Cold Hatred (Book 2 & 3 of the Damned of the 2/19th) -Updated and Rewritten

Rewards of the Victorious

"To our officers we were nothing more than animals

that could follow simple commands and could be

trained to do simple tricks. Nothing more.

They made sure we knew it."

Grafenwöhr Army Post
2/19th Field Exercise Area of Operations
West Germany
11 February 1986

The wind was pretty heavy as I limped from the GP Medium where I'd been laying on my cot for the last two days. Every time someone wanted me to do something I just waved my profile, where the doctor had written "Try not to die" in the 'additional instructions' section. My hip had been hurting since the War Fighter tunnels, and I was still having shooting pains through that leg, along with periodic numbness and tingling in the rest of my limbs. Stokes had urged me to go to sick-call, then told Nancy she'd seen me limping, and the two of them had tried bullying me, but I just stared at the roof of the tent and ignored them.

I'd been doing that a lot. Just keeping my big fucking mouth shut and laying on the cot. My section sergeant had heard I'd skipped my meals the day before and had sat and watched me eat my hot breakfast. It had tasted like cardboard.

Not much really held interest to me.

Pushing past the overlapping canvas that made up the door I walked into the tent, the warmth enveloping me, and stopped just inside. Our new Group CO, LT COL Gonzalez, was waiting for me with the XO, First Sergeant, my Platoon Leader, and my Platoon Sergeant.

"Corporal Stillwater," the new CO greeted me. He didn't invite me to have a seat, didn't invite me to do anything but stand in front of him at parade rest.

"Corporal Stillwater, reporting as ordered," I stated. My voice sounded flat, even to my ears, but if anyone noticed they obviously didn't give a shit, same as me.

I should have been on convalescent leave, not on light duty out at Graf, running errands and having to constantly remind people I was on a profile. Not one of us had gotten leave, they even had fucking Lancer sitting on his cot with a bandage over his eyes. He'd lost one, the other was permanently damaged. Dobbs was always hovering around him, the black eyepatch that covered where her eye had been giving her an evil look. We had thought shrapnel had taken the eye, but the missing chunk of bone on the outside of the orbit had led the doctors to tell her that a bullet had done the damage.

Rumors were all over the unit, but everyone involved just stared at whoever was dumb enough to ask questions. We'd put up with several rounds of questioning, telling them what happened, but having already agreed when we were sitting around the War Fighter Tunnels to gloss over certain things or just plain omit them.

We'd found out yesterday that at this time JAG was not going to press charges, but was leaving the option open if they deemed it necessary.

"The engineers have finished their survey of the barracks," the CO said.

...so? Who fucking cares...

"The structure is stable and undamaged, and they have given me a list of repairs that have to be done on the barracks," the CO smiled. "They have determined that the majority of the barracks in habitable."

...aw fuck...

"Military intelligence and CID are sending a team up to photograph everything while you work, so you will also be responsible for the safety of those personnel as well as making any accommodations necessary for them to do their job," the XO added.

...they won't last a week...

"With that assurance, I've decided to send a repair crew up to the barracks. As of this morning the roads are clear all the way to the barracks. You'll be escorting two flatbed semi-trailers full of furniture and equipment to replace what you damaged." He smiled.

...hooray, it's the big green Army dick....

"I expect you to have the barracks up to standards within the next two weeks." He smiled. "I'm sending Lieutenant Wright with you to oversee the repairs to ensure the timetable I've constructed," he patted a camo folder next to him, "is followed."

"In order to speed the construction, we'll be sending those of you who were with the last crew up to assist." The CO smiled.

...fucking figures...

He handed me a list of names, and I noticed that all the names of the surviving members of the last repair crew were on it. Even Sergeant Butcher and Sergeant White were on there. That part made the lizard purr in pleasure.

"Do you have anything you wish to add, Corporal Stillwater?" the CO asked, still smiling.

"No, sir," I answered.

"Inform the personnel on that list, Corporal. Dismissed," he said. I saluted, the CO gave me a few seconds to reinforce that he was in charge before returning it, and I did an about face.

I left the warmth of the tent for the cold of outside.

None of us were getting out of here alive.