne Ranger battalion to the party.
I've kept the same avatar as long as I've been here or at least since this new server came up years ago; post crash.
I've kept the same avatar as long as I've been here or at least since this new server came up years ago; post crash.
I've been bit hard enough to leave a bruise for over two weeks, but I've never been in a fist fight.
I've been bit hard enough to bleed and require stitches. I've also been in numerous fist fights, but these were controlled events with sparring gear and calm demeanors on both fighters. These were not emotionally charged affairs. I recall one night in 2017 when I fought 15 different people in two hours. Exhausting!
Xandrya! You changed your avatar! I hardly recognize you.
I used to play with ants as a child.
I used to kill ants as a child; sitting on the sidewalk squishing them with my finger.
I am a fan of the New England Patriots. But I live 7 miles from their home stadium. I was a fan of the Pats when they were one of the worst teams in the NFL. I can appreciate their winning era more simply because I endured the pain of them losing all the time. Fans born in the late 20th century cannot appreciate this completely. When the Patriots lose B&B, they may start losing games again and these sunshine fans will fall away.
>TWO WEEKS EARLIER
>STEWART RESIDENCE
>BRAINTREE, MASSACHUSETTS
Tom pulled his 2018 maroon Toyota Sequoia into the driveway on John Paul Circle. The driveway for the Stewart residence was slightly longer than the other homes on the street. The house was slightly obscured by a line of trees along the road. Tom appreciated his privacy. John Paul Circle could be considered an affluent neighborhood. He parked the large SUV in the garage and went into the house. As he entered the garage, he observed Jill’s 2019 mediterranean blue metallic BMW 3-series sedan. It was a beautiful car and came with all the bells and whistles one might expect from German engineering. With both Jill and Tom in high paying occupations, they could more than afford the house and the two cars.
When Tom walked into the kitchen, Jill had a broad grin stretched across her face that appeared as though it almost hurt. It was one of the widest and brightest smiles he’d seen on her in quite some time. Tom stopped to appreciate her appearance. He thought she was beautiful and told her often enough. “What?” Tom asked his smiling wife. “What’s going on?”
“Take a seat Tom,” Jill said as she reached for a beer in the fridge. She poured a cold Sam Adams winter lager in a glass and handed it to her husband. Tom preferred Sam Adams winter lager over the summer ale and always kept more than a case in the basement refrigerator. Tom appreciatively took the glass and sipped it after taking a seat. The kitchen had a peninsula separating the kitchen from the dining room. On the dining room side, there were three stools. Tom had taken one of these dark oaken stools with padded seating to listen to his wife’s news. She then turned her smile back onto her husband. “I went to the doctor’s this morning.”
“Oh?” Tom figured this was something good otherwise, why was she smiling? In fact, her face was contagious. He couldn’t help but smile along with her.
“I’m pregnant!” She popped it on him like there was nothing else to know in the world.
It took him several seconds to register. Tom heard the news and was very excited. “Really!” Tom exclaimed. “This is great news! We must celebrate. Let’s call our parents and tell them. Call your sister.”
“Tom, calm down,” Jill hushed her husband. “Let’s not jump into anything rash yet. I know you are excited and want to shout to the world that you are going to have a baby but it is still early. There are all sorts of things that could happen. Let’s wait until after week 16 when I have the ultrasound. I am only nine weeks pregnant. Next month, I want you to come to the ultrasound appointment. You can see your baby on the screen. Do you want to know the gender?”
“Yes, I do!” Tom was jumping for joy. He had the same smile plastered across his face. Then it hit him, “I’m going to be a father. I hope I will be a good father.” Every new dad wonders if they will treat their children right. They remember the things their own parents did and swear not to repeat their mistakes.
Jill pulled herself in close to Tom and hugged his head. She pulled his head into her chest and kissed him on top of his head. “You will be the best daddy in the whole world, Tom.” Jill was very happy. Tom hugged his wife, then looked up and kissed her.
“Ray, you got time?” Tom asked his boss.
“Sure Tom, come on in,” Ray told Agent Stewart. “what’s on your mind?”
“First, you have to keep this under your hat. Jill is pregnant.”
“Congratulations!” Ray exclaimed then added, “but why do I have to keep this a secret?”
“Jill wants to keep it a secret until after the ultrasound. She is afraid there may be complications. But she’s healthy and there is no reason for anything to go wrong, right?’
“Well, Jill is right. The prudent move would be to keep it to yourself for now,” the 48-year old FBI supervising special agent told his subordinate. “You know I have three children, right.”
“Sure, I’ve seen your son, James play ball for Boston Latin. He’s a great first baseman.”
