you’ll be welcomed with open arms to stay—and I have no doubt that you will like it there. In fact, I can’t think of any better place for any of you. But it’s your call to make. I only ask that you keep this quiet; I don’t intend to invite anyone else, and I don’t want anyone else trying to tag along. Think it over and let me know by 2200 hours tonight.”
By 2100 hours, Adrian had already heard from each of the five men. They were all coming with him.
The next morning, Adrian met the lieutenant at the temporary armory and picked up the selective fire twelve-gauge shotgun and one-hundred-seventy-five rounds of ammunition. The shotgun was capable of single fire, semi-auto, or full auto, delivering 20 rounds from the drum magazine in four seconds. It had a tube magazine when the drum wasn’t used, and looked pretty much like any black plastic stocked semi-auto shotgun.
Adrian could snipe with the best of them, but action was almost always close quarters, and nothing in the world was as effective then as twelve gauge double ought buckshot. The ammo selection also contained rifled slugs accurate to two hundred yards, accurate enough to take down either man or deer; birdshot; explosive rounds; and incendiary rounds.
The rest of the squad took their standard issue M4 5.56mm rifles. Each man also chose a sidearm, all but Adrian taking the 9mm. Adrian carried his own personal model 1911 .45acp; it delivered stopping power with perfect balance.
The men were issued MREs, which they packed into backpacks. At Adrian’s urging, each had scrounged civilian clothes to wear. They were going to look like a military patrol in civilian clothes no matter what they did, at least until their hair and beards grew.—although, until their beards and hair grew, they’d look like a military patrol no matter what. But Adrian was sure that uniforms would have been a problem.
The men were given their discharges and they set off. Before they got to the gate, Adrian halted the men and said, “OK, we can do this one of two ways. One, we can go on acting like we are still in the army. With me being the sergeant what gives the orders and you being the sergeants what follow those orders immediately and without question. Or two, we can be the civilians that we officially are. We can vote on everything and discuss each step. Either way is fine with me, but if we get into any kind of action at all, we have to have discipline or we are going to get waxed while we sit around chewing the fat. What do you say?”
Bollinger spoke up for the rest of the men, as he usually did. “Civilians—hell, we’re still army and at least until we get to Uncle Roman’s we stay army. Once there we can reconvene this pissing party and see what we want to do then. Move out, Sergeant. You’re wasting our daylight.” The rest of the men grinned and nodded, they never had a lot to say, they mostly did their talking with weapons.
Adrian’s group was the first to leave the warehouses and faced a novel situation at the gate. As usual there was a crowd of half-starved civilians waiting around, hoping for a food distribution. Each morning they were told there would not be a food distribution that day, or any other day, and to move on as they were wasting their time. But each day they did not listen, waiting and starving impassively.
At first the soldiers were bothered by this, but they were under strict orders not to share food. The soldiers soon grew irritated with these civilians for hanging around when they should have been out foraging for food. After a while they understood that these people were going to stay there until they starved or were forced to leave; they didn’t have the will to forage. It was an encounter with people that would never stand on their own two feet, always expecting others to take care of them.
As the squad reached the gate and the guards opened it, the civilian crowd stirred. This was different; army soldiers in civilian clothes
By 2100 hours, Adrian had already heard from each of the five men. They were all coming with him.
The next morning, Adrian met the lieutenant at the temporary armory and picked up the selective fire twelve-gauge shotgun and one-hundred-seventy-five rounds of ammunition. The shotgun was capable of single fire, semi-auto, or full auto, delivering 20 rounds from the drum magazine in four seconds. It had a tube magazine when the drum wasn’t used, and looked pretty much like any black plastic stocked semi-auto shotgun.
Adrian could snipe with the best of them, but action was almost always close quarters, and nothing in the world was as effective then as twelve gauge double ought buckshot. The ammo selection also contained rifled slugs accurate to two hundred yards, accurate enough to take down either man or deer; birdshot; explosive rounds; and incendiary rounds.
The rest of the squad took their standard issue M4 5.56mm rifles. Each man also chose a sidearm, all but Adrian taking the 9mm. Adrian carried his own personal model 1911 .45acp; it delivered stopping power with perfect balance.
The men were issued MREs, which they packed into backpacks. At Adrian’s urging, each had scrounged civilian clothes to wear. They were going to look like a military patrol in civilian clothes no matter what they did, at least until their hair and beards grew.—although, until their beards and hair grew, they’d look like a military patrol no matter what. But Adrian was sure that uniforms would have been a problem.
The men were given their discharges and they set off. Before they got to the gate, Adrian halted the men and said, “OK, we can do this one of two ways. One, we can go on acting like we are still in the army. With me being the sergeant what gives the orders and you being the sergeants what follow those orders immediately and without question. Or two, we can be the civilians that we officially are. We can vote on everything and discuss each step. Either way is fine with me, but if we get into any kind of action at all, we have to have discipline or we are going to get waxed while we sit around chewing the fat. What do you say?”
Bollinger spoke up for the rest of the men, as he usually did. “Civilians—hell, we’re still army and at least until we get to Uncle Roman’s we stay army. Once there we can reconvene this pissing party and see what we want to do then. Move out, Sergeant. You’re wasting our daylight.” The rest of the men grinned and nodded, they never had a lot to say, they mostly did their talking with weapons.
Adrian’s group was the first to leave the warehouses and faced a novel situation at the gate. As usual there was a crowd of half-starved civilians waiting around, hoping for a food distribution. Each morning they were told there would not be a food distribution that day, or any other day, and to move on as they were wasting their time. But each day they did not listen, waiting and starving impassively.
At first the soldiers were bothered by this, but they were under strict orders not to share food. The soldiers soon grew irritated with these civilians for hanging around when they should have been out foraging for food. After a while they understood that these people were going to stay there until they starved or were forced to leave; they didn’t have the will to forage. It was an encounter with people that would never stand on their own two feet, always expecting others to take care of them.
As the squad reached the gate and the guards opened it, the civilian crowd stirred. This was different; army soldiers in civilian clothes
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