Case Study #2: The Loyal Wife
- Thread starter Marauder06
- Start date
Firemission! Firemission!
As Jody steps into the room, you get your first real good look at him. He’s just as you expected- young, white, skinny. Dark hair, plain features. Wrinkled uniform, and boots that haven’t been polished in quite some time. Total dirtbag, just as you expected.
With his peripheral vision Jody can see that there are other people in the room, but he can’t see who they are without turning his head, which he can’t do because he’s at the position of attention.
“Hey SPC Schum,” says Cho, in a friendly, conversational tone. “We haven’t talked in a while, and I heard you were here today helping out around the company. I want to find out how you’ve been doing.”
You and First Sergeant exchange “WTF??” glances. You thought this was going to be an ass chewing, not a kum-ba-yah session. “Helping out around the company?” That shitbrick was pulling extra duty for getting in trouble; he wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of his heart. What is Cho up to? Maybe you misjudged him.
Cho engages Jody in what appears to be a friendly conversation between peers. When Jody talks, it sounds like he’s watched too many movies and listened to too much “gangsta” rap.
While he’s talking to Jody, Cho’s demeanor and mode of speaking are completely different- much more casual, much more… “much more like the way Jody’s talking,” you think. That’s interesting.
“So Jody, I saw that car you’ve been driving around in, that’s a pretty sweet ride,” says Cho.
“Yeah, my girl gave it to me,” says Jody, with a hint of pride. Sensing that he’s not in trouble, Jody begins to relax a little.
“Was it her car?” Cho asks.
“Yeah, it used to belong to her old man, but Brenda told me I could keep it,” he replies, “’sides, it not like Bradley needs it anymore, he’s dead.” At that comment, you feel First Sergeant’s body stiffen in his chair, but he says nothing.
Cho looks down at the piece of paper on his desk, and inconspicuously draws a line through one of the words he had circled.
“Are you going to pimp out that car, maybe get it up on some 22s, get some spinners?” Cho inquires.
“Nah, sir, I don’t have the ducats for that,” Jody replies.
“Yeah, especially since your sugar mama dumped your dumb ass once she got that insurance check,” said SSG Red from across the room. Jody looks over at him, mouth open to defend his relationship with Brenda.
“Don’t worry about him,” Cho says, shooting Red a glare. “You and Brenda have been together for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, about six months now,” Jody replies. From the look on his face when he talks about her, he’s clearly in love with Brenda. What a dumbass.
“We’re going to get married,” he continues.
“Oh, that’s great!” says Cho, enthusiastically. “I hear that the two of you might be expecting?”
“Yes sir, Brenda’s been pregnant for a while now.”
“Congratulations!” Cho crosses another word off his list.
“Now, you said that you and Brenda started dating six months ago, about the time that SGT Bradley left for Iraq, but SGT Bradley died only four months ago. So that must mean that you were tappin’ ass that while Brenda was still married.
Hearing the words “tappin’ that ass” come from a guy like Cho makes you smile.
“Aw, you know how I roll, sir,” says Jody, smiling sheepishly.
Cho crosses off yet another word.
“Indeed. So I hear Brenda’s husband was in the Special Forces.”
“Nah, he was just a support guy attached to the Group. He was always takin’ shit about it though, like he was some kind of bad ass.”
“Yeah, I know, those Special Forces guys are enormous pains in the ass,” Cho says, “They’re always acting like they’re better than the rest of us. Sometimes you just have to put those guys back into their places.”
“Yeah, I know sir,” says Jody, “There were these SF cats I was talking with-“
“Where were you talking to them?”
“On email. I was-“
“Who were you talking to?” Cho inquires.
“Just- some punk asses, I think a captain and maybe some NCO. Anyway I was like, bust this, fuck you guys-“
“Really? You said those exact words to the captain and the NCOs in the SF Group in Iraq that you were talking to via email? You actually said, ‘fuck off?’ Wow, that really takes some balls.”
“Yeah, sir, it was awesome.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, sir, you know how I roll,” says Jody, the second time he has used that phrase in the last five minutes.
Cho draws another line through the last of the circled words.
You listen to the conversation with amazement. You now understand the significance of the notes Cho made- in his conversation with Jody, Cho is eliciting a confession from him for the elements of all of the crimes that Cho had circled on his sheet! “What a great technique,” you think.
“Thanks, Specialist Schum, you’ve been a big help to me today,” says Cho. “Before we go any further with this conversation, there are a couple of folks that I want you to meet.” He directs Jody’s attention over to you.
“Let me introduce CPT Faith and First Sergeant Reynolds.”
Jody looks glances over at the two of you, with no flicker of recognition, “’Sup,” he says sullenly, and returns his gaze to CPT Cho. He would rather talk some more about Brenda.
“Not this again,” you think to yourself, recalling the incident with Gary. “This guy has no clue who we are, either… this can’t be “the” Jody.
With his peripheral vision Jody can see that there are other people in the room, but he can’t see who they are without turning his head, which he can’t do because he’s at the position of attention.
“Hey SPC Schum,” says Cho, in a friendly, conversational tone. “We haven’t talked in a while, and I heard you were here today helping out around the company. I want to find out how you’ve been doing.”
You and First Sergeant exchange “WTF??” glances. You thought this was going to be an ass chewing, not a kum-ba-yah session. “Helping out around the company?” That shitbrick was pulling extra duty for getting in trouble; he wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of his heart. What is Cho up to? Maybe you misjudged him.
Cho engages Jody in what appears to be a friendly conversation between peers. When Jody talks, it sounds like he’s watched too many movies and listened to too much “gangsta” rap.
While he’s talking to Jody, Cho’s demeanor and mode of speaking are completely different- much more casual, much more… “much more like the way Jody’s talking,” you think. That’s interesting.
“So Jody, I saw that car you’ve been driving around in, that’s a pretty sweet ride,” says Cho.
“Yeah, my girl gave it to me,” says Jody, with a hint of pride. Sensing that he’s not in trouble, Jody begins to relax a little.
“Was it her car?” Cho asks.
“Yeah, it used to belong to her old man, but Brenda told me I could keep it,” he replies, “’sides, it not like Bradley needs it anymore, he’s dead.” At that comment, you feel First Sergeant’s body stiffen in his chair, but he says nothing.
Cho looks down at the piece of paper on his desk, and inconspicuously draws a line through one of the words he had circled.
“Are you going to pimp out that car, maybe get it up on some 22s, get some spinners?” Cho inquires.
“Nah, sir, I don’t have the ducats for that,” Jody replies.
“Yeah, especially since your sugar mama dumped your dumb ass once she got that insurance check,” said SSG Red from across the room. Jody looks over at him, mouth open to defend his relationship with Brenda.
“Don’t worry about him,” Cho says, shooting Red a glare. “You and Brenda have been together for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, about six months now,” Jody replies. From the look on his face when he talks about her, he’s clearly in love with Brenda. What a dumbass.
“We’re going to get married,” he continues.
“Oh, that’s great!” says Cho, enthusiastically. “I hear that the two of you might be expecting?”
“Yes sir, Brenda’s been pregnant for a while now.”
“Congratulations!” Cho crosses another word off his list.
“Now, you said that you and Brenda started dating six months ago, about the time that SGT Bradley left for Iraq, but SGT Bradley died only four months ago. So that must mean that you were tappin’ ass that while Brenda was still married.