“Jill is only trying to save herself from heartache. She knows there is a possibility of losing the baby. Yes, I have three children including an outstanding first baseman, but Pam has also had four miscarriages.” Ray mentioned his wife, Pam, whom the couple recently celebrated their 21st wedding anniversary. “In fact, she was pregnant twice before James was born. We got pregnant in 2000 and again in 2001 before James was born in 2002. The first pregnancy went 15 weeks and the second pregnancy went to week 26 before they were terminated. You never know what might happen.”
The blast of reality slapped Tom like a cross to the jaw. “You really know how to sour the mood there, boss.”
“Sorry to tell you this, but better you know the risk now than to be disappointed when it happens. Hopefully you will have no problem. Most people have their first child with no problems. But seriously, I am happy for you Tom. Congratulations.”
“Also, wanted to remind you, I am going to Annual Training next week. We’re going to West Virginia; training in the Kanawha State Forest. A company of Army Special Forces is going to play OPFOR for us. I don’t know if it is such a great idea putting marines against army doggies.”
“Oh you’ll be alright,” Ray assured him. “You know I was in the 3rd Armor Division in Germany and Iraq 30 years ago. Those green beanies aren’t so special, but I have nothing but respect for Jarheads. They are all grunts.”
“Weren’t you a tanker, Ray?”
“Well, that is true. I was a gunner on an M1 Abrams during the Desert Storm.
“Thanks for the advice, Ray. I’m going to head up to Salem to follow up some leads on that Varma case.”
“Ok, Tom. Good luck,” Ray was ready to dismiss Agent Stewart. “One minute. Why don’t you take Teri Kravets with you. She needs more field experience.” Ray wanted Tom to help break in an agent who had only arrived from Quantico about two months ago.
“Sure sure, will do. See you, Ray.”
>ONE WEEK LATER
>DEVENS TRAINING AREA, MASSACHUSETTS
“Morning Reg,” Tom addressed the battalion intelligence officer as they both walked into the marine reserve center.
“Morning, Tom. What’s new with the Feds these days?” Captain Washington asked.
“Not much…or the same old thing. Always seem to be picking up cold case files from your CPAC. I was chasing down one in Salem this week.”
“Yea, I’m sure there are a lot of those.” Reg Washington noticed Tom carrying a garment bag. “What’s with the suit, Tom? You planning to do some work out in West Virginia? Play G-man?”
“Yea, I’ve gotten myself involved with an FBI group that sends me jobs to take care of; things that others either don’t want to do or can’t. I work with a group of agents. I never know when they are going to call. I need to be prepared.” Tom never knew when he would be called for an assignment with the UMBRA Group. He figured Reginald Washington didn’t need to know what UMBRA group was and didn’t feel the need to go into detail about what they did. Tom carried a a navy blue duffle with the letters FBI, packed with his tactical equipment as well as a few other sundries in case Donnelley called him in. He also packed a suit and tie in case he needed to play the role of an FBI agent. He was quite burdened during the walk into the reserve center carrying work related gear as well as his Marine corps utility uniforms and field gear. In one of his duffel bags, he squirreled away a new box of Cuban Cigars and four bottles of Jameson Whiskey.
The Headquarters and Services Company and Weapons Company, 1st Battalion, 25th Marines assembled at the reserve center at Devens then loaded onto buses. The remainder of the battalion was spread across New England and New York. A Company was based in Brunswick, Maine and were doing the same thing there. B Company assembled in Londonderry, New Hampshire and C Company assembled in Buffalo, New York. The five marine units then moved by bus to various civilian or military airfields boarding C-130 cargo aircraft from various state national guard air forces which would then transport the 750 members of the battalion to Yeager Airport near Charleston, West Virginia. A total of ten Air Force C-130s would be employed in the movement of one-two-five marine infantry battalion.
During the flight, Tom tried to catch some sleep. When he couldn’t sleep, he looked at photographs of his wife, thinking about their unborn child and read a book written by Ted Koppel titled, “Lights Out”, about what would happen to the US if a hostile enemy attempted to crash the electrical grid that all Americans take for granted. This could be accomplished either by explosives and a terrorist organization or two strategically placed electro-magnetic pulse (EMP) bombs detonated a hundred miles above the country. Ted Koppel did extensive research on the subject with professionals who work in public utilities and understand the distribution of electricity across the country as well as public policy makers. It was a scary read. According to the book, if the lights went out, ninety percent of the population would be dead from disease, famine or societal chaos within one year. No, it would not send the nation back to the 19th century, but the 14th century, one of the worst centuries on the planet.
