Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20191109013403/@comment-5583506-20191118204351

The sergeant became silent. He could no longer recognize his second-in-command and friend sitting across the APC. Shane "Shanks" Wain had now served in the Gobi campaign for almost a year, and his transition from an inexperienced, emotional rookie into a killing machine void of feelings was an unpleasant sight to behold.

Sergeant Charles Fang had served in the army for about seven years now, and he had seen recruits both come and go in the most unconventional of ways. Some descended into madness, some committed suicide, some reversed their personalities entirely. Corporal Shanks belonged to the latter. The young man was but a shell now.

Some soldiers turned into nervous wrecks at the mere notion of loud sounds, but Shanks seemed to retain his calm. He was unresponsive and detached for most of the time, and even when succesfully blowing the brains out of enemies from long distances he didn't even flinch. He just simply reloaded another into his sniper rifle and got ready to take another one down.

The corporal was extremely talented at what he did. With a keen sight and alertness, he was a natural with the rifle. It hadn't taken him long to figure out how to master sniping. The young man was indeed what they would call a prodigy.

Sergeant Fang reckoned that this was the kind of soldier the US Army had always dreamt of: someone who did not shy away from killing and who easily came in tune with their role in warfare. Shanks had found them both, and within a disturbingly short amount of time. It was almost as if the corporal had been born for the purpose of becoming bereft of his humanity.

"Corporal?" Fang began.

Shanks looked up from where he was sitting and cleaning the rifle. "Hm?"

"You have a child, do you not?"

The corporal blinked. "I don't know to be honest, sir. My wife was pregnant when I left, but who knows?"

Fang furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Accidents happen, sir. Maybe she miscarried? Maybe the child was stillborn? I don't know. Maybe they both died at childbirth? Complications and whatnot."

The way Shanks spoke so casually about the potential death of his wife and child disturbed Fang. The tone of the corporal's voice implied that he hadn't given it much thought, and if he had, it was even more disturbing to listen to someone void of all hope.

"You do not wish to return home and see them?" Fang asked.

"Of course I do, but I am here, aren't I? We can't all get what we want in life, sir."

"I see", the sergeant sighed.

It was tragic to hear those words come out of Shanks' mouth. He remembered the recruit from his early days of training. He had been arrogant and boastful. A downright prick who picked on others. A trait that had been hard to wash out from his days as a college bully, but eventually they had succeeded. Or at least they thought so. In truth, it had been the corporal himself who had sorted himself out as soon as he found himself quite apt at handling the sniper rifle. And after his very first traumatic kill in the Gobi Desert, things had only gotten easier. But not for the better.

Shanks was now quiet, with the social capacity of a stone. It only revealed its cracks if you poked at it long enough and hard. The sergeant had preferred it back when Shanks had been a handful to discipline and "tame", but the self-inflicted end result had turned out to be something that could barely be classified as a human. The man did not seem to want to go back to civilization. He instead was patiently awaiting the next given order and assignment, as if he had made his peace with the fact that he wouldn't be returning home to a wife and child.

Fang reckoned that the death of the Chinese girl had been the straw that broke the camel's back. While Shanks had been on the slippery slope back then, it was confirmed now that there was little to no hope for him to make a recovery, if he didn't make it back home.

Though Fang had seen this over and over, Shanks was special in a way. He was the longest most persistent son of a bitch to put up with this attitude. But that was not a good thing, at least not from his perspective. He needed soldiers who could stay sane, dependable and capable, and though Shanks was most certainly the two latter, he definitely wasn't in a good place. Yet he kept going.

"We are heading back to Mandakh now", the sergeant told him.

"I see", Shanks said.

"I see?" the sergeant repeated. "Are you not ... excited? There will be letters you know. Letters from home. Home, Shanks."

"I wouldn't know, sir", Shanks said as he cleaned out the scope with a white rag. "I can't recall much of home. I don't even remember my home address."

This was bad. The sergeant wished that he could have just patted the corporal on the shoulder, give him some comfort, tell him that everything was going to be alright, but then he gave the sniper rifle a quick glance and took note of Shanks' steady fingers dancing along the handle and the trigger. He knew better than to approach an armed man on the edge of insanity.

They were almost back at camp though. They had been out on their current assignment for almost two months now, holding back the Chinese advance by surveying important zones of strategic value. The corporal had made it into a personal hobby of his to blow the brains out of the People's Republic's military officers, undermining any attempt for the enemy to reorganize.

Sergeant Fang reckoned it would do the corporal and the privates some good to get a breather and collect their thoughts. Unless the senior officers had other assignments, he assumed that their efforts would be overtaken by the reinforcements, which meant that if all was going well they would all be going home soon.

The APC eventually rolled in back at camp, with the dust and the desert sand spreading for the wind as it came into a standstill. All the privates exited, eager for some rest and recreation. The sergeant and the corporal were the last to leave. The American camp at the outskirts of Mandakh consisted of rows upon rows of tents and various vehicles, with makeshift outpost towers at the outskirts supported by bags of cement for ground cover.

"Let's head to the post office, right?" Fang suggested to his younger comrade.

"If you say so, sir."

"At ease, corporal", Fang said. "No need for the formalities here, right? Save that for the frontlines, which we hopefully have seen the last of now, if the major considers this zone under our jurisdiction and control."

