Thank you for the kind words. Often on here, I find people to be extremely uppity, and they make attempts at tearing down work that-to them- is to commercial. I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the dialogue though. I have an agent and a publishing company looking this over now, and they have both mentioned that the emotionally driven characters and dialogue were what drew their interest in my Query.
Action Adventure / Loss of Innocence, Chapter Two, Version Two
CHAPTER 2: RUDE AWAKENING
TUESDAY, AUGUST 6 1991
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA
2215 HRS.
As he stepped from the plane, the moist heat nearly took Colby’s breath. His father and uncle had warned him of the heat and humidity, but that was not preparation enough. Colby gathered himself to walk down the steps. This was going to suck, He thought.
Upon entering the terminal, Colby noticed a desk with a sign that read ‘FORT BENNING REPORT HERE’. He walked to the desk to find another sign telling him to call an extension on the phone if arriving after hours. As he reached out for the phone, Colby heard a voice behind him.
“Already called them, they’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” Colby turned around to find a tall slender kid with, what Colby thought, were very feminine eye lashes.
“Name’s Ryan Geerts.” the kid said as he held out his hand.
“Colby Greer.” Colby replied as he shook Ryan’s hand.
“That’s funny. Geerts, Greer.” Ryan commented. “I was just about to step outside, you smoke?”
“Hell yeah.” Colby answered quickly, grabbing up his bag. The two proceeded for the exit.
Colby and Ryan stood along the curb in front of the terminal, smoking their cigarettes as quickly as they could. They did so in the hopes of finishing the packs.
Ryan stood six-foot one-inch, towering over Colby. He weighed one-hundred-and seventy-pounds, had brown hair, brown eyes, and those long eye lashes. He had been born and raised in the small town of Marshfield Missouri. For the last five years it had been just him and his mother, who worked as a nurse. His father had been killed in a plane crash when he was thirteen. He achieved good grades in school without even trying, and was an All Star Baseball Pitcher. He joined the Army to get out of his small town and find some excitement. So here he was at eighteen-years of age, starting his life as Colby was.
“I’m from Marshfield Missouri.” Ryan stated as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs.
“Farmington Arkansas.” Colby replied
“Wow, we’re practically neighbors.” Ryan said with a laugh.
“Dam near.” Colby replied. He looked around for any sign of someone coming to pick them up. The only other people around were three other young men, who appeared to be waiting for the same thing as Colby and Ryan. “We better enjoy these while we can.” he said, quickly lighting another cigarette.
“No shit.” Ryan said, pulling another from his pack. After lighting his smoke, Ryan pulled out his wallet and retrieved a picture. “This is my girl Ashlie.” he showed the picture to Colby.
“She’s cute.” Colby replied. “You’re a lucky man.”
“You got a girl?” Ryan asked.
“No.” Colby answered flatly. “Didn’t figure she would do me any good back there.”
“Me and Ashlie are getting married when I get to my duty station.” Ryan informed Colby.
“Oh yeah, well I wish you guys the best.” Colby smiled.
Colby thought about Sarah, and how they had planned to marry after he had been stationed. He suddenly felt sick, as the image of Cooper and Sarah worked its way into his mind. What were they doing at that exact moment? The urge to vomit began to creep up his stomach.
“Guy’s better finish them cancer sticks before we get to Benning, won’t be any need for ‘em there.” Colby and Ryan whipped their heads to find a large black Staff Sergeant standing behind them. Startled, they both jumped into action putting the smokes out. “Don’t worry. You’ve got until we exit the bus on base before you have to get rid of them.” the Staff Sergeant told them. “We’ll be taking that bus over there.” he pointed to an older lime green school bus.
On the bus ride to Benning, Colby and Ryan finished off their cigarette packs as fast as they possibly could. As the bus pulled onto Fort Benning, there wasn’t much to see in the dark. Other than the brown identification signs in front of each building, Colby thought it looked pretty much like any other town. They stopped in front of a group of buildings identified as 30th AG, Reception Battalion. Upon exiting the bus, Colby and Ryan stepped to the side and proceeded to finish their last cigarettes. As they stood there puffing away rapidly, a tall broad Staff Sergeant with a stiffly starched uniform and round Smokey the Bear style hat approached them from behind.