Hearing the words “tappin’ that ass” come from a guy like Cho makes you smile.
“Aw, you know how I roll, sir,” says Jody, smiling sheepishly.
Cho crosses off yet another word.
“Indeed. So I hear Brenda’s husband was in the Special Forces.”
“Nah, he was just a support guy attached to the Group. He was always takin’ shit about it though, like he was some kind of bad ass.”
“Yeah, I know, those Special Forces guys are enormous pains in the ass,” Cho says, “They’re always acting like they’re better than the rest of us. Sometimes you just have to put those guys back into their places.”
“Yeah, I know sir,” says Jody, “There were these SF cats I was talking with-“
“Where were you talking to them?”
“On email. I was-“
“Who were you talking to?” Cho inquires.
“Just- some punk asses, I think a captain and maybe some NCO. Anyway I was like, bust this, fuck you guys-“
“Really? You said those exact words to the captain and the NCOs in the SF Group in Iraq that you were talking to via email? You actually said, ‘fuck off?’ Wow, that really takes some balls.”
“Yeah, sir, it was awesome.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, sir, you know how I roll,” says Jody, the second time he has used that phrase in the last five minutes.
Cho draws another line through the last of the circled words.
You listen to the conversation with amazement. You now understand the significance of the notes Cho made- in his conversation with Jody, Cho is eliciting a confession from him for the elements of all of the crimes that Cho had circled on his sheet! “What a great technique,” you think.
“Thanks, Specialist Schum, you’ve been a big help to me today,” says Cho. “Before we go any further with this conversation, there are a couple of folks that I want you to meet.” He directs Jody’s attention over to you.
“Let me introduce CPT Faith and First Sergeant Reynolds.”
Jody looks glances over at the two of you, with no flicker of recognition, “’Sup,” he says sullenly, and returns his gaze to CPT Cho. He would rather talk some more about Brenda.
“Not this again,” you think to yourself, recalling the incident with Gary. “This guy has no clue who we are, either… this can’t be “the” Jody.
“Captain Faith and First Sergeant Reynolds.” First Sergeant says slowly, rising to his feet, “You know, from 2nd Group.”
Jody’s head snaps back in your direction- he hadn’t made the connection before. His eyes widen, and the color immediately drains from his face. He visibly starts to shake. He knows he’s been tricked, and he’s in deep trouble. This is the reaction you were looking for when you confronted Gary. You know without a doubt that this is your guy.
You stand and stroll towards Jody. “But you must know who we are already, Schum,” you say, smiling at him, “After all, didn’t you tell us that you ARE the Group?”
First Sergeant gets directly in Jody’s face. He leans forward so close to Jody, that Jody feels compelled to lean back. “Tell me now how you’re going to take my Soldier’s rank away, you little piece of shit. Let me hear all about how you’re some kind of Special Forces combat Ninja killer. Tell me again how much you just love to give it to Brenda Bradley in the ass while her husband is in Iraq.” He thumps a think index finger into Jody’s chest as he talks, to emphasize the points he’s making. First Sergeant’s face is red, and spittle is beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. He pokes Jody so hard that you’re sure he’s leaving bruises. He’s slowly working himself up into a fury.
First Sergeant waves an arm in your direction. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell my captain here to fuck off again, say that in front of me, you little prick. Well? Say something!”
Jody opens his mouth but words fail him. It’s pretty obvious he’s scared shitless.
“First Sergeant Reynolds, step back,” commands Cho.
“I told you I was going to get your ass,” First Sergeant whispers into Jody’s ear before returning to stand beside you on the far side of the room, where you had previously been seated. “This isn’t over, not by a long shot, ” he hisses into Jody’s ear. “You’re going to pay.”
Walking back towards where you are standing, First Sergeant looks back over his shoulder at Jody and says, “’Cause that’s how WE roll.”
“Specialist Jody Schum,” Cho intones, “You have the right to remain silent…” Cho reads Jody his rights, which of course he immediately invokes.
“SPC Schum, I am directing an investigation into your alleged misconduct. You are hereby restricted to your barracks room, the battalion dining facility, the battalion clinic, place of duty, place of worship until this investigation is completed.”
“After we’re done here, SPC Schum, you’re going to give the keys to SGT Bradley’s car to CPT Faith,” Cho says.
“No way sir,” says Schum, who has regained some of his composure after the intial shock of seeing First Sergeant and you, “I’ve got a lot of my own stuff in that car.”
“Too bad, shithead,” SFC Back snaps, “You should have thought of that before-“
“This is what we’re going to do,” interrupts Cho, taking charge of the situation. There’s a plane landing at the airfield here on base in 45 minutes. It’s got eight members of our company on it, coming back home from Afghanistan.”
“Eight members who aren’t a disgrace to this company,” Jones interjects.
“My first sergeant and I are going to be there to welcome them home,” Cho continues. “SFC Back, you and SSG Red are going to supervise SPC Schum as he cleans out SGT Bradley’s vehicle. When he’s done removing all of his personal property, you will turn the keys to SGT Bradley’s car over to CPT Faith’s people so they can get the car back to its rightful owner.”
“I’d like to have one of my guys there as well, to make sure the stuff Schum says is his, doesn’t actually belong to Bradley,” First Sergeant requests.
“Fair enough,” says Cho, looking at you. “I’d say we’re pretty much done here.”
Jody’s head snaps back in your direction- he hadn’t made the connection before. His eyes widen, and the color immediately drains from his face. He visibly starts to shake. He knows he’s been tricked, and he’s in deep trouble. This is the reaction you were looking for when you confronted Gary. You know without a doubt that this is your guy.
You stand and stroll towards Jody. “But you must know who we are already, Schum,” you say, smiling at him, “After all, didn’t you tell us that you ARE the Group?”
First Sergeant gets directly in Jody’s face. He leans forward so close to Jody, that Jody feels compelled to lean back. “Tell me now how you’re going to take my Soldier’s rank away, you little piece of shit. Let me hear all about how you’re some kind of Special Forces combat Ninja killer. Tell me again how much you just love to give it to Brenda Bradley in the ass while her husband is in Iraq.” He thumps a think index finger into Jody’s chest as he talks, to emphasize the points he’s making. First Sergeant’s face is red, and spittle is beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. He pokes Jody so hard that you’re sure he’s leaving bruises. He’s slowly working himself up into a fury.
First Sergeant waves an arm in your direction. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell my captain here to fuck off again, say that in front of me, you little prick. Well? Say something!”
Jody opens his mouth but words fail him. It’s pretty obvious he’s scared shitless.
“First Sergeant Reynolds, step back,” commands Cho.
“I told you I was going to get your ass,” First Sergeant whispers into Jody’s ear before returning to stand beside you on the far side of the room, where you had previously been seated. “This isn’t over, not by a long shot, ” he hisses into Jody’s ear. “You’re going to pay.”
Walking back towards where you are standing, First Sergeant looks back over his shoulder at Jody and says, “’Cause that’s how WE roll.”
“Specialist Jody Schum,” Cho intones, “You have the right to remain silent…” Cho reads Jody his rights, which of course he immediately invokes.
“SPC Schum, I am directing an investigation into your alleged misconduct. You are hereby restricted to your barracks room, the battalion dining facility, the battalion clinic, place of duty, place of worship until this investigation is completed.”
