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Old 01-05-2015, 10:14 PM
Matt Wiser Matt Wiser is offline
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Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: Auberry, CA
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The sequel to Taking Command:

Trials of Command

Sheppard AFB, TX, 5 December, 1987, 1250 Central War Time:

Major Matt Wiser, the commanding officer of the 335th Tactical Fighter Squadron, was actually pleased with things this day. His unit had flown a number of strikes into the Dallas-Fort Worth area, supporting the Army in the meat grinder that was Dallas, and several crews had added MiGs or helicopters to their kill sheets. He had taken his flight to the Waxahachie area, where supply convoys headed to and from Dallas went up Interstate 35E, and his F-4s had laid waste to one such convoy. His flight had come out of the strike without a scratch, and having debriefed the mission, had some time to kill before their next strike, in two hours' time. And so the squadron commander decided that a nap on his office couch was in order. He'd laid down and closed his eyes, only to suddenly hear a voice in his ear. “Major?”

Major Wiser opened his eyes, to see his exec, Capt. Mark Ellis, standing over him. “What is it, Mark? Can't you see your CO needs his beauty rest? And I was about to have a dream: me, Goalie, and at least two Sports Illustrated swimsuit models-all about to do things that would likely get all of us arrested in half a dozen states.”

“Sorry, Major, but this is important. It's about Major Carson.”

“What has that sumbitch done now?” Wiser asked as he got up.

Major Frank Carson was perhaps the most hated officer in the squadron: a sentiment shared by both officers and enlisted airmen. Whether it was writing up airmen for being out of uniform-when the temperature on the flight line at Cannon or Amarillo had reached 118 degrees-the man thought male airmen stripped to the waist as they worked-or females in sports bras was “out of uniform”, or wailing about how the other officers failed to show him some respect-which everyone else felt he had done little to earn, or complaining about being passed over for squadron command, he'd gotten on just about everyone's bad side. Even the previous CO, before he was KIA, had little use for the man. And Lt. Col. Dean Rivers had put then-Capt. Wiser, call sign Guru, into the Executive Officer slot, and then upon Rivers' death five weeks earlier, as CO. And the “Frank Burns wannabe” as some called him, was appalled. But his protests to higher authority fell on deaf ears.

“Well, Major, he's involved in a suspected friendly-fire incident with the Army,” Ellis said.

“Where is he now?”

“I imagine he's writing up his backseater, his wingman, and his WSO-for insubordination, failure to maintain flight integrity, and so on,” Ellis said. “They're all waiting outside.”

Nodding, Major Wiser went over to his office coffee maker and poured himself a cup. He had a feeling he'd need the caffeine jolt. “Okay, send them in. Do you know what they've said?”

“Yeah, boss,” Ellis said. “It's not pretty.”

“All right. Find out from the Army-or the ALO in question, what happened from their side. Who'd he attack?”

“They were in First Cav's AO. Who, exactly, no idea as yet.”

Major Wiser nodded. “Great. First thing we know, their division CO will be outside the main gate, with some MPs, wanting someone's head. Now, get Master Sergeant Ross and two CSPs. I want them on the office door. No matter what, Carson doesn't come in. Until I say so.”

“You got it, Major.”

“Does Van Loan know?” Wiser asked. Capt. Don Van Loan was the squadron's operations officer.

“He was the first to find out.” Ellis replied.

“All right, send 'em in.”

Ellis opened the office door and the three crewers in question came in. First Lt. Brian Slater, who was Carson's WSO, and Capt. Sean Hennnings and 1st Lt. Melissa Brewster came in and saluted. The Major sketched a salute, and said, “Let's hear it. Brian, you first.”

“Yes, Sir. We were coming back from our strike down by Cleburne,”

“Supply dump, right?” Asked the CO.

“Yes, Sir,” Slater replied. “Anyway, we were south of Mineral Wells when the Major saw a convoy headed south on one of the local roads, and he rolled in.”

“Did he ask an ALO or FAC if he was in a no-strike area?”

“No, Sir. He just saw the convoy, and rolled in. A FAC, Nail Five-Seven, called and told him to pull out and abort. He called twice, but the Major went in anyway. He burned all of his 20-mm on the pass.”

Major Wiser nodded. He turned to Hennings and Brewster. “Did he order you to follow him on the run?”