“YOU TWO DIP SHITS BETTER PUT OUT THOSE FUCKING LUNG KILLERS, AND GET YOUR ASSES IN MY BUILDING ASAP!” The Drill Sergeant screamed. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”
“YES SIR!” The two snapped back, dropping the smokes and running for the door with the Drill right behind them.
“LET’S GO LADIES, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!” He barked. “MOVE LIKE YOU GOT A PURPOSE!”
They scrambled into the building, and took a place in line with the others along the left wall. The Drill walked past them down the hall and stopped at the front of the line.
“YOU WILL TAKE THE BOOKLET AND PAPERWORK FROM THE CORPORALS. YOU WILL THEN GIVE UP ANY AMNESTY MATERIALS. I.E. TOBACCO PRODUCTS, WEAPONS, CANDY, TITTIE MAGAZINES, AND ANYTHING ELSE THAT CAN GET YOUR SORRY ASSES INTO TROUBLE HERE!” The Drill paused to look around. “AFTER YOU HAVE DONE THAT YOU WILL FILE INTO MY AUDITORIUM AND TAKE A SEAT. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”
“YES SIR!” The group bellowed.
“DO NOT ADDRESS ME AS SIR. I WORK FOR A LIVING. YOU WILL ONLY ADDRESS OFFICERS AS SIR. YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AND OTHERS WITH HATS LIKE ME AS DRILL SERGEANT. GOT IT?”
“YES DRILL SERGEANT!” The group replied in correction.
Colby was in complete shock. He felt as if he wasn’t even in the same world anymore. Now he wondered if he was making a big mistake. He took the papers, and with nothing to put into amnesty, he filed into the auditorium. Colby and Ryan took their seats without saying a word. Both were busy soaking in the reality of their new world.
The Drill took the stage and walked the group through filling out the paperwork. Most of it was the same thing they had done at their MEPS, except for two. One was a life insurance beneficiary form, and the other was a generic post card to be sent to their families.
Dear Loved One,
I have arrived at Fort Benning in good health. I will contact you with an address once I am assigned to a training company.
They were to address the card to their family, sign it, and turn it in with the rest of the paperwork. Last but not least, they were given a soldiers hand book. This was referred to as the Smart Book. It was to be on their person at all times, and they would be quizzed on it at any given time.
After all of that, they were taken out of the building and to the right down a walkway. They stopped at a building that looked like an upside down L. There were several doors on the right, down the long upright of the L. They were taken to the third door and told to go inside. There were rows of double bunks down each wall, and two rows down the middle. There was a wall locker for each bunk. Two doors at the far end led into the bathroom and shower area.
“Pick a bunk and prepare for lights out, you will find linen in the wall lockers. Lights out in fifteen minutes.” The Drill told them, and then left.
There were only twenty men in the group, and around forty or so bunks. Colby and Ryan took two bunks in the center row, about half way down. They prepared the bunks with the linen, and climbed into bed. In exactly fifteen minutes the lights went out without a word. Colby lay there in the dark thinking about home and how badly he wanted to be back there. He couldn’t help but to think that he may have made a mistake. As he lay there with thoughts scrambling through his mind, the loneliness crept back over his heart. He was almost in tears as he tried to close off his mind and drift off to sleep.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 7, 1991
HAFAR AL BATIN, SAUDI ARABIA
1005 HRS.
Hafar Al Batin was in the far northern part of the country just south of the Iraq border, and south west of the Kuwait border. A small to moderate explosion had taken down the power grid, prompting Command to dispatch one-Battalion of the 501st Parachute Regiment to secure the city. Cause of the explosion had yet been determined; however power had been restored to all but the northwestern sector of the city.
2nd squad 3rd Platoon B Company was on a daily patrol of the powerless district. They were moving north up a primary roadway, entering an intersection in the market and shopping district. Lieutenant Eric Palmer was on point with his radio man, Specialist David Lions, a few steps behind. Palmer was 3rd Platoon’s Leader. He and Sergeant First Class Terry Means, the Platoon Sergeant, took turns leading the four different squads on patrols.