“After we’re done here, SPC Schum, you’re going to give the keys to SGT Bradley’s car to CPT Faith,” Cho says.
“No way sir,” says Schum, who has regained some of his composure after the intial shock of seeing First Sergeant and you, “I’ve got a lot of my own stuff in that car.”
“Too bad, shithead,” SFC Back snaps, “You should have thought of that before-“
“This is what we’re going to do,” interrupts Cho, taking charge of the situation. There’s a plane landing at the airfield here on base in 45 minutes. It’s got eight members of our company on it, coming back home from Afghanistan.”
“Eight members who aren’t a disgrace to this company,” Jones interjects.
“My first sergeant and I are going to be there to welcome them home,” Cho continues. “SFC Back, you and SSG Red are going to supervise SPC Schum as he cleans out SGT Bradley’s vehicle. When he’s done removing all of his personal property, you will turn the keys to SGT Bradley’s car over to CPT Faith’s people so they can get the car back to its rightful owner.”
“I’d like to have one of my guys there as well, to make sure the stuff Schum says is his, doesn’t actually belong to Bradley,” First Sergeant requests.
“Fair enough,” says Cho, looking at you. “I’d say we’re pretty much done here.”
nevermind. :) waiting impatiently..... 
Out front, First Sergeant walks over to the side and pulls out his cell phone. He’s probably calling his wife to let her know he’s going to be late. You should probably do the same thing. You and CPT Cho shake hands and say your goodbyes.
“Kevin, that was awesome,” you say. “If you ever get tired of flying helos, we have a job for you doing interrogations.”
Kevin laughs, “Thanks, Scott, I’m glad I could help. But I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of flying. I’m sorry we have to take off like this,” he adds.
“No problem, I think we’ve got enough people here to handle one problem child.”
“Yeah I’m sure you do,” he smiles, then turns serious. “Scott, don’t let this situation get away from you tonight. This is an emotional issue, and an incendiary situation. Jody’s not as stupid as he seems. Don’t let him provoke something that he’ll be able to use against you later.”
“I understand,” you assure him. “We’re all professionals here. Nothing’s going to happen.”
It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s getting late as the group of you make your way through the parking lot. The initial confrontation with Jody was… anticlimactic. You don’t know what you were expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it.
It’s pretty easy to tell which cars are which, as the only cars left in the lot after Cho and Jones depart are the ones that belong to you, SFC Back, SSG Red, and of course, Schum. As you walk towards Schum’s vehicle… you correct yourself, Bradley’s vehicle, another car pulls into the lot. Rico’s car. Now you know who First Sergeant called after you walked outside. You thing that’s kind of overkill, there are plenty of people here to handle one little specialist. Maybe Rico’s here to drive Bradley’s car home.
Rico’s headlights briefly illuminate the little knot of people standing around Bradley’s car. Besides Rico, there are five other men in the parking lot- Jody, SFC Back, SSG Red, First Sergeant, and you. Rico pulls up next to Bradley’s vehicle, but leaves the engine running and doesn’t get out. You think that’s pretty smart of him, since it’s pretty freakin’ cold out right now. Since First Sergeant rode over here with you, you guess that you can drive your car, First Sergeant can drive Rico’s, and Rico can drive Bradley’s. Jody’s chain of command can drop Jody off at his barracks after the cleanup is done.
Off to one side, First Sergeant and SFC Back put their heads together for a moment. They nod and shake hands. First Sergeant briefs you up on the plan. The plan is for Back and Red to supervise Jody as he cleans out Bradley’s car. First Sergeant is there to make sure everything goes the way it should. First Sergeant explains that Rico is here to identify and take possession of anything of Bradley’s. You’re here for… you’re not sure what your role is here, but you’ve never been one to make yourself comfortable while your troops aren’t; so if First Sergeant and Rico are going to be freezing their asses off tonight you’re going to be right there beside them.
“This is NCO business, sir,” First Sergeant says as Jody opens the doors to the Bradley’s car. “We can handle this.”
“I know, First Sergeant,” you respond, but you have no intention of leaving.
You and First Sergeant are still in your Dress Green uniforms, which were comfortable enough during the day, but aren’t quite up to the task of keeping you warm now that the sun has gone down. Even though Back and Red are a little better off, with Army-issue Gor-Tex jackets over their BDUs, they still look a little chilly. And now it looks like it’s going to rain.
The only thing that makes you feel better is that Jody, dressed in PT clothes still wet from his extra duty, must be suffering worst of all.
Rico continues to sit in his car with the engine running. He must have just come from working out. He’s wearing a thick sweatshirt with a hood, sweatpants, and what look like weightlifting gloves. He looks straight ahead, his hands resting on the steering wheel, his face only partially visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.
Jody opens the car doors. Exactly as Red described it, the car is beyond filthy. Fast food wrappers and beer cans litter the back seat. Piles of what can only be described as… crap…are strewn here and their throughout the vehicle. Cigarette butts overflow from the front ash tray. A blanket is over the passenger seat. Jody has been living out of this vehicle, at least for a while.
You hear a familiar noise that you can’t quite place. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s your cell phone ringing. It’s your wife, calling to tell you that your little girl has a very high fever and they’re heading to the emergency room on post.
“Sir, we’ve got this one,” First Sergeant says after you fill him in on what just happened. “There’s no need for all of us to stick around in the cold. Go be with your family.” That sounds like a great idea. And just in time- it’s starting to rain.
“We’re going to take off too, First Sergeant,” says Beck. “We’re going to get some chow and be back in say… and hour or so?”
“Yeah, that ought to be long enough to get what we need to do done,” says First Sergeant, looking straight at Schum.
Your wife sounded pretty upset on the phone. No need to stand around and watch Schum clean up Bradley’s car, First Sergeant and Rico can handle standing around and watching Schum, in the dark and the cold, with no one else around. You think it’s strange that Schum’s chain of command would take off for chow and leave First Sergeant and Rico there to supervise their troop, Schum. You think “This is bullshit, I’d never leave someone else to have to supervise my piece-of-shit troop.”
As you make your way back to your car, you marvel at how deserted some places get on military installations at night. This afternoon, there were probably a hundred cars in this lot, with at least twice that many people working in and around the surrounding buildings. Now there are exactly four cars in the lot, and one of them passes you right as you get to your car Frost glitters on the ground, reflecting light from distant streetlights.
There the sound of a moving vehicle behind you. As the car passes, you make eye contact with SFC Back, who gives you a sly wink. Everything makes sense now- the deserted lot, the absence of witnesses, the departure of Schum’s chain of command… you know in that moment that if you leave the parking lot, First Sergeant and Rico are going to throw Jody the beating of his life. How could you have been so stupid?
What do you do now?
“Kevin, that was awesome,” you say. “If you ever get tired of flying helos, we have a job for you doing interrogations.”
Kevin laughs, “Thanks, Scott, I’m glad I could help. But I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of flying. I’m sorry we have to take off like this,” he adds.
“No problem, I think we’ve got enough people here to handle one problem child.”
“Yeah I’m sure you do,” he smiles, then turns serious. “Scott, don’t let this situation get away from you tonight. This is an emotional issue, and an incendiary situation. Jody’s not as stupid as he seems. Don’t let him provoke something that he’ll be able to use against you later.”
