>I woke with a start, the dust falling around me would have filled my eyes had I not been sleeping with my goggles on. I grabbed my rifle and slinked my eyes about three inches above the dirt to look in the other graves.
>I saw on my 9 o'clock that the other's not on sentry duty had awakened and were pointing their weapons to the north-east.
>it was clear the big one was coming, a nice offensive, a pretty well conceived plan to draw them in. It all had to go to plan.
>mortars began ringing off in the distance. 
>I soon found myself on the bottom of the grave again. I slincked above and brought my rifle to bare on the direction the attack came from and began shooting, four hundred yards out, I was using the Irons to bracket enemies with 7.62mm bullets. 
>as I counted that I had dropped twelve I heard the order to retreat and sprinted back fifty yards, then turned to shoot a few more rounds and delay their advance as a fellow volunteer ran past me, I was more likely drawing fire to him than covering his retreat, but I was gonna get to the next phase line. I began my run back as the thunder started again. I didn't know what it was, but I knew if had to be directed at me and the rest of the volunteer force.
>as I made it to the next phase line, I dropped into the trench and began firing, I saw the youngin' who passed me early and he started talking
>"SERGEANT! WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM?" 
"The blacks?"
>"NO, THAT'S PRETTY FUCKING OBVIOUS, I MEAN THE MORTARS!"
"What mortars" 
>all at once his gaze turned from inquisitive to "You've got a dick growing out of your forehead!" I suddenly realized what the thunder was at his facial cue. 
"OH THOSE MORTARS! YEAH, FROM THE EAST, MAYBE A LITTLE SOUTH OF US!"
>"FALL BACK!" he screamed. 
>as I hit the next phase, the young man fell into the trench too mangled to be alive. I stared at the corpse and thought, "Here I am. Rhodesia. removing commies. Seems outta place. I mean, this isn't 1967, and HE isn't Anthony Brading.
>As the armored vehicles from the ZNA began to appear, so to, did the vapor trails from ascending Javelin missiles. 
>I saw out of the corner of my eye, a man wearing what appeared to be our uniform, but brown. He seemed to fit in. I soon saw his distinct haircut and felt his general vibe, which more or less said that any ladies looking at him should come to daddy. I recognized that vibe, there's only one man in this part of the world, maybe the whole thing with that haircut and that vibe. 
>as I looked at him, he spoke to me. "Anon, you crazy son of a bitch! Who's giving you the medal?"
"What medal? I've been trying to do my part like all the other /K/ommandos out here, if anyone deserves it, it's Troopie Statue over there."
>He looked at him and balked for a second.
>"Dear sweet Jesus, Cody got fucked up. guess we're the last ones from the college."
"Jorge, what the fuck are you talking abou-. Jesus, I didn't recognize him."
>at that moment, a voice sounded an order that would give no time to mourn Cody. "Engage at will!" 
>Jorge and I presented our rifles and picked targets.
>The figures, clad in vertical lizard stripe were advancing quickly, but were very distinctive in my sights. I began firing, soon, I was alone in my own little world of popping noises and dust. >Within 90 seconds the figures started retreating, no that more than ten of what seemed two thousand to charge would get away from our line of fire. Even with mortars covering their retreat.
>"Anon, I think it's time we count our blessings and figure out what life decisions led us to this."
"Hey! I did this of my own free will, you're the one that got Jesse pregnant. Speaking of, how is she?"
>"Well, she had the baby last month and has been healthy at home. maybe I'll bring her out here in about a year to settle down, maybe I'll just leave after my last tour. How's your life? I heard you married your rifle. Please. I gotta hear how YOU ended up here."
"if you insist, back to november 2018."
"So, Jorge, I was a young man, you know this part, we were in the same class. President Trump signed an executive order that allowed the army to draft me, where they previously couldn't."
>"so you were a conscript?"
"until after my first tour in europe in 2019. Then they switched out the PVS-14 to the PVS-18 in standard issue. didn't like the power switch as much, but it DID work a bit better. Then they started SELLING us modernized FAL's in full battle rifle size and I couldn't NOT rejoin." 
>"so, here I was, europe, fighting the forces of islam. FAL in hand, and PVS-18 on head..."
"precisely. then..."
>july 20th 2020.
>"ANON! Your new rifle came in."
"Thanks, Major."
>"thought she'd like to introduce herself." He pointed to a woman who had subtly followed him into the barracks. She had Brown hair and vivid green eyes, slightly muted by the barracks lighting, which was only so bright. She appeared clad in rhodesian brushstroke, matched me just fine, I'd been clad in that same pattern during these stays domestically.
>"As you know, private, this is now YOUR rifle, and will be YOUR responsibility alone outside of servicing at the armory, should you feel the need to have them do something."
"Sir, This isn't a rifle, this is a WOMAN, granted a pretty one, but don't you think bringing them in from town is gonna-"
>"HEY!" she shouted with a pout that was borderline angry"I'm not some WHORE from town! I'm your rifle!"
"clearly our communication has run against a wall, my version of a rifle may differ from yours, but I'm expecting a DSA titanium receiver FAL painted turquoise with yellow brown stripes, an Elcan Specter 1-4, and an IR laser, not a perty brunette who follows the Major, of all people into the barracks."
>"You SERIOUSLY don't believe me? Give me your hand!"
>She reached out and snatched my hand, and with a "Watch this" she dissappeared. looking into my hand, I saw exactly the rifle I ordered, with exactly the same optics and peripheral equipment I had expected to receive from the armory.
>"Believe me now, Anon?"
"I- I believe you."
>"Ah, Anon's got his new rifle now, you take care of her now." And the Major walked off laughing like a fucking lunatic.
"Well, shall we get you settled in?"
>"yeah. so your name was... Anon, right? what kind of name is that?"
"yup, German. So what's the deal with you being a rifle, for the sake of getting that straightened out?" 
>"Well, some rifles have an anthropomorphic personality with them. you know, some of the unique things associated with rifles you might think of as inconsistencies in machining."
"So My old M-16 just didn't like 20 round mag? makes sense."
>"Why would it not like 20's? They're not 30's!"
"when you shoot 5.56mm, 20 is too few and 40 is too many."
>"You don't seem like the type to carry an M-16."
"why do you think You're here? I like my stuff not to be heavy, but to be dense in the right spot, and in the right amount. otherwise it's gonna be an awkward, like the mill vises we used to carry to the mill in the machine shop."
>"You worked in a machine shop?"
"Yeah, and I liked to go between the Mill and the Lathe occasionally to keep it fresh. Can't machine gummy steel on the lathe all the time without machining some actually ok steel on the mill on occasion."
>"Ever make any guns?"
"Nah, I worked in a machine shop. They'd have my ass canned for stealling company resources."
>"what's on the agenda for tonight?"
"Make sure you're lubed up, then tomorrow we head out for the first exercise."
>For what may have been the first time for her, she was shocked, and it showed. Her face went from non committal to accused, and she looked around as though I'd accused her of something embarassing.
>"Here? In the barracks? In front of everyone else?"
"Pretty standard practice, everyone gets their privacy in public, so to speak."
>I gestured to the rest of the barracks who were lubricating their rifles, as she looked around, she finally relaxed a little.
>"Well, gotta be done I suppose. Just... Be gentle, Anon, it's my first time."
>with that she turned to the rifle and I began simply stripping her down and inspecting for dirt, machining remnants and grime, cleaning it out where I found it. before long i'd completely removed every last part and made sure it was clean enough to eat off of.
>I put her back together without incident and oiled her lightly, but not too lightly to go unlubed for 1,500 rounds.
>she morphed again and let out a small chirp, twitched a couple times and took a breath.
"Enjoy yourself?"
>"In public of all places" she smirked.
>at that remark I closed the cleaning kit and looked up at her. Something was different.
>"see something you like?"
"Yes."
>"I feel soft and fresh"
>it shows. Her hair was slightly lighter now in color than an almond, her cheeks, once burned matte like my own but to a lesser extent, now looking clean without the unwashable grit, in fact, they shined just ever so slightly, like well kept cheeks did on a pale woman.
>"what's tomorrow?"
"First we go to the range, make sure you're zeroed in, then we start a three day exercise, Think up a name for you."
>"two questions, when are we up, and what time is it?"
"up at 0530, it's about 2100."
>"then let's get some shuteye."
>with that we snuggled up and went to sleep. we woke at 0530 and began out PT, followed by the shooting range where we zeroed in, and promptly began our exercise. we hardly said a word unrelated to coordinating movements and reporting contact or lack thereof. when I was finally switched off about 23 hours into the exercise for some sleep, she finally spoke up.
>"thought of a name for me yet?"
"How about Kelsey?"
>"nah, not really my flavor, any others?"
"Emily?"
>"yeah?" she looked at me awkwardly for a moment "Anon... yes... that sound good."
"well then, Emily, lets get some shuteye"
>with that we again went to sleep, like the day or so preceding that moment there was really nothing noteworthy to tell. Weren't you there?
>"yeah. I was on watch about that point and we took our objectives with little resistance. Her name's Emily, is it?"
"yeah, Jorge. so anyway, you know what happens next. Three weeks later we were launching from England into France and a year later we were rotating out into the real world again. Then came the best of the news we've gotten in the past two years."
>"When IT happened?"
"Yup"
>I woke up at 0612 that morning to Emily's Green eyes staring at me intensely. It was as though she foresaw some massive change in our lives that may or may not be reversible.

11/2/21
>"Anon, we've received orders. Get up and get ready, we're freshening up and heading to the barracks as soon as we're done with breakfast."
>As we sat and ate breakfast I had some questions for Emily. She did after all, know more than I did... at least I hoped so. 
"Any particulars on those orders? is it another muster that goes nowhere? standby to standby?"
>"I don't know, *munch* seems like it's another standby*munch munch*, but no details have been relayed*gulp*, I suspect it's a crisis like in 70's when the sovs were about to take us to war with Israel. I guess it's a toss up if it goes nowhere."
"How do YOU know about that?"
>"we get an education" she said as though dispelling some accusatory notion
"Well, what's the full extent of the precious little information available to us?"
>"Almost nothing, we're to report to the barracks and we haven't yet received any details, we'll be briefed there, all liberties have been revoked and all personnel reporting are to remain on base until further orders are given or until a stand down has been issued."
"Another day in the desert of california, at least no one will be bitching at us for whatever made up grievances are hip and happening these days.
>"do you think president Trump is deploying us somewhere?" 
"potentially, but I expect that the likelihood is low we go out. probably just a show of strength... though I've never really known Trump to threaten action that didn't come when people stayed out of line as he wrangled them in..."
>we headed out to the barracks and the briefing began at 0845 When all the others arrived, poorly rested for troopers on liberty over the weekend, but otherwise slightly better than an average day on the base. I could tell that I was wise not to leave Emily at home as soon as Gen. Hinson walked in.
>An impressive parade field salute was issued, to which Hinson only responded "Sit down."
>"As you all know, we've kept this under wraps as much as we can. from here forward you are not to discuss any detail in this briefing with ANY off base personnel, or anyone outside this room for that matter. not to put too fine a point on it, men, President Trump is proving himself to be the best deal maker we've ever called president. I know where most of you came from. Many of you, about five years ago, including ONE of you in particular was writing about just such an occurrence, and many other similar occurrences on Anime boards and Mongol basket weaving forums. I know Sergeant Anon over there will be very pleased, oh how sweet, he's even dressed for the occasion, stand and take a bow, Thats an order!"
>I stood up and took a bow.
>"continuing on, south africa has tapped President Trump with a negotiation and an enticing offer. The populace of Zimbabwe is suffering, and is doing so needlessly. Some of them are dissidents from south Africa who weren't content to see south Africa thrive rather than embrace socialism. With this information, and tips from multiple intelligence sources that president Robert Mugabe is, at his ripe old age of 97, in poor health, or dying, and that senior officials are beginning a cycle of infighting over top spots and stances on national policy, they will be in disarray. With all this said, you are all confined to your quarters until you load up into trucks at 1600 hours for transport to the airport. Sergeant Anon, you have ten seconds to describe what's going on to the men in two words or less, speak freely."
"Rhodie Repo!"
>"Damn right Anon. Troops, DISMISSED!"
>Emily and I decided to lie cuddled up in my bunk after I got my gear. At 1600 the Trucks would come and we would be loaded up to be taken to our staging point in South Africa. Most likely in my opinion to the north of polokwone. I suspected that the somewhat small force we had would be enough to take the ZNA in all the disarray that the government would be in if Mugabe were to croak, which could be soon, so we were in a hurry.
>"Anon, do you think we'll fight ZANLA? Or... whoever they formed into?"
"The Zimbabwean National Army? yeah, I think we'll take them on."
>"our odds?"
"100% chance of victory."
>"I mean OUR odds."
"how so? mortality got you down?"
>"I mean... yeah, but US. what if one of us doesn't make it? what if something comes between us?"
"Emily, don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you, I have my utmost confidence, something I usually don't have, that you'll take care of me, the only thing that could come BETWEEN us is our clothes."
>"But what if... what if we have to do something horrible?"
"Emily," I said as I grabbed her left hand and put it in my own, visibly gesturing the hands in front of her eyes, pointing to the rings on both of our left hands.
"It's no different than my second tour during the push through Europe. It's the same thing, only with a different enemy. not as vile of an enemy... usually, but the same thing. they're communists. they'll kill all who oppose them, their history is one of murder, death squads, targeted attacks against civillians with no link to those they called enemy. The only reason Mugabe's potentially dying NOW is because he's been blaming and executing whites in zimbabwe every time he fucks up for the last fourty years."
>"so let's say we take it, Harare to Salisbury, Zimbabwe to Rhodesia again. What then?"
"Kilo, that's us, is entirely consistent of people who turned out to be pro-Rhodesia and/or /k/ommandos. we stay if we want."
>the trucks soon arrived and hauled us to the airport.
>"ANON! General Hinson says to run your ass to the command tent."
"What could he want with a lowly sergeant?"
>"I don''t know sergeant, all I know is that he's got a file on you."
"this ought to be good."
>I arrived to Hinson's tent and he looked at me with a face that said relief, which sorta' seemed like he mistook me for the Gunny and he killed a hooker 
>"Sergeant. I know I called you in here, just stand by for a minute, I'll be right back"
>Hinson ran out of the tent. 
>with his departure, I scanned the room, there was a map of rhodesia with zimbabwe and the zimbabwean renamed cities listed in parenthesis underneath their proper Rhodesian names. 
>I wanted to study the map but I had a feeling that I would get plenty of opportunity to do just that even after the General got back. I didn't have the same feeling about the small file on the desk that read "Sgt.Anon E. Mous" with a "CLASSIFIED" stamp on it. so I looked around and did something entirely within the range of getting me shit canned for life. I pulled out my phone, looked around for witnesses, then scrolled through the few pages of the file and took pictures, pausing and steadying myself to make sure the pictures would show legible and clearly visible writings, without the blight of reflective distortion, then quickly closed the file and slipped the phone into my pocket and waited for the general to come back.