Both nodded, and Hennings said, “Yes, Sir. But with the FAC calling him to abort, I didn't. The FAC must've known something we didn't. And Major Carson was livid that we didn't follow him.”

“How livid?”

“Sir” Brewster said, “He was saying the words 'court-martial', 'violating flight intregity,' things like that.”

“He was just as angry with me, Major,” Slater chimed in. “I told him about seeing IFF panels on the trucks, and he said 'What panels?' Sir, with all due respect-those panels were there. He saw only what he wanted to see.”

“Typical Carson,” Major Wiser said. He picked up his phone and dialed Capt. Don Van Loan, the Ops Officer.


“Don, come to my office. Now.”

“On the way.”

While waiting for Van Loan to arrive, the Major was considering his options. He'd been looking for a very good reason to transfer Carson, and it now appeared he had one. Then there was a knock on the door.


Van Loan came in. “You wanted to see me, Boss?”

“Yeah, and this time, I wish I didn't. Take these three, put them in separate rooms, and have them write out their statements. Once that's done, have them typed up, signed, and sealed. While they're doing that, get the strike camera film and the cockpit audio from both aircraft. I don't care if the film hasn't been developed yet-and chances are, it hasn't. I want that boxed up, because JAG is going to handle this.” Major Wiser said.

“Gotcha, Major.” Van Loan said.

“Yeah. Where's Mark?”

“He was on the phone with somebody, last I saw.” Van Loan replied.

“Get him back here.” Major Wiser ordered.

“Will do.” Van Loan nodded, then motioned to the three. “You guys all come with me.”

As Van Loan left, Ellis came back in. “Boss, I just got off the phone with the senior ALO with First Cav.”

“What'd he have to say?” Asked Major Wiser. And the CO was dreading what Ellis would have to say.

“You're not going to like it. First, the CO of First Cav is hopping mad, and wants someone's head on a platter, his ass in a sling, and the rest of him in Leavenworth. Second, he did relay a casualty report. Twenty-seven casualties in all: twelve KIA, fifteen WIA. Seven of the KIAs are civilians, five are Army Civil Affairs people. All fifteen WIA are civilians, and four of the WIAs are under fourteen.” Ellis reported.

Major Wiser put his palm to his face. “Lovely. That's just great.....” He looked at the XO. “Let me guess: the Army was escorting refugees home?”

“You got it, Major.”

“Okay. I'm calling JAG.” Major Wiser said. He picked up the phone and dialed the base JAG office.

“JAG, Captain Carroll speaking,” the voice on the other line said.

“Captain, this is Major Wiser at the 335th TFS, I have a friendly-fire incident involving one of my pilots, and I was hoping you'd be able to take this off my hands.”

“Sir, I don't think we'll be able to help you, with all due respect,” Carroll replied.

“What do you mean by that, Captain...?”

“Sir, I'm only a year out of OTS, and it's been fourteen months since I passed the bar.”

Major Wiser looked at his Exec. “All right, and your other officers?”

“Sir, one's fresh out of knife-and-fork, she only passed the bar five months ago. My other officer is six months out of OTS, and he passed the bar eight months ago. None of them have any trial experience.”


“Sir, we're busy with casework-the usual with divorces, wills, and more than a few investigations. May I suggest talking to OSI? They may be able to assist you,” Caroll said.

“Thanks, you've been a big help.” Major Wiser said. Then he slammed down the phone. “Twerp.”

“Let me guess: too many cases, not enough people, and who they do have, are all inexperienced,” Ellis commented.

The CO nodded. “You got it.” He picked up the phone and dialed the base OSI office.

“OSI, Agent Martinez.”

“Agent Martinez, this is Major Wiser at the 335th TFS. I have a friendly-fire incident involving one of my pilots, and I was wondering if you could get the ball rolling on an investigation.”

“Sir, we'd be glad to help, but we're kind of busy here. We've got several major ongoing investigations at the moment; counterespionage, collaboration, and some things we really can't talk about,” the agent replied.

“Of all the...” Major Wiser said.

“Sir, may I suggest calling JAG? They may be able to help.”

“They told me to call you!” The CO shot back.

“Sorry, Sir. I wish we could help you.”

“Thanks. You've been a big help,” the Major said. He waited until Martinez hung up, then slammed the phone down again. “No sense pissing off OSI.”

