Jungles of AwanilChapter 5
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His men were glad to see him. They all had questions but he had no answers to give. Even if he hadn't been given orders to remain silent, he had no idea what he would have said about the last two days and a half days.
He stopped by the captain's office and picked up his orders, which were waiting on the adjutant's desk. Captain Slickdick Pinhead didn't want to see him and no replacement for his lieutenant had arrived. The day seemed to be going from bad to worse. There was a small bit of good news. It appeared the captain would not be going out into the field. Even though he should be out in the Meat Grinder, Gavril was relieved that the untried fool wasn't.
Corporal in tow, Gavril went to the quartermaster and requisitioned supplies. They were going deep into the jungle again, well within the borders of the Meat Grinder as this sector had been labeled of late. They would land at Forward Base Charlie and patrol a specific area for three days, coordinating with adjacent squads. The platoon was to make their way to a scraped hilltop and await evacuation by thropter. Track and kill all nasties in their sector. They were the same orders as the last time.
The troops knew what the orders meant. They were to stomp through three days worth of stinking, fetid jungle and kill anything that appeared unless it killed them first. Have a nice day and fuck you.
Whatever smidgen of hope Gavril held out for an easy mission seeped away under the clean glare of the lights in the quartermaster's hut. Guth had been on Awanil for three rotations and was a sergeant's best friend. As quartermaster, he had seen what happened to equipment in the field. He had also seen what happens to men with the proper equipment — they came back. Whatever Gavril requested, Guth always produced, adding certain items that he thought a platoon might need. Watching Guth add extra burst charges to his request was always a sobering experience. More than once Gavril had felt a keen desire to go to the chapel and pray after leaving the quartermaster. He had that feeling again.
Returning to the barracks, Gavril called the men around. He laid out the map on an open bunk. Every man had to know the route they would take; every man had to know the landmarks and the markers. The only decision was who got to carry the heaviest weapons. While every man was equipped with a burst rifle, only two out of the ten had burst cannons, which could fry any living thing and punch a meter wide hole into solid rock three meters deep at close range. Given a bit of distance, a cannon could clear enough land to build a road.
The last Vizz they had cornered had tried to split itself into a flock of birds nesting in one of the tree canopies far above their heads. Corporal Hairball had yanked the cannon from the blinking grunt and blasted the top off of the tree. It had rained wood and leaves and bird guts and some other indefinable chunks for a full five minutes, but they got the fucker. Hairball had an allergy attack. He always had allergy attacks, which was the origin of his nickname.
Two hours later they boarded a single thropter for the bone-jarring trip to the forward base. Charlie was the deepest of the bases and for lack of a better word, it sucked. Any food left exposed was attacked by crawling insects within minutes. Slithering reptiles were commonplace and half of them were poisonous. The large carnivores had no natural fear of humans. Even the vegetation wanted to eat them alive.
When they landed and disembarked on a muddy, rutted field, a figure jumped out of an all-terrain (AT) vehicle and walked towards them.
"You're late," the major said.
Gavril threw the man half a salute and readjusted his rifle on his shoulder before it fell. "The pilot drives like a little old lady, sir." The major had been on Awanil longer than Gavril.
"Can the crap, Sergeant. I've been up to my ass in virgin captains and I've got a colonel two thropters behind you with a metal rod up her ass. The other patrols left three hours ago."
"I know where I'm going. Give me the lowdown and a driver, and Ill be out of your hair, sir," Gavril said.
The major nodded. "If your fuckin' captain would just do his job..." He stopped himself. "Satellite recon identified six targets moving at a slow clip through the north quadrant, but the equipment couldn't pinpoint specific locations. You are in the fourth of eight sectors in the quadrant. The camp is basically empty with most of the company in the field. You're surrounded by virgin captains on either side, and before you say anything, it wasn't me. Their assignments came from above. I paired them with a good noncom when I could. You're the only sector without a commissioned officer until now. The colonel sent ahead your field promotion to lieutenant. Congratulations," the major said without any joy in his voice. "If you make it back to base, I'll scrounge up a lieu's patch for you. If the boojums don't get you, the greenie captains might. You might want to stay close to the ground."
"Situation normal, sir," Gavril said, trying to keep the concern from furrowing his forehead.
"Load your men in the AT. The driver has the map. Good luck, lieutenant," the major said as he turned to walk back to the base gate.
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