Kilo-61 (Damned of the 2/19th Book 19)- Ongoing

Naive Memories

Nuclear/Biological/Chemical Warfare Field Specialist Training
End of Phase Four
Blackbriar Ridge Training Facility
Secure Military Facility
North Dakota, United States of America
1983

Bomber's nudge woke me up from a sound sleep. I'd dozed off before we'd even taken off from the airfield in New Mexico, slightly curled around my rucksack that I'd drooled all over. I shifted my BDU pants to hide a dream inspired erection and looked around.

"We're here," John said. His voice was nervous and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. I just nodded, looking at everyone. Most were yawning, waking up slowly, but a few had the glittery eyes of someone who didn't get enough sleep and that fear had kept up during the flight.

"If you get off this plane, you will be entering the next phase of your training," A Master Sergeant was saying. "This phase of training will be the ultimate test for your fitness to serve your country as a Special Weapons Field Specialist, to be on the front line of the America's NBC Warfare division. It will be you who will be staring Ivan in the eyes, you who will be responsible for returning any attack upon America or its allies tenfold."

He surveyed us all.

"At this time, you are able to drop on request," He said, his lip lifting in a sneer.

"Seatbelts off, recruits!" The Navy Petty Officer yelled. My fingers fumbled at the belt as I licked my dry lips. What kind of hell waited us outside the plane?

Idleson, some kind of Navy officer, a real officer not an enlisted Petty Officer, that I didn't care enough to learn the rank of, raised his hand slowly as the door opened and the lights shined in. We could hear vehicles outside and the unique sounds of an airfield.

"What, Idleson, you gotta pee or something, you little Navy momma's boy?" The Gunny Sergeant who had been with us most of the way sneered.

"I'd like to drop," Idleson said softly, his eyes looking a little wild.

"Are you requesting to drop from the program and return to your previous military occupational specialty, you goddamn ungrateful weasel?" Gunny asked, moving up into Idleson's face so fast it was like he had teleported. Their noses were touching as the Gunny continued, "After everything the military has done for you, after the favoritism that Uncle Sam showed in choosing your lazy Navy ass, you want to spit in America's face and drop?"

Idleson nodded slowly, swallowing thickly.

"Recruits, attention!" The Chief Petty Officer snapped. We all jumped to our feet. "Leave your goddamn baggage on the seats, you goddamn animals. Single file in the center, facing me!" I took a single step forward and did a right face. Bomber was standing in front of me.

"You little shit, I should rip your goddamn head off and shit down your neck," The Gunny snarled. "Look at this, Chief, one of your Navy crybabies wants to quit."

"EYES FRONT, GODDAMN IT!" An Air Force Master Sergeant bellowed.

"Who is it? What little weasel dicked cock sucker is disgracing my Navy by wanting to drop out so he can run home and cry to Momma?" The Chief said, obviously turning us over to the Air Force. My legs were shaking, exhaustion, hunger, thirst, and just plain constant fear turning my knees to jello.

"Recruit Idleson here feels like Special Weapons is just too tough for the Navy," The Gunny said.

"You greasy little wop cocksucker," The Chief said, now Idleson had both men up in his face. "If  you don't get to your feet right goddamn now, I swear to the Lord Jesus Christ and his blessed mother Mary that I'll drown your ass if I ever fucking see you again."