“They're busy?” Ellis asked.

“Right again, Mark,” replied the CO. Major Wiser opened a drawer on his desk, and pulled out a piece of paper. He found what he was looking for, then dialed a number.”

“Who are you calling now, Boss?”

“General Tanner's office. All squadron and Wing commanders have a direct line to his office. It bypasses the ADC, staff flunkies, and so on.” Major Wiser said as he waited for the other line to pick up.

“General Tanner's office,” the feminine voice on the other end said. “How may I help you?”

“This is Major Wiser with the 335th TFS. I need to speak to the General right away. It's very urgent.”

“One moment please, Major.” She put him on hold for what seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds. “He'll be with you in a moment.”

Tanner's voice then came on the line. “Major! How's things with the Chiefs?” “Chiefs” was the nickname for the 335th.

“Sir, it's going great, but we've got a serious problem. It concerns a certain Major that you, me, and my predecessor all have had problems with.” Major Wiser reported.

“What has that idiot Carson done now?” Tanner asked.

“Sir, he's involved in a friendly-fire incident, involving elements from the First Cav. There are fatalities, and not just soldiers. Civilians as well,” the Major said.

“Of all the.....” Tanner said. “You're absolutely sure about this, Major?”

“General, I am. The three witnesses in his flight are all giving statements right now, and we have the strike camera film and cockpit audio recordings,” Wiser said. “Sir, I imagine First Cav's CO wants someone's head on a platter, his ass in a sling, and the rest in Leavenworth.”

“Don't worry about First Cav. I'll talk to General Franks at III Corps, then First Cav's CO. You let me worry about that. Just concentrate on your job at hand, and getting on with the war.” Tanner said.

“Yes, Sir,” Major Wiser said. “And Major Carson?”

“Just a minute, Major. I need to put you on hold,” and Tanner did so. After a a couple of minutes, he came back. “Major, there's a C-130 that just left Amarillo. I've ordered them to divert to Sheppard, and they'll fly Carson-and any escort, right to Davis-Monthan. Get him-and any evidence you have, on that plane.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“And Major? Don't worry about First Cav or III Corps. You let me handle that, and you handle the Russians,” said Tanner.

“Yes, Sir.”

“All right. Tenth Air Force will handle everything from here on. Once he's on that 130, he's no longer your problem. Clear?”

“Perfectly, Sir.” Major Wiser said.

“Good. You wish they'd taught you to handle something like this in OTS?” Tanner asked.

“Now that you mention it? Yes, Sir.” Wiser replied.

“And the Academy, and ROTC,” Tanner said. “You're doing fine, Major. And I've got every confidence in you. Just get him on that plane.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Like I said: I'll handle this. You have a good day.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

With that, Tanner hung up. Major Wiser turned to Ellis. “Mark, you're going to escort Carson to Davis-Monthan. Along with Ross and the CSPs. Plan on being there overnight.”

“Right, boss.”

There was a tap on the door. It was Van Loan. “Major, Got all the statements, film, and the cockpit audio. All boxed and ready.”

“Good,” the Major said. Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah?”

It was 1st Lt. Lisa Eichhorn, call sign Goalie. She was Major Wiser's WSO. “Guru, we've got a brief in thirty minutes. You going to be there?”

Oh, joy, Major Wiser thought. He'd forgotten about the upcoming mission. “Got something more important.” He turned to Van Loan. “Push my flight's mission back by at least an hour-no, make that two. I have a feeling this'll take a while.”

“Will do, Boss,” Van Loan said, heading out the door past Goalie.

“What's up?” Goalie asked. “Word's going around that Carson may be out.”

“Not may, will. He won't be around for much longer.” Wiser said. He saw the puzzled look on his WSO's face. “I'll explain at the Club tonight.”

“Fine by me,” she replied, going out and closing the door. After doing so, the Major and Ellis saw her pump her arms and and shout “YES!”

“Word's gonna get around, Major,” Ellis said. “And not just in the 335th. Colonel Brady's probably going to call you and ask 'Why did it take you this long to fire this asshole?'”

Colonel Allen Brady was the CO of Marine Air Group 11, to which the 335th was assigned “for the duration.” And the eager Major had not only angered members of the 335th, but also Marines as well. For which there had been a number of complaints sent to the squadron. Now, those complaints would cease.