Courtesy: Miriam Giovanelli
Upon arrival at Yeager Airport, the marines marched out into darkness to a “tent city” hastily assembled along the east edge of the airfield. Their home for the next three weeks was known as tent city and consisted of General Purpose (GP) medium tents with two rows of 15 cots in each to give the marines a place to store their equipment and get some sleep. A GP large tent had been erected to serve as a shower facility for them as well as a hard stand dining facility. The shower facility used wooden pallets as flooring. A special unit was on hand to set up the showers and kept water pumping into the shower heads to be used by the marines when needed. However, the men would not be at the facility, for most of their time in West Virginia would be spent in the woods of the State Forest.
After a few safety briefings and operations briefings at each level, the battalion was ready to deploy. They had been issued a basic load of blank ammunition and a set of MILES gear (Multiple Integrated Laser Engagement System) which would allow the BLUFOR and OPFOR members to know who was taking hits during firefights. Members of the West Virginia Army National Guard would serve as Observer/Controllers during the exercise. The battalion would conduct an air assault insertion into Objective SAIPAN in the Kanawha State Forest. Members of C Company, First Battalion, 19th Special Forces Group were portraying the role of Taliban or ISIS soldiers wearing the clothing Taliban soldiers wear in Afghanistan and armed with Kalashnikovs rather than M4s or FN SCARs.
“Good morning, Tom,” Lieutenant Colonel Norm Miller was awake when the Battalion Operations Officer (S3) emerged from his tent. The Battalion Commander (BC) was holding a mug filled with black coffee.
“You have another one of those, sir?” Major Stewart referred to the cup of hot steaming brown liquid or lifer juice.
“Chow hall right over there, Tom,” Colonel Miller pointed the place out.
“Wonderful, I’m getting a cup now. Need anything else sir?”
“No, just come back and see me after.” Miller wanted to talk with the S3 about the upcoming operations.
“Aye, aye, sir!” Major Stewart then walked into the dining facility to retrieve a cup of coffee, black, hot and bitter; just the way he liked it.
Major Stewart, Captain Washington, Major Srinivas and Colonel Miller sat at a table in their operations room. Major Vijay Srinivas, a large New Yorker of Indian descent served as the battalion’s executive officer or second in command. Captain Alejandro “Alex” Jimenez, who served as the Assistant Operations Officer (S3 Air), entered the room and took a seat near Major Stewart. Captain Jimenez grew up in Holyoke, Massachusetts, a city dominated by both Puerto Rican and Irish immigrants.
“What are we getting for air support?” The BC asked.
Major Stewart began, “We will be supported by VMM-744, a Medium Tiltrotor Squadron out of Chambers Field in Virginia. They are equipped with V-22 Ospreys. They will have enough aircraft to move the entire battalion into the AO in three sorties. Captain Jimenez conducted the air assault planning. Would you like him to go over it now, sir?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure it is highly detailed,” the battalion commander responded. “Any attack aircraft or helicopters?”
“No sir,” Major Stewart answered.
“What about or Opposition Force?” The Battalion Commander asked the intelligence officer.
“C Company, 1st Battalion, 19th Special Forces Group will provide our OPFOR, sir.” Greg Washington was aware the BC knew the SF Company would be the opfor but for him to say it today meant the coordination was complete and the Green Berets were ready to roleplay as middle eastern Islamic warriors. A few may have worn the traditional black muslim attire as worn by members of the Islamic State of Iraq and Levant.
“What is their strength?”
Captain Washington researched the Special Forces modified table of organization and equipment (MTOE) in order to answer this question. “The company has eighty-three soldiers including six 12-man Operational Detachment Alphas and one 11-man Operational Detachment Bravo. Undoubtedly, they will operate in seven teams in a decentralized manner. They will be armed with AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifles, Rocket Propelled Grenades and Dragunov, SVD-63 sniper rifles. I anticipate they will make good use of their snipers. Each team has at least two snipers working in two-man teams. Expect them to conduct hit and run operations.”
“Yes, Captain Washington. Thank you.” The Battalion commander looked at the XO, “Major Srinivas, what about logistic support?”
“Did you sleep well, sir?” Major Srinivas asked.
“I did, Vijay. Thank you for asking,” the Commander smiled. “My cot was tight.”
“So far, the state of West Virginia has been very forthcoming with equipment. They have provided us with 10-ton trucks to provide logistical support, Humm-Vs (HMMWVs), POL Tankers, recovery vehicles and Humm-V ambulances.” Major Srinivas continued with his briefing. “We need to insist our marines take excellent care of this equipment in appreciation for what the locals have done for us.”