>I cut it close, with only fifteen seconds to spare , but by god, if I had a classified file, I fucking DAMN WELL intended to know what was in it. Now, of course I'll deny that having ever happened if I'm ever brought to account for it. good thing there's no cell signal in the area of south africa north of polokwane and pietersburg. that way I was able to ditch the phone, destroying any and all record of the pictures having been taken, but not before I wrote it down and taped it to the inside of Emily's stock.
>"don't bother saluting, sergeant, leave that shit on the parade field." 
"yes, sir."
>"I called you in here because records indicate you have some ability of consideration for tactical assessments. well, I want your opinion of the plan and any criticisms, or downsides you can think of. speak freely if you think of anything."
"what's the plan?" 
>"First objective is to blitzkrieg Bulawayo, which is a major military hub, and essentially where we see the military going to fight in the south lands of the country. First we take Beitbridge in a fast attack, then we strongpoint Gwanda, then straight to Bulawayo, bypassing Essexville."
"seems simple, what about the push towards Harare? it has to come sooner or later, and with our strength, we could almost certainly use out airsupport assets to fasttrack the push. if not, then we'd have to act fast as soon as we took bulawayo to prevent separation from our supply lines and being boxed in. they'd be slow to reach, but once we're reached, they'll likely have a severe impact."
>"I see you think we're up against a competent enemy with the hardware to do the work. but here's where I've got you outpaced. Second objective is to get Harare, which is an objective active at the same time as the capture of Bulawayo. so you'll have your air support from the 25th fighter squadron, 325th fighter wing, and armor and mechanized warfare from 1st armored and the 2nd armored who'll be helping you strongpoint towns."
"ok, now how do we not only maximize this advantage, but also maximize THEIR DISADVANTAGE?" 
>"I think you'll be impressed. our spies are going to subtly pit the chiefs of staff against eachother, diverting major sections of their armored forces STRAIGHT to Harare."
"so now the shit we hardpoint is going to be soft targets, and the armor will be highly visible when we step over the line. leaving them good and FUCKED." 
>"very good sergeant. now to pick the moment correctly."
"I'd have them act as soon as Mugabe croaks."
>"That's a shit hot idea, mind if I take it?"
"Help yourself, I can't say I expect they'll be more divided than when Mugabe croaks with the infighting that's going on, is it true that some of the generals have put their own portions of the army on alert for a move against other "treasonous" generals?"
>"How the FUCK did you hear that, sergeant?"
"it's on the Radio, the faggots at britshilling station BBC report that Mugabe's deteriorating health has cause infighting and there are "unconfirmed" reports of generals preparing to take the infighting to the strategic level."
>"well, shit. the whole world's in on it now. oh well, doesn't effect SHIT. Grab the file on the desk, it's on YOU."
>at this point I had to fake surprise.
"Classi- WHAT? I'm not gonna like this am I?"
>"lets just say you're keepin' that rifle of yours CLOSE until you step off. Burn after reading, I've authorized for your eyes only." he said as he placed a seal on the file and handed it to me. I was genuinely concerned now over just what such a file could have said.
>"Anon, once you're on the OTHER side of the invasion, they can't do shit, and I've refused authorization for them to take your rifle, details of which are in that file. Just be safe with it and guard that rifle until the invasion starts, I know what it means to you and I'm not in the mood for social experiment bullshit. if they can't act outside my orders before you're deployed to rhodesia, they won't be able to, since they're getting a transfer out to fort drum in new york state."
"Thank you sir."
>"don't thank me, the god emperor thanks me to send fags like that out to hell where they'll be disposed of, dismissed."
>I walked out of the office clutching the document and decided I'd read it on sentry duty. It didn't take me too long after I returned to my quarters that I immediately check if Emily was present. I reached my bunk and checked where I stowed her.
>SHE'S NOT THERE! OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK
"EMILY. WHERE ARE YOU?" I half spoke and half screamed, trying not to create an incident in the barracks.
>I walked briskley toward the door when a private, Cody approached me, guess he couldn't tell I was suppressing a frantic look of terror and was rapidly approaching a breakdown.
>"sergeant, can I talk to you about keeping- " 
"NOT NOW, HAVE YOU SEEN EMILY?"
>"Brown hair, Green eyes?"
"YES" I barked frantically.
>"on base PX, I'll get back to you on my issue!" Cody said, as though he understood my panic, or at least felt if I was panicked, it had to be valid.
>I walked at the fastest pace that could be considered less than a jog toward the other side of the base, as I rounded the corner of a mess tent, I saw a woman with apparently dark hair, in a low bun under a watch cap and decided to approach her. reading her rank patch I engage her
"Excuse me, sergeant, have you seen a woman with brown hair, little shorter than me, last name Mous on her nametape?" I belted off frantically.
>"Haven't seen her, try the PFC at the counter." she said, she had a jovial tone about her when she said it, however, since I was in more hurry than would permit it, and it lightly breezed my mind that she'd have no reason to partake in me panic, and MAYBE I suppressed the face enough that she didn't see it, I resisted the urge to throttle her for being useless. 
>I practically ran into the PX and glared down the PFC
"Private! You see a sergeant Mous come through here?"
>"yes, sergeant. she walked out a couple minutes ago, could be as far as the mess or the barracks by now."
> I made a small thanks to kek, and the /k/ube as I walked out of the PX for blessing me with that private who clearly didn't notice my nametape, or it would have come to someone's attention that sergeant Mous was asking for sergeant Mous.
>I jogged to the mess. As soon as I arrived I walked around and scanned for her face among the soldiers eating and saw nothing I asked the cook if he'd seen her and he answered that he hadn't
>when I exited the tent I saw Jorge, and he stopped me.
>"sergeant Mous! You look completely frantic, what's wrong?"
"It's Emily! I can't find her anywhere!"
>"relax, there Tex! I just saw her walk back into the barracks." pool of relief began to form in my mind, and with any luck it'd wash over me in a couple minutes.
>"Christ, Anon! You were just acting like she was gonna leave you or some shit, out here of all places. What's gotten into you?"
"Not saying at this time. Barracks, you said?"
>"yeah, if it's that Important that you find her, she's 80-20 there right now."
"what's the 20?" I asked, looking into him to convey scrutiny that he has information on her whereabouts I lacked.
>"she told me to send you to the armory if she wasn't there when you got back."
"Ok, thank's Jorge." I said as I began to dash past him.
>I arrive to the barracks and I'm greeted by an empty bunk
"off to the armory then." I mutter to myself, but just to be thorough I check where I stowed Emily and as expected, nothing. 
"If she isn't at the armory, I've lost her"
>as I get up I'm grappled back and dropped into my bunk.
>"Surprise!"
"Emily! Oh my god I was so worried!" I said as I embraced her. truthfully, I wasn't sure I wanted to let go of her for the next few hours
>"Anon. You're not letting go are you? Anon!" She exclaimed as she forced herself from my embrace
>"what's gotten into you? you're usually so confident and now it's like you think I'm getting dragged away."
"Ironic you should say that" I exhailed as relief washed over me.
>"hehehe. Oh, Anon, you are the strangest ma- Ironic HOW?"
"Well... I can't tell you here or now, later, when we're alone maybe."
>she lowered her voice "Anon what fresh HELL have you gotten into?" she whispered sharply into my ear with a rather knowing tone. As though she just KNEW I had to have broken into the pentagon and stolen state secrets to sell to some undesirable humans who ought not be allowed to exist, perhaps the type she and I had been fighting in europe four months earlier. 
"so far, none that I know. it's more you I was worried about. I came back to find you gone after-" I looked around and confirmed that there were no witnesses in about thirty feet or so and spoke in a hushed half whisper "-the general told me some shit about the embedded research fags trying to take you, then he gave me this." 
>I opened my stash and exposed to her eyes only, the sealed file, stamped CLASSIFIED in comically overemphasized font.
>Her eyes went wide and she glared fire at me.
>"you're explaining on sentry duty!" she spoke to me, deadpan. I wasn't arguing. we had no contention.
"perfect, until then, don't go out of my sight."
>"well, we'll talk about that later, but for now, I got us a treat" she said as she handed me a box.
>I opened the box and noted it was full of batteries.
"gonna be a good invasion, ain't it, honey?"
>"we don't have to conserve energy." she said with a predatory grin "I can assure you, there will be no sleeping on sentry."
>at 1700 hours we set out on sentry duty
>"so what's with this file?"
"let's find out" 
>I dropped my pack and searched the post for anything resembling some kind of recording device. Finding nothing to record my voice, no cameras, nothing of any note that would be counterproductive to my reading of a classified file. the radio crackled to life.
>"post 5, post 1, give me a radio check. Is the new sentry there?"
"post 1, post 5, I read you Lima Charlie, new sentry is on station."
>"Good copy, relief at 0500 hours."
>I pulled the file from my pack and broke the seal. The first page read like any basic record on me available anywhere. SGT Anon E Mous, born July 29 1996, from California, resident of Montana, next of kin, blonde hair, blue eyes, 
"ooh, third page, get a load of this, 'psychological profile' I'm not sure I want to read on to THIS shit."
>"Read on hun. this is getting interesting."
"Anon exhibits several symptoms of High functioning autism, likely Asperger's syndrome, he shows prominent obsessive compulsive fixations on items such as military equipment, some of which is miscellaneous such as the mounts and interfacing shoes for the night vision systems, and some of which is more central to military work such as firearms, optics, or the night vision goggles themselves."
>Emily and I exchanged a look and a shrug that said "well... Fuck, they're right."
"In addition to obsession for various niche subjects and likely Asperger's syndrome, inducing crippled social skills."
>"that doesn't sound like MY Anon." Emily said as she nuzzled herself into my body while I turned the page in the file.
"it's all true. Accurate diagnosis too. let's read on. Ahem."
"suggested actions: social experimentation. Comment: he seems to have no problem with interacting with people if he has some social or authoritative force prompting him to the interaction, however, his apparent elation at coming back into the fold begs the question 'might he be the type to be depressed out of the fold?' he might be a good variable group test subject, our last determination would be to see if he shows social prohibition by probing him. With approval, I'd like to hire on a young woman to project some sexual attraction onto him and probe him for intimate interaction. if he demonstrates social ineptitude, we have a couple experiments on the shelf for him. maybe something that could help out the even more inept soldiers we've taken on since special recruitment from *CERTAIN ONLINE FORUMS*"
>"This sounds like it's gonna put one of us into a whole new light."
"I SUSPECT that my brief fair with a specialist Dixon will be listed in here"
>"Dixon eh? I bet her name was kelsey, or rebecca-"
"Dana" I said with a smirk
>"sounds like a red head. Seeexy."
"Was pretty good, but she was awkward. cute, but she was too shy, even to her own boyfriend she couldn't really talk to a man without stammering. give the gal a complement and she'd shrink in a corner. it was cute, but she was just too damn hard to interact with."
>"how was she?"
"little rough. the shy ones are always a little kinky."
>"let's read on."
"we got a signiture from a tech sergeant G.Basra. a request approved stamp from a... Major Jackson. ooh, here. we've given some enforced social cues to a specialist Dana Dixon to engage with Private Anon Mous. as of February 15 2020, she's engaged with him at a bar in the sticks, seemingly a pretty exclusive joint, surprising that SHE knew where to find the man. report to follow in two weeks. march 1 2020, the two seem to have hit it off, recording devices woven into her uniform suggest the two are having an intimate relationship, but it seems some distance is developing. reports to follow next notable information."
>"how can I compete?" Emily asked sarcastically.
"it's the personality. anyway, June 15 2020 Anon and Dana have broken off their relationship. data collected suggests that Anon is about as much as hypothesized. He seems to lose his sanity and presence of mind in the absence of purpose. He seems to indulge deeply in hobbies such as firearms, machining, in a small basic machine shop in his garage, guitar, electronics, and some mechanical work. With this data in consideration, we believe him to be a prime candidate for some of our shelved social experiments. some prime example include 1)personal machine spirit 2)brain augmentation for social skill repair or supersoldier purposes.3) physical augmentation for stealth supersoldier.
>I looked to Emily, who had a look of pure unadulterated terror on her face
"approved, suggested experiment(s) 1) rejected suggested experiment(s) 2), 3). Reply: Anon seems certain to buy a rifle for replacing his M-16 all we have to do is wait for a combination of the new policy on buying rifles and Anon's not exactly hidden inclination for .308 caliber rifles, particularly with his own particular pet rifles with unique and relatively archaic operating systems of deceptively simple nature, usually using complex geometry and pressure dynamics, such as tilt locking, and roller locking delayed blow back. furthermore, he's demonstrated an ASTOUNDING ability to shoot the supposedly unusable 7.62 nato caliber rifles, when asked how he was able to manage them on full auto, he replied that they were softer than many rifles he was used to. we've managed to learn with the help of arms suppliers we buy from, we've managed to scientifically figure how to make rifles with "machine spirits" as we've called them. As soon as Anon sends out an order, we'll intercept it and he'll have quite the surprise come to him when he gets it."
>"Anon... I..."
"whatever it is you're going to say, I've got no interest in your defense of yourself, and you've no need to defend yourself from me. I kinda want to finish this."
>"Anon, I need you to understand..." she trailed off guiltily
"july 10 2020, Anon ordered an FAL, a DSA titanium receiver FAL with an Elcan spectre DR 1-4 and an ATPIAL-C. He likes light haired girls with bright eyes, he'll be pleasantly surprised when a brunette with bright green eyes who happens to be his rifle with the exact optics he ordered shows in the barracks escorted in by his CO." 
>"so that's what I am... an experiment?" she said indignantly.
"not to me."
>"keep reading" 
"we got updates that say the same thing, here it notes we got married, they recommend confiscation and replacement of rifle... denied by general Hinson."
>Emily looked at me and then outward to the front of the post. I felt her retreat into her own mind instead of the situation, I could sense she was asking herself questions. who could have watched? who reported? how could they track us? could Anon be trusted? 
I started asking myself the same questions.
"I'm gonna get on the 240, we got another seven and a half hours to go."
>"alright." she said absently as she slid to the side and let me up to the machine gun.
the hours ticked by. first two, then three then six. Then Emily spoke up.
>"Anon... you're not going to replace me... are you?"
"No. I don't have a reason to and I don't want to."
>"But... you trust me?"
"Of course I do, our meeting wasn't an accident, and we've been watched for god knows how long by god knows who god knows HOW, but you're still my rifle, and my wife,and I still love you."
>"after all the scrutiny I've put you under you still love me... you wouldn't give me up if your life depended on it, would you?"
"live a life without an FAL to cuddle? don't see how I could go back to that."
>"so.. you'd love me or leave me?"
"yeah."
>"well..." she said in a tone that told me she wanted something from me and was merely probing for the words to convey the idea "... since you're not leaving me... I guess you're not going anywhere for the radio check to relief" she said with a certain cute smugness. For the first time in an agonizing six hours I saw something that had been tragically absent. A smile crossed her face.