“I know. I was willing to see if he was going to shape up,” Wiser said, shaking his head. “Maybe it was wishful thinking, or what.” He looked at his Exec. “Well, even if they don't court-martial him, he'll be shoveling snow in Newfoundland or Labrador, and he'll be someone else's problem.”

“There is that, Boss.” Ellis agreed.

There was another tap on the door. It was one of the CSPs. “Sir, Major Carson's here. Do we let him in or not?”

The CO and XO looked at each other. “Mark, stay here. Not just for backup, but you might be in this position one day. If not in the 335th, heaven forbid, but they might decide there's a squadron somewhere with your name on it. Think of this as a learning experience.”

“No problem, Major.” Ellis replied.

Major Wiser nodded, then said to the CSP. “Let him in.”

Major Frank Carson came strutting into the CO's office, as if he thought he owned the place-which wasn't far from what everyone else in the unit thought was his feeling. Carson never hid his belief that the 335th was his to command by right, and that Colonel Rivers had made a mistake in putting then-Capt. Wiser in over him to be Exec, and then having Wiser take over upon Rivers' death. Carson felt that an Academy man, and only an Academy man, should command the squadron, and he was appalled that not only had an OTS graduate gone over him, but that a fellow Academy graduate-Colonel Rivers-had put a ….peasant from some rural California town in line to command the squadron. His protests to higher authority had fallen on deaf ears, and was easily the most hated man in the squadron. Still, he felt no one recognized his efforts to maintain discipline, and doing things by the book. Carson came to attention and snapped a perfect salute. “Major.”

“Frank,” the CO said, sketching a salute. “What is it now?”

“Sir, I wish to file charges against Slater, Brewster, and Hennings. Failure to maintain flight integrity, refusal to obey an order, and insubordination.” He handed the the papers to Major Wiser.

“Pretty serious, Mark.” The CO said, and saw the Exec nod. “Here's what I think of your charges.” And Major Wiser tore the papers into several pieces, and threw the pieces into his trash bucket.

“Sir!” Carson wailed. “You're turning a blind eye to serious issues in the cockpit!”

Major Wiser glared at Carson. “Right now, any fault of theirs is the least of your worries. That convoy you strafed? The one that Hennings and Brewster didn't roll in on and Slater urged you not to fire? That was one of ours!”

Carson stared at Major Wiser. Was this....OTS peasant being serious? “Sir..”

“You just saw a bunch of Soviet-built trucks. But you didn't see the IFF panels on top, and ignored the FAC repeatedly telling you to pull off and abort. So you had to make a gun run. Well, Major, hope it was worth it, because those were friendlies.”

Carson was stunned. “Friendlies? Sir, those were Soviet trucks, and Ivan's used American markings before...”

“When a FAC tells you to abort, you abort!” Major Wiser shot back. “You didn't, and shot up three vehicles, and one of those blew up.” He turned to his Exec. “How many casualties, Mark?”

“Twenty-seven, Major. Twelve fatalities. Seven civilians and five soldiers killed. Fifteen civilians wounded. Four of those are under fourteen, the Army says.” Ellis said.

“Civilians...” Carson said. “What?”

Major Wiser exploded. “They were our people! The Army was escorting refugees home, and you rolled in on them! People that survived the Soviet occupation of their homes, and you put seven in the morgue, and fifteen in a MASH! Hope you think trying to impress General Tanner-or someone higher than him-was worth it.”

“Sir, I made a decision in the cockpit,” Carson said. “And I resent your implying that I acted recklessly.”

“I'm not implying it,” Wiser said. “I'm saying it flat out. This is a SNAFU of the highest order.” He went to his desk and opened a drawer. The CO pulled out a form-mostly filled out. “Right now, it's in the hands of JAG at Tenth Air Force. They'll handle the investigation and decide on a court-martial. Regardless of that, you're out of the squadron. As of NOW.”


“You never made the transition from peace to war, Frank. And before you say it, I'm not as rank as you are.” Major Wiser said. “I only had one bad encounter with you-and before you say it, I've loathed you ever since the day you tried to have me and Goalie written up on a fraternization reg-something that General Tanner told JAG and OSI to ignore-as we've got worse things to worry about-like winning the war!”