Normally the Lieutenant would not be on point, however they had been conducting these patrols for three weeks with no incidents and Palmer wanted to take a detour in the market for some sweet bread. Behind Palmer and Lions, was Staff Sergeant Richard Grebb, 2nd Squad’s Leader. Following, was Sergeant Alvin Slate with A Team. Bringing up the rear was Sergeant Rodney Crowler and B Team. Every other man was staggered to opposite sides of the street, and twenty meters behind the man in front.
Sergeant Crowler wiped the sweat from his brow. Rodney hated this part of the world. The sun beamed down like a laser, heating every thing in sight. He didn’t like the people much either. He felt like any one of them could turn on him in a flash. The United States was a blessing when Iraq invaded Kuwait, but now that the treaty was signed, the locals wanted the soldiers out. Forget that Rodney had come half way around the world to save their asses. The fight was over, and the Americans were now the Immoral Devils again.
Rodney was born and raised in Lakewood New Jersey to two teachers. His father was a white high school teacher, and his mother was a black college professor. He had one sibling, a sister four years younger. He was six-foot, a hundred-and fifty-pounds, light brown complexion, and had tight curly hair. He had his father’s piercing green eyes. Rodney was an excellent student, and athlete. He joined the army after he failed to get a basketball scholarship to a top school. His parents were disappointed, as they felt that he was too intelligent for the military. They were especially not pleased with him joining the Infantry.
Rodney’s intellect and athleticism helped him to excel quickly in the army. At the end of his first enlistment he was a twenty two year old Ranger qualified Team Leader, due to be promoted upon returning to his home station in Germany.
Rodney watched as Palmer raised his fist to halt the squad. The signal was passed down the line until every man was on one knee covering their sector of security. Palmer turned and called Grebb forward. Grebb moved to where Palmer stood in the intersection. What a couple of dumb asses, Rodney thought of his leaders standing in the open like that. They made easy targets to anyone who wanted to take an easy shot at an American.
“What’s up sir?” Grebb asked the Platoon Leader as he approached.
“I want you to bring Bravo up here to secure the intersection while I take Alpha up to the bakery.” Palmer informed the Squad Leader.
“Sir?” Grebb asked confused.
“I’m gonna go get some bread, and I’m gonna take Alpha with. I need you and Bravo to secure the intersection till we’re done.” Palmer said sharply.
“Yes sir.” Grebb replied in an aggravated tone. Grebb retrieved the mike to his squad radio from his light equipment belt [LCE].
“Snake Charmer Two-Bravo, Snake Charmer Two-over.”
Rodney grabbed his mike on his shoulder strap and tilted it to his face.
“Go ahead Two.” He responded into the mike.
“Two-Bravo, I need you to bring your people up and secure the intersection over.”
“Roger that Two, Two-bravo moving over.” Rodney looked to his team, put his right hand in the air, and moved it in a tight circle to rally them on him. Specialists Todd Wicker and Brock Pratt moved to Rodney’s position, bringing Private First Class Eddy Starnes with them.
“Here’s the deal, we’re gonna move up to secure the intersection. Pratt you take North, Wicker East, Starnes South, and I’ll take west. Got it?” Rodney told them.
“Got it Ser’nt.” Wicker responded.
“Hooah.” The other two replied.
“Ok let’s move.” Rodney ordered, taking the lead as they moved down the street.
Upon entering the intersection, Rodney stopped to a kneeling position and pointed each member to their position. Pratt moved to a cart on the Northwest corner, assumed the prone position, and began scanning the street north from behind his M16A2 assault rifle. Wicker took up position on the Southeast corner, laying his Squad Automatic Weapon [SAW] across the hood of a car facing the East. Starnes stopped at a cart on the Southwest corner and pointed his M16A2 rifle south. Rodney moved to kneel behind a West facing pick up truck on the Northwest corner thirty meters from Pratt.
Grebb moved to Rodney’s position, grabbed his mike and spoke into it.