“Aye, Aye!” The BC responded. “Thank you, gentlemen. We need to meet back up once we are on the ground in the forest. I want to have staff meetings at 1900 every night at the battalion Tactical Operations Center (TOC). We can address any issues as they come up. I also want the Jump TOC in full swing. I want to move around the battlefield quickly and see how the companies operate against the OPFOR.” LTC Miller did not let his staff officers know he was originally from West Virginia before moving to New England. His hometown was only about 20 miles from Charleston.
>KANAWHA STATE FOREST
The battalion inserted successfully into LZ SAIPAN. The V-22 Osprey were only a few years old and served their purpose well. The Special Forces soldiers on the ground provided the Marines a hot Landing Zone with several machine guns firing on both sides. The Marines took several training casualties especially from sniper fire. The local team of Observer/Controllers recorded the casualties and returned the marines back to their units right away to remain in the fight. Those marines who became training casualties wouldn’t receive any training benefit if they remained in some obscure dead pool.
“What is the situation in Alpha Oscar BRUNSWICK, over,” Major Stewart called over the radio. There had been a firefight in which A Company was taking casualties.
“Tulagi Tree, this is Iwo fife six, BRUNSWICK has received fife Kilo India Alphas and seven Whiskey India Alphas. Enemy suffered four Kilo India Alphas and an unknown quantity of Whiskey India Alphas, over.”
“Roger out,” Major Stewart clicked off the radio. Three ODAs struck A Company with three sniper teams and attacks from three different directions all timed perfectly. “These guys are getting some great training; you know that Lance Corporal?” Major Stewart spoke to his Humm-V driver Lance Corporal Jacob Hastings.
“Yes sir!” the driver responded.
Just as Tom Stewart thought about having a conversation with his driver, he received a call from Donnelley. fuck! I totally forgot about that guy. And this battle is really going well. “Looks like you’ll be driving Captain Jimenez around instead of me, Lance Corporal.”
“What’s up, sir?” Corporal Hastings asked. The 19-year old marine was from Athol, Massachusetts and enjoyed his time in the Corps. He stood five foot six inches tall and was lean like a Marine should be. The young marine smoked Marlboro cigarettes and worked in construction outside the Corps.
“My civilian job needs me to work a local case here in West Virginia.” Major Stewart asked his driver, “do you happen to know where the BC is?”
“Yes sir, he is back at the TOC.”
“Let’s get there, now!” Tom Stewart told his driver.
“Aye Aye, sir!” Lance Corporal Hastings turned the Humm-V around and headed back toward the Landing Zone where the battalion’s TOC was located. A pair of OPFOR nearby attempted to engage the S3s vehicle. Private First Class Frenier manned an M240 Machine gun in the cupola behind the S3 and his driver. PFC Frenier swung the big gun around and opened up on the two special forces soldiers. The general purpose machine punched the air with its fire trying to hit the enemy.
“Step on it, Hastings!” Major Stewart yelled as he thrust his M9 Beretta out the window. He was issued blank rounds too, firing in the direction of the enemy.
After speaking with the battalion commander, he needed to get back to Yaeger airfield and make arrangements to get to the safehouse which was only 20 miles away. He told Captain Jimenez he would take over for him during his absence. Major Stewart was confident in Captain Jimenez’ capabilities.
“How about a parachute?”
“What?” Captain Jimenez asked Major Stewart.
“How about I strap on a parachute and jump from a V-22 into the place I need to go. I don’t need to worry about transportation once I get there.”
Captain Jimenez thought about it. “I will contact VMM-744 and see if they have any chutes. If they do. I’m sure they will allow it. You are airborne.”
“I love it!” Tom was pretty happy. He expected to jump into the safehouse.
>THE SAFEHOUSE
>OUTSIDE WHITE TREE
>BLACKRIVER, WEST VIRGINIA 2330 hours
Tom Stewart strapped his FBI duffel containing his UMBRA Kit and garment bag onto his parachute harness. It was a vinyl bag with zipper and would have no problems holding up to the outside winds. He wore his Kevlar helmet with goggles, sun, wind and dust. He stood when the red light came on. He shuffled to the rear of the aircraft as the ramp lowered. He moved to the rear of the ramp. The Marine crew chief stood next to him, with safety strap tied in. He held onto the back of Stewart’s parachute harness. The Major and the sergeant stared at the red light waiting for it to turn green. It seemed like eternity, but it was only two minutes.
Green Light!
Tom Stewart lurched forward, propelling himself into the wind as his body dropped into the dark sky below. He exited the aircraft at two thousand feet. He could see the safehouse below. His chute opened as soon as he was clear of the aircraft. He was using the intruder system RA1 Ram Air tactical parachute system which allowed Tom to steer the chute right into the parking lot in front of the safehouse. He touched down quietly, gathered up his chute, stuffed it under his arm and headed to the front door.