Carson glared at his CO. “This isn't the Air Force I joined when I graduated from the Academy.”

“You know what? It's not the same one I joined when I graduated OTS. Things change, Major. Wartime does that-or haven't you noticed? The Air Force has changed. You haven't-and still can't get used to things-like a girl from 'the wrong side of the tracks'...”

“You mean that bitch Thrace?” Carson sneered.

“I'd be careful using that phrase if I were you,” Major Wiser said. “And that woman you mention can fly an F-4 better than you can. Which is something you can't handle. Or the fact that the number of Academy hands in this unit can be counted on two hands. That ring on your finger means nothing when the flak comes up. Rivers knew it-he never wore his class ring, and my WSO doesn't either.”

“Sir, you don't understand,” Carson said. “I have been trying to bring more order and discipline to this unit, and my efforts have been misunderstood, and even belittled.”

“No, Frank,” said Major Wiser, “Your efforts have been despised. You don't realize just how much you're hated. The officers under you aren't in Doolie Summer at the Academy, and the NCOs and Airmen aren't pieces of equipment to be used and abused. I don't care what happens next in the investigation, but like I just said: you're out.” The CO took the Transfer Form, and filled in the box marked “Reason for Transfer.” He put in, “Failure to adjust to wartime circumstances; inability to get along with fellow officers; and, possible involvement in friendly-fire incident.” Major Wiser then signed and dated the form. He then gave one copy to Ellis. “That's for the squadron personnel file. Another copy for his personnel jacket, and the other is for personnel at Tenth Air Force.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ellis replied.

“You can't be serious,” Carson said.

“I am. And if I were you, when I get to Davis-Monthan, I'd wrangle a long-distance call to that rich Daddy of yours in Boston.” The CO got right into Carson's face. “Tell him 'Dad, I need a lawyer.' Because guess what: chances are, you'll need one.” Major Wiser said. Then he yelled, “Sergeant Ross!”

Master Sergeant Ross came into the office. “Sir?”

“Sergeant, you will escort Major Carson to his desk. Watch as he cleans it out. You will then escort him to his quarters, and watch him pack. Then, you will escort him to Base Operations. Take the two CSPs with you, and you will accompany him on a C-130 headed to Davis-Monthan. Captain Ellis will be with you, and you will hand the Major over to General Tanner's representative-probably JAG. You will not let him out of your sight until relieved by said representative. Is that clear?” Major Wiser asked.

“Perfectly, Sir.”

“Good. You may have to RON there, though, so have a friend pack a few things for you.” Wiser said. He turned to Ellis. “That evidence box doesn't leave your sight until Davis-Monthan, and it's handed over to that representative.”

“Understood, Major,” Ellis said, trying to conceal a smile.

“You haven't heard the last of this,” Carson sneered.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Major Wiser shot back. “If there's a court-martial, I'll be there for the prosecution. If they don't, well, if you're shoveling snow at Goose Bay or Gander, or watching for Polar Bears at some Radar Station above the Arctic Circle, I won't care. The only bad thing is that you'll be someone else's problem.” The CO then turned to Ross. “Get him out of my sight!”

Ross let out a grin. “Yes, Sir!” And he escorted Carson out of the office and to his desk. When it was obvious that Carson was packing up to leave, there were smiles all around. And when Ross escorted him out of the office for the last time, there was cheering.

“About time!” Capt. Kara Thrace said to the CO when Carson left.

“No kidding!” 1st Lt. Valerie Blanchard said, nodding to the CO. “Major, you just made everyone's day.”

“Thanks, Sweaty,” Major Wiser said. He looked around the squadron office and saw smiles on everyone's face-both officers and enlisted. Then he saw Doc Waters, the Flight Surgeon, who was trying to hide a stethoscope. “Doc...were you giving the office wall a physical?”

“I plead the Fifth on that, Boss,” the surgeon replied.

“Now I know how word traveled so fast,” observed the CO. “All right, people! Get back into game mode, because we still got a job to do. If you want to let rip, do it at the club tonight.” He went back into his office, and found Goalie, Kara, Sweaty, Van Loan, and several others there, waiting for him, and all had smiles on their faces. And they applauded as he came in.

“Way to go, Major!” Goalie said.

“I know, this just reduces the enemy to the ComBloc,” Wiser said. “And you guys were probably wondering what took so long to get him out?”

