Traitors (Damned of the 2/19th - Book Five) - Finished

Formation

2/19th Special Weapons Group Barracks
Restricted Area - Western Germany
Early Winter - 1986/1987
Day: One of Incident

Rear Detachment was drawn up while the strutting martinet they'd left in charge walked back and forth in front of us in his Class-A uniform, and the rest of us stood at attention in our Class-A's waiting for him to get done with his lecture on just how Rear-D was going to be run.

"...not having any of you fuck this up..." he was blathering. I was only paying half-assed attention to him, instead checking the faces of the other eighteen people around me aside from Bomber, Nagle, the LT, and Sergeant Tee. Bomber stood on my left, Nagle in between us. He'd arranged us into 5 man "squads" (which was like half the fucking size of my squad) and put what few NCO's there were in charge.

...Assholes...

"...check in at 2100, and CQ will be doing bed checks at zero hours, formation every morning down here at zero six for PT." He stopped and turned to face us. Only thing worse than an ROTC butterbar was a shiner (1st LT, a nice shiny silver bar to replace the hunk of butter. Most of them seemed to spent a lot of time shining it on their softcap) with a bright new rank pin. He tried glaring at all of us, but it looked more like he had to take a leak real bad then anything else.

"Everyone will stay in their rooms, unless I personally authorize a switch in rooms." He said, then nodded at Staff Sergeant Terrance. "Go ahead and assign them details from the list I gave you." He told him. T saluted him, which he seemed pleased about, and we all watched as he returned the salute then walked away.

"All right, guys and girls, the Lieutenant has some barracks maintenance he wants done. I'm going to divide you up by squads to go ahead and handle it." T said. "First squad?"

"Here, Sergeant." I snapped out.

"You, Specialist Nagle, and Specialist Bomber are to report to his office." He told me, and Bomber groan beside me.

That was never good. I didn't know jack or shit about the LT, except since he'd shown up right after the roads got cleared for about 72 hours and everyone abandoned us to go on Christmas leave he'd been nothing but a Grade-A asshole. Some Worst Cav fucker with a serious attitude that seemed to say "We did it differently in First Cav..." right before he gave some retarded suggestion that fucked everything up.

I hated him with a passion.

Formation broke up, with people getting assigned jobs that were vital to national security like buffing the first floor hallway or scrubbing the tile in the stairwell to get the stains out of them (HAH! Fat fucking chance!) or taking inventory and readiness inspection of... the chairs in the day room.

"What do you suppose LT Wondurbar wants?" I grunted.

"Probably wants to know if Nagles tits taste as nice as they look." Bomber suggested.

"I'm going to kick you in the balls." Nagle snarled.

PFC Kebble was sitting behind her desk, sneering at us when we walked into the orderly room. She was sitting there in her Class-A's, showing off the AAM's and ARCOM's she gotten for sucking dick above and beyond the call of duty.

Oh, yeah, and losing everyone's paperwork.

Only thing dumber than an orderly room clerk was a tanker.

"Acting CO in?" I asked, unnecessarily. It was fucking snowing again. Ain't none of us were going anywhere.

"I'll check to see if the Commanding Officer." She said, her voice all sweetness and light. I restrained an urge to lean over the desk and punch her in fucking face. I couldn't prove it, but I knew she was the bitch who'd falsified the paperwork on us. Her sweet little smile while I tried to straighten everything out and the nasty little smirk she got when she thought I wasn't looking told me that.