>fifteen minutes passed as we waited for the radio check
>nipping at eachother, we started prodding eachother, which of course produced a few involuntary laughs, one thing lead to another thing and soon she managed to push me over onto the floor of the post
>"Fuck, when will they-"
>"post 5, this is post 1, give me a radio check, over."
"I guess now?" I said as I gently pushed her hips back so she sat on my thighs, giving me enough room to reach the radio. I keyed the radio and spoke "post 1, this is post 5, we're eyes up, receiving you loud and clear."
>"how are you staying awake?"
I keyed the radio again "I'm counting the individual grains of sand."
>Emily giggled at this remark "Anon, you autist."
>"this is command, clear the net."
>I groped for a witty response or an amusing idea for a split second before my face lit up. 
>Emily, seeing the look on my face sharply whispered "ANON, DON'T!"
I knew who was in post 1, it was Connor, guy I went to school with in california, a few of us ended up in the same unit, and I knew his voice, at least to many, even those who knew me, was weirdly indistinct from his. I shot back "Command, this is post 1, interrogative, if we cleared the net, how would he continue stacking the grains in ascending order from largest to smallest?"
>laughs came over the net from command for a second before the radio went silent
>I looked up to Emily who was now red from stifling her giggle "Anon, you dick!" she said as she slapped me and grabbed my shoulders
>Emily leaned in and brought her face to mine, as she reached it, her lips met mine and soon parted them, as she began probing my mouth with her tongue, I began slipping my hand down her mid riff to her pants, and feeling 
around for the button.
>Emily grabbed the hand on her stomach and guided it down to the seat of her pants, holding it in place while she began thrusting her hips on it. she began unbuttoning her shirt with her free hand and decided against it after she got don with the sixth button, she wrapped her free arm around my shoulder and pulled me into her cleavage.
>I began breathing hurriedly after several seconds, which she rewarded by pushing me back with a grin, allowing me a moment to breath before she breathed "too vertical" and pushed me onto my back.
>I went back to her pants and unbuttoned them, while Emily unbuttoned mine and pulled them down only part way, before she writhed above me, freeing a leg of her own pants.
>I decided to strike, as she freed her leg, I kicked the one supporting her, and slid the arm she leaned on out from under her, droping her on top of me, and rolled on top of he. as Emily grinned at me, she grabbed my member and rubbed it against her wet slit, then slid it slightly into herself, letting out a muffled chirp.
>I began thrusting her, enjoying the sensation as she became more wet, and a layer of sweat, from the already balmy south african weather and the laborious rhythmic thrusting of both out bodies began to take a toll.
>Emily's chirping, which had become louder gave way to moans of ecstasy as she wrapped her arms over my shoulders and craned her face into mine, and used one arm to force my head down for a kiss. the motion of our bodies slowed as I brought my face to hers and kissed her deeply, allowing her to playfully bit my lip.
>she brought her legs into her body as I playfully nipped at her neck, and began to wrap them around my hips, then kicked my left leg out from under me and rolled half on top of me, grabbing to the back of my head with both hands as she began thrusting, and rocking her hips into mine, the friction between our bodies at first high, but then lessened by the thickened layer of sweat.
>Emily's thrusting hastened as the friction lessened and I firmly grasped her hips and pulled her face into my own, locking lips with her once again, this time, stifling our grunts and moans, and masking our ragged breaths from any passersby for a time.
>As the flow of air lessened, Emily's thrusts became faster, her breaths more hurried, her vag, now sufficient to drip began tightening, as we near the edge, she pulled her face from mine for air and began thrusting slower, getting a last couple thrusts in before I rolled half over her and began making the last set of thrusts, leading her to a scream, quickly muffled with another mouth to mouth suffocation. 
>As I began slowing my pumps, we both edged, and she wrapped one leg around my thigh and the other around my hip, before making the last few violent spasms of the hips as her slit finally contracted, clamping down, driving me over the edge with her. she pulled her lips from mine and we drew a couple ragged breaths before meeting lips for another kiss, and leaning ourselves up against the post and snuggling up together. 
>we gazed out at the area ahead, still in darkness, and out of breath.
>"what time*huff* is it, *puff* Anon?"
"*panting between breaths* four forty."
>"Another fifteen minutes." Emily breathed as she buttoned up her shirt, then reached for her pants, prompting me to my own.
>"what do you wanna do when relief comes?" 
"how about we grab some food and go to bed?" I said reaching my left arm around her midriff and holding her close as she snuggled up to me
>"sounds good." she said having finally caught her breath.
"think relief'll be late?"
>they'll be late. I'll bet on it."
"what would you bet?"
>"I don't know. nothing to bet out here."
"how about, because I know you like to, we watch the sunrise when they're late?"
>"okay"
>"post 5, post 1, hang in for a few. relief is runninglate."
>and so ended out watch, after a trip to mess, Emily and I watched the sunrise, then cuddled away to sleep.
>I awoke around noon, a good five or six hours after the november sunrise. Emily was rested on top of my shoulder, still asleep, the reverse of the usual order, I usually didn't see her asleep, not when we woke at least. 
>she was so serene, I tried to avoid rocking my left shoulder because I didn't want to wake her. I took the hand she rested on me and held it, thinking to myself I had found my spot in life.
>holding her hand I reflected on the past year and a third since I'd first met her. The tour of europe and our co dependence on each other had pushed us closer, but where did everything go so right? It must have been the battle of new Ramani, formerly Berlin. The experience of fighting kebab in my ethnic homeland had been hell in a boring way. they tried to trade lives for ammo, even the kids. We did some fucked up thing to some kids who ran to us with bomb vests on. little did the human wave know we had plenty of ammo. we were married in September after we rotated back to the world. in a way, we were the only thing either of us had, but we could both take care of ourselves. the possessiveness was there, it just wasn't extreme. we were never really comfortable away from each other, but we could easily enough separate for time without losing our minds. needless to say it was a happy reunion every time. it was always a loving relationship that way. A fine thing really, a /k/ommando and his rifle. I remember once in october she ACTUALLY went through about four dozen cups of coffee waiting for me to get home one late night. shit happened, I don't know HOW a machining inconsistency can drag out to five, oh wait, yes I can. it's a time consuming job with a very OCD prone quality to it.
>I decided to check my watch and found that it was time to get up, so I slowly shook my shoulder a few times and was met by her beautiful green eyes. my transfixed smile was rewarded with one from her, and we enjoyed it a minute. and got up.
>after four more days we got the word.
November 10 2021.
>"Anon?"
"what's up Cody?"
>"how do I keep this fucking rifle lubed so it doesn't started getting scratchy after a few hundred rounds?"
"grease, here, I got a couple extra cans in my pack, and one or two cans is a life time supply for SEVERAL rifles, just put a tiny little bead on the contact surfaces, slightly thicker than a film, and you're golden." I said as I handed him a can of high temp wheel bearing grease. Jorge walked into the room.
>"like a machine shop reunion in here, Anon, Cody, we just need frank, Jesse and William. anyway, General Hinson gave the warning order, be prepped to roll into Zimbabwe in the next 20 hours."
"Did mugabe croak?"
>"no, but it's confirmed he's going. High level infighting has taken to a civil war and casualties are mounting to the thousands already. No doubt some army that ISN'T killing everyone not associated with them will be a severely welcome sight."
>Just then a flurry of activity started outside the tents, camp Jackson began to whir to life with the intensity of a fully aggravated ant colony, at that moment I knew that anyone in the camp still sleeping was at this very moment waking and policing up their gear.
"Jorge, get to your team, Cody, grease every 1500 rounds and you should never have a malfunction with that MK-18 of yours. Now run along buddy."
>"ANON!, YOUR GEAR?"
"Got it right here!" I spoke firmly as I had spoken since I'd been back from Europe.
>As I "buttoned up" my plate carrier, the level IV plates inside snugged and free of play and got my pack over my shoulder, Emily grabbed my hand and changed, prompting me to make my run to the MRAP and to my team. Good kids, them. I mounted and asked my driver the state of the team.
"Brian, how's the checklist"
>"batteries, check, rifles, check, pistols, check, ammo, check, radios, check, looks all good"
"how's the 240?"
>"got it up this morning."
>we set our helmets and nods down and began the wait.
>soon after we began our wait the others started to arrive. James showed up and mounted into the rear driver side seat, stowing his gear and making ready, he began a prayer of "let's not be the unlucky bastards who get their asses shot off."
"James, what's your gear check?"
>"All good sergeant!" 
"good, now we just have to wait for Ted."
>ted showed up ten minutes later, and stowed his gear. hours passed.
>the radio crackled to life "attention, all units, prep to synchronize watches. at the mark, it will be 0105 hours." three minutes passed when the "MARK" came over the radio.
>ted spoke up "AW SHIT DAWG! IT'S OFFICIAL!"
"Hinson only does watch syncs when we're invading."
>"Dateline: November 11th 2021, South Africa. It's presently one o' six AY EM, Drivers, be on the look out for the pile of starving bodies along the Shangani riverbed, the APC's and T52's piling up in Harare and Bulawayo, and the pile up of Mules pulling empty agricultural carts. and now weather, with Anon, Over to you Anon!."
"Thanks, Ted, the weather is clear with a slight chance of raining lead, tungsten and high explosives from APC's, javelins, with highs of 80 in Salisbury and Bulawayo, 79 in Chiredzi, 83 in Kariba, and 3506 in BMP's with a slightly toastier 5,000 in T-52's, T-55's and T-72's over to James with sports."
>"today the zimbabwean civillian elimination team goes for gold, in the first ever genocide olympics, but with all other competitors since exterminated, it's looking like an easy competition, in other news, the american invasion team is once again showing the world who's boss in a daring reclamation of Rhodesia, and the american anti armor team is as always expected to make a favorable impression in the competition against zimbabwean APC's and Tanks, and now to the weather map, Drive safe, commuters!"
>the radio crackled to life once again.
>"All units, we have confirmation that Mugabe has croaked, and that civil war has erupted in zimbabwe, an ZNA units are busy killing units belonging to other generals, get oscar mike now or there'll scantly be any armor left to kill. CODE ELAND, REPEAT, CODE ELAND."
>the men and I put out helmets on and drop our nods, killing the lights before turning them on when the column radio check began.
>"Badger 1-1 oscar mike, badger 1-2 oscar mike."
>Brian picked up the handset and keyed it."Badger 1-3 oscar mike." as we exited the gate, we got about two miles down the road before vapor trails and the exhaust gasses of cruise missiles and MLRS' began to flash the sky.
>we arrived in beitbridge at 3:37.
>"Jesus..." Brian breathed. "the whole place is fucking leveled."
"yup, just a military strongpoint since 2018."
>"there's one. or at least an arm." Ted stated.
>James spoke up from behind Brian."There's the garrison. jesus, the roads full of limbs!" 
"yup, didn't have to fight them, though. and the barrage lasted maybe 45 seconds, so they didn't have time to radio out. they don't know we're coming."
>the ride continued until Hinson, now callsign Helios, attributed by the men for his proclivity for lighting up points of opposition, called for a halt to the element to set up camp after we crossed the Lundi, so we set up just to the north of the junction between the main roads a few miles, between the Lundi and Tokwe rivers. The officers we called into the command tent and I was personally invited by General Hinson to attend the briefing. an unusual act, but not unheard of among the commands of General Hinson.
>I entered the command tent with the officers and found the officers walking into the tent for the briefing. Hinson had a map set up and was drawing the last details onto it. The officers sat down and he began.
>"gentlemen, We've made great progress, and I expect at this rate, we may take Harare and secure a government surrender within the next three days. The tempo has to this point been dictated by our forces, however, we expect that we'll soon run into resistance, so far, first division has reported a full capture of Bulawayo, with their military garrison mostly mobilized toward Harare if not already present in the stronghold to take part in the slaughter. at this time we are taking a ten hour stop before the 325th fighter wing, 1st, and 2nd armored division take up the rear and bypass our positions. At this point they will begin an obliteration of any and all armor in former fort victoria. On to the strategic side of things, we expect that when we make our way to Harare, and capture, the remnant of their forces will hold, or attempt to fall back toward Bulawayo, who has been silent since this afternoon. in about ten hours, three in the morning or so, the first division will have made their way to Gwelo and will begin their assault, at which point it's our time to shine, we'll assault masvingo, soon to be fort victoria again, and surge toward Enkeldoorn, and through to Beatrice, at which time first division will head toward que que, and surge through Gatooma. questions?"
>"how do we stop them from flanking to the east toward Marendellas?" 
>"We don't, the 25th fighter squadron takes care of that."
"Is the zimbabwean government and it's military factions expected to concede the war on capture of Harare or are they likely to uproot and continue ops from one of the further north towns?"
>"they are expected to retreat if they can, we expect it may be as far north as Kariba, which could extend the war significantly."
>"What is the preferred scenario?"
>"we meet heavy resistance at Harare and surround it, wiping it off the map, or first division meets heavy resistance at Gatooma and we head west on the highway to isolate and destroy the resisting factions, then we can more or less occupy the country until we eliminate the last pockets of the military factions.... Any further questions? dismissed. 
>On my walk back to my vehicle I met with Jorge
"Not even shot one! This is getting to be an easy conflict."
>"Not everyone can have an autistic conscience that says 'fuck'em' when we do fucked up shit. I still have dreams about those fucking kids in berlin, and don't get me started on clearing those villages in france."
"As though I don't remember the fucked up shit that was fucking necessary when that shit happened. good thing we won, or we'd be beyond redemption."
>"A good job our culture's been indoctrinating us to feel guilty for killing our enemy since god knows when."
"yeah, well, I gotta start rotating my guys around and getting them some rest for the move on Fort victoria."
>with that I wen't back to my vic and told the men to get some shuteye and I'd wake them up in five hours or so, so I could get some sleep myself before we started smashing the zimbabwean's faces in.
>"I'll stay up with you." James answered
"fine enough."
>Emily changed to human form, she'd been like me all day. staring out at everything trying to make sense of it. Trying to see what might be out there, but also just admiring the beauty of another place on earth she was seeing for the first, and possibly only time.
>"do you think /k/ommando radio will cover us" she asked
"Not sure they know. we're out here. they probably don't even know that first division's captured Bulawayo."
>"think we'll get interviewed when we take Bulawayo?"
"you know it, I'm expecting wall to wall coverage and an interview with Dave or Tovarishch.
>for five hours, while Brian and Ted slept, James, Emily and i shot the breeze about all manner of topics that can be expected in a fuckin' warzone, a country we're not supposed to be in, and officially "weren't" in, Cody even stopped by, his pale, freckled, but gaunt and boyish face having been dirtied up by a few days in the wilderness, good humor as always with that man. He had been a friend of mine as far back as 2016, when I was a young aspiring machinist, scrawny as fuck and under equipped for the machine shop, but through perseverance and being smart, he figured his way through it magnificently. at this point in time, he was aged, he wasn't the 25 or less that had fit me at in the camp, though at the age of even 18 or 19 even people wouldn't have guessed me to be as young as 25, he looked at least 30, he'd seen the horrors of the saracen hordes and he'd done his fair share of shit. he was however a tough man, he had no moral dilemma about shooting an approaching child strapped with a bomb. no problem with killing their parents after chasing them down when he saw them send the kid out, either. it was them or him, and if he didn't do it, the kid would have still exploded anyway. we weren't there to make friends. 