“Snake Charmer Two-Alpha, Snake Charmer Two-over.”
Sergeant Slate reached for his mike.
“Go ahead Two.” He responded to his squad leader’s call.
“Myself and Two-Bravo will pull security here; you and Alpha will escort the L T on his daily bread run over.” Grebb groaned.
“Roger that Two. Ready when he is over.” Slate replied with a chuckle.
“Snake Charmer Six, this is Snake Charmer Two-over.”
“This is Snake Charmer Six-Bravo, go ahead Two.” Specialist Lions responded.
“Six-Bravo, inform actual that Bravo is in position, and Alpha is ready to move when he is over.”
“Roger Two.” Lions looked to Palmer. “All set sir.” He informed the Lieutenant.
Palmer stood, placed his hand behind his back, and swept it forward over his head to signal A to fallow him. The six men began moving West down the street. Rodney scanned the street ahead of them. Even with the power outage, the block was oddly quiet for this time of day. He could see some men working on a box truck halfway down the street, but couldn’t get an accurate count on them. He looked to Grebb, who had moved to the Southwest corner facing west. Rodney pointed his index and middle fingers to his eyes and then pointed in the direction of the truck. Grebb nodded his head in agreement. The two soldiers watched as Palmer and Alpha stopped in front of the bakery, fifty-meters short of the truck. Palmer halted Alpha. He then retrieved a mike from Lions.
“Two, this is Six, come to my position Sergeant.” Palmer said into the mike.
It really burned Grebb when the cocky Lieutenant didn’t use the radio properly.
“In rout Six.” Grebb replied as he rose to his feet and moved to Palmer’s location. He looked at Rodney and shook his head. “Keep your eyes open Rod.” He said as he moved out.
Grebb approached Palmer and Lions at the bakery. Rodney moved to Grebb’s last position on the Southwest corner to see if he could get a better view of the truck.
“What’s up sir?” Grebb asked Palmer.
“Something’s wrong.” Palmer replied.
“Why do you say that?” Grebb questioned sarcastically.
Palmer ignored the sarcasm.
“When I was through here this morning with first, all these shops were starting to open. Now everything is closed, and the street is virtually empty.” Palmer stated as he looked around.
Rodney could see the truck better now, but the men were gone. He quickly scanned the area. Something caught his eye. He looked to the north side of the street where he saw two men on the third floor of the building across the street from the bakery. One was holding a Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher, which he had aimed at Palmer, Grebb, and Lions.
“RPG!” Rodney screamed as loud as he could, as he quickly loaded a 40mm grenade round into the M203 grenade launcher mounted under the barrel of his M16A2 rifle. He took aim in time to see a cloud of white smoke build around the two men. “SHIT!” he said, pulling the trigger.
The RPG round struck the ground, engulfing the three soldiers’ in fire and debris. Rodney’s round hit its mark, spraying debris out onto the street. Slate dove for cover from the falling cloud of dust and wood. Suddenly rifle fire erupted in the street West of the truck. Rodney could see men firing from the roof tops, down onto A Team. He could clearly see that A was pinned down.
“Two Alpha, this is Two-Bravo, hang tight Slate we’ll get you guys out a there.” Rodney said into his mike.
He then turned to his team. “Wicker, get that SAW over here and keep those fuckers from moving on Alpha. Pratt, Starnes you two cover everything else. I’m moving back to the alley south of the intersection to get a better picture of this shit. Pratt, watch out for me on the Southern roof tops.” he ordered. The men moved to new positions. Rodney sprinted for the alley. He ran to the back side of the bakery and began climbing the fire escape.
When he peered over the edge of the building, Rodney spotted two men firing AK47 assault rifles down into the street. He quickly took aim with his rifle. ‘POP, POP, POP!’ He struck one man in the back of the head, and the other in the throat as the man turned to face him. Rodney quickly rolled himself over the edge onto the roof top. He came up on one knee, and began scanning the other buildings. He found another man on the building Northeast of him. ‘POP, POP!’ The man fell to the tar papered roof, blood pouring from his neck and head.