“I understand,” you assure him. “We’re all professionals here. Nothing’s going to happen.”
It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s getting late as the group of you make your way through the parking lot. The initial confrontation with Jody was… anticlimactic. You don’t know what you were expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it.
It’s pretty easy to tell which cars are which, as the only cars left in the lot after Cho and Jones depart are the ones that belong to you, SFC Back, SSG Red, and of course, Schum. As you walk towards Schum’s vehicle… you correct yourself, Bradley’s vehicle, another car pulls into the lot. Rico’s car. Now you know who First Sergeant called after you walked outside. You thing that’s kind of overkill, there are plenty of people here to handle one little specialist. Maybe Rico’s here to drive Bradley’s car home.
Rico’s headlights briefly illuminate the little knot of people standing around Bradley’s car. Besides Rico, there are five other men in the parking lot- Jody, SFC Back, SSG Red, First Sergeant, and you. Rico pulls up next to Bradley’s vehicle, but leaves the engine running and doesn’t get out. You think that’s pretty smart of him, since it’s pretty freakin’ cold out right now. Since First Sergeant rode over here with you, you guess that you can drive your car, First Sergeant can drive Rico’s, and Rico can drive Bradley’s. Jody’s chain of command can drop Jody off at his barracks after the cleanup is done.
Off to one side, First Sergeant and SFC Back put their heads together for a moment. They nod and shake hands. First Sergeant briefs you up on the plan. The plan is for Back and Red to supervise Jody as he cleans out Bradley’s car. First Sergeant is there to make sure everything goes the way it should. First Sergeant explains that Rico is here to identify and take possession of anything of Bradley’s. You’re here for… you’re not sure what your role is here, but you’ve never been one to make yourself comfortable while your troops aren’t; so if First Sergeant and Rico are going to be freezing their asses off tonight you’re going to be right there beside them.
“This is NCO business, sir,” First Sergeant says as Jody opens the doors to the Bradley’s car. “We can handle this.”
“I know, First Sergeant,” you respond, but you have no intention of leaving.
You and First Sergeant are still in your Dress Green uniforms, which were comfortable enough during the day, but aren’t quite up to the task of keeping you warm now that the sun has gone down. Even though Back and Red are a little better off, with Army-issue Gor-Tex jackets over their BDUs, they still look a little chilly. And now it looks like it’s going to rain.
The only thing that makes you feel better is that Jody, dressed in PT clothes still wet from his extra duty, must be suffering worst of all.
Rico continues to sit in his car with the engine running. He must have just come from working out. He’s wearing a thick sweatshirt with a hood, sweatpants, and what look like weightlifting gloves. He looks straight ahead, his hands resting on the steering wheel, his face only partially visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.
Jody opens the car doors. Exactly as Red described it, the car is beyond filthy. Fast food wrappers and beer cans litter the back seat. Piles of what can only be described as… crap…are strewn here and their throughout the vehicle. Cigarette butts overflow from the front ash tray. A blanket is over the passenger seat. Jody has been living out of this vehicle, at least for a while.
You hear a familiar noise that you can’t quite place. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s your cell phone ringing. It’s your wife, calling to tell you that your little girl has a very high fever and they’re heading to the emergency room on post.
“Sir, we’ve got this one,” First Sergeant says after you fill him in on what just happened. “There’s no need for all of us to stick around in the cold. Go be with your family.” That sounds like a great idea. And just in time- it’s starting to rain.
“We’re going to take off too, First Sergeant,” says Beck. “We’re going to get some chow and be back in say… and hour or so?”
“Yeah, that ought to be long enough to get what we need to do done,” says First Sergeant, looking straight at Schum.
Your wife sounded pretty upset on the phone. No need to stand around and watch Schum clean up Bradley’s car, First Sergeant and Rico can handle standing around and watching Schum, in the dark and the cold, with no one else around. You think it’s strange that Schum’s chain of command would take off for chow and leave First Sergeant and Rico there to supervise their troop, Schum. You think “This is bullshit, I’d never leave someone else to have to supervise my piece-of-shit troop.”
As you make your way back to your car, you marvel at how deserted some places get on military installations at night. This afternoon, there were probably a hundred cars in this lot, with at least twice that many people working in and around the surrounding buildings. Now there are exactly four cars in the lot, and one of them passes you right as you get to your car Frost glitters on the ground, reflecting light from distant streetlights.
There the sound of a moving vehicle behind you. As the car passes, you make eye contact with SFC Back, who gives you a sly wink. Everything makes sense now- the deserted lot, the absence of witnesses, the departure of Schum’s chain of command… you know in that moment that if you leave the parking lot, First Sergeant and Rico are going to throw Jody the beating of his life. How could you have been so stupid?
What do you do now?
C
cb88
Guest
I'd have to go back....as much as I'd like to look the other way and let them beat the shit out of the little prick, I wouldn't want my troops to get in trouble because of that piece of shit....it just wouldn't be worth it. And knowing Rico and First Sgt's frame of mind, they might accidently go too far...that would NOT be good. You have to go back to help them keep their wits, that's why you are the officer.
However, you could show up AFTER they've got in a couple good hits anyhow. ;)
However, you could show up AFTER they've got in a couple good hits anyhow. ;)
There’s no way you’re going allow this situation to get away from you, not now when you’re so close to sending Jody’s little punk ass straight to jail. You walk briskly back towards Bradley’s car.
Between the rain and the sound of Jody talking, no one can hear you coming up. You can hear Jody’s voice, it’s wavering and cracking, and he’s definitely scared. You can see he’s pressed up against the side of Bradley’s car, with his arms slightly out to his sides, palms flat against the car like he’s thinking about making a run for it. Gone is the fake “gangsta” bravado, replaced by the real voice of a scared young man. You hear him say, “Come on guys, I didn’t mean anything,” First Sergeant and Rico say nothing.
When you get closer, you see that it’s about to do down right before your eyes. First Sergeant and Rico have Jody pressed up against the side of Bradley’s car. First Sergeant, with his arms crossed over his chest, stands with his back to you, directly in front of Jody. Rico stands off to Jody’s left, his hood pulled low over his eyes, his hands clenched in fists at his side, and his face inches away from Jody’s. His whole body is coiled, waiting for the word from First Sergeant to commence to whoopin’ Jody’s ass. You’ve got to do something. Right now.
When Jody sees you rushing up with that concerned look on your face, he knows you’re not going to let anything happen to him. His demeanor completely changes. He throws both arms up in the air.
“Yo, you wanna bust, we can go right now,” he shouts.
“Roger that,” says First Sergeant, cocking back a fist.
“FIRST SERGEANT!” you shout. First Sergeant jumps a little, he thought you had left the area. He lowers his arm a little.
“That’s right, you better back up off me,” says Jody, glancing up and down at First Sergeant.
You can’t believe this. You’re trying to save this guy’s ass from two very large, very angry NCOs, and he’s talking shit. You’re almost tempted to let it go. Almost.
"Best handle your boy," Schum says to you, "'fore I gotta hurt someone."
“Schum,” you say, elbowing your way in between First Sergeant and Jody, “You need to shut the fuck up right now and get back into that vehicle.”