"do you think it'll ever go away? the conflict?"
>"I have faith. we'll have our peace. the world has it's great upheavals, but in it, all must find their peace. whether they perish, or just find their spot."
"Maybe so. I don't want my kids to have to go 'over there' like I have, like my father did forty years ago, like my great grandfather in world war two. even less like my great great grandfather in 1911 when he came to the US to avoid the German conscription. I'd serve any length to prevent that, you and I both know we can't do this forever. eventually we all gotta die or walk away."
>Cody looked at the dirt and huffed a sharp breath before he spoke. "I can't imagine what I'd walk away TO."
>Emily spoke "Can't imagine a peaceful life."
"I can imagine a peaceful life. just... not at home."
>"Not in Modesto, I know... But not even in Montana?"
"I know, Montana is where I'd live peaceful like for the rest of time, to be honest I don't know if I could live even in Rhodesia. I don't know, maybe keep the house in Montana for the winter season, Christmas in Rhodesia being what it is, and me being as American as I am. Maybe I could stay, maybe I couldn't. I don't want to be Ray Johnson, if you've ever read "Unintended Consequences", who left the united states for Rhodesia in 1963, then moved on when it became Zimbabwe, to another country until about 1992-1993 and returned to the united states, shocked as all hell at the degeneration that had become of the United states. I prefer to fight any of that shit, but quite frankly, if impossible, it would be best to move to /k/ run Rhodesia."
>"So? what degeneration could undo us?" Emily said with a cuttingly pith tone
"WEEEELLLL, Ray DID almost lose his FAL in customs." I spoke flatly with razors in my eyes to Emily. She went pale and stared into the distance with a visible shock on her face.
>"well, suppose it's time to get to sleep." Cody said as he got up and walked away with a "see you in Salisbury."
"Well, Emily, come on, let's get Brian and Ted up so we can get some shuteye."
>"Huh?" Emily replied blankly, apparently coming out of a trance
"we gotta get some sleep, let's get Ted and Brian up."
>"y-yeah. H-hey, Anon... You wouldn't let that happen to me, right?"
"No, Emily, I wouldn't let anything like that happen to you." I said as I lifted her up and carried her to the ranger grave and delicately placed her in."
>I returned quickly, as waking the men was a trivial matter, and snuggled up with Emily.
>"Anon, you think we'll ever have kids?"
"if it's possible, we'll do it." 
>Emily rested her head on my arm and fell fast asleep, feeling at peace, I followed seconds after.
>"Anon wake up" A voice from what I asserted from the direction of gravity to be above pierced my ear
>I opened my eyes to see Emily stir 
"Come on, babe, we're mounting up in... Brian, how long till we're oscar mike?"
>"ten minutes"
"ten." I said as I carried her up with me, rising to our feet, before each letting out a yawn
>Emily held my hand as we stepped out of the ranger grave we slept in and walked to the MRAP, where she turned to me and gaze into my eyes with a rueful smile for a few seconds, I knew then exactly what she was doing. she was taking as much of it in as she could before she turned back to a rifle and potentially lost her owner forever.
>I returned the smile, and gave her a nod, and she turned to her rifle form in my hands.
>"Eight minutes, Anon." 
"Yeah. mounting" I said as I climbed into the passenger side front seat of the MRAP and warmed up my NVG.
>eight the eight minutes soon passed as we began an unusually quiet ride to the highway. 
>"eyes up! there's first armored!" Brian said.
>the column came to the edge of the city and held, while precision strikes from above crippled or destroyed any armor in the city.
>"HOLY FUCKING SHIT, THEY'RE CHARGING!" James said, half amused, beginning to open his door."DISMOUNT, FORM A LINE AND START SHOOTING!" I exclaimed as I began my dismount.
>I grabbed Emily and dropped to the front of the vehicle, sighting in down the Elcan Specter. the first ZNA soldier I sighted in on was running toward the line and firing on full auto, as I flipped the selector to semi, I watch his gun stop firing, cuing him to drop to his stomach and begin reloading. I squeezed the trigger, sending the round toward him, I saw in the bottom left of my optic as the bullet hit his left shoulder and flung through his vital organs, and watched as he contracted in body destroying agony, I began aiming at the next charging figure, this time putting less thought into it and firing one into his chest and watching him fall and curl.
>a round impacted in front of my elbow and caused a puff to explode into the air, I gazed in the reverse of the direction the dirt exploded and saw a solder firing bursts, sighted in, firing a round at him, as four other rounds caused puffs of dirt to fling off various parts of his body, just then I heard what I hadn't realized I'd been hearing for the past few seconds, I heard them, moderately long bursts coming from the MRAP, it was Ted on the M-240, I sighted in to farther targets, seeing flashes from a window in the edge of the town, which I sighted on about two hashmarks high, I fired, seeing a puff from the left of the window pop up, I watched the figure topple, before returning to the window, sighting a foot right of the spot I aimed before and waited for the figure to return, when it did, I fired five rounds toward the window rapidly.
>"ANON, YOUR TWO O'CLOCK!"
>I glanced to my two o'clock and saw a group of zimbabweans charging and firing toward the MRAP, I began firing, until I felt the bolt lock to the rear. I began my reload and felt a blast to my left, and saw that a plume from a mortar had hit the field in front of me and missed, I rocked the new mag in and hit the release, I fired off a few rounds out to the group, before I saw one bring an RPG to bear on the column.
>time stood still. I knew I had one shot, I steadied myself, flipped the selector to auto, and squeezed the trigger. I watched as a few rounds pushed the reticle in the scope away from it's alignment with the shooter and saw a flash. I knew I was too late.
>the rocket smashed into the ground in front of me, sending a flurry of the dirt up and over me, missing to the left... mostly."FUCK! MY FACE" I screamed as I shook the pain away and sank my face against the stock of the rifle, ignoring the pain in my right cheek, and began firing on the patrol,who I realized was missing two bodies, and was now hiding behind a structure they had been near. just then I saw a plume.
>I looked down the optic. There was only a ruin that used to be some kind of structure, and a what looked like a red spray on the side with some parts nearby.
>"ANON!, WE"RE ADVANCING TO TAKE OUT THE MORTARS! MOUNT UP!"
>as I walked up to the MRAP and got in, I looked at Brian.
"my face look alright? I got hit by an RPG."
>Brian looked over to me and used his hand to rotate my face to the left more.
>"Holy SHIT! You're fucked up."
"how bad?"
>"Is there a wound inside your mouth?"
"no" 
>"well, it looks like it went IN your cheek and followed tissue until it exited. lucky it exited where it did, or you'd be dealing with a broken mandible."
"let's advance."
>as we advanced down the road we met with significant evidence that we'd broken their resistance and were falling back. the mortar position came into view and their faces soon became much uglier than mine, what with ted lighting them the fuck up and all. soon we were through the city.
>the radios crackled to life. "second division, this is Helios, interrogative, who's got casualties, over?"
>"badger 1-1, we are unscathed."
>"badger 1-2, we have one wounded, our machine gunner's been shot in the leg.
>Brian picked up the handset, keying the mic despite my glare "Badger 1-3, we have one wounded, 1-3 actual's been hit in the face by an RPG, requires minor treatment, over."
>"badger, hold tight, and we'll get a med evac for that machine gunner, we'll get a medic over to the actual as well."
"you didn't have to do that, man. we could be near Harare by nightfall." 
>"And miss the opportunity to show off? Your new nickname is Lucky"
>"fitting enough." a voice said.
"did you hear that?"
>"hear what?" Brian inquired
>"tell them it was nothing." the voice commanded
"nothing."
>"just think it, I can hear your thoughts like this." the voice explained
"Emily? you're telepathic?"
>"when I'm in rifle form, yeah!"
"well isn't that lovely, can't even keep a thought from you."
>"easy there, lucky, your blood is on my ass"
"Did I bleed on the stock?" I thought 
>"Yes, and also, you're gonna look like Barnes from platoon at this rate, so try and make not getting shot in the face a priority during this campaign."
>"yo, Anon, the medic's here, get patched up!"
"sure." I said as I dismounted. the medic was waiting and gave me a once over, cleaning my facial wounds with alcohol and gave them a quick dressing. we hadn't been here long, but it had been a few hours and the sun had fully risen, so by the time we were oscar mike again, the machine gunner from badger 1-2 medevac'd by helicopter, and myself having been patched up, it was about 8 in the morning, and we'd been at work since 5:30. 
>at the beginning of the battle, we were still wearing NVGs, and they had been stowed by the time we started shooting. but now, we'd be advancing toward umvooma in broad daylight, but would probably arrive around dusk.
>"alright, Sergeant, you're all patched up, mind if I ask how you managed to get hit by an RPG? 
"dude was gonna shoot the convoy, I hit him as he shot, and he hit low. the blast sent shrapnel into my face."
>"damn, good hunting, out there, Lucky!"
>I got back into my victor and we started on mission again, occasionally running through sections of highway that were like the highway of death, but significantly shorter and more with fewer vehicles, one thing was certain, by our count, and intelligence estimates, there were no more than 20-30 zimbabwean armored vehicles left. the hours continued to drip by.
>"Helios to all victors, tune radio secondary radio channels to channel yankee-niner"
"which one is that?" I said as I poured over the freqlist.
"123.450." I said when i found it.
>"123.450" Brian repeated as he tuned the radio. it started pouring sound into the vehicle loud and clear
>"This is /k/ommando radio, as always I'm Dave, bringing you the latest from our best correspondents. over to you, Karoda."
>"Thanks, Dave. This week in war, Rhodesia declares independence from England on November 11th 1965, November 12th 1330 the battle of Posada takes place between the kingdom of Hungary and Wallachia, and November 11th this year, 2021, the U.S. army, in recognition of the fine work of 605th "kommando" infantry battalion in Europe against the muslim hordes, looses that same detachment in the newly named "operation Springbok," a daring operation to retake the adopted Fatherland of /k/, Rhodesia, from the Communist horde. As of the time of this broadcast, the best information available shows that the 605th infantry batalion has captured the cities of Beitbridge, Gwanda, Gwelo, and possibly Masvingo, formerly Fort Victoria. I wish these forces the best of luck and the highest kill counts, keep removing those dirty commies, you glorious motherfuckers! Back to you, Dave."
>"Thank you, as always Karoda, we now bring you to Tovarishch."
>"In recent firearms news, the FAL and the Battle Rifle in general are making a big comeback, with limited adoption by certain units of the US army, the FAL has seen a resurgence in popularity as both military and civillian sales have in fact taken off tremendously in the wake of president trump's nulllification of the NFA and many provisions of the gun control act, allowing the free trade of automatic weapons to americans, as well, causing all models of FAL now on the market to have their designs edited to include the once forbidden safety sear, enabling the weapons to fire full auto, as well as preventing out of battery firing in the event that the bolt is forward but not locked. on to shanix"
>"Shanix here in the city of Bulawayo, as one of the first white men to see the city in friendly hands in a long time, it is quite a remarkable sight, but not as remarkable as Captain Frank Patterson, here, who's done some work in taking back the military hub of rhodesia, Frank, what do you have to say about this historic victory?"
>"It was a hard fought battle, but we managed to take the city in the midst of heavy armored resistance, but it was softened up and their armor proved no match for our anti armor units and their training to maximize the effectiveness of their equipment, I killed four tanks and seven BMP's today, myself, so it's definitely the good fight we fight here, and also the winning battle."
>"What if anything can you tell us to expect in the coming days?"
>"The closest thing to that I can tell you is that we're holding Prayers at the troopie statue in the near future, and to expect the recapture of Rhodesia in a number of days, and if I may, I'd like to dedicate this interview to my friend who's probably in the fight, doing the hard run, Anon, Anon Mous, if you're out there, listening, I wish you could see this, it's definitely beautiful here in Bulawayo, it's very neat seeing historical sights like the barracks of the selous scouts, it's quite a thing to take in, and I know that many of the troops like Anon, and Jorge, or Cody, who I know and regard very highly can't be here to enjoy our victory here, and are still on the hard march tonight, just like we'll probably be in not too long."
>"Thank you, Frank, it's been an honor talking to you. Back to you Dave."
>"Thank you, Tovarishch, give those commies hell 605, we're back to the music."
>"HEY!, They gave you shoutout!" Ted laughed, his voice ruckus with amusement.
"how nice of him. I'll have to visit him when I have some liberty."
>"I don't know, at this rate he might not recognize you." James chimed in.
"maybe not, or maybe I'll have a few battle scars."
>we drove on through the day, pushing through Enkledoorn with no resistance who knew at this point, maybe we'd see a fight at Beatrice, or maybe the weakened and destroyed government would surrender when we reached Harare, or maybe they'd make us fight for it, or drive them into Zambia. one thing was sure, we'd see at least SOME more fighting.
>we arrived around seven at the bridge across the Umfuli river, and econoutered BMPs which quickly were abandoned as flashes and vapor trails started coming up and toward them, as we crossed the bridge we were met with infantry, to which we dismounted and began fighting, 
>The town to our left and firing across the highway was fast deemed to need capture in order for us to pass, we began our push on foot and after 700 yards advancing along the road, we found the open fields in the north side, where we had only a couple buildings to contest before breaching the northern section, where we were met with mortars. 
>"ANON!, WE NEED TO TAKE OUT THOSE MORTARS, THEY'RE SEVEN HUNDRED YARDS HEADING 330!!"
"ADVANCE!"
>we jumped over the north west fence of what could only be described as a ranch and began across an open expanse of land where we saw muzzle flashes perhaps 250 yards off where we saw earthworks, I dropped my NVG and turned it on, keying the DBAL and sending a dot, and then a round, and another toward the trench, we saw the men pulling out of the trench with a wounded soldier and began picking them off, and then another, and another, until I saw a soldier on his radio, I fired three rounds at him and watched as his form crumpled.
"WE HAVE TO ADVANCE, THE MORTARS ARE AIMING AT US!" 
>running toward the trench, we sought cover from the imminent mortar re-alignment, I reached the trench last, and signaled my team to move toward the complex and attack the parking lot with the mortars in place. I began a jump into the trench as my men turned, clambered out, and started advancing toward the complex, just then, I felt a strong push from my left, as though I were tackled, and fell into darkness.
THE SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE.
>I fell into the dirt on the other side of the trench, and picked myself up, I wondered what had happened, and I looked around for the soldiers, seeing that they were gone, having advanced to the brink of the parking lot and began firing on the mortar teams and the support elements that had kept Beatrice fortified, I looked around, and realized I was missing something... Anon... Where was anon?!