Bullets began impacting the roof top all around Rodney. He swiftly moved to take cover behind the raised lip of the roof to the West side. As he was moving, Rodney located the gunman on the West roof top. He pulled a grenade from its pouch, pulled the pin, and ejected the spoon. “One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand.” Rodney tossed the grenade across his body to the other roof top. It exploded in a shattering bang. He rose to one knee and took aim. Nothing, only a blood stained ledge. What Rodney couldn’t see from behind his cover was the grenade detonating in mid air twelve inches from the gunman’s face.
Rodney resumed scanning the roof tops. They were all gunmen free. He could still her automatic gunfire so he moved to the West edge and peered over. At first he could see nothing, and then he picked up the muzzle flash from the North side of the street West of his position.
“Two-Alpha, this is Two-Bravo over.”
“Go ahead Two-Bravo.” Slate came back.
“Two-Alpha, sky is clear. You still have one to two on the North side, west of you. I can’t make anything out but a muzzle flash, can you see the source?” Rodney said into the mike, breathing heavily.
Slate looked around the car from which he was hiding. He looked to Specialist Trey Williams, across the street.
“Williams, can you see the gunman on the North side of the street?” Slate asked his SAW gunner.
Williams looked around the stack of crates in front of him.
“Negative, just muzzle flash.” He answered his Team Leader.
“Two Bravo, all we have is flash down here. Think you can flush ‘em out?”
“Roger that Two-Alpha, I’ll send them a two oh three round.” Rodney replied.
“Williams, Ser’nt Crowler’s gonna flush ‘em out. When they relocate, spray ‘em. Got it?” Slate ordered.
“Roger that boss.” Williams responded.
Rodney loaded the round into his M203, and took aim. ‘THUMP!’ the grenade left the tube, and struck the concrete in front of the gunmen’s position. The two men quickly sprang for the opposite side of the street.
‘TAT, TAT, TAT, TAT, TAT!’ Rodney heard Williams’ SAW kick off. Both men collapsed in a large pool of dark red blood. One of the men’s head was half gone; the other was almost cut in half from the spray of 5.56mm the SAW produced.
“All clear Two Alpha, I’m coming down through the bakery over.”
“Roger that will move to secure the bakery, over.” Slate replied in relief.
Rodney opened the door to the stairway that descended down into the building that held the bakery. He was immediately face to face with a surprised man, whose face was hidden behind traditional Arab head gear. Rodney swiftly struck the man in the head with the butt of his rifle. The man collapsed, unconscious on the stairs. A mobile phone fell from the man’s hand. Rodney bent over and picked up the phone.
“What are you doing with this here?”
1304 HRS.
After the fire fight had ended, Sergeant Slate had secured Lions’ radio and called the company to inform them of the event. Captain Dennis Bannion, B Company Commander had already dispatched 1st Platoon when the noise of the gun fire rang out. 1st Platoon had arrived just after Slate had made the call. Captain Bannion arrived with 2nd Platoon within minutes of the radio transmission.
1st Platoon secured the area, while 2nd saw to the wounded, removed the dead, and searched for Intel. Bannion got briefed on the events by Slate and the rest of 3rd Squad, while Rodney and First Sergeant Thomas Kirks searched the prisoner. As Bannion talked with Slate and the others, Specialist Larry Tanner approached the group.
“Brigade’s on the horn for you sir.” Tanner said, handing Bannion the hand set.
“This is Wolf Pack Zero-Six-over.” Bannion said into the hand set.
“Wolf Pack Zero-Six, this is Hurricane Zero-Six, you have a bird in rout to your location, I need you to give the occupants your full cooperation, over.”
“Roger Hurricane Zero-Six, can you explain what this is about?” Bannion asked.
“Negative Wolf Pack Zero-Six, just that this comes from way above my head, over.”
“Copy that Hurricane Zero-Six. We will assist, over.”
“Affirmative Wolf Pack Zero-Six, Hurricane Zero-Six out.” As Bannion handed the hand set back to tanner, a UH60 Blackhawk helicopter came in low over head. Bannion looked up and then back to his men.
“Well gentlemen, looks like we have company, Tanner take my hummer and go fetch ‘em son.”