“Yeah? What are YOU gonna do? Punk-ass bitches afraid to bust,” he says, making a “pistol” with his finger and thumb, and jabbing it in your face. You really hate it when someone points his finger in your face like that.
First Sergeant knows that’s one of your pet peeves. “You know what, Schum, put your finger in my captain’s face like that again and I’ll detach it from your body,” he growls, menacingly. Schum looks disparagingly at First Sergeant but lowers his hand.
“I don’t think you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into here, Schum,” you say, trying to stay calm. “You’re going to prison for what you did. We’re not talking the nice county lockup that you’re probably used to, we’re talking about “federal-pound-you-in-the-ass prison. Leavenworth. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”
“Fuck that, I ain’t scared of prison, and I’m not scared of you,” he says, again pointing his finger in your face.
You really, really hate it when someone points his finger in your face like that. Much more of this, and you’re going to be the first one standing in line to pound Jody’s ass into the concrete. Which is probably exactly what he wants to have happen.
“First Sergeant, the three of us are going to get into our cars and wait for Jody’s chain of command to get back. When they get back, we’re going to leave and they’re going to finish watching shithead here clean up Bradley’s car. We’ll get the keys from them in the morning.”
“But sir…”
“No buts. This is not the way we do business. We’re out of here right now. After all we’ve been through together, First Sergeant, I can’t believe you tried to pull some shit like this behind my back.”
First Sergeant is not going to attack Jody with you there. Not because he’s scared of you- you know he isn’t. And he’s not scared for his own career. Neither is Rico. First Sergeant lives the NCO Creed, but he also has a different code, a code of honor. Jody violated that code, and he has to pay. “Old-school” style.
But First Sergeant knows that for you to be involved in an assault- even as a bystander- could be a career ender for an officer. Especially in a situation like this. He doesn’t want that to happen. And he knows how to follow orders. The three of you turn to leave. First Sergeant looks really, really pissed.
“And FUCK Billie Bradley,” Jody states with finality, just before you walk away.
First Sergeant stops, his back stiffening. You let out a deep sigh. You know that nothing you say or do can save Jody now.
Between the rain and the sound of Jody talking, no one can hear you coming up. You can hear Jody’s voice, it’s wavering and cracking, and he’s definitely scared. You can see he’s pressed up against the side of Bradley’s car, with his arms slightly out to his sides, palms flat against the car like he’s thinking about making a run for it. Gone is the fake “gangsta” bravado, replaced by the real voice of a scared young man. You hear him say, “Come on guys, I didn’t mean anything,” First Sergeant and Rico say nothing.
When you get closer, you see that it’s about to do down right before your eyes. First Sergeant and Rico have Jody pressed up against the side of Bradley’s car. First Sergeant, with his arms crossed over his chest, stands with his back to you, directly in front of Jody. Rico stands off to Jody’s left, his hood pulled low over his eyes, his hands clenched in fists at his side, and his face inches away from Jody’s. His whole body is coiled, waiting for the word from First Sergeant to commence to whoopin’ Jody’s ass. You’ve got to do something. Right now.
When Jody sees you rushing up with that concerned look on your face, he knows you’re not going to let anything happen to him. His demeanor completely changes. He throws both arms up in the air.
“Yo, you wanna bust, we can go right now,” he shouts.
“Roger that,” says First Sergeant, cocking back a fist.
“FIRST SERGEANT!” you shout. First Sergeant jumps a little, he thought you had left the area. He lowers his arm a little.
“That’s right, you better back up off me,” says Jody, glancing up and down at First Sergeant.
You can’t believe this. You’re trying to save this guy’s ass from two very large, very angry NCOs, and he’s talking shit. You’re almost tempted to let it go. Almost.
"Best handle your boy," Schum says to you, "'fore I gotta hurt someone."
“Schum,” you say, elbowing your way in between First Sergeant and Jody, “You need to shut the fuck up right now and get back into that vehicle.”
“Yeah? What are YOU gonna do? Punk-ass bitches afraid to bust,” he says, making a “pistol” with his finger and thumb, and jabbing it in your face. You really hate it when someone points his finger in your face like that.
First Sergeant knows that’s one of your pet peeves. “You know what, Schum, put your finger in my captain’s face like that again and I’ll detach it from your body,” he growls, menacingly. Schum looks disparagingly at First Sergeant but lowers his hand.
“I don’t think you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into here, Schum,” you say, trying to stay calm. “You’re going to prison for what you did. We’re not talking the nice county lockup that you’re probably used to, we’re talking about “federal-pound-you-in-the-ass prison. Leavenworth. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”
“Fuck that, I ain’t scared of prison, and I’m not scared of you,” he says, again pointing his finger in your face.
You really, really hate it when someone points his finger in your face like that. Much more of this, and you’re going to be the first one standing in line to pound Jody’s ass into the concrete. Which is probably exactly what he wants to have happen.
“First Sergeant, the three of us are going to get into our cars and wait for Jody’s chain of command to get back. When they get back, we’re going to leave and they’re going to finish watching shithead here clean up Bradley’s car. We’ll get the keys from them in the morning.”
“But sir…”
“No buts. This is not the way we do business. We’re out of here right now. After all we’ve been through together, First Sergeant, I can’t believe you tried to pull some shit like this behind my back.”
First Sergeant is not going to attack Jody with you there. Not because he’s scared of you- you know he isn’t. And he’s not scared for his own career. Neither is Rico. First Sergeant lives the NCO Creed, but he also has a different code, a code of honor. Jody violated that code, and he has to pay. “Old-school” style.
But First Sergeant knows that for you to be involved in an assault- even as a bystander- could be a career ender for an officer. Especially in a situation like this. He doesn’t want that to happen. And he knows how to follow orders. The three of you turn to leave. First Sergeant looks really, really pissed.
“And FUCK Billie Bradley,” Jody states with finality, just before you walk away.
First Sergeant stops, his back stiffening. You let out a deep sigh. You know that nothing you say or do can save Jody now.
Almost as one, the three of you turn around to face Jody. You are all very close to each other now. Jody is leaned back against Bradley’s car, his arms crossed over his chest and his head cocked to one side, a smug expression on his little rat face. It’s almost more than you can take. You wipe a hand down your face to clear off the rain. You open your mouth to say something, but before any words escape, in your peripheral vision you see a fist fly out from your right. It connects squarely with the left side of Jody’s chin. It was a sucker punch, so fast and so hard, Jody never even saw it coming.
All of the frustration, all of the range, all of the vengeance that has built up from all of the men and women in your company over the Jody situation for the last four months goes into that one punch. A look of shock and surprise on his face, Jody crumples under the force of the blow. It isn’t until you’re straddled on top of him that you realize that the blow came from your fist.
This is what your combatives instructor would have called “full mount.” What happens next is instinct; almost a battle drill; not conscious thought. Holding Jody’s shirt with your left hand, you’re able to land several quick jabs with your right. Reaching back to deliver a powerful blow, someone standing behind you tries to grab your arm. Between that and Jody’s frantic attempts to get away, your aim is off just enough for you to miss Jody’s nose, your intended target, and impact squarely with the asphalt. It’s a glancing blow that skips off the pavement and strips skin down to the knuckle. Pain explodes in your hand. It becomes instantly numb, and you can tell without even looking that it’s bad. You’re going to feel that in the morning. Your right hand is temporarily useless… but that’s OK because you have another. Besides, you hear elbow strikes are pretty effective.