>"ANON!? ANON, WHERE ARE YOU?" I cried at the top of my lungs over the vacant lot of land. 
>I began looking around, and saw the trench, with a single body, I leaped into the trench to look closer. as my eyes adjusted, I saw it. clad in Rhodesian Brushstroke, with a FAST helmet, gouged beyond integrity, sporting a mutilated PVS-18 and a set of peltor earmuffs, the inside of which was now exposed to the world, I saw the left side of his face, slightly pelted by shrapnel
>"ANON! NO!" I screamed as I turned him over, to assess his condition, he was still warm, his heart was no doubt still beating, nothing on the left side of his face said that his skull had been penetrated, however, given his helmet's gouges, the mutilation of his night vision, and his earpro, he was almost certainly slipping into the light, most likely with fragments of the mortar, the helmet and his ear pro in his brain. I assessed that he was gone, his pale blue green eyes, once wide and vigilant, now closed in a morose expression of grimace half filleted by shallow grazes of tiny fragments. 
>I did the only thing I could do. I'd defend his body until his team came back and found us. I grabbed his sidearm, a SiG 1911 he told me his father had gave him when he was 19, his extra mags for it, and waited
>The team arrived back, seeing the body, and pulling me away from him
>"Emily! We've got to fall back! Helios is calling in gunships to pick up the resistance, we can't get him to a safe distance now!"
>I found myself running with them to the vitors. you deserved better anon.
>the gunships came just as Brian said they would, they blanketed the area with munitions, almost certainly killing Anon, if he were still alive in that trench.
"What about Anon? We can't just leave him out there?" I sobbed 
>"I know. we'll go back and recover the body after the strike. I gotta call in the KIA."
>my already shattered heart ground to dust as Brian picked up the Handset 
>"Command, this is Badger 1-3, we are minus 1, actual is KIA, and unaccounted for, request search and CAS evac, over." 
>"badger 1-3, this is helios, casevac is en-route to your pos, can we get a position on the body, over?"
>"wait one."
>brain asked me to point out Anon's position on the blueforce tracker. I pointed to the trench.
>"GPS coordinates are as follows, one eight dash one five dash one seven south by three zero dash five one dash one two east."
>the readback came and was confirmed. 
>Hours passed, and I was told to lead badger 1-3 to the corpse and mark it with smoke. 
>as the vehicle came to the area, we pulled off the road and dismounted, we came to the trench, where I expected to see Anon sprawled out, having hemorrhaged to death on his side, face contorted and closed from the world... if only I had been so lucky. no what greeted me was far worse than my owner and husband dead in the earthworks.
"H-HE... HE'S gone." I stammered out, my now barely held composure collapsing "what's going on? who would do this?" I sobbed as I collapsed to my knees.
>"could be some pissed off zambos, they probably took him to mutilate his corpse." Brian said. "next we see him'll probably be when they're gutting his corpse on the inter-"
>"BRIAN!" Ted growled as fiercely as anyone ever has.
>Brian's face turned to one of shame as it dawned on him that he wasn't helping the situation for Anon's grieving widow. I bared this mystery in mind as I stood solemnly at roll call while Jorge ticked off names.
>"Anon Mous. Anon Mous." he said, then continued past me, holding his flag.
>after the first roll call since the beginning of the war, and in just the past 48 hours, we'd invaded zimbabwe, pushing through Beitbridge to Masvingo, now once again fort victoria, and bulawayo, Gwelo, Enkeldoorn, capturing BEATRICE, just fifty kilometers or so south of Harare, which will soon be salisbury again, Anon managed to survive a hit from an RPG and get himself killed by a fucking mortar, in what had to have been the most flagrant display of an inverse relationship between seriousness of injury and distance to nearest cover in the history of man. and now, I'm on my way to meet with general Hinson in the command tent.
>I walked into the tent, Hinson stood, rather forlornly, and saluted, a gesture I returned.
>"Have a seat, sergeant."
>as we sat, he spoke. "Sergeant, I'm sorry to speak to you in these circumstances."
"What's this about? What will happen to me, now that Anon's off the charter?"
>"Onto that subject. you're being sent to Anon's family. He's been listed as missing in action, presumed dead."
>the next day or so went by and I found myself somewhere Anon promised he'd never bring me. I was at the door of his parent's house with two men who informed his mother and father of his death, then presented me to them. his father took me, and brought me to the safe, where I was greeted by two blonde haired women, one visibly older than the other, the other, an AR-15 and an M1A, asking me questions.
>of course the most prevalent one was "Where's the boy? the one with the fair hair?"
>it wasn't a good day meeting Anon's parents for the first time since I was delivered to him. we'd planned to earlier, but the surprise deployment cut those plans in half. I suppose their's no place like home, but Anon's home in Montana was a world different from this. Maybe he was trying to get away from it, in retrospect.
>I woke in a residence. somewhat better than the camp, but still pretty shabby. I began to look around and saw a girl, black, and clearly no older than 15 walk out of the room. I heard a jumble of words that couldn't be English, then a young man, about my age, and an older man, demonstrably pretty spry for his age, he almost jumped for joy when he saw I was conscious, and said something to the young man, I didn't need to speak ndebele, Shona, or afrikaans to understand it, it was along the lines of, let me try son.
>"hello. we are glad you are awake." the old man said
"How long have I been out?" I inquired through an unreasonably stiff jaw.
>"About two days. at least that's when we found you." the old man answered.
"last thing i remember, I was jumping into a trench. approximately WHAT happened to me?"
>"well, lets just say that if ladies like scars, you are going to be beating them off with a club! If you want more than that, I think you exploded."
"Twice in one day? I guess my new nickname is lucky strike. I'm Anon, by the by. And you are?"
>"I am Abel Muzorewa the third. I've been waiting for many years to see your uniform, and now that you're here, I've been VERY happy."
"the third? you don't mean THAT Able Muzorewq, do you?"
>"Oh I do, I was but a teenage boy when i served in the Rhodesian African Rifles during the Bush war."
"Where am I? I have to get back to my detachment!"
>"you're a bit late for that. it's been on the radio for a couple hours, the government surrendered and they captured Harare. As for where, well, you're about five kilometers southeast of Beatrice."
"fuuuuck... wait, where's Emily? Not again, Sir, I have to find Emily!"
>"Who's Emily?" 
"My wife... did you see a woman nearby when you pulled me from that trench?"
>"...yes, actually, but she was a ways off running away with some men in uniforms like yours."
"Oh, thank god, she's with my unit." I said as I looked myself over "did I have my pistol when you found me?"
>"No."
"shit."
>"I know what you're thinking, you need to get back to your men, or your wife, well sergeant, you're wrong."
"What are you saying, Abel?"
>"You need to get to the hospital. We tried to remove as much shrapnel as we could, but you're leg's torn up and so's your face, not like it won't work, but you're gonna be aching with it in you, and we couldn't get most of it out."
"well. you're right. and I'll bet that at the least I've been listed as missing or killed in action. so I'm betting that Emily's already stateside. I need to talk to her, to tell her I'm still alive!"
>"well, just give me a few hours, my friends are gonna be here, and we're gonna get you to the hospital in... salisbury. In the mean time, you need to eat to keep your strength up." 
>The old man brought me some food and water, left me to eat, and a few hours later I heard a truck pull up and several old men helped me into the back, before embarking toSalisbury.
>we arrived in Salisbury where the old men heaved me toward the camp and into the hospital, where the as of now, "mounting" casualties were being treated, I was the twenty seventh such casualty as I was brought into the emergency room, general Hinson was present, apparently seeing to the wounded, when he turned around and looked at me as though he'd seen a ghost.
>"Anon? You look like hell, what happened to you?" 
"Mortar blew me up, these guys pulled me out of the hole I fell in"
>"Jesus" 
"Hey, where's Emily?"
>"She's in the states, should be at your parent's house."
"can you halt the paperwork that says I'm dead? or rescind it?" 
>"Got it covered. you need to call her before you go into surgery." 
>Hinson gave me the sat phone, and I dial in the number.
>"Hello?"
"Mom? it's Anon!"
>"Anon!? Oh thank god! ANON! They told me you were dead!"
"well, they , you don't have to worry about me, even in the combat zone they can't bleed me. can you tell dad I'm okay? oh, but before you do, could you put Emily on?"
>"Sure, Anon."
>"Hello?"
"Emily, it's me, Anon! How are you holding up?"
>"It's r-really you? Oh th-tha-thank god! What happened to you? I saw you shredded in the trench and I had to run away." her voice broke as she started.
"Look, Honey, I'm going into surgery here in Salisbury, and they're gonna remove a bunch of shrapnel, if you can come visit me, please come, if you can't, I'll can meet you, there's some straightening out that has to happen before I can go back into the field, that is IF this conflict even lasts that long."
>"I'll be in Salisbury before three days are up."
"One question, do you have my forty-five?"
>"yeah, I took it off you before the retreat started. I'll bring it."
"good, and one more thing, I love you."
>"I love you too hon. I'll see you soon."
>I hung up the phone and handed it to General Hinson, who began a frenzy of calls to the clerical staff, to zero in on specific documents and to pull them from process. A nurse took me by the arm and pulled me to a gurney and layed me out.
"What's on the agenda for treatment?" I asked the Nurse
>"First we're gonna X-ray your body and then we're gonna put you under and remove all the fragments from your..." she looked up and down, noting the state of the clothing on my left side, and the blood staining my leg, flanks, and finally my face "leg, sides and face." 
>As I wen't under the xray, the doctors started noting shrapnel in my head, fragments that had hit my cranium, but were slowed enough by my helmet so as not to pierce my skull and embed in my brain, in my leg, as I had been mid leap when the shell hit, and finally in my sides, some of which had been as shallow as just in the skin, some of which had stopped just short of my organs. 
>The doctors put me under to operate on me, stripping me of the uniform I was wearing and replacing it with a hospital gown before the operation. I took solace in the fact that soon I'd be with Emily again.
>like yesterday, I awoke in a strange room, except this time I wasn't surrounded by strange savanna people. Instead, I was greeted by an empty room.
>I looked around the room, and then around the bed I was on. I saw machine after machine of intensive care equipment scattered around the bed, and began to fear the worst of my peeves. That I'd have to have a nurse help me piss in a bedpan, that wasn't exactly what would happen if I could stand. but then I noticed something miraculous. they machines were all dormant, none of them active, and as I started to survey myself, I found that, though everything except my midsection and forearm on the left side of my body ached, scarred and scabbed as it was, none of it was connected to any of these machines.
>as a wave of relief washed over me, I began to stand, and a new worry crept into my mind, only to be swept back by the discovery that, while, yes, my left leg ached worse than a bum tooth, I could still stand, and testing it, I concluded I could still walk.
>After a happy and independent walk to the bathroom for a leak, I noted there wasn't a mirror in the bathroom. oh well, I could find out what horror would plague my face for the rest of my life later. For now I had more pressing matters, like who had opened the door.
>as I finished washing my hands, and exited the bathroom, I saw her. Emily was... well... stunning. no other way to put it. she was standing in the room, watching the door, wearing her Rhodesian brushstroke uniform, just staring at me for a second, and then running to me. 
>she folded into my arms, burying her head in my shoulder, breathing hurriedly I could feel her shudder with relief, as though she'd been given back life itself. I felt her tears soak into the gown, all the curves and folds of her feminine form shuddering and rising and contracting rhythmically, then I felt her pull back to face me.
>"You can't keep doing this." she pleaded.
"I know."
>I looked down as she looked up, hardly five inches from my face, I saw Emily's. Her eyes, green as bright emeralds, fixed on my own.
>"I spoke to the nurse, she said you're being discharged tomorrow."
"That's great, back to duty?"
>"FUCK NO, NOT BACK TO DUTY!" She snapped off sharply "We're going home! Back to Montana. Back to duty, I know you want to go back to it until the job is done, Anon. I do too. It's just... Neither of us are fit for duty, you're shredded and cauterized, and I'm... well."
"'Well'? What happened, you can tell me anything." I prodded for an answer.
>"Well, not like I'm pregnant or something, but I DO have a piece of you lodged inside of me, and not the usual piece... or in the usual place. And then there's something else." she said, prying herself loose from my grasp and limping over to the bed, sitting down.
>"I've been... mechanically damaged."
"Do you know what's been damaged?" I asked, my heart stopping and sinking into my pelvis.
>"No, but I haven't been able to work on run, only walk, and I'm not as sensitive, I just don't feel anything as much."
"change, let me take a look." I said, grimly.
>she took my hands and changed, he receiver had some nics, nothing serious, nothing that needed to be straight was bent, however, there was a stain from where I had bled on her stock three days earlier, there was also what appeared to be a bone fragment in the stock, and I felt to a third of the radius of my third rib on the left... there was a fragment missing. 
"It's in the stock... son of a bitch."
>I broke open the receivers and felt a snag in the joint, I close it and shook it.. it was loose!
>I opened the receiver again and was met with more success this time. everything in the LOWER receiver was in tip top shape... but in the upper receiver, I could already see what was wrong. there was a pebble... well, almost more accurately a granule... it warped the safety sear.
"oh thank god, it's only the safety sear."
>"really?"
"easy fix. real easy."
>"how easy?" Emily thinks to me
"Just have to get a new sear, and assuming that's all, it should be an easy fix, but as soon as I have the tools again, Emily, you had better believe that you're gonna get a full tear down and inspection, I have a feeling that, I don't know, random part number six, or the trigger return plunger is also fucked."
>Emily changed back to her rifle form.
>"Anon, you spoil me, you know?" she said as she limped over to me, wrapping her arms around me, resting her chin on my shoulder, and taking a playful nip at my ear that said I was in for it when we got home.
"I try to take care of my woman, after all, she takes care of me." I said as I gave her a peck on the forehead and sat with her on the bed.
>A nurse came into the room and grabbed the chart, reading it, and addressing us. "Good to see you're awake, Anon, now, just take some of these antibiotics every morning and you shouldn't develop any kind of infections, you'll be discharged tomorrow, and your wounds are expected to heal in a month or so, any questions?"
"Yeah, how easy should I go on strenuous activity, or can I just go like normal?"
>"don't run for a couple weeks. or lift anything heavy on the legs. you should be fine besides that, almost no burning, no serious burns, the shrapnel has been removed, along with a piece of your third rib on the left, and several fragments that embedded in your skull have been removed as well, and you've been stitched up."
"Thanks, nurse."
>"And some men are here to see you. Should I send them in?"
"Certainly, the more the merrier!" 
>The two men came in, they were General Hinson and one unknown man, who looked as though he were enjoying his setting too much, and maybe didn't realize this little hospital was on the patch of it he was standing on. 
>"Anon, I'd like to introduce you to Tovarishch.
>the man stepped forward and extended his hand I took it and shook it firmly.
"I'm Anon, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
>"If you wouldn't mind, Anon, I'd like to talk to you, get your account on operation Springbok, and interview you about your experience in this conflict and in any previous ones you might be willing to recount. After the General finishes with you, of course."