“On my way sir.” Tanner snapped as he fled off.
“Slate, go pass the word, we’ve got big wigs of some sort coming in. Stand down till their gone.” Bannion ordered.
“Will do sir.” Slate replied as he trotted off.
“Oh, and Slate.” Bannion shouted.
“Sir?” Slate turned and answered.
“Good job today son.”
“Thank you sir, but Crowler is the real hero today.” Slate turned and trotted off.
Fifteen minutes after Tanner left, he returned with the three occupants of the Blackhawk. Bannion watched as a Ranger Captain, and two civilians dressed in khakis climbed out of the hummer. The three men approached Bannion’s position.
“Captain Bannion, I’m Captain Daniels, and these two men are Mister Black and Mister Blue.” Daniels had a slight grin on his face. “Don’t ask, I tried. They’re here to investigate today’s events. Try and determine who’s behind it.”
“What, you mean it’s not the Iraqis?” Bannion quickly asked.
“Don’t know, haven’t met them.” Black replied. “I understand you have one alive.”
“Yes sir.” Bannion answered.
“We need you to take us to him.” Blue stated.
Bannion looked at Daniels, who nodded his head. Bannion walked the men West down the street to the bakery where Rodney and First Sergeant Kirks were holding the prisoner.
“Has he said anything?” Blue asked as they entered the room. Rodney looked at Bannion who nodded his head.
“This one wasn’t in the fight, he was hiding in here.” Rodney informed them.
“Any weapons?” Daniels asked.
“No sir, only this mobile phone, which he dropped when I butt stroked him.”
Black quickly grabbed the phone from Rodney’s hand. He pushed a button and brought up the call list.
“Looks like he was trying to make a call when you got him.” He stated. Blue took a look at the phones screen. Both Black and Blue excused themselves from the room.
Rodney pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Captain Daniels.
“He also had this on him sir.” Daniels took the paper from the young Sergeant. “It’s a sketch of the area.”
Daniels looked the hand drawn map over carefully. He then turned to Captain Bannion.
“Looks like they intended to hold your men pinned down until reinforcements came.” He told Bannion.
“Then what?” Bannion asked.
“Not sure, but they have an X marked on that truck down there.” Daniels replied, pointing back up the street to the truck. Everyone looked in the vehicles direction.
“When we first arrived there were men working on that truck.” Rodney informed them.
Captain Daniels looked back down at the map. He turned the page over and found a number on the back.
“It’s a phone number.” He said quietly, as if he were thinking. He suddenly turned to look outside; Blue had just dialed a number on the mobile phone and was placing the phone to his ear.
“GET DOWN!” Daniels yelled loudly as he dove for cover. Everyone dropped where they were.
Suddenly a deep rumble filled the room. The glass front of the bakery imploded onto the floor, and the room filled with dust and smoke. The four men got to their feet and carefully made their way to the street.
“Oh my God!” Bannion gasped as he fled out in the direction of the intersection with Kirks hot on his heals.
Rodney and Daniels just stood there in complete awe at the scene of destruction before them. All of the buildings east of the truck to the intersection were half gone. Their faces ripped off. A large crater lay where the truck was once parked. There was fire, smoke and debris everywhere.
“Who the hell are these guys?” Rodney asked in shock.
“Ser’nt, meet Al Qaeda.” Daniels said quietly. “Remember the name, you’ll see it again.”
THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 1991
SCHOFIELD BARRACKS HAWAII
0900 HRS.
Master Sergeant Ryan pace was in his office relaxing with a cup of coffee and a hand full of Motrin after the morning’s physical training, [PT]. He washed down the pills with a swallow of the coffee, and then reached for his morning paper. As he unfolded the paper on his desk, Colonel Tommy Nyte rushed into the room.
“Good, I caught you before you read it.” Tommy gasped.
“Read what?” Pace asked.
“I ran all the way down here to tell you.”
The buzzer went off on Pace’s phone. He reached over and pressed a button on the phone.
“I know Colonel Nyte is here to see me.” He said with a chuckle, holding a finger up to Tommy. “Thanks Ser’nt.” He released the button.