When he hit the porch, he headed inside the building being as quiet as possible. He didn't know who was there and didn't want to wake anyone. He mounted the stairs, making his way to his room, still dressed in Marine Corps Multicam uniform and wearing his Kevlar helmet.
After unstrapping and storing his parachute, he stored his UMBRA kit along with the garment bag, box of Cuban cigars and bottles of Jamison Whiskey. He laid down on the bunk and thought, ‘I guess I won’t be sleeping on the ground tonight.’
>STEWART RESIDENCE
>BRAINTREE, MASSACHUSETTS
Tom pulled his 2018 maroon Toyota Sequoia into the driveway on John Paul Circle. The driveway for the Stewart residence was slightly longer than the other homes on the street. The house was slightly obscured by a line of trees along the road. Tom appreciated his privacy. John Paul Circle could be considered an affluent neighborhood. He parked the large SUV in the garage and went into the house. As he entered the garage, he observed Jill’s 2019 mediterranean blue metallic BMW 3-series sedan. It was a beautiful car and came with all the bells and whistles one might expect from German engineering. With both Jill and Tom in high paying occupations, they could more than afford the house and the two cars.
When Tom walked into the kitchen, Jill had a broad grin stretched across her face that appeared as though it almost hurt. It was one of the widest and brightest smiles he’d seen on her in quite some time. Tom stopped to appreciate her appearance. He thought she was beautiful and told her often enough. “What?” Tom asked his smiling wife. “What’s going on?”
“Take a seat Tom,” Jill said as she reached for a beer in the fridge. She poured a cold Sam Adams winter lager in a glass and handed it to her husband. Tom preferred Sam Adams winter lager over the summer ale and always kept more than a case in the basement refrigerator. Tom appreciatively took the glass and sipped it after taking a seat. The kitchen had a peninsula separating the kitchen from the dining room. On the dining room side, there were three stools. Tom had taken one of these dark oaken stools with padded seating to listen to his wife’s news. She then turned her smile back onto her husband. “I went to the doctor’s this morning.”
“Oh?” Tom figured this was something good otherwise, why was she smiling? In fact, her face was contagious. He couldn’t help but smile along with her.
“I’m pregnant!” She popped it on him like there was nothing else to know in the world.
It took him several seconds to register. Tom heard the news and was very excited. “Really!” Tom exclaimed. “This is great news! We must celebrate. Let’s call our parents and tell them. Call your sister.”
“Tom, calm down,” Jill hushed her husband. “Let’s not jump into anything rash yet. I know you are excited and want to shout to the world that you are going to have a baby but it is still early. There are all sorts of things that could happen. Let’s wait until after week 16 when I have the ultrasound. I am only nine weeks pregnant. Next month, I want you to come to the ultrasound appointment. You can see your baby on the screen. Do you want to know the gender?”
“Yes, I do!” Tom was jumping for joy. He had the same smile plastered across his face. Then it hit him, “I’m going to be a father. I hope I will be a good father.” Every new dad wonders if they will treat their children right. They remember the things their own parents did and swear not to repeat their mistakes.
Jill pulled herself in close to Tom and hugged his head. She pulled his head into her chest and kissed him on top of his head. “You will be the best daddy in the whole world, Tom.” Jill was very happy. Tom hugged his wife, then looked up and kissed her.
“Ray, you got time?” Tom asked his boss.
“Sure Tom, come on in,” Ray told Agent Stewart. “what’s on your mind?”
“First, you have to keep this under your hat. Jill is pregnant.”
“Congratulations!” Ray exclaimed then added, “but why do I have to keep this a secret?”
“Jill wants to keep it a secret until after the ultrasound. She is afraid there may be complications. But she’s healthy and there is no reason for anything to go wrong, right?’
“Well, Jill is right. The prudent move would be to keep it to yourself for now,” the 48-year old FBI supervising special agent told his subordinate. “You know I have three children, right.”
“Sure, I’ve seen your son, James play ball for Boston Latin. He’s a great first baseman.”
“Jill is only trying to save herself from heartache. She knows there is a possibility of losing the baby. Yes, I have three children including an outstanding first baseman, but Pam has also had four miscarriages.” Ray mentioned his wife, Pam, whom the couple recently celebrated their 21st wedding anniversary. “In fact, she was pregnant twice before James was born. We got pregnant in 2000 and again in 2001 before James was born in 2002. The first pregnancy went 15 weeks and the second pregnancy went to week 26 before they were terminated. You never know what might happen.”
The blast of reality slapped Tom like a cross to the jaw. “You really know how to sour the mood there, boss.”