You press your right forearm down into Jody’s throat to hold him still while you pound him with your left. As you cock your left arm back, two people grab you from behind. “Sir, that’s enough, knock it off,” First Sergeant says, but your struggles continue. Subconsciously, you can’t believe that he is trying to stop you from kicking Jody’s ass.
It’s difficult to land good punches when someone’s trying to grab your arm. But your uniform is slippery from the rain, and you sneak in a couple of punches. Thoughts that you didn’t even know you were keeping suppressed rush to the forefront. Words explode from your mouth, but you don’t comprehend what you’re saying. You do know one thing though- because you couldn’t get to Jody when you were in Iraq, Bradley went and got himself killed. Bradley’s dead because of you. It’s your fault. You failed to protect your Soldier when he needed you. You failed as a commander. Jody made you fail.
First Sergeant is talking to you, but you don’t understand what he’s saying. Only one sentence gets through.
“Scott, it’s not your fault,” he says gently, grabbing firmly onto your left arm.
You stop fighting and look up at First Sergeant. He never calls you by your first name; he’s way too professional for that. The anger flees from your body. You know it’s not your fault that Bradley died. You know that kicking Jody’s ass is wrong. You let First Sergeant pull you up to your feet, and you stand slightly off to one side, shoulders slumped, looking down at the ground, blinking away the tears that emotion made well up in your eyes. This is bad. Rico helps Jody up. You must not have hurt Jody as badly as you wanted to, because he’s soon running his mouth again.
Seeing that your rage has evaporated, he starts feeling brave again. “Yo, you hit like a little bitch,” he says to you. He begins laughing. His busted lips part to reveal bloody gums and teeth. “Bust this, I’m going to walk on this whole thing with Bradley, and you’re the one going to jail!”
You know that he’s right. You never should have let him bait you into getting physical with him. Now he’s going to skate. And he’s still talking shit. This is like a bad dream.
“That’s yo’ ass,” he adds, leaning forward to point a finger in your face. God, you hate that. Anger starts to build back up inside you. The damage is already done, might as well take this all the way.
First Sergeant steps between you and Jody. “I told you about that finger-pointing shit once before tonight,” he says.
“Yo, bust this, I’m callin’ the cops. He attacked me,” he says, pointing at you. “You two are witnesses,” he says smugly, indicating Rico and First Sergeant.
“You know, running your mouth is kind of what got you into trouble here in the first place, Schum,” First Sergeant says calmly, “If you’re smart, you don’t open it up again tonight, or tomorrow either when your face starts to swell, and it hurts to pee from that shot to the gut you took.”
Jody gives First Sergeant a confused look. He hadn’t taken a shot to the gut…
All of the frustration, all of the range, all of the vengeance that has built up from all of the men and women in your company over the Jody situation for the last four months goes into that one punch. A look of shock and surprise on his face, Jody crumples under the force of the blow. It isn’t until you’re straddled on top of him that you realize that the blow came from your fist.
This is what your combatives instructor would have called “full mount.” What happens next is instinct; almost a battle drill; not conscious thought. Holding Jody’s shirt with your left hand, you’re able to land several quick jabs with your right. Reaching back to deliver a powerful blow, someone standing behind you tries to grab your arm. Between that and Jody’s frantic attempts to get away, your aim is off just enough for you to miss Jody’s nose, your intended target, and impact squarely with the asphalt. It’s a glancing blow that skips off the pavement and strips skin down to the knuckle. Pain explodes in your hand. It becomes instantly numb, and you can tell without even looking that it’s bad. You’re going to feel that in the morning. Your right hand is temporarily useless… but that’s OK because you have another. Besides, you hear elbow strikes are pretty effective.
You press your right forearm down into Jody’s throat to hold him still while you pound him with your left. As you cock your left arm back, two people grab you from behind. “Sir, that’s enough, knock it off,” First Sergeant says, but your struggles continue. Subconsciously, you can’t believe that he is trying to stop you from kicking Jody’s ass.
It’s difficult to land good punches when someone’s trying to grab your arm. But your uniform is slippery from the rain, and you sneak in a couple of punches. Thoughts that you didn’t even know you were keeping suppressed rush to the forefront. Words explode from your mouth, but you don’t comprehend what you’re saying. You do know one thing though- because you couldn’t get to Jody when you were in Iraq, Bradley went and got himself killed. Bradley’s dead because of you. It’s your fault. You failed to protect your Soldier when he needed you. You failed as a commander. Jody made you fail.
First Sergeant is talking to you, but you don’t understand what he’s saying. Only one sentence gets through.
“Scott, it’s not your fault,” he says gently, grabbing firmly onto your left arm.
You stop fighting and look up at First Sergeant. He never calls you by your first name; he’s way too professional for that. The anger flees from your body. You know it’s not your fault that Bradley died. You know that kicking Jody’s ass is wrong. You let First Sergeant pull you up to your feet, and you stand slightly off to one side, shoulders slumped, looking down at the ground, blinking away the tears that emotion made well up in your eyes. This is bad. Rico helps Jody up. You must not have hurt Jody as badly as you wanted to, because he’s soon running his mouth again.
Seeing that your rage has evaporated, he starts feeling brave again. “Yo, you hit like a little bitch,” he says to you. He begins laughing. His busted lips part to reveal bloody gums and teeth. “Bust this, I’m going to walk on this whole thing with Bradley, and you’re the one going to jail!”
You know that he’s right. You never should have let him bait you into getting physical with him. Now he’s going to skate. And he’s still talking shit. This is like a bad dream.
“That’s yo’ ass,” he adds, leaning forward to point a finger in your face. God, you hate that. Anger starts to build back up inside you. The damage is already done, might as well take this all the way.
First Sergeant steps between you and Jody. “I told you about that finger-pointing shit once before tonight,” he says.
“Yo, bust this, I’m callin’ the cops. He attacked me,” he says, pointing at you. “You two are witnesses,” he says smugly, indicating Rico and First Sergeant.
“You know, running your mouth is kind of what got you into trouble here in the first place, Schum,” First Sergeant says calmly, “If you’re smart, you don’t open it up again tonight, or tomorrow either when your face starts to swell, and it hurts to pee from that shot to the gut you took.”
Jody gives First Sergeant a confused look. He hadn’t taken a shot to the gut…
C
cb88
Guest
He really honestly expects First Sargeant and Rico to testify against their Capt when he's talked all this smack??? F- that... I picture a Jack Nicholson type testimony...."you want the truth, you can't handle the truth!"
I'm just in tears from the exceptional grammar and punctuation.
Please, go on!
Please, go on!
AWESOME Marauder....
Rock on...
Now, I have to go to work... FUCK!!!
Rock on...
Now, I have to go to work... FUCK!!!
104TN
Verified Military
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2006
- Messages
- 921
Shut your cock holster
OK. Just close your mouth.
…yet. The punch First Sergeant delivers impacts squarely in the middle of Jody’s belly, simultaneously forcing the air out of his lungs and doubling him over in pain.
First Sergeant shrugs at you. “Can’t be a witness if you’re part of the crime,” he says by way of explanation as he walks away, “Self-incrimination and all that.”