"I'd be happy to answer any of your questions, but let's get the General's business out of the way first, he's got important tasks ahead, no doubt. General?"
>Hinson looked to me and spoke. "Sergeant, you've become notable due to your recent scrape, but despite that, and you now being known as 'Lucky strike, the blastproof', across the land, you're medical assessment shows you to be unfit for duty, we simply can't send you into battle in your present condition, whether you're expected to make a full recovery or not. Given these facts, I'm PERSONALLY seeing to it that you're on the helicopter to South Africa tomorrow. I've seen your record, and nothing in it tells me you're gonna be happy about this, but you're going home for three months recovery."
"I understand, sir. I just have one request."
>"What's that, sergeant?" 
"I need to stop at the armory to replace a part of my rifle, Emily's safety sear is bent and bound, she needs a new one, and I should probably give her a full inspection myself to make sure she hasn't taken any other damage."
>"you discharge at ten in the morning, the helicopter leaves at five in the evening. I'll show you to the armory. with that, I'll leave you and Tovarishch to it."
>The general departed and I started talking to Tovarishch. his question came.
>"So how did you come to be the "blastproof of beatrice?"
"I jumped in a ditch, everything went black, and I woke up in the home of an old man who happened to be a former rhodesian soldier."
>"was he one of the men reports say brought you to the hospital clad in vintage rhodie cam and carrying faded rhodie painted FALs and G-3's?"
"yes, sir, he and several friends were sympathetic to rhodesia way back when it first happened."
>"What has been your experience in this conflict so far?"
"I'll tell you, the fighting is much less intense than it was in my last two conflicts, at least both of those were full out wars, in this conflict, it's like the old times when america used to fight less modern uniform wearing armies and they'd get defeated quickly, so far, I've had no trouble in the fight against zimbabwean forces, save for getting blown up twice three days ago."
>"What would you say your future is in regards to the military?" 
"I would say it's looking like the wind is changing direction for me, I got into it because I was drafted a couple years back and re-enlisted after my first tour in Europe after the standard NVGs changed and they started letting us buy our own rifles. Then I did another tour of Europe and that ended about three months ago. We were sent on rapid deployment about two weeks ago."
>"And on to the last question, how do you feel about what this conflict has settled into?"
"well, I figure with salisbury taken, it's only a matter of time before whatever generals still have forces to have held out surrender, and or bring their forces back into the fold. but before we conclude this little chat, Tovarishch, I'd like to ask you a question."
>"go right ahead."
"What makes me so notable? I didn't do anything any of the other soldiers you could get to easier didn't, so why go to this trouble for me?"
>"This is a good one, well, three days ago, we reported YOU as MIA presumed dead, and a day ago, we had to retract that statement, when we found out you arrived with several blacks in original rhodesian uniforms and went into surgery, reports of what happened to you claimed you either threw an RPG back, or took a direct hit from one and kept fighting before getting vaporized by a shell, making your reappearance in salisbury a head shaker. further questions?"
"no."
>"well, Anon, it's been a pleasure, and this concludes our interview."
>Emily and I walked... or limped, really, out of Salisbury general hospital at ten in the morning, accepting a ride from general Hinson to the armory, where I began a complete tear down of Emily and took her apart piece by piece, replacing her springs, because I felt that after nine thousand rounds, it was time. 
>Making sure that every part was washed and scrubbed in solvent until immaculate, then put back into place. The amount of carbon that came out of the rifle horrified the armory staff, but they left me to work with the tools, which aided in my full disassembly and reassembly of the now immaculate FAL, who now sported a new safety sear, which hadn't been bent by the most improbable pebble ever to fly into a hole that was a tenth of an inch by a tenth of an inch wide, and unlike the previous one, had actually been hardened at the factory, as it turned out, since I never took the railed top cover off, I hadn't noticed the deformed upper hook of the sear, which had been beaten down by the bolt carrier going into battery. I decided not to ACTUALLY lube up Emily until AFTER our flight home to Montana, where we would continue our daily lives that we lived after we invaded Europe, but before we invaded the now defunct Zimbabwe, so I just gave her some CLP to keep her smooth since we weren't shooting on the way back.
>Emily and I were on the helicopter heading for South Africa, and then a couple flights taking us to Montana in the next twenty four hours.
>The next day was a sodden affair. A helicopter ride to South Africa, A flight to Atlanta, Another to Billings the next morning, and by the time we arrived to our home, building in the middle of nowhere that it was, in the woods, and covered in snow, The place was well kept, despite the fact that Emily and I had stayed only two and a half months or so of the past eighteen, but we know what steps to take to make the place low maintenance and hardy as fuck, god knows what force it would take before I'd need a ROOF repair, let alone re-insulation.
>it was peaceful, even if covered in snow, as the mid November air here was cold enough to allow for such a thing.
>As I opened the door, and let Emily walk in ahead of me, I realized that some work would have to be done, even before I could rest, to start, the propane needed to be turned on, so did the water, for that matter, but it was no problem, nothing a half hour hike outside couldn't fix.
>As I got the electricity, heating, and plumbing working, I decided what I needed first before I went to bed, I needed a fucking shower. I hadn't had one in five days, I could feel the grime of the invasion still on my skin, from... well, everything, the nine day wait in South Africa, the fighting in Fort Victoria and in Beatrice mixed with the sponge baths I was likely given just enough of to combat potential infections or keep me from smelling like dirt. In either case, I was beginning to feel greasy and my hair was slick, by now, probably a dark brown, rather than the dirty blond it tended to be at its current length. just starting to go from the murky gray it was at the root to the flash of blond at the end.
>As I walked into the house I saw Emily, curled up in a blanket on the couch, resting with exhaustion. She was cute, but beside my primary point. I headed to the bathroom, shedding my outer layers. 
>As I get into the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. I didn't expect THIS horror to look back to me.
>Sgt.Barnes.JPG
>I looked closer. there was no swelling at least. not like I hadn't had scars before, but the old man was right. If women liked prominent scars, I was going to be a fucking treat. This is... well, this is a bit horrifying. not the scars themselves. Though my Right cheek bore a prominent gouge from the graze of the RPG, it wasn't as though I hadn't had a few other scars on me, hell, practically had them on every extremity. I had a prominent rip on my right forearm from a bike accident when I was a kid, on on my thigh from a bullet that passed though my thigh, missing everything important in berlin, my other leg now pocked by the mortar. but there was something about this. 
>I felt the need to reflect on it even as I tried to move it behind me. It plagued me through my shower. I felt clean... and soft now, really. but something was scratching at me from that scar.

>as I exited the shower, I decided it was time to wake Emily, afterall, it was only seven hours or so until decent hours to sleep if you weren't into missing all daylight began. so I dressed in some cozy sweatpants and a tee-shirt, and walked wearily out to the front room.
"Honey, wake up." I said, grabbing her hand and lifting it, usually enough to wake the dead, the hand being one of the most sensitive parts of the body, and movement of which during sleep usually triggering a mild seizure that completely annihilated the slow pace of brain activity and setting in a faster pace, bringing the subject of such a movement to alert
>Emily's hand moving triggered no such reaction in this instance, instead causing her to let out the cutest high pitched chirp, and seize my hand into her chest and grip it with both of her own, snuggling up against it.
"Alright, we'll do this the hard way, then." I said. >I gave a light but solid tug, pulling her out of sleep.
>"you feel clean." she said, as though I were the rifle in this relationship
"If you want to take a shower, now's a good time. Gotta stay awake."
>as Emily and I turned on the TV, and began a movie marathon, we cuddled up and burned through the hours.
>seige at Jadotville, Munich, hotel Rwanda, the Bader Meinhof complex.
>we took turns being each other's stress ball in the emotionally provocative parts. This lovely evening continued well into the night, at least until we called it quits at eleven pm, when we decided we'd had enough. 
>As Emily began her walk to the a shower, I began to feel an urge. I had to do something I hadn't done in a long time, but I'd need to buy something first.
"Hey, Emily?"
>"Yes, Anon?"
"would you be okay if I went out, I have to go get something."
>"what kind of something?"
"I... I can't talk about it."
>"Well. Whatever it is, you'll be home quick... right?"
"yes."
>"Well, if it's on the way, could you pick up some Pendleton whiskey?"
"Sure."
A Brushstroke of Luck :Part Three, From the outside in.
>Anon left the house to get... whatever the fuck it was with some alacrity. really the kind I haven't seen is a while.I trusted Anon to the moon and back, but something told me we were beyond the moon. After my shower I warmed up the laptop, opened the program that corresponded to the tracker in his truck, and watched. He was parked in a parking lot with a few stores I knew he couldn't be visiting. and only for about five minutes. Fuck if I know why he's parked near a waffle shop when he'd make his own if he wanted them, or a curves... the only other option outside of some business that would be "off the books" was another unlikely spot, though only slightly less improbable.
>If he wasn't buying crack or some shit, the only store he could be visiting is... Hank's gun and guitar. I know he grew up with hank, but Anon doesn't play guitar... he could only be buying liquor or another gun... but Anon wouldn't... would he? He couldn't be buying an HK could he? HE WOULDN'T.
>I watched with terrified anticipation as five minutes passed, and the truck headed straight home. I powered down the computer and waited.
>He just walked in and sat a bag down, pulling out a bottle of pendleton. Fuck is he doing?
"waiting period?" I asked
>"no." Anon said
"denied?"
>"No."
"what drugs have you bought?"
>"None."
"Then WHY pass so many liquor stores?"
>"Just to visit with an old friend, help a local business rather than some hadji fuck." Anon responded, his face neutral, non committal. If he was lying, he showed no sign of it. For having left the house with some purpose, he was wiped out.
"bout time to go to sleep then?"
>"yeah."
>I found myself from the nothingness of sleep into a battlefield. It wasn't any battlefield I was at. I stood and watched from a saddle half way up a hill as a battle raged below. several people were closing on one small person... with one small bolt action rifle, closing in on him, hurling denigration after denigration at him, I could only make out the face of one, a woman, her hair blond, her eyes brown, she was wearing a hearing aid, he seemed more fixated on shooting her than anyone else, but no matter how many times he fired, the exaggerated recoil of the rifle pounding his shoulder, his rifle ammo running out, forcing him to produce a pistol and quickly empty three magazines into her and the other charging people, they just didn't seem to die.
>It was then I realized. this wasn't a small man... these were giant people, there were other people around like the man, though they were dead or being killed. Then I saw them reach him and begin to batter him, taking care not to render him unconscious or kill him, taking their time. they knocked him back and I saw his face as his pro tec helmet fell off, and his PVS-14 shattered. It was Anon. He wasn't shooting giants... he was fighting demons... he was losing. 
>the demons began dismembering him, and when they were done tearing him to shreds he was still alive. They didn't even bother to kill him, they just left him there, degraded and destroyed, reduced to hopelessness and despair. And then nothing. the whole scene was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. was this... my nightmare? was it his? I pondered what I had seen, what fantastical and preposterous occurrence I had witnessed.
>I woke to an empty bed, and the sound of clicks coming down the hall.
>I checked the night stand for Anon's .45 and was met with the feeling of the rough and abrasive texture of sanding stone like polymer and sharply checkered steel.
>I checked the clock. 4:28AM
"Then what's Anon doing?" I thought to myself 
>I decided to find out. As I crept slowly down the hall , I traced the sound to the front room, and slowly cracked the door to it. 
>Anon was sitting in the front room with a quartet of guitars, one recognizable instantly as an acoustic, a large boxy thing, with strings and a next faced with dark wood, and a glossy piece with three pegs on each side and a symmetric shape, the other three were electric guitars, the one he was playing had two cut outs near the bottom of the neck, and was a glossy dark brown tone that resembled wood openly near the center, but around the edges looked more like black plastic. I slowly realized the clicking was the sound of him picking the strings, they sounded muted though, and I observed for more information. Anon was wearing a set of headphones, plugged into the back of a box with... were those lightbulbs? Shitty lightbulbs if they were, they only gave a slight soft glow of orange. I began to listen to the notes... Then I could see it. I could feel it too when I tried to listen to his thoughts. all the memories, horrible. horrible. The notes coming off the guitar sounded sad, but his memories were fucking awful.
>the fucked up middle school years
>the not great highschool years
>mid 2015-mid 2016, the year of unadulterated loneliness
>graduating with an associates in machining and finally finding his niche in life. The memories softened up a bit, then conscription and re-enlistment, I could feel his memories becoming fonder, less harsh. I heard the melody go from dark and painful to light and contented. Never saw his hands move so fast before. In such fine movements either.
>Anon put down the guitar and headphones, and began playing the acoustic
>He was playing the acoustic, not really with any particular rhythm, just some jazzy notes, working his way up and down the neck.
>I decided to lean back, so my legs didn't sting 
>*CRACK*
>I struggled to suppress a sharp breath that would give me away, as Anon looked down at the guitar with a look of consternation of his face, as though he expected it, but was none the less disappointed with its fragility. He began playing on the fifth face of each string, and then an untouched string below it until he got to the third string down and touched the fourth, then continued the previous pattern. 
>I slowly steadied myself
>*CRACK*
>Anon looked around this time instead of at the guitar. 
>"The bridge doesn't seem like it's broken again" he muttered as he played a quick set of notes to confirm his suspicion and set the guitar down, looked around and pulled up another guitar, this one having a rounded body with soft curves along the edges, though it was a parallel shape, with all corners from the sides, the back and the front perpendicular, rather than softly curved with a radius like the last one, this one, like all but the one that read "Fender" was thicker, maybe three inches deep, it featured a beautiful front side, with all metal pieces being chrome, a moderately dark brown face in the front of the neck, and the front colored in a contrasting red toward the edges, with an almost smooth red appearance giving way to a distinctive orange wood grain in the center.
>I wondered why I was hiding, I guess I thought Anon wouldn't have let me see this. He hadn't in the year and a half since we'd met, and he evidently couldn't tell me about it when he went out last night. I decided to make my presence known. I opened the door, he just looked at me and froze. I was silent for a few seconds as I saw him react when I walked into the room. You could cut the silence with a knife... assuming you could find one with a strong enough blade.
>I watched the door swing open, Emily standing there with a concerned expression on her face, she looked worried, but understanding, though I didn't see what the big deal was. I'm just a man with a couple expensive guitars, a couple cheap ones and an ok tube amp, letting off some steam from a couple years of well... not.
>"Anon? Since WHEN do you play guitar?" she demanded playfully
"Since i was seventeen." I stated matter of factly.
>"How did that get started?"
"I ever tell you my mother took YEARS to come around to guns being my thing? she tried to suppress it for a few years. Bad move, then a couple years later she bought me a guitar and a few lessons with my sister's boyfriend, and it took off. Expensive mistake. Guitars cost a lot of money, even the low end ones like the mexican made fender strat. Not that it isn't a pretty solid guitar, just not the best of anything. Or my old Epiphone Les Paul that I still have in a sealed case in the attic. Three years later when I was in college and working on making my own way, I'd blown a couple grand on that hobby. I was starting my program in college to become a machinist by the time I managed to buy a tube amp."