"Understood."

The sergeant desperately wanted to snap him out of it, but he figured he needed to let the corporal be. At least for the moment.

As the two made their way over to the tent to which packackes, mails and envelopes were received on a monthly basis, they passed soldiers in power armor and vehicles, all seemingly preparing for an all-out war. The sight concerned Fang. Was there no end in sight? He had gotten the impression that the war would soon be over, considering the tremendous amount of impact they had done on the Chinese Forces.

At the post office Fang had received a letter from his uncle and his girlfriend. He found something funny about that. He was ten years Shanks' senior, and yet somehow the corporal had already gotten himself married and his wife had hopefully given birth to their first child. The young corporal had received a letter as well, which the sergeant hoped would ease his mind.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Fang asked.

"I am thinking of it."

Fang had just about had it. "No thinking, corporal. Open it. Try to ease up. That's an order."

Shanks glanced over at Fang, before opening the letter with his combat knife, letting out a heavy sigh. He then sat down on a box of ammunition as he began to read it.

Hello, my darling.

''I have not heard from you in a while. I was beginning to expect the worst, but I was assured by the military that these things could take some time, and that some letters could get lost for weeks before reaching their destination. I just wanted you to know how much I miss you, and that I am always thinking of you. And Shannon is very eager to meet her father too! The delivery went well, and your daughter is one plump, hungry little thing who can't wait to meet you for the first time. I am just missing you so much, as does your mother, even though she can't say it. And Shannon misses you as well, even if she has never met you. I just hope that you are and that you will be with us soon. We are eagerly waiting for your safe return.''

Love, Molly.

Fang was patiently awaiting some sort of reaction from the corporal, but the young man just neatly folded the letter and put it in the front pocket of his vest. "Bad news?" the sergeant asked.

"No."

"Your family is alright then?"

"Yes. I have a daughter now. I have my Shannon. Though my wife and I already knew that it was going to be a girl. She wrote that she misses me."

"And yet you are not happy?"

Shanks looked at him with the most bitter stare, deprived of all happiness. "Look around you, sir. How could I be happy? My family is over there, wanting me to come home. I am here, and I could just as well be dead by tomorrow."

Fang sighed. "Wain, for fuck sake. You are one stubborn son of a bitch, I get that, but try to find some comfort in the fact that your family is alright and misses you. Are you really unable to do that? Besides, chances are we are going home soon."

Just as Fang was about to try to comfort the trouble corporal further the major entered the tent. Both Fang and Shanks stood at attention and made an honorary gesture.

"At ease, soldiers", he told them. "Figured I would find you here, Charles."

"Just trying to stay updated on my family's well-being, sir", the sergeant told him.

"Aren't we all?" the major chuckled, his eyes wandering over to the tall, stone-faced man next to the sergeant. "And this is corporal Wain, I am told. Hank's son, am I right?"

"Sir, yes, sir", Shanks told him.

"You do remind me a bit of him. I have been told you are quite proficient with a sniper rifle."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"That's the spirit, soldier. I need someone of your caliber to go out on a little commie hunt for a spec-op assignment I have in store."

Fang blinked. "Sir? I was under the impression that my unit was to be ... dismissed? We are all patiently waiting to return home while others replace us."

The major looked at him with confusion. "We are at war, sergeant. We all want to go home. And while it's true that your unit has done our country an incredible service to keep those damn commies at bay, more than enough to earn yourself a safe ticket back to the States, we will be needing you and your team for just a little while longer for this next, hopefully last assignment."

Hopefully last...

Fang had heard that kind of rhetoric before, and he was getting rather sick of it as a result. He tried his best to hide the devastated tone of his voice. "The soldiers outside ... the armors ... What exactly is going on, major?"

The major frowned. "One final push, sergeant. That's what's going on. The People's Republic are remobilizing and the higher-ups have decided that we are going to give the Chinamen one good last thrashing. Every regiment stationed in Asia are coming in, vertibirds, power armors, tanks, you name it. We are going to throw everything we've got at them and secure the Gobi Desert route entirely. If we all survive this, we will be going home soon with enough medals to smother us in our sleep."

The sergeant said nothing, but could feel it as if his feet were about to slip through the face of the earth and drag him along with them.

"Rest up, the both of you, and I will speak more with you in the morning about your assignment", the major said, adjusting his cap as the sweat of his forehead began to drip onto his nose. "As you were, soldiers."

He then left the tent and there was an eerie silence. Nothing but the sound of the desert winds sweeping in over Mandakh and the sound of marching army boots could be heard in the distance.

Fang felt as if he wanted to throw up. This was it, he reckoned. He had managed to stay alive for so long, just for this day alone, longing to come back home. And now that it had been confirmed that there indeed was going to be an all-out war starting the next day, he felt all his survival instincts drop to zero. He was sure to die. And he could only imagine how the young corporal felt.

He glanced over at him. "Shanks, I am ..." He froze up.

Corporal Wain was smiling. Shanks hadn't expressed a single emotion for over a month. The smile spoke of opportunity, but reeked of madness. "Going back home soon, right?"

"I am sorry", Fang lamented. "Look, we just need to ..."

Shanks said nothing, but just strode past the sergeant and out the tent before he had a chance to say another word. "I will see you in the morning, sir. You wouldn't want to be late to your own funeral, would you?"