“Sorry to tell you this, but better you know the risk now than to be disappointed when it happens. Hopefully you will have no problem. Most people have their first child with no problems. But seriously, I am happy for you Tom. Congratulations.”
“Also, wanted to remind you, I am going to Annual Training next week. We’re going to West Virginia; training in the Kanawha State Forest. A company of Army Special Forces is going to play OPFOR for us. I don’t know if it is such a great idea putting marines against army doggies.”
“Oh you’ll be alright,” Ray assured him. “You know I was in the 3rd Armor Division in Germany and Iraq 30 years ago. Those green beanies aren’t so special, but I have nothing but respect for Jarheads. They are all grunts.”
“Weren’t you a tanker, Ray?”
“Well, that is true. I was a gunner on an M1 Abrams during the Desert Storm.
“Thanks for the advice, Ray. I’m going to head up to Salem to follow up some leads on that Varma case.”
“Ok, Tom. Good luck,” Ray was ready to dismiss Agent Stewart. “One minute. Why don’t you take Teri Kravets with you. She needs more field experience.” Ray wanted Tom to help break in an agent who had only arrived from Quantico about two months ago.
“Sure sure, will do. See you, Ray.”
>ONE WEEK LATER
>DEVENS TRAINING AREA, MASSACHUSETTS
“Morning Reg,” Tom addressed the battalion intelligence officer as they both walked into the marine reserve center.
“Morning, Tom. What’s new with the Feds these days?” Captain Washington asked.
“Not much…or the same old thing. Always seem to be picking up cold case files from your CPAC. I was chasing down one in Salem this week.”
“Yea, I’m sure there are a lot of those.” Reg Washington noticed Tom carrying a garment bag. “What’s with the suit, Tom? You planning to do some work out in West Virginia? Play G-man?”
“Yea, I’ve gotten myself involved with an FBI group that sends me jobs to take care of; things that others either don’t want to do or can’t. I work with a group of agents. I never know when they are going to call. I need to be prepared.” Tom never knew when he would be called for an assignment with the UMBRA Group. He figured Reginald Washington didn’t need to know what UMBRA group was and didn’t feel the need to go into detail about what they did. Tom carried a a navy blue duffle with the letters FBI, packed with his tactical equipment as well as a few other sundries in case Donnelley called him in. He also packed a suit and tie in case he needed to play the role of an FBI agent. He was quite burdened during the walk into the reserve center carrying work related gear as well as his Marine corps utility uniforms and field gear. In one of his duffel bags, he squirreled away a new box of Cuban Cigars and four bottles of Jameson Whiskey.
The Headquarters and Services Company and Weapons Company, 1st Battalion, 25th Marines assembled at the reserve center at Devens then loaded onto buses. The remainder of the battalion was spread across New England and New York. A Company was based in Brunswick, Maine and were doing the same thing there. B Company assembled in Londonderry, New Hampshire and C Company assembled in Buffalo, New York. The five marine units then moved by bus to various civilian or military airfields boarding C-130 cargo aircraft from various state national guard air forces which would then transport the 750 members of the battalion to Yeager Airport near Charleston, West Virginia. A total of ten Air Force C-130s would be employed in the movement of one-two-five marine infantry battalion.
During the flight, Tom tried to catch some sleep. When he couldn’t sleep, he looked at photographs of his wife, thinking about their unborn child and read a book written by Ted Koppel titled, “Lights Out”, about what would happen to the US if a hostile enemy attempted to crash the electrical grid that all Americans take for granted. This could be accomplished either by explosives and a terrorist organization or two strategically placed electro-magnetic pulse (EMP) bombs detonated a hundred miles above the country. Ted Koppel did extensive research on the subject with professionals who work in public utilities and understand the distribution of electricity across the country as well as public policy makers. It was a scary read. According to the book, if the lights went out, ninety percent of the population would be dead from disease, famine or societal chaos within one year. No, it would not send the nation back to the 19th century, but the 14th century, one of the worst centuries on the planet.
Jillian (Malone) Stewart
Courtesy: Miriam Giovanelli
Upon arrival at Yeager Airport, the marines marched out into darkness to a “tent city” hastily assembled along the east edge of the airfield. Their home for the next three weeks was known as tent city and consisted of General Purpose (GP) medium tents with two rows of 15 cots in each to give the marines a place to store their equipment and get some sleep. A GP large tent had been erected to serve as a shower facility for them as well as a hard stand dining facility. The shower facility used wooden pallets as flooring. A special unit was on hand to set up the showers and kept water pumping into the shower heads to be used by the marines when needed. However, the men would not be at the facility, for most of their time in West Virginia would be spent in the woods of the State Forest.