“Sorry Master Ser’nt.” A voice said over the intercom. Pace looked back to his long time friend and Commander.
“Now what is it Tommy?”
Tommy held out a sheet of computer print out paper. Pace took the paper and read it over. The farther he read, the farther his chin dropped. When finished, he dropped the paper and his glasses on the desk top, and peered up at Tommy. Tears could be seen building in his eyes.
“Death toll?” He asked his friend.
“Not sure yet, At least a Platoon and a half though I’d guess.” Tommy replied softly.
Pace looked down at the morning paper, then back to his friend.
“It’s in the dam paper?” His tone a little aggravated.
“A munitions depot cooked off.” Tommy reassured him. “It does get worse though.”
“How much worse can it get Tommy?” Pace snapped. “Those fuckers just blew up half a damn Infantry Company and a city block with it!”
“Two-of your boys were there.”
Pace looked up sharply.
“Daniels and Crowler, they’re ok though.”
“What the hell were they doing there?” Paced asked angrily. “And together at that?”
“Crowler was on patrol. His unit was dispatched when the power grid went down. His squad was the one that came under attack. Platoon Leader and Squad Leader were killed, everyone else pinned down. Crowler took to the roof tops and cleared the enemy.” Tommy informed Pace.
“And Daniels?” Pace asked.
“He was escorting a couple of spooks who have been investigating the attacks. Apparently they set off the bomb with a mobile phone taken off of a prisoner Crowler took.”
“We gotta get them out a there before some idiot gets them killed.” Pace stated.
“Already on it.” Tommy told him. “Lars is on his way.”
“Good.” Pace sighed. He picked up the print out and looked at it again. “This is bold, very damn bold.”
“Yeah, they’re gonna want credit for this one.” Tommy added. “Probably even be pissed that we said it was an accident.”
Pace put the paper down again, looking back to his friend.
“They’re going to the press this time.” He stated. “Better keep an eye on Al Jazzier.”
“Already got people on that one too.” Tommy assured him.
Pace looked intently at Tommy.
“You know it’s just a matter of time before these maniacs get their hands on something worse?”
Tommy just looked at his friend and nodded his head.
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groundscore reviewed Version 1 -
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Fuss if you must, but I could hardly get through the reading without wondering what kind of grammar you had used. There were so many errors that it was distracting.
This was going to suck, He thought. -Here you don’t need a capital “h”
Colby noticed a desk with a sign that read ‘FORT BENNING REPORT HERE… Here you need a comma between “read” and “FORT”
Colby turned around to find a tall slender kid with, what Colby thought, were very-I don’t know what this is supposed to be-punctuation is a mess.
“Name’s Ryan Geerts.” the kid said as he held out his hand.- Commas before quotes. You didn’t get one right.
“YOU TWO DIP SHITS BETTER PUT OUT THOSE FUCKING LUNG KILLERS, AND GET YOUR ASSES IN MY BUILDING ASAP!” -Don’t use all caps or exclamation points!
It was laborious to read with all the errors, I am sorry to report.
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SinnerASaint reviewed Version 1 -
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Very imaginative and descriptive. The factor that stood out to me the most was your use of elaborate imagery. It painted a clear and vivid picture to me the reader. The only real flaw in this piece, and opinionated at that, was your use of dialogue. I found the conversations between two characters to be somewhat lacking of emotion. In order for a character to be dynamic he/she must be emotive in some way. Make it sound like two people would be talking in reality. It throws the reader off when they are reading something and it sounds corny or ill-prepared. I would give this piece a solid A if it was up for a grade. Your dialogue could possibly be perfect and I could be way off base, its only a mixture of constructive criticism and advice. Best of Luck.
jtthehunter reviewed Version 1 -
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Well written with an even tempo. The character development is excellent with back story and believable. Good use of descriptors in and out of the action. Some minor spelling issues, ‘in rout’ would be ‘enroute’ or ‘in route’. This issue is all together very minor but I just wanted to bring it to your attention so that it can be corrected prior to submission to a publisher. This is great story and reads very well.
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