Jody starts to sway, and Rico rushes to catch him before he falls. Rico holds him up with one hand on Jody’s shoulder, and leads him a little ways from Bradley’s car. It looks like a gesture of concern until he rears back with his right hand and delivers a vicious uppercut to Jody’s face that snaps his head back and sends him sprawling backwards. The punch reminds you of a “finishing move” from the old video game “Street Fighter.” This time when Jody begins to fall, no one’s there to catch him before he lands square on his back, hands back above his head. If he’s not knocked out, he’s at least not running his mouth any more. Rico walks over to Jody’s sprawled form. He picks him up a little by the shirt, and cocks his fist back. When Jody doesn’t move, he lets him drop back to the ground.
“For Billie Bradley,” First Sergeant hisses. “Come on sir, let’s go.”
Although you feel kind of bad about it later, you can’t help yourself; as you walk past Jody’s crumpled form, you kick him square in the nuts, just for good measure. “That was for Bradley too, you fucking…” First Sergeant ushers you away.
As you walk back towards your car, you leave Jody in the parking lot, bleeding and moaning. You look back towards him, wondering if it’s a good idea to leave him wet and busted up outside and alone on a night like this. First Sergeant sees you looking back, and knows what’s on your mind.
“Fuck him, he can walk back to his barracks. Let’s go, sir.”
You get into your car. First Sergeant gets into Rico’s car, and Rico gets into Bradley’s. A second later, Rico emerges with a large Styrofoam cup partially filled with something that might be tobacco spit. He pours the contents out over Jody, and drops the empty cup on him before getting back into Bradley’s car. Jody moves slightly.
First Sergeant lowers the window to Rico’s car. “Hey Schum, you got knocked the FUCK OUT!!” he shouts, imitating actor Chris Tucker in the movie Friday. “Bust THAT!”
You and First Sergeant pull out first, and then Rico, in Bradley’s car, charges back towards Jody, who is still laying on the ground in the pouring, freezing rain. For a moment it looks like Rico is going to run him down, but he instead takes the car into several tight turns around Jody, sliding and spinning, kicking up dirt, water and gravel onto Jody. After a couple of quick laps around Jody’s prostrate form, he falls into line behind you and First Sergeant.
The three of you drive back to your company headquarters building. The only car in the parking lot is First Sergeant’s, since he’s been riding around with you all day. Rico parks near the Dumpster, underneath a streetlight. You and First Sergeant park beside him.
Getting out of your car, you approach Bradley’s vehicle. You look down at your hand. It’s raw and bloody and it looks like… well, it looks like it would if a guy punched an asphalt parking lot as hard as he could.
“Rub some dirt in it sir, you’ll be all right,” First Sergeant says, grinning.
When you come back out of the company headquarters building from cleaning up your hand, the rain has stopped. Not that it matters, your dress green uniform is ruined. Your pants are dirty and torn at both knees, and your jacket is bloody and torn at the right elbow. You’re missing two buttons off the front.
First Sergeant and Rico have been busy. Most of the inside of Bradley’s vehicle is now tidy, if not clean. There’s a box on the ground with a few items; if it looks like it belonged to Bradley it went into the box; otherwise, it goes into the dumpster.
“Look what we found, sir,” says First Sergeant, holding up a small bag full of a shredded-looking green substance.
“What’s that?” you ask, but you think you already know.
“The stickiest of the icky,” says First Seregant with his trademark grin, doing his best Dave Chappelle imitation. “Looks like your boy was a pothead,” he adds.
“He’s not my boy, First Sergeant. Rico, pop the trunk.”
The trunk opens to reveal a pile of Army-related items. A plate carrier for body armor, uniforms, bits of random gear. Since it’s in Bradley’s car, you’re going to go ahead and assume it belonged to Bradley, not Jody.
“Turn in all of the green stuff,” First Sergeant says to Rico, referring to all of the Army-issued items. “Inventory the rest, and box it up for Bradley’s family.”
Rico lifts up a set of brand-new BDUs. Underneath are two partially-assembled M4 carbines, a bayonet, a gas mask, and the slide for an M9 Beretta. This kind of changes things.
“Looks like Jody was helping himself to parts while he was an armorer,” First Sergeant says. Between the weapons and the drugs, this might be a little more than you can handle at your level.
“Call CID.” You say. “Don’t touch anything.” First Sergeant adds.
First Sergeant shrugs at you. “Can’t be a witness if you’re part of the crime,” he says by way of explanation as he walks away, “Self-incrimination and all that.”
Jody starts to sway, and Rico rushes to catch him before he falls. Rico holds him up with one hand on Jody’s shoulder, and leads him a little ways from Bradley’s car. It looks like a gesture of concern until he rears back with his right hand and delivers a vicious uppercut to Jody’s face that snaps his head back and sends him sprawling backwards. The punch reminds you of a “finishing move” from the old video game “Street Fighter.” This time when Jody begins to fall, no one’s there to catch him before he lands square on his back, hands back above his head. If he’s not knocked out, he’s at least not running his mouth any more. Rico walks over to Jody’s sprawled form. He picks him up a little by the shirt, and cocks his fist back. When Jody doesn’t move, he lets him drop back to the ground.
“For Billie Bradley,” First Sergeant hisses. “Come on sir, let’s go.”
Although you feel kind of bad about it later, you can’t help yourself; as you walk past Jody’s crumpled form, you kick him square in the nuts, just for good measure. “That was for Bradley too, you fucking…” First Sergeant ushers you away.
As you walk back towards your car, you leave Jody in the parking lot, bleeding and moaning. You look back towards him, wondering if it’s a good idea to leave him wet and busted up outside and alone on a night like this. First Sergeant sees you looking back, and knows what’s on your mind.
“Fuck him, he can walk back to his barracks. Let’s go, sir.”
You get into your car. First Sergeant gets into Rico’s car, and Rico gets into Bradley’s. A second later, Rico emerges with a large Styrofoam cup partially filled with something that might be tobacco spit. He pours the contents out over Jody, and drops the empty cup on him before getting back into Bradley’s car. Jody moves slightly.
First Sergeant lowers the window to Rico’s car. “Hey Schum, you got knocked the FUCK OUT!!” he shouts, imitating actor Chris Tucker in the movie Friday. “Bust THAT!”
You and First Sergeant pull out first, and then Rico, in Bradley’s car, charges back towards Jody, who is still laying on the ground in the pouring, freezing rain. For a moment it looks like Rico is going to run him down, but he instead takes the car into several tight turns around Jody, sliding and spinning, kicking up dirt, water and gravel onto Jody. After a couple of quick laps around Jody’s prostrate form, he falls into line behind you and First Sergeant.
The three of you drive back to your company headquarters building. The only car in the parking lot is First Sergeant’s, since he’s been riding around with you all day. Rico parks near the Dumpster, underneath a streetlight. You and First Sergeant park beside him.
Getting out of your car, you approach Bradley’s vehicle. You look down at your hand. It’s raw and bloody and it looks like… well, it looks like it would if a guy punched an asphalt parking lot as hard as he could.
“Rub some dirt in it sir, you’ll be all right,” First Sergeant says, grinning.
When you come back out of the company headquarters building from cleaning up your hand, the rain has stopped. Not that it matters, your dress green uniform is ruined. Your pants are dirty and torn at both knees, and your jacket is bloody and torn at the right elbow. You’re missing two buttons off the front.