>"Tubes? Why would anyone still use tubes? Did it take long to find one at an antique store?"
"No, solid state'll NEVER sound as good as tube, that's why guitar players across the world have given no fucks that transistors can amplify sounds since the eighties."
>Emily came and sat down with me, clearly thinking of a question, she wanted to say something, but was trying to make it sound right in her mind before she spoke.
>"What's with the headphones?"
"Didn't want to wake you. The amp doesn't sound good when it's quiet otherwise."
>she looked at me, both of us bleary eyed and about as composed as a ball of yarn laid in a heap. 
>"Why didn't you want to tell me about this?"
"I don't like playing for people. I only play when I feel like it. You're welcome to listen. But I don't take requests."
>her face stretched into a frown, she gave me a pout. "Not even for meeee?" she groaned
>If those green eyes and that Brown hair wasn't so cute I wouldn't put up with this for a damn second, and in fact, I'd inform her that this is more than I typically allowed my mother without an hours worth of pestering and scolding from my father. But the fact was her face WAS that cute, and that damn pout of hers was like a hot knife twisting in my chest.
"urgh! Maybe." I said to erase that frown.
>"really? Oh Anon I love you!" she said, visibly elated as she scooted closer to me and snuggled herself into my left shoulder
"how about I put these down before I fuck'em up and we go to bed? I know you have to be at least as tired as I am."
>"alright, but don't get up without me again. Please."
"Something wrong, honey?" I asked, genuinely concerned 
>"I had a nightmare. I was on a hill and-"
"I had the same one." 
>"You got problems Anon." she said before thoughtfully adding "So do I."
"Well. You don't get a face like this and eschew side effects." I said, pointing to the obvious burns and pocks on my left cheek before turning to fully face her, and show the obvious scarring on the right. 
>before I could have rotated my head to face her she grabbed it with her hands and pulled my face into hers "You look a little different, but your still my very own Anon." she said as she planted a kiss on my lips and pulled me down on the couch.
"Alright, let's go to bed." I said as I put the guitar down and carried her to the bedroom. 
>Emily and I turned off the heater and snuggled up tight under the covers. For the first time I realized as I went to sleep. Emily could see into my nightmares. While the thought was unsettling at the first pondering, it became more assuring, at least now I had something I never had in the past. A guarantee that I was never alone.
>we woke up just before the crack of noon, not as easy as one would expect when you've just been on a plane for the majority of a day. We knew we'd be in and out all day for the next two or three days, as was customary for people who, save for some authority telling them they had to get up in the morning, be it the almighty dollar telling me to get to the machine shop and socialize with a bunch of lathes, crude motherfuckers and knee mills, or the wake up call telling me to get my ass up so I could fall in for training, or my battle buddies telling me to get up so I could earn the pay of the 605th mechanized infantry battalion, would naturally drift on to a night time pattern, sleeping until noon or later and running far into the night.
>"Anon, wake up. Anon, Mission control to Anon, SSTV shows array non-functional."
"What the HELL are you on about, woman?"
>"Come on Anon, I know I make a comfy pillow, but I can't get up without you, then house is... FUCK what IS the house?"
"Cold?"
>"yeah, that, now come on and keep me warm so I can get to the thermostat."
"Alright." I said, acquiescing to her tug on my shoulder. I knew if I didn't, we'd freeze here, so it was a necessary step to wrap onto each other while we made our way to the thermostat to turn the heater on, otherwise, even Emily, with her superior tolerance to the cold wouldn't be able to get to it and get it working.
>I grabbed our pairs of thermals that we kept beside the bed and handed one to her, and so the winter process began. 
>after we'd slipped on the thermals we began to rise and, walking huddled together, we made our way to the thermostat, turned on the heater, and began our day. 
>we headed out wrapped in layers of jackets and walked to the range in the back yard.
>three months came.... AND WENT. After a quarter year of recovering from combat injuries, which could best be summarized as shooting, taking long walks with, cuddling, and doing lewd things with Emily, we were ready to go back to the front, for what would hopefully be the last time.
>we arrived in Salisbury Rhodesia on February 20 2022. The place was...different.
>streets that three months earlier had been shabby, and would have been better absent the fragments of pavement were solid and smooth, buildings who's walls had resembled frayed white cardboard had received a fresh coat of paint and a well needed facelift. 
>No longer were the streets indicative of a city degenerated into african rural lifestyle, with cars permanently parked, used as chicken coops or clothes lines hanging all about town like saigon in '68.
>Far as the eye could see, you'd see people, white or black, in a mixture of clothing, people were lively and jovial. Bars were active as they legendarily were in this part of the world back in the days of individual mercs bringing their six inch diameter steel testes across the ocean to get shot at because they were bored and this place offered "The land of high adventure." as it was marketed, a place where men could come and escape the forlorn nature of masculinity in the western world and be MEN. Or a man among men as one famed magazine had marketed it. they didn't disappoint.
>I rejoined the 605th at the barracks, reporting for duty to Major Frank Patterson. 
"Sergeant Anon Mous reporting for duty." I stated to the major
>"Welcome to the 605th soldier." he said as he turned to face me
>"Anon? Holy SHIT, What happened to you?"
"Got blown up twice in a day, apparently didn't die, got three months rest and recovery."
>"Damn, I thought you got smoked, you were reported KIA and everything."
"apparently everyone did, even My wife/rifle. Gotta be a word for that."
>"Well at any rate, welcome back, Anon."
"Congrats on the promotion."
>we fielded the next day to Sinoia after a briefing, there was intelligence of a massive offensive, whatever was left of the government forces and their armor, maybe some new recruits. 
>"Anon, tell me, where you been?" Brian spoke up as we dug our ranger graves, fox holes, and various other breastworks.
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you, like everyone else apparently, including Emily, thought I was dead. well, I came plenty close that day." I huffed as i heaved shovels of dirt over my shoulder. "But you see, it was weirder than that, basically, I woke up a couple days later in the home of Abel Muzorewa's grandson, and he brought a bunch of other geriatric blacks who wore Rhodesian UDT shorts. A couple had Selous scouts berets, and they ferried my ass, bleeding, in the back of a fucked up truck, to the hospital in Salisbury. Old bastards, evidently hard as fuck, reported for duty to general Hinson."
>"that explains how you got to the hospital, but where since then?"
"Montana."
>"what's the word from the real world?"
"well, the last democrat committed suicide last week, The democratic party has long since disbanded, L.A., San Francisco, Sacramento, Chicago, New York, Portland and Seattle, all cities which banned republicans and other right wing citizens from residing there, holding a one hundred percent democrat populace were all nuked during a brief conflict with China, setting in motion a purge of democrats, leftists and various other degenerates, after their factions brought us nearly to the brink of a fucking space war. I'm forgetting SOMETHING but it'll have to come to me later."
>"JESUS!"
"Won't do them no good, anyone who'd go to Jesus was banned, remember?"
>"Wouldn't that put them all over the place?"
"New technology. The world is about three billion people more rural, but Russia got out backs when the shit kicked up, so india and the chinks became crispy critters fast, AND we didn't blot out the sun."
>"Fuck man. thats... unsettling."
we waited in our ranger graves facing to the north until we saw them coming. 
>the radio rattled off."javelins wait for the mark, we need to get them into position."
>the vehicles began a rapid dash toward the town.
>"MARK!" The radio crackled
>vapor trails went up as the BMP's and T-72's began to traverse their turrets toward us. Fucking amazing. 
>WHOOOOSH
"It's like fighting fucking downies with this bunch."
>"you're getting an accent."
"fuck."
>"He's right you know."
"shut up, Emily." I thought with a grin.
>"Fuck are you grinning about?"
"Nigger rigged tenchincals, Brian. Nigger rigged technicals."
>"that is pretty funny."
"shut up and shoot them!" I said sharply as I shoulder Emily and began firing bursts into the drivers and gunners
>One of the trucks manages to fire at my grave while we're shooting, rounds ounce around me while I drop and reload, I come back up, and fire, killing the gunner and driver with a well placed mag dump into both of their bodies, I flip the elcan to 1X for easy aiming and repeat the process with three more trucks, a final set of four trucks start pulling up, and fire from the graves eliminates two the other couple get pretty close, and one of them fires at me, I didn't notice it, as I was firing at the other truck, I covered myself in the ranger grave and reloaded I pulled up as the gunner swung onto my position, and began firing a ten round burst into the general area of the gunner, watching as he began to crumple on the gun and fall off the vehicle... and then nothing. 
>I let go of the trigger and took cover in the grave I wanted to know why I suddenly went from looking through a tube to looking in the back of an inactive night vision unit. 
>FUCK.JPG
"Emily, ARE YOU OKAY?" I shouted as I looked at her optic
>"AH! MY FUCKING EYES!" She screached internally
>The MAG viking evidently noticing me not firing rips off another torrent
>"Get that optic off of me!" she thought in agony
>I removed the elcan and she stopped.
"how are your eyes? Are they fucked?"
>"Better now... but they feel different."
"Jesus fucking Christ, get a look at this shit" I said, picking up a hot as fuck, and twisted Elcan specter "They shot out your optic! Let me get a look at you." I said while the MAG viking began shooting the straggling survivors
>Emily changed and I looked into her eyes, they seemed fine, no doubt this wouldn't be the case, had I not removed the optic. 
>"Are my eyes ok?" she asked, a look of shock on her face as I peered into them
"They look good... they're blue now... can you still see?"
>"yes, I can see fine."
>an officer gave the all clear, and started a call for some helicopters to sweep the area and medevac one KIA and a couple wounded.
>Emily and I looked out over the grave and into the wreckage that lay strewn across the landscape. several armored elements, technicals, and corpses littered the landscape. the MAG viking firing into men struggling out of burning wrecks. pretty fucked.
>"Anon, you know what's up with MAG viking here?"
"Isn't that Teddy?"
>"Yeah. For an Asian, he's pretty good at being a viking."
"yeah, bastard doesn't know how to tap a blind hole, he's not the sharpest on a machine, then again neither am i, but you give that boy a machine GUN and suddenly he's a fucking savant."
>"true. should we stop him? they aren't shooting back." Brian piped up, as the gunship arrived to clean up anyone we missed.
"HEY! TED! LEAVE SOME FOR THE GUNSHIP!" I shouted. 
>we all looked out on the now dormant battlefield. 
"some day this war's gonna end. And I think it'll be some day soon." I remarked
"Emily, We'll get you a new optic next time we have the opportunity to order one. we'll add it to the list of gear that needs replacing."
>Emily looked at me for a while. At least I think it was a while. I turned and she was looking at me with those newfound blue puppydog eyes and an expression reminiscent of a young well mannered girl waiting to be acknowledged before speaking. "'Least we got the mags replaced." She said as she smiled at me.
"what do you think? Aimpoint pro? another specter?"
>"Aimpoint. yeah..." she trailed off.
"wanna grab a drink when this is all over?"
>"I don't know. I just don't want to drink recently."
"You been feeling alright?" 
>"Yeah. not really digging the arid brushstroke, though. Kinda wanna get rid of the shorts and go back to the way I dressed BEFORE I got to you."
"How do you mean?"
>"I used to wear dresses you might think... antiquated. Anachronistic, if you will."
"Like what? poodle skirts?"
>"Little longer, with a blouse and sweater vest."
"Hard to imagine, but it's a pleasant image. What happened?"
>"I arrived at an armory where they painted me and gave me optics. Then I got shipped to a barracks to a Private who didn't believe I was a rifle at first, questioned his CO's sanity, then dismissed it with 'Fuckit I've seen weirder.' when I proved myself a rifle to him."
"AH, so I imposed that change, then."
>"yes, can't say it was a bad change though. I can't say I'd enjoy such apparel in this desert heat."
"speaking of heat, is it just me or are there three big ass celestial bodies plainly visible in daylight?" I said as I looked to the south and pointed to what appeared to be three incredibly close planets.
>"You've never seen that before?"
"No. Did I miss something?"
>"apparently, that's the rift."
"The one from 2018 that made some of the guns come to life?"
>"yes. By the way, Ted the MAG viking is coming over, looks like he has an order to relay to you." she said, not turning around, despite Ted being behind her... and not facing us. In any case, she was right.
>Ted ran to us. "Anon, we have to mount up! we've been dispatched to Karoi."
>How did she know?
PART FOUR: THE BEGINNING OF THINGS.
>we arrived in Karoi and began digging graves and breastworks into the ground as we were briefed on an attack coming from the remainder of the government forces and their loyalists. The Mugabe regime had been popular in Zimbabwe to be sure, but it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination genuine loyalty behind that popularity. rather it was fear of getting digits chopped off imparted by their grandparents and a collection of fingers ACTUALLY cut the fuck off during Mugabe's election. 
>I wasn't worried about a popular uprising at all. No one really liked the government now that they weren't the biggest dog on the block. in fact, even we weren't. we were just the most toxic. people who played with the composition of the 605th tended to turn up dead. people who let us be, just fine, those who helped or learned to be friendly with us, the also got along just fine. So for all we were concerned with, we were the biggest dog on the block.
>"So... what gear needs to be replaced?"
"Well, we got the mags. My Night vision needs replacing, I''m thinking a PVS-31 or something high speed like that, speaking of night, how's your atpial?"
>"It's gotta come off, though."
"You're right about that, no line on the iron sights."
>I removed the laser and put it in my backpack after I realized it blocked my view of the iron sights. and continued digging. later on in the evening I starting digging again, this time for a ranger grave in which to sleep. I grabbed Emily and snuggled up with her in the ranger grave early the next morning, dropped my desert goggles onto my head, and off I went.
>I woke with a start, the dust falling around me would have filled my eyes had I not been sleeping with my goggles on. I grabbed my rifle and slinked my eyes about three inches above the dirt to look in the other graves.
>I saw on my 9 o'clock that the other's not on sentry duty had awakened and were pointing their weapons to the north-east.
>it was clear the big one was coming, a nice offensive, a pretty well conceived plan to draw them in. It all had to go to plan.
>mortars began ringing off in the distance.
>I soon found myself on the bottom of the grave again. I slincked above and brought my rifle to bare on the direction the attack came from and began shooting, four hundred yards out, I was using the Irons to bracket enemies with 7.62mm bullets.
>as I counted that I had dropped twelve I heard the order to retreat and sprinted back fifty yards, then turned to shoot a few more rounds and delay their advance as a fellow volunteer ran past me, I was more likely drawing fire to him than covering his retreat, but I was gonna get to the next phase line. I began my run back as the thunder started again. I didn't know what it was, but I knew if had to be directed at me and the rest of the volunteer force.
>as I made it to the next phase line, I dropped into the trench and began firing, I saw the youngin' who passed me early and he started talking
>"SERGEANT! WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM?"
"The blacks?"
>"NO, THAT'S PRETTY FUCKING OBVIOUS, I MEAN THE MORTARS!"
