A day at the office
Alex couldn't help but laugh as he walked into the parking lot outside the headquarters building. When he joined the guntruck platoon, He heard rumors that most of the guys were a little......crazy, but this proved it. There was a sign outside the lot, showing an outline of a HMMWV and the words, "Guntrucks only". As he approached, some soldier was spraypainting the sign. putting orange blotches on the front and rear of the picture, giving it the same paintjob the civilian taxis wore. It was a bad joke around the camp that all guntrucks were good for was ferrying soldiers from one base to another.
Laughing, he called out to the artist. "Hey, nice work. you think Lt. Willia...oh, sir, its you!" He saluted, holding it. The officer smiled and gave a halfhearted return, showing he was one of the nicer commanders. He waved Alex into the rest of the assembled group and raised his voice.
"Good morning, everyone! I hope you all got plenty of sleep, as I am still getting shit for one of you taking a nap on this job. As much as we liked Sgt. Naveros, he is now enjoying duty where a lapse in attention will not kill him. I would like you all to welcome his replacement, Spc. Foxley. Now, on to the important stuff......this is a closed convoy, gentlemen. If a car scares you, tell it to back off. Drivers, if a car comes between you and the next truck, you are authorized to run the bastard off the road. Gunners, your job is to scare the crap out of them, so they never try."
The officer continued his briefing, but it was all basic stuff, or over his head. Adam was a mechanic, tasked with fixing broken down vehicles, and he never expected to be more than an extra set of eyes. After the meeting broke up, He headed for his truck, thinking to ask someone which seat he was in, but he was happily surprised again. Stenciled over the door of the back right seat was "PRIEST", his nickname.
Alex looked back as a were bear picked up his bag and tossed it in the back of the truck and pulled himself up over the armored walls. "Nice to have you here, Priest. You will put in a good word for god with us, right?" The were was a gunner that Alex knew, a Sgt. Gonzalez, but everyone on guntruck called him "Oso".
A few minutes later, Alex was settled into his seat. with all the gear he was wearing and the machine gun sitting in his lap, there wasn't much room, but he was smart. The armies motto was hurry up and wait, so he came prepared. He pulled a black case out of his thigh pocket and opened it, revealing a gameboy, and a host of dusty accessories. The fur next to him, a wolf he never saw before, smiled and held up his own, and offered a link cable.
Two hours later, the radio barked to life, and the engines turned over. Not even bothering to save, the games were stuffed haphazardly back into cases and stowed, helmets and goggles were strapped on, and Alex added his trademark. Quickly wrapping a loose piece of brown cloth around his muzzle to conceal his face, he was finally ready.
He saw the gates of the compound open as they approached. Several other soldiers were standing around, most of them on guard duty, but one of them was special. The old fur must have been a flag officer, he thought. No one but medics and officers just carry pistols. As each truck went by, though, he shook hands with the furs inside, and bounced a fist off a few hoods. somehow, that made Alex all the more nervous. The sounds of each soldier charging their respective weapons as they cleared the gates helped a litte, and the fact he now had a live, working weapon in his hands helped a lot.
Once they were moving the heat became bearable. looking out at the city, Alex was always surprised how different it looked. Wide, dirty streets, cars that would have been junked in the states, and houses that looked like they were made out of nothing but stucco were a stark reminder he was miles from safety. It wasn't what he thought it would look like, though. every few miles, the scene would change. First lush plantlife crowded around a large stucco and wood building gave way to stretches of dusty highway marked by the occassional rusted hulk of a dead enemy vehicle.
As the convoy barreled down the road, other cars started getting closer. The junkers looked pitiful next to the massive trucks, but most of the soldiers got nervous around them. A sedan crept up along side the truck, but before he could do anything, the bear in the turret swung the massive weapon around to point at the car. All Alex heard was Oso screaming and swearing, but the car tapped his brakes and fell behind.
As the convoy neared the first turn, disaster struck. A truck started trailing smoke, and had to pull over. The radio turned on and Alex heard the order for the BDAR team to fall back and rescue the truck. The Battle Damage Assessment and Repair team was Alex's team. The on ramp was packed, so Alex bailed out and headed back torwards the stricken vehicle on foot. Almost every truck disgorged a mechanic, armed with tools and weapons.
As he approached the truck, the hood was already up, and several soldiers were poking around at the cause of the smoke. His job was perimeter, so he climbed into the empty cab and set his light machinegun up with the barrel poking out the window, covering the row of houses a few hundred feet away. The problem turned out to be a lack of attention. The owner of the truck had failed to check his fluid levels, and had overheated. It was an easy fix, so Alex relaxed a bit.
Thats when the screaming started.
Alex looked right, out the windshield, and saw most of the convoy dashing off. The guntrucks turned around on the on ramp and drove the wrong way into traffic, screaming at cars to get out of their way so they could put themselves between the the mechanics and whoever was shooting at them.
Alex looked straight ahead, and saw it. A tiny shape, and a flash. Some asshole was shooting at us!, He thought. The fur hesitated, then made his decision. He had always like the SAW, and always bragged about his skill with it. Centering the front sight on the distant target, he fired his first shots of the tour.
he fires half a dozen rounds, two at a time, then looks. The head is gone, and a few puffs of plaster dust tell him he was on target. Did I..... looking for more targets, he was surprised by the door jerking open and another soldier climbing in the cab with him. "Time to leave. Shove over, I'll drive."
The convoy linked up down the highway and eventually made it to the next base. After they all shut off the trucks, Alex was climbing out of the cab when the driver put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. Turning, Alex saw that he was holding a single empty rifle casing. The driver reached out and tucked it into his vest pocket and clapped him on the head. "You might want to keep that....."
At the informal meeting a few hours later, he finally found out what happened. Someone, seeing the downed vehicle, decided to take a few pot shots at it. No one was hurt, and the only damage was a single bullet hole in one of the trucks.
He found out he was the only one who fired, and only one other mechanic saw the same person, but the story was the same. No confirmed kill, just a few puffs of dust.
A everyone geared up for the return trip, a few soldiers took a moment to talk to Alex. Comments ranged from thanks for a sharp eye to condolences over the lack of a confirm. Soon everyone was in position, and the trucks were slowly rolling torward the gates. Everyone was wide awake, and they almost dared someone to fuck with them on the way back. Just before they got out of the gate, a single trooper ran up to the lead vehicle and spoke to the officer inside. Nodding, he turned and jogged down the line, and stopped in front of Alex. It was some major he had never seen before, not from his unit, offering to shake his hand. Alex took the proffered paw and tried to smile. "Good job, Priest. Lt. Williams told me all about it. Keep up the good work." He turned and walked off.
Alex looked down at his glove and the objects the major had passed him. A unit coin, with the same patch embossed on it as on the major's uniform, and a belt of six rifle rounds.
As the last truck cleared the gate, he hoped that the guy next to him would mistake his shaking for the rough road.