First Sergeant and Rico have been busy. Most of the inside of Bradley’s vehicle is now tidy, if not clean. There’s a box on the ground with a few items; if it looks like it belonged to Bradley it went into the box; otherwise, it goes into the dumpster.
“Look what we found, sir,” says First Sergeant, holding up a small bag full of a shredded-looking green substance.
“What’s that?” you ask, but you think you already know.
“The stickiest of the icky,” says First Seregant with his trademark grin, doing his best Dave Chappelle imitation. “Looks like your boy was a pothead,” he adds.
“He’s not my boy, First Sergeant. Rico, pop the trunk.”
The trunk opens to reveal a pile of Army-related items. A plate carrier for body armor, uniforms, bits of random gear. Since it’s in Bradley’s car, you’re going to go ahead and assume it belonged to Bradley, not Jody.
“Turn in all of the green stuff,” First Sergeant says to Rico, referring to all of the Army-issued items. “Inventory the rest, and box it up for Bradley’s family.”
Rico lifts up a set of brand-new BDUs. Underneath are two partially-assembled M4 carbines, a bayonet, a gas mask, and the slide for an M9 Beretta. This kind of changes things.
“Looks like Jody was helping himself to parts while he was an armorer,” First Sergeant says. Between the weapons and the drugs, this might be a little more than you can handle at your level.
“Call CID.” You say. “Don’t touch anything.” First Sergeant adds.
The MPs arrive shortly. They take statements, and say they’re going to have to impound the vehicle until they can inventory the contents and sort out the ownership issues. They say they’re going to call Jody’s chain of command tonight and try to go by to pay Jody a visit. You wonder what kind of story he’s going to tell.
Finally, it’s time to go home. Exhausted, you begin to walk back towards your car. Rico drives by and lowers his window. “Good night, sir,” he says. You think that’s the first thing you hear him say all night.
By the time you get home, your wife and little girl had already returned from the emergency room. You little girl is fine, and is asleep now. Your wife’s pretty pissed that you didn’t join them at the hospital like you said you would, until you explain what happened. She bandages your hand and you hit the sack, exhausted from the day. In the morning you’re definitely going to need some Tylenol, and at some point you’re going to need a new pair of dress greens, too.
The next morning is Wednesday, and Wednesday PT is company athletics- Ultimate Football. Normally you look forward to Ultimate Football for the whole week- it’s a sport the entire company participates in. The smack talking usually begins on Monday and leads up to the Wednesday game; Thursday and Friday are spent rehashing the last game and making promises about what’s going to happen at the next one.
Even if your hand wasn’t killing you, you’re not in the mood to play games. You know what you did last night was wrong- dead wrong- and not only is it going to jeopardize the Jody investigation, you, First Sergeant and Rico are likely to be in a world of trouble of your own making.
When you get in to the office, your driver, SPC DeSilva, is waiting for you. He explains that he was the staff duty driver last night, and he had something you needed to look at right away.
“Sir, this came in last night,” said DeSilva, “I took it before the staff duty NCO could put it into the log.” He hands you a piece of paper.
You know what it is, because you’ve seen plenty of them before. It’s a Military Police blotter report, the type that come down through a Soldier’s chain of command when the MPs get wind of a crime. This difference is, this one has your name on it. Although you kind of expected this, your heart still drops.
The charge sheet specifies assault with intent to do great bodily harm, and grand theft. “Well, I don’t know about the “grand theft” business, but they got the first part of it right,” you murmur, handing the sheet over to the First Sergeant.
First Sergeant looks it over. “I can’t believe that little cocksucker ratted us out to the cops,” he says. “Look, dumbass didn’t even get the dates right. He’s ten days off. On the 11th of November we were still in Iraq. We didn’t beat his ass until last night- the 21st.” You hadn’t noticed the discrepancy in the dates, but somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better. Your name is the only one listed as the “perpetrator,” Rico and First Sergeant are listed as “witnesses.”
“This is bullshit sir, if anyone is to blame for what happened it’s me. I planned to kick his ass last night as soon as we walked into that parking lot,” says First Sergeant, visibly upset. He knows that if you get called onto the carpet in the DCO’s office again, your captain’s bars are likely to remain there on his desk after you get tossed out.
“No, I threw the first punch, this one’s on me.”
“We better call somebody and let them know what’s up before they read about this in the blotter report,” suggests First Sergeant.
About that time, the phone on your desk rings. It’s the Group staff duty NCO. The DCO wants to see you and the First Sergeant. In his office. Right now.
Finally, it’s time to go home. Exhausted, you begin to walk back towards your car. Rico drives by and lowers his window. “Good night, sir,” he says. You think that’s the first thing you hear him say all night.
By the time you get home, your wife and little girl had already returned from the emergency room. You little girl is fine, and is asleep now. Your wife’s pretty pissed that you didn’t join them at the hospital like you said you would, until you explain what happened. She bandages your hand and you hit the sack, exhausted from the day. In the morning you’re definitely going to need some Tylenol, and at some point you’re going to need a new pair of dress greens, too.
The next morning is Wednesday, and Wednesday PT is company athletics- Ultimate Football. Normally you look forward to Ultimate Football for the whole week- it’s a sport the entire company participates in. The smack talking usually begins on Monday and leads up to the Wednesday game; Thursday and Friday are spent rehashing the last game and making promises about what’s going to happen at the next one.
Even if your hand wasn’t killing you, you’re not in the mood to play games. You know what you did last night was wrong- dead wrong- and not only is it going to jeopardize the Jody investigation, you, First Sergeant and Rico are likely to be in a world of trouble of your own making.
When you get in to the office, your driver, SPC DeSilva, is waiting for you. He explains that he was the staff duty driver last night, and he had something you needed to look at right away.
“Sir, this came in last night,” said DeSilva, “I took it before the staff duty NCO could put it into the log.” He hands you a piece of paper.
You know what it is, because you’ve seen plenty of them before. It’s a Military Police blotter report, the type that come down through a Soldier’s chain of command when the MPs get wind of a crime. This difference is, this one has your name on it. Although you kind of expected this, your heart still drops.
The charge sheet specifies assault with intent to do great bodily harm, and grand theft. “Well, I don’t know about the “grand theft” business, but they got the first part of it right,” you murmur, handing the sheet over to the First Sergeant.
First Sergeant looks it over. “I can’t believe that little cocksucker ratted us out to the cops,” he says. “Look, dumbass didn’t even get the dates right. He’s ten days off. On the 11th of November we were still in Iraq. We didn’t beat his ass until last night- the 21st.” You hadn’t noticed the discrepancy in the dates, but somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better. Your name is the only one listed as the “perpetrator,” Rico and First Sergeant are listed as “witnesses.”
“This is bullshit sir, if anyone is to blame for what happened it’s me. I planned to kick his ass last night as soon as we walked into that parking lot,” says First Sergeant, visibly upset. He knows that if you get called onto the carpet in the DCO’s office again, your captain’s bars are likely to remain there on his desk after you get tossed out.
“No, I threw the first punch, this one’s on me.”
“We better call somebody and let them know what’s up before they read about this in the blotter report,” suggests First Sergeant.
About that time, the phone on your desk rings. It’s the Group staff duty NCO. The DCO wants to see you and the First Sergeant. In his office. Right now.
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