means the detachment strength will stay with eighteen men. So there will be six DPVs with three-man crews.
That's good, Leroux said. We'll also see that they get armor-piercing rounds for both the fifties and seven-point-six-twos. That'll give 'em a lot of kick-butt capabilities. And that outfit needs run-flat tires. I figure twenty-four to put on right away and eighteen extras on the first issue.
We've had trouble with fuel, Berringer interjected. I'm afraid our commander out there pulled some illegal maneuvering to get his initial allotment.
Nothing wrong with that, Leroux said. A good soldier would sell his baby sister to a whorehouse if it would help the mission. They'll have plenty of fuel coming regularly now. And that goes for chow and other items on the TOA. He glanced down at the supply requisitions and issues. You said they had nine DPVs, but I see another has been sent since they arrived in the OA. What's with that?
We don't know, sir, Carey said. Evidently, the commander worked around us on that one too. He went directly to the Four-Shop at Station Bravo.
Leroux chuckled. It looks like somebody's baby sister is now a bordello inmate, hey? He leaned back in his chair. Okay. Is there anything else before I shove this shit into the pipeline?
I just want to remind the general that the situation on Operation Rolling Thunder is fluid and we expect a lot of changes and contingencies to raise their ugly heads.
So noted, Leroux said. He nodded to Berringer. Now what's this intel item you want to pass on?
Lieutenant Brannigan has sent us information that an Englishman is in command of the enemy armored car unit, Berringer answered.
Leroux frowned. That's some odd shit. How'd he learn that?
He learned about it from the head of the area UN relief group, Berringer replied. This is a Dr. Pierre Bouchier, a Belgian. He stated the individual who ordered him to vacate the area was obviously English, though he used an Arabic first name. The doctor doesn't recall what it is.
Well, that's neither here nor there for the three of us right now, Leroux said. I'll send the info to the Two-Shop at Station Bravo. They'll run with it. Is there anything else? No? Alright then. You gentlemen have a nice day.
With the conference closed, Carey and Berringer made quick exits to get down to the commo center to see if any other messages had come in from Wild Bill Brannigan.
.
SHELOR FIELD
AIRMEN'S CLUB
2000 HOURS
THE club was filled with young Air Force men and women drinking beer and listening to a self-appointed disc jockey playing CDs over the sound system. Loud conversation and laughter competed with the music amid clinking glasses as a celebration that was a nightly event rolled on.
Chad Murchison and Penny Brubaker walked into the place, going up to the bar. Several nearby celebrants gave them second glances because of Penny's white UN coveralls. Chad's BDU attire was a normal sight on the premises since SPECOPS troops passed through the airfield on a regular basis. After getting a couple of beers each, the couple turned and looked for a place to sit down. A young woman wearing the chevrons of an airman first class waved at them, gesturing to a pair of empty chairs at the table where she sat with several friends. Chad and Penny walked over and settled down.
Hi! the young airman said cheerfully. Welcome to She-lor Field.
Thanks, Chad responded to her greeting. I'm Chad and this is Penny.
I'm Wanda and here we have she pointed to another young woman and two men Betty, Sam, and Tommy. We all work in the supply warehouse.
I'm with the SEAL detachment, Chad said. And Penny belongs to the UN group.
Betty laughed. It didn't take you two long to get together, did it?
We're old friends from school, Penny said. Actually, we are much more than simply pals. She leaned over and kissed Chad on the cheek.
Oh, my God! Wanda said. What a small world! And you ran into each other here in Afghanistan?
This is the second time, Penny
That's good, Leroux said. We'll also see that they get armor-piercing rounds for both the fifties and seven-point-six-twos. That'll give 'em a lot of kick-butt capabilities. And that outfit needs run-flat tires. I figure twenty-four to put on right away and eighteen extras on the first issue.
We've had trouble with fuel, Berringer interjected. I'm afraid our commander out there pulled some illegal maneuvering to get his initial allotment.
Nothing wrong with that, Leroux said. A good soldier would sell his baby sister to a whorehouse if it would help the mission. They'll have plenty of fuel coming regularly now. And that goes for chow and other items on the TOA. He glanced down at the supply requisitions and issues. You said they had nine DPVs, but I see another has been sent since they arrived in the OA. What's with that?
We don't know, sir, Carey said. Evidently, the commander worked around us on that one too. He went directly to the Four-Shop at Station Bravo.
Leroux chuckled. It looks like somebody's baby sister is now a bordello inmate, hey? He leaned back in his chair. Okay. Is there anything else before I shove this shit into the pipeline?
I just want to remind the general that the situation on Operation Rolling Thunder is fluid and we expect a lot of changes and contingencies to raise their ugly heads.
So noted, Leroux said. He nodded to Berringer. Now what's this intel item you want to pass on?
Lieutenant Brannigan has sent us information that an Englishman is in command of the enemy armored car unit, Berringer answered.
Leroux frowned. That's some odd shit. How'd he learn that?
He learned about it from the head of the area UN relief group, Berringer replied. This is a Dr. Pierre Bouchier, a Belgian. He stated the individual who ordered him to vacate the area was obviously English, though he used an Arabic first name. The doctor doesn't recall what it is.
Well, that's neither here nor there for the three of us right now, Leroux said. I'll send the info to the Two-Shop at Station Bravo. They'll run with it. Is there anything else? No? Alright then. You gentlemen have a nice day.
With the conference closed, Carey and Berringer made quick exits to get down to the commo center to see if any other messages had come in from Wild Bill Brannigan.
.
SHELOR FIELD
AIRMEN'S CLUB
2000 HOURS
THE club was filled with young Air Force men and women drinking beer and listening to a self-appointed disc jockey playing CDs over the sound system. Loud conversation and laughter competed with the music amid clinking glasses as a celebration that was a nightly event rolled on.
Chad Murchison and Penny Brubaker walked into the place, going up to the bar. Several nearby celebrants gave them second glances because of Penny's white UN coveralls. Chad's BDU attire was a normal sight on the premises since SPECOPS troops passed through the airfield on a regular basis. After getting a couple of beers each, the couple turned and looked for a place to sit down. A young woman wearing the chevrons of an airman first class waved at them, gesturing to a pair of empty chairs at the table where she sat with several friends. Chad and Penny walked over and settled down.
Hi! the young airman said cheerfully. Welcome to She-lor Field.
Thanks, Chad responded to her greeting. I'm Chad and this is Penny.
I'm Wanda and here we have she pointed to another young woman and two men Betty, Sam, and Tommy. We all work in the supply warehouse.
I'm with the SEAL detachment, Chad said. And Penny belongs to the UN group.
Betty laughed. It didn't take you two long to get together, did it?
We're old friends from school, Penny said. Actually, we are much more than simply pals. She leaned over and kissed Chad on the cheek.
Oh, my God! Wanda said. What a small world! And you ran into each other here in Afghanistan?
This is the second time, Penny
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