After a few safety briefings and operations briefings at each level, the battalion was ready to deploy. They had been issued a basic load of blank ammunition and a set of MILES gear (Multiple Integrated Laser Engagement System) which would allow the BLUFOR and OPFOR members to know who was taking hits during firefights. Members of the West Virginia Army National Guard would serve as Observer/Controllers during the exercise. The battalion would conduct an air assault insertion into Objective SAIPAN in the Kanawha State Forest. Members of C Company, First Battalion, 19th Special Forces Group were portraying the role of Taliban or ISIS soldiers wearing the clothing Taliban soldiers wear in Afghanistan and armed with Kalashnikovs rather than M4s or FN SCARs.
“Good morning, Tom,” Lieutenant Colonel Norm Miller was awake when the Battalion Operations Officer (S3) emerged from his tent. The Battalion Commander (BC) was holding a mug filled with black coffee.
“You have another one of those, sir?” Major Stewart referred to the cup of hot steaming brown liquid or lifer juice.
“Chow hall right over there, Tom,” Colonel Miller pointed the place out.
“Wonderful, I’m getting a cup now. Need anything else sir?”
“No, just come back and see me after.” Miller wanted to talk with the S3 about the upcoming operations.
“Aye, aye, sir!” Major Stewart then walked into the dining facility to retrieve a cup of coffee, black, hot and bitter; just the way he liked it.
Major Stewart, Captain Washington, Major Srinivas and Colonel Miller sat at a table in their operations room. Major Vijay Srinivas, a large New Yorker of Indian descent served as the battalion’s executive officer or second in command. Captain Alejandro “Alex” Jimenez, who served as the Assistant Operations Officer (S3 Air), entered the room and took a seat near Major Stewart. Captain Jimenez grew up in Holyoke, Massachusetts, a city dominated by both Puerto Rican and Irish immigrants.
“What are we getting for air support?” The BC asked.
Major Stewart began, “We will be supported by VMM-744, a Medium Tiltrotor Squadron out of Chambers Field in Virginia. They are equipped with V-22 Ospreys. They will have enough aircraft to move the entire battalion into the AO in three sorties. Captain Jimenez conducted the air assault planning. Would you like him to go over it now, sir?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure it is highly detailed,” the battalion commander responded. “Any attack aircraft or helicopters?”
“No sir,” Major Stewart answered.
“What about or Opposition Force?” The Battalion Commander asked the intelligence officer.
“C Company, 1st Battalion, 19th Special Forces Group will provide our OPFOR, sir.” Greg Washington was aware the BC knew the SF Company would be the opfor but for him to say it today meant the coordination was complete and the Green Berets were ready to roleplay as middle eastern Islamic warriors. A few may have worn the traditional black muslim attire as worn by members of the Islamic State of Iraq and Levant.
“What is their strength?”
Captain Washington researched the Special Forces modified table of organization and equipment (MTOE) in order to answer this question. “The company has eighty-three soldiers including six 12-man Operational Detachment Alphas and one 11-man Operational Detachment Bravo. Undoubtedly, they will operate in seven teams in a decentralized manner. They will be armed with AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifles, Rocket Propelled Grenades and Dragunov, SVD-63 sniper rifles. I anticipate they will make good use of their snipers. Each team has at least two snipers working in two-man teams. Expect them to conduct hit and run operations.”
“Yes, Captain Washington. Thank you.” The Battalion commander looked at the XO, “Major Srinivas, what about logistic support?”
“Did you sleep well, sir?” Major Srinivas asked.
“I did, Vijay. Thank you for asking,” the Commander smiled. “My cot was tight.”
“So far, the state of West Virginia has been very forthcoming with equipment. They have provided us with 10-ton trucks to provide logistical support, Humm-Vs (HMMWVs), POL Tankers, recovery vehicles and Humm-V ambulances.” Major Srinivas continued with his briefing. “We need to insist our marines take excellent care of this equipment in appreciation for what the locals have done for us.”
“Aye, Aye!” The BC responded. “Thank you, gentlemen. We need to meet back up once we are on the ground in the forest. I want to have staff meetings at 1900 every night at the battalion Tactical Operations Center (TOC). We can address any issues as they come up. I also want the Jump TOC in full swing. I want to move around the battlefield quickly and see how the companies operate against the OPFOR.” LTC Miller did not let his staff officers know he was originally from West Virginia before moving to New England. His hometown was only about 20 miles from Charleston.