"What mortars"
>all at once his gaze turned from inquisitive to "You've got a dick growing out of your forehead!" I suddenly realized what the thunder was at his facial cue.
"OH THOSE MORTARS! YEAH, FROM THE EAST, MAYBE A LITTLE SOUTH OF US!"
>"FALL BACK!" he screamed.
>as I hit the next phase, the young man fell into the trench too mangled to be alive. I stared at the corpse and thought, "Here I am. Rhodesia. removing commies. Seems outta place. I mean, this isn't 1967, and HE isn't Anthony Brading."
"And then YOU showed up, Jorge. so, having brought you up to speed on my whereabouts for about two years." At this moment I felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the fact that I hadn't given him all the details, deciding which from the story, were actually important, and hadn't verbally spewed an eight hundred paragraph essay. Though... all of it crossed my mind.
>"well, there's the gunships." Jorge said as the gunships flew by, firing cannon and missile at what remained of the enemy.
"So, what's happening to us after the war.?"
>"Dual citizenship in Rhodesia and United states, we're to be reassigned as the Rhodesian defense force in two months, and what the fuck else? Oh there he is, stay riight there. MEEDIIIC!" Jorge said as he went off and talked to the medic, occasionally gesturing toward me.
"What's this all about?" I thought half to myself and half to Emily
>"You're bleeding again."
>I looked down at my body to assess my condition. two feet, the legs are good, my hands are both there, my arms don't seem to be bleeding.... much, there IS a graze on my right arm that's not leaking anymore, just a little inward from the scar running along my ulna from when I was a kid and broke- THE FUCK?
>I looked at Emily, and she seemed in good condition, her paint was a little scratched, a few nics here and there. but holy FUCK, the stock was fucking saturated with blood, apparently from a few minutes of firing since this skirmish began.
>As I reached for the side of my head I expected the blood to come from, everyone, Emily, Jorge, the medic stopped me. before too long I was being evaluated again, and as before it was fragments embedded in my skull, that hadn't penetrated. my luck couldn't hold out like this. my luck only says I usually get fucked in ways that prevent me from enjoying life if I let them, BUT FOR FUCK SAKE COULD THEY QUIT EMBEDDING FRAGMENTS IN MY SKULL?
>The Doctor came into the room. He was a rather skinny man, his gaunt hands clasped a clip board and he looked at me as though he recognized some unfortunate deathprone bastard with a streak of good luck he'd seen before.
>"good evening, I'm doctor Muzorewa."
"The fourth?" I asked 
>"yes. I believe we've met before. Have you seen my father around by any chance?" 
"No, he brought me here and I was back home for three months to recover from minor but somewhat debilitating injuries."
>"Damn, I haven't seen him around in two or three months. He wrote saying he was headed for Brakfontein."
"Well, that's a pretty remote post, he's a third of the way from the border to the sea. I wonder if he's staying there."
>"Last letter he sent was a month ago, he said he was heading off insurgents coming around from Zambia."
"Shit! That's the spot of a notable siege, hope the old man can handle himself out there."
>"What siege?"
"The siege of the elands river, during the anglo boer war."
>"Not a comforting thought. In any case, we're far off track. I need to test your vision, how many fingers?" he said as he held up three
"Three." I answered
>"Good, so you can see, not surprising since you've scored excellently on every optometry test since you were twelve, save for this one... let's get this out of the way first." he held up a card with circles of varying colors that make a pattern first blue
"six"
>then red
"N"
>Then green.
"three"
>then brown
"eight"
>then a color shaded between a bright blue and a bright green
"uhh.... four."
>"that's a nine. one last card" he said, holding up one in a fairly light green.
"ummm.... K"
>"That's a W. it's clear to me that in light greens and browns you are mildly colorblind."
"Killin' my dreams of being a fighter pilot, doc."
>"Cognitive function is fine, and you're just about ready to be discharged back into the army, though I can't say I recommend it for a bomb magnet like you."
"Good seein' you, doc."
>"likewise."
>with that I was discharged from the hospital and put back into my unit. I knew one thing for certain. I wouldn't survive YET ANOTHER set of fragments embedding themselves in my skull if mortars were in my future. So I better move my ass quick.
>I walked out of the hospital wondering where my Baby girl might be, maybe she was back at the armory. 
>"ANON!" A giddy female voice called I turned to face it, and speak of the... devil?
"Emily is that you?" I said as I ran into her embrace, wrapped my arms around her, and found my place in the world once again.
>"You know Anon..." she said quizzically "Washing your blood off of me is getting to be a real CHORE these days!" 
"I almost didn't recognize you in that dress, you look stunning!"
>"ahhh, Anon, you're too sweet!" she gushed as her cheeks turned red, something not usually in her character.
"Blushing? What witch craft is this?" I said as I gave he a pack on the lips
>"well, your blood mixed with the paint so they just reparkarized me."
>I looked her up and down
"It looks great on you."
>"And here I was, expecting you to call me a nerd and make fun of me for looking like this."
>She wore a long dark blue skirt that went down to her ankles, and had several folds along the diameter, maybe the epitome of 1940's fashion, above that, she wore a short sleeve button up shirt. Her light brown hair, rather than tied back like usual, was draped over her shoulders. She usually looked very feminine, but not THIS feminine, FUCK!
"what should we do, since neither one of us is seriously injured and or covered in my blood?"
>with a giggle she fired back "Anon, you smart ass! you get out of the hospital and the first thing you want to do is get a room?"
"Well I was thinking take a walk first, watch the sunset, take you out to dinner, but it's gotta be hot when you're dressed like that." I said with aplomb
>"Sounds good in theory."
"what theory?"
>"Oh, when I get done with you, you'll find out."
"Why not, I could use a good chafe when I report tomorrow."
>after a night of rubbing against eachother, moaning, and various other general debauchery, Emily and I reported to the barracks, apparently surprised by my speedy return. By the looks of disappointment on their faces, several thought I'd be medically discharged, and maybe that would have been the best thing for me, seeing as I apparently liked shrapnel so much it was part of my diet.
"General. SGT Anon Mous reporting for duty." I said to Hinosn
>"good to have you back, the unit is on stand down for the time being, we're shorthanded at the moment, so you get your own room."
"Thank you sir."
>"By the by, you've been re-assigned. You skills chart says you can fly an A-10, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
>"We've been reorganized as a compartment of the Rhodesian Air Force. we've got military support from the united states, including the aircraft, congrats, you're a fucking pilot now."
"No physical? No disqualification for being colorblind?"
>"Nope, you forget you're in the 605th because you misfits couldn't sit anywhere in the US military where we have actual physical standards. Report to the depot tomorrow and get your flight gear."
>A trip to the Depot later, I got my flight suit, a new helmet, a set of aviation panoramic night vision goggles, fucking RIDICULOUS things in my opinion, though they were only about half a pound, so I have to give the faggots who developed them at Litton some credit for that, but FOUR TUBES? I could roll with it, it would only take getting used to, and I wouldn't be needing my ability to walk with those things obscuring my peripheral vision for a while anyhow, if at all. My only SERIOUS reservation was my new armament. 
>I arrived back at the room and set my new equipment down, I sat sullenly, thinking of how I would break the news that I wouldn't be taking her with me on patrol.
>"Anon, this stuff is amazing, I can't wait to shoot some... what's with the face?"
"I can't take you with me."
>"I figured. It's not as if you can fit me in the cockpit AND expect both of us to survive in an ejection. cheer up."
"You're...Not upset about being left here while I got out for shit?"
>"Anon. I'm 43" long from butt to muzzle, my barrel is 21" long, I've seen NOTHING that makes me question your loyalty, and I'm staying on base with you when you're no flying. I knew what was up as soon as he said you were a pilot."
"When you put it like that it doesn't seem so bad. Save for only carrying a pistol."
>"Only a what you say?"
"I'm only allowed to carry an M-9A3. Most shots I can get, and anything bigger wouldn't fit in the cockpit."
>"well... I don't think you'll be that attractive to any bits of metal but me up there. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Heh, yeah, you're right. Wait a minute... oh fuck you."
>"Well I'm still a little chafed from the other day, but if you really want to..." she said tauntingly... We DID have our own room... but she's right
>"So when's your first flight?"
"tomorrow morning. I'm going on my first patrol."
>"Nervous?"
"No. I actually spent years in simulators as a kid, self training into the role of A-10 pilot."
>"this ought to be good."
>the next day I walked onto the flightline. I was stepping in ten. so i figured I'd get to my jet early.
>As I remembered my DCS days, I began a rundown of what was different between the weapon systems of DCS and real life. needless to say, it was familiar rather quickly, the only difference besides a mild concealment of how such a system works was G forces, which they just... gave me faith that I would stand up to.
>I walked over to my jet.
PART FIVE: NEWLY MET, BUT FAMILIAR.
>I climbed into the cockpit, and placed a picture of Emily by the emergency discharge switch, which would extinguish engine fires if they developed.
>I stared at the picture, taken a lifetime ago. She was standing with me, only a year younger, but I had seen a lot in that year. we were in Munich when we took it, both of us somewhat younger in appearance, and I didn't have the scars of the face that plagued me today. I thought back to my days in the machine shop. My old friends, like Hank, who'd played guitar with me when I was a young man. My great grandfather, who'd died when I was only a young boy, he'd be help right now, maybe teach these young guys what was up, he could tell, legend had it, what was wrong with an aircraft by the sound of the engines, then told the mechanics on the ground what to do. If only he could see me now.
"It all seems a lifetime and a world away." I muttered to myself
>"What was that?"
>I looked over to see the crew chief standing on my boarding ladder, bringing my knee board up.
"Huh? Nothing."
>"well, here's your knee board, you're cleared for engine start and taxi to runway, 131.000 for the tower, 128.975 for control once you depart and 143.500 for Texaco if you need refueling. as this is your first patrol, we haven't assigned you anything we think will yield a ton of support calls. Your callsign is Uzi 4-1, now get to it."
>As I listened to the hiss of the canopy closing and disabled the actuator I decided to make a good impression of the powers that put me in this familiar situation. after all, if I flew long enough I'd get the opportunity to VRRRRRRRRRRRRRP the fuck out of some floppies.
>battery and AC/DC inverter bus
>fuel boost pumps for wings and fuselage front and rear. no drop tanks.
>APU
>As the APU hissed and whired to life I turned on the radios and tuned them to tower and patrol freq.
>The APU spun to full and I started the APU generator bus, beginning my spool up of the right engine, which I generally thought of as Engine two. while I did that, I flipped the MFCD knobs to full bright and flipped the CICU switch and then the IFFCC went to center, where I performed a preflight BIT, ensuring that I turned on the right generator as the turbine stabilized and beginning the left engine spool up four seconds later, turning on the CDU and EGI systems and turning them to WAYPOINT navigation mode.
>text flashing across my screen turned to a flashing green "X" 
>"PULL UP! PULL UP! ALTITUDE! ALTITUDE!"
>"PREFLIGHT BIT COMPLETE >BACK
>I scollled back though the menus, turned CCRP consent to 3/9, then turned back the menus to the base menu and flipped IFFCC to full on, turned on the left engine generator bus and then turned the APU and APU generator off. The bird was started in four minutes, I turned on anti skid, nav lights, and nosewheel steering, taxied to the runway and keyed my mic.
"Uzi 4-1, Tower, request takeoff runway 05."
>"Tower, Uzi 4-1, you are cleared for takeoff from runway 05, wind is 04 knots 300, QFE 27.43 climb to patrol altitude, depart heading 050, to patrol altitude for 12."
>with that I throttled to eighty percent, held the brakes, then released and took off on my patrol.
>"Uzi 4-1, check in."
"Uzi 4-1, checking in, time on station 360 mics, I have one thousand one hundred fifty 30 mm, three AGM-65K, Three AGM 65D, Six MK84 two gbu 12" 
>the flight was a boring one. I loitered for all six hours and came back to the base, refueled, took a break and began a seconds sortie around eight in the evening, this time patrolling at night for familiarization.
>I returned, found my loving wife and rifle Emily, and went to bed with her. The flight was that boring of an affair that I really didn't care to comment on it. even to Emily, who, frankly was only awake because she wasn't comfortable sleeping without me. 
>the next morning, I woke to the sound of her vomiting.
>The next month, I was relieved of piloting duty, since the RHAF had finally gotten it's shit together and didn't need a pilot who was colorblind and deathprone. I was sent back to the RLI, who I had came over from a month earlier. 
"Anon, what have you gotten yourself into?" I asked as I sat in an APC heading toward Chirundu to investigate a report of a weapons cache a farmer had been holding in the outskirts. Everything in my past and mind told me not to go near the fucking thing. it had to be an IED.
>we arrived on scene, and it was... well. normal. the old man had crates on crates of ordinance. upon investigation determined to contain no explosives, however, shitloads of warsaw pact armaments
"Hey, Emily, you believe this shit?" I said... there was no response. 
>"She's not here, brother." answered Ted, putting a hand on my shoulder. I'd forgotten, since I was using my old M-16 again. 
"well. That's painful."
>"I know it hurts, bro. look on the bright side, maybe they'll figure out what's wrong with her at the armory."
"Hopefully. I couldn't stand to part with her." My eyes were close to tears, but I could choke them back. I didn't know why she was crushing brass on chambering, I had to use a replacement rifle when I found out. 
"Well, we'd better take inventory" I said, beginning the process to take my mind off Emily and what problems she might be having. 
>It was a quick distraction. A quiet ride back to the armory in salisbury. two days had passed, and an elated Emily, clearly driven beyond the end of her nerves greeted me.
>"Anon, I've got great news!"
"what news?"
>"They found what was wrong with me, and I'm gonna be fine!"
"That's great! what is it?"
>"I'm pregnant!"
>The photograph she took of my face when I realized what she said to me is on the mantle over there, by the way.
>"And you're being discharged, we're going home in three days."
"That's... great!"
>"Well, let's get back to the barracks, we gotta pack for the flight to Kariba."
>And so we packed, flew to Kariba, and stayed there for a little vacation near the lake before being medically discharged by the Rhodesian Air Force, who had contained the RLI. I flew home with Emily, to montana. the violence and heat of the Bush giving way to the snow. I had an FAL, who was pregnant, and despite a few nicks in her receiver, manifesting as scars on her body, almost none the worse for wear. 
>I'm scarred by the events that took place, leaving me unconscious twice, the first of which having seen me reported KIA, but only physically. I managed to fight the muslim horde in Europe twice, take a tour in Rhodesia. I was interviewed by kommando radio, I became a notable casualty when I turned back up after the mortar left me in the trench, and I'm going back to the machine shop in week or so. I'm in a little rough shape from the wear and tear, but you know what? I'm in pretty good shape for the shape I'm in. Some of my friends are still out in the trenches, still sweeping up the shards. But my war? My war is over, and I get to live to be an old man with a happy family and all the limbs and smarts I started out with. A new chapter is just around the corner, and I'm greeting it without hesitation.

END