Kara nodded, “The thought had occurred to some of us.” And other heads nodded.

“Well, there was an outside chance-a small one-but a chance that he'd shape up. Rivers advised me in his letter to wait and see before kicking Carson out. Second, I was hoping that he'd fall on his own sword, and it would be so obvious to anyone on the outside that he had to go.” Major Wiser said.

“That he did, Major,” Van Loan observed.

“Yeah,” the CO replied. “Too bad it happened this way, but now, he'll be someone else's problem.”

“And I pity whoever that is,” Goalie said.

“You, me, and probably everyone else here,” Kara said. “Said this before, but he's worse than Tigh.”

“Yeah, and if they don't decide to court-martial him, pray they don't send him to be Tigh's Exec.” Sweaty said.

“Even Tigh has scruples,” Kara pointed out. “He'd be looking for a way to kick Carson's ass as far away from Kingsley Field as he can.”

“And he would, too,” the CO said. “All right, guys, I hate to break this up, but we still got a job to do. My flight, mission brief at 1500.”

The others filed out, still grinning at each other, but Goalie stayed. She shut the door. “Guru, I can tell when something's bothering you.”

“Yeah. You're an Academy grad. I know, not everyone from Colorado Springs is like that, and I also know not to judge a whole group by the acts of a few idiots, but did you have classmates like that?” Guru asked his WSO.

“I did, sorry to say. There's a half-dozen people I knew who'd be carbon copies of that bastard,” Goalie said. “Makes me kind of ashamed I know those people. I'm just glad he wasn't one of my classmates.”

“Rivers never was like that: he took off his class ring and never put it on. He was 'one of the boys',” Major Wiser said. “And you do the same.”

“Well, I learned early on-and not just from him. He did reinforce it, though.”

“Something our Major didn't realize. And I bet Rivers is looking down on us and smiling. Though he's probably asking, 'what took you so long?'” Guru said.

“I imagine so,” Goalie nodded.

Major Wiser looked at the office clock: 1420. “Man, how time flies. We've got a mission brief in forty minutes. I need a nap: wake me up just before 1500: Mark woke me up from a too-brief nap with the news.”

“Will do,” Goalie said, heading to the door.

The CO checked his desk. Something he'd overlooked in the day's excitement had caught his attention. “Wait.” He scanned a list. “The December list of Captains is out.” Guru looked at his WSO and grinned. “You're on it. Congratulations, Captain.”

Goalie stopped. Then she came over and gave her CO a hug. “Thanks!”

“Don't thank me, thank Rivers. He forwarded the paperwork.”


“I know: I'll pin the Captain's bars on you. And you have to pay for the promotion party.” The CO reminded his backseater. “Two reasons to celebrate at the club tonight. And when we have time for a more...private celebration....”

“There is that,” Goalie agreed.

“All right: go and sew on some Captain's insignia on your flight suit. I'll see you at 1500. And today, this is your first combat flight as a Captain.”

“I never thought I'd do this for you, but..” Goalie said. She came to parade-ground form, just as if she was back at Colorado Springs, snapped to attention, and gave a perfect salute.

The CO returned it, and said, “As you were before, Captain. I'd rather have the Goalie I know.”

“Don't you worry about that,” she replied.

He laughed, knowing she meant it. “I'll see you at 1500. And I hope to see Captain's bars on you.”
Goalie let out one of her grins. “You will, Boss.” And he also knew that when she grinned like that, fun times were ahead. Tonight at the club, she'd let rip-for an hour or so before the twelve-hour rule kicked in.

“Good. Now, your CO and pilot needs that nap. I'll see you at 1500. Oh, one more thing,” he said, taking the list off his desk and giving it to her. “Put this on the bulletin board. There's several other people in the squadron on it. Spread the joy around.”

“Will do.”

The CO went over to the couch. “See you in thirty,”

“I'll be here.” Goalie replied, leaving the office and closing the door behind her. He could hear “YES!” as she went to tell the others on the list.

“Thanks, Colonel,” Major Wiser said, looking up at the ceiling. “She deserves it.” He then closed his eyes, hoping to have that dream he'd been hoping for-when Mark had awakened him.
Treat everyone you meet with kindness and respect, but always have a plan to kill them.

Old USMC Adage
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