=/\= MCS Imperial – En route to Anaxis =/\=
The Imperial wasn’t much of a ship to look at from the inside, Richard mused. Marine engineers were brilliant however, in that they’d got ahold of a Galaxy Refit, torn out all its interior with the exception of key ships systems, and found space for over two thousand marines, plus equipment, and space on the lower decks for an armoured company. The downside to this was that luxurious appointments were sparse, and there was a definite utilitarian feel to quarters, which were at half-size anyway, due to the need to fit as many single berth quarters as possible for officers.
He stood, looking out the single window, his hands clasped behind his back, admiring the stars as they shot past at warp speed. Wearing his green BDU’s, with two stars on either collar lapel in the black subdued style, he felt ready for the fight. So why was he feeling this way? Was it the impending thought of a combat jump after nearly 10 years since he’d done one? Or was it something more? Could it be the thought that this time, he’d be leaving someone behind if he died?
For the first time in a very long time, he had someone who would miss him if he died. He’s survived everything that the service had thrown at him time and time again. Hell, he’d taken the worst the Romulan’s had thrown at him several times already, in previous wars. Tanaris IV, where he’d steadied the line against the Praetorian Guard, against General Jaeih, the most formidable woman the Romulan military had ever produced. Or Kreos Prime, where he’d held out against forces of the legendary 85th Legion, for eight days, unsupplied and unsupported.
So why was this time any different? He’d beaten the Romulan’s before, and damnit, he’d do it again. He’d teach those pointy eared bastards what it meant to mess with the green machine! However, he was beginning to regret opting to lead this battle himself. He wasn’t a young man, not by any means, and he’d known of general’s and other senior ranks who’d gotten good men killed protecting them from themselves. Could he be one of them?
The door opened behind him, and standing in the doorway, wearing his own BDU’s and jump harness, stood Harper. “Its time, Richard.” He said.
Richard nodded, and grabbing his jump harness and combat webbing, he left the dark cold room behind him with Harper.
=/\= Marine AC-808 Dropship SV-196-13 =/\=
Everywhere Richard looked, he could see young men and women, who wore eager expressions on their face. He looked down the craft at Lt. Winters, who looked lost in thought, as if contemplating his own death. He’d seen looks like this before in men, who were preparing for what they felt was a desperate fight.
Standing up, Richard looked to Harper, who seemed to be able to read Richard’s mind. He started to sing:
“He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright.
He checked off his equipment and made sure his pack was tight.
He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar.
You ain't gonna jump no more.”
Everyone in the craft looked to both the General and the Command Sergeant Major, as if they’d gone mad, but soon their faces wore broad grins as they recognized the Ballard of the airborne. Everyone in the small craft started to sing along:
“Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die!
Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die!
Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die!
He ain't gonna jump no more!”
Richard wore a grin as he walked down the craft, as the marines were sitting on a bench on either side of the fuselage. He was waving his arms like a conductor as they sung, he looked at Winters, who seemed to find this all rather amusing.
“The risers swung around his neck, connectors cracked his dome.
Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones.
The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground.
And he ain't gonna jump no more.”
They’d already reached the fourth verse when the Lieutenant at the conn shouted back into the cabin. “One minute to drop!”
Still singing, they stood up and made their way to the tailgate, ready to jump into the atmosphere.
“There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the 'chute.
Intestines were a-dangling from his paratrooper suit.
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots.
And he ain't gonna jump no more.”
They’d just sung the last verse, and were at the chorus when the red light came on. Richard was at the front of one row, and Winters the other. The age old tradition of the airborne lived on, and the officer was always the first one out of the aircraft. Richard looked to Winters, who was singing as well, and they both sang:
“Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.
Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.
Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.
He ain't gonna jump no more.”
The green light came on, and Richard jumped into oblivion with the men and women of 1st Platoon, Easy Company.
=/\= End Log =/\=
MGen. Richard Sharpe
Commanding
1st MEF