>KANAWHA STATE FOREST
The battalion inserted successfully into LZ SAIPAN. The V-22 Osprey were only a few years old and served their purpose well. The Special Forces soldiers on the ground provided the Marines a hot Landing Zone with several machine guns firing on both sides. The Marines took several training casualties especially from sniper fire. The local team of Observer/Controllers recorded the casualties and returned the marines back to their units right away to remain in the fight. Those marines who became training casualties wouldn’t receive any training benefit if they remained in some obscure dead pool.
“What is the situation in Alpha Oscar BRUNSWICK, over,” Major Stewart called over the radio. There had been a firefight in which A Company was taking casualties.
“Tulagi Tree, this is Iwo fife six, BRUNSWICK has received fife Kilo India Alphas and seven Whiskey India Alphas. Enemy suffered four Kilo India Alphas and an unknown quantity of Whiskey India Alphas, over.”
“Roger out,” Major Stewart clicked off the radio. Three ODAs struck A Company with three sniper teams and attacks from three different directions all timed perfectly. “These guys are getting some great training; you know that Lance Corporal?” Major Stewart spoke to his Humm-V driver Lance Corporal Jacob Hastings.
“Yes sir!” the driver responded.
Just as Tom Stewart thought about having a conversation with his driver, he received a call from Donnelley. fuck! I totally forgot about that guy. And this battle is really going well. “Looks like you’ll be driving Captain Jimenez around instead of me, Lance Corporal.”
“What’s up, sir?” Corporal Hastings asked. The 19-year old marine was from Athol, Massachusetts and enjoyed his time in the Corps. He stood five foot six inches tall and was lean like a Marine should be. The young marine smoked Marlboro cigarettes and worked in construction outside the Corps.
“My civilian job needs me to work a local case here in West Virginia.” Major Stewart asked his driver, “do you happen to know where the BC is?”
“Yes sir, he is back at the TOC.”
“Let’s get there, now!” Tom Stewart told his driver.
“Aye Aye, sir!” Lance Corporal Hastings turned the Humm-V around and headed back toward the Landing Zone where the battalion’s TOC was located. A pair of OPFOR nearby attempted to engage the S3s vehicle. Private First Class Frenier manned an M240 Machine gun in the cupola behind the S3 and his driver. PFC Frenier swung the big gun around and opened up on the two special forces soldiers. The general purpose machine punched the air with its fire trying to hit the enemy.
“Step on it, Hastings!” Major Stewart yelled as he thrust his M9 Beretta out the window. He was issued blank rounds too, firing in the direction of the enemy.
After speaking with the battalion commander, he needed to get back to Yaeger airfield and make arrangements to get to the safehouse which was only 20 miles away. He told Captain Jimenez he would take over for him during his absence. Major Stewart was confident in Captain Jimenez’ capabilities.
“How about a parachute?”
“What?” Captain Jimenez asked Major Stewart.
“How about I strap on a parachute and jump from a V-22 into the place I need to go. I don’t need to worry about transportation once I get there.”
Captain Jimenez thought about it. “I will contact VMM-744 and see if they have any chutes. If they do. I’m sure they will allow it. You are airborne.”
“I love it!” Tom was pretty happy. He expected to jump into the safehouse.
>THE SAFEHOUSE
>OUTSIDE WHITE TREE
>BLACKRIVER, WEST VIRGINIA 2330 hours
Tom Stewart strapped his FBI duffel containing his UMBRA Kit and garment bag onto his parachute harness. It was a vinyl bag with zipper and would have no problems holding up to the outside winds. He wore his Kevlar helmet with goggles, sun, wind and dust. He stood when the red light came on. He shuffled to the rear of the aircraft as the ramp lowered. He moved to the rear of the ramp. The Marine crew chief stood next to him, with safety strap tied in. He held onto the back of Stewart’s parachute harness. The Major and the sergeant stared at the red light waiting for it to turn green. It seemed like eternity, but it was only two minutes.
Green Light!
Tom Stewart lurched forward, propelling himself into the wind as his body dropped into the dark sky below. He exited the aircraft at two thousand feet. He could see the safehouse below. His chute opened as soon as he was clear of the aircraft. He was using the intruder system RA1 Ram Air tactical parachute system which allowed Tom to steer the chute right into the parking lot in front of the safehouse. He touched down quietly, gathered up his chute, stuffed it under his arm and headed to the front door.
When he hit the porch, he headed inside the building being as quiet as possible. He didn't know who was there and didn't want to wake anyone. He mounted the stairs, making his way to his room, still dressed in Marine Corps Multicam uniform and wearing his Kevlar helmet.
After unstrapping and storing his parachute, he stored his UMBRA kit along with the garment bag, box of Cuban cigars and bottles of Jamison Whiskey. He laid down on the bunk and thought, ‘I guess I won’t be sleeping on the ground tonight.’
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