Combat @ MindSay 
It's dark, and gloomy, and not much can be seen beyond the areas where light shines from lampposts. The cemetary is quiet, eerily quiet. However in the distance there seems to be three figures around one of the tombstones all crouched down peering towards it.
Oswald keeps a steady pace with Maxwell, eyes peeled through his balaclava as he constantly surveys the graveyard. "These places never get homlier do they..." He mutters lowly to the other armored man, gripping a little tighter to the long range rifle in his hands as they continue in their patrol.
Maxwell pauses making a hand signal. He looks back at Oswald before pointing to his eyes then pointing forward and holding out his thumb and pinky, shaking his hand a little. He then holds up three fingers before he starts to move forward once again, moving towards the three, replacing the stake and pulling out his extendable baton. He doesn't extend it and instead just holds it in his off hand, slightly behind his back.
Oswald stops as the hand signal goes up, his eyes falling to where Maxwell's fingers point. He nods a signal nod of confirmation, and continues to act as backup for the other armored man as they investigate, checking over the basics of his rifle just in case.
Maxwell takes his stake with his strong hand and proceeds to move forward towards the trio, unsure whether or not the individuals above ground were hostiles. He presses a button activating his throat mic as he whispers "We've got An HST emerging, three above ground are still unknown. I expect them to be hostile, however they could be Indie forces, your weapons clear for the HST as soon we engage. Situation will dictate the others."
The three vampires are still completely blissfully unaware of impending danger..for them that is. The hand finally become a torso. It's a young girl, not much older than Christiana..at least before she was killed and turned. She wrinkles her nose as she gets helped out and mutters softly under her breath. "I'm hungry.." she mutters under her breath.
"Copy that. Taking aim, you're covered." Oswald replies in a low throaty whisper to his parter over a comlink on his chest. His rifle lines up against his shoulder and his eye looks down the scope on the vampires gathered.
Christiana looks at the group of vampires as she was rubbing some graves again, one of her hobbies. She does a forward jump over the gravestones and makes a kick at the newly rose vampire girl that looks like her but the kick goes wide. She then looks at the vampires and is like "Ummm can't we talk about this?"
Maxwell watches as the girl jumps and attempts to kick one of the vamps, falling on her rump. He mummers lightly "couldn't have asked for a better distraction...." before whispering over his mic "Careful we have civ in the mix". With that he runs forward, extending his baton with a *Snickt*. A quick swing at the back of the leg takes the vamp down to his knees. Maxwell spins and thrusts the stake in his other hand into the Vamps back. Dust.
With the young Slayer in the midst of the group of vampires, one immediately grapples her from behind before sinking his teeth into her flesh, letting the blood flow from her neck. "A Slayer!" he cries out excitedly, starting to drain the girl. Meanwhile, a vampire is suddenly dusted with the timely arrival of Maxwell, but there's still another who tries to punch him in the solar plexus...and misses.
"One, two, three vampires... Ah ah ah." Oswald mocks the count from sesame street under his breath, as he lines up his shot on the sampling fanger. "Ahem." He clears his throat in the mic. "Copy that." He confirms, and holds his breath while he pulls the trigger. The bullet zooms across the field and cuts into the excited vampire. Somewhere a wild west theme plays.
Christiana wrestles out of the hold as she looks away and spin kicks the bastard in the face, "How dare you bite me you dirty vamp."
Maxwell flips the stake in his hand before whipping it at the beat up Vamp, who had bit Christiana. A crunch echo's as the wood wedges firmly in the undead chest, the vamp dust in the wind. Even as all this happens Maxwell is already drawing his pistol, sighting in upon the closest vamp.
Let's see, there's a huge threat here, so the most experience vampire heads towards..Maxwell, swinging wildly. He misses due to the plucky Initiative commando's dexterity, but the newly risen vampire smells the scent of flowing blood and successfully grapples Christiana taking in another bite and getting rejuvenated. "Mmmm, delicious!"
As Oswald sees another vampire taking a chunk of of Christiana he levels his rifle and pulls off a hasty shot at the creatures head. Hopefully that would make her think twice about biting without saying please and thank you.
Christiana breaks away turning away from the fight as she looks about holding on to her neck. She runs toward Maxwell with the gun at full speed. "Help help help"
Maxwell breaths calmly taking aim. He fires a round down range when he knows he has the shot. The bullet connects with the vamps forehead, the head snapping back slightly from the impact before the bullet exits, taking with it shattered skull and brain matter. He re-aims for the torso, but as Christiana runs straight towards him he has to re-adjust as he fires and ends up missing the vamp.
Where there were once four, there are now only two. One of them stumbles back as brain matter is splattered everywhere. Meanwhile, the newly risen screeches in anger and tries to rake her sharp fingernails at Maxwell, "That was my boyfriend, bitch!"
"Get down!" Oswald crudely barks at Christiana, as he levels on one knee for better balance. Again, he draws in a quick breath and holds it. Blam! The rifle shoots off rotating lead into the vampire slashing at Maxwell, causing her to lose ground.
Christiana gets out her stake and finally has enough fooling around. She crouches down as the vamp lady goes down and stakes her through the chest. The lady is like "Nooooooooooooo" as she turns to dust and goes away in the night air.
Maxwell holsters his pistol before running over to where his stake is laying in a pile of dust. After snatching it up he tosses the stake at the vamp and watches as it hits with the blunt side, rebounding off the chest to actually smack Maxwell in the head.
And the other vampire seeing that it's clearly outnumbered runs away..for you know all that. Meanwhile, Christiana runs off like a good little girl should. Don't want to be around when the initiative are around afterall.
"And don't come back!" Oswald calls after the vampire, after moving to Maxwells' side. He glances the man over and pulls a first aid kit off of his gear, opening it up. "Vampire nails. Better check for some kind of rabies back the base. I'll see what I can do here." He murmers, as he attempts to help.
Maxwell grumbles to himself as he picks up his stake and tucks it away, his extendable baton next. Grumbling he pulls out his portable and punches up the direction and stats of the vamp who is running away. Hopefully another team will pick him up. He lets Oswald clean up the slash on his arm as he finishes up punching their encounter report. "Not bad, not too terribly exceptional but we didn't do bad."
Oswald nods, finishing the last touches on a bandage for the slash. He packs up his medkit and repockets it on his suit. "We'll need better weapons. They took those bullets like paint balls. Without the colourful fun." He adds, with a wry smile. "Come on. Let's report to headquarters."
I pray that the reading of this very personal account of war and its aftermath will benefit other combat veterans agonized by severe and chronic PTSD as it has been for me in the writing of it. The intention of this account is to help them, their friends and loved ones better understand this devastating “psychological, automatic, and natural response” to repeated, life threatening situations and to offer them hope and guidance in achieving a much brighter future. This publication will bring them to the realization that they are not alone in their sufferings and that professional help, understanding and comradeship, is as close as the nearest Veterans Administration Medical Center.
READ ON
http://www.police-writers.com/articles/griffin_bugle_call.html
The presence of drugged fighters is not unknown in the history of warfare. Yet widespread drug use on the battlefield is now part of protracted conflicts largely fought by nonprofessional combatants that take place in an international system characterized by the process of globalization. From marijuana, khat, hallucinogenic mushrooms, cocaine, heroin, and methamphetamine to looted pharmaceuticals, irregular fighters have found a ready supply of narcotics to consume for a variety of combat purposes. Such consumption has led to unpredictable fighting, the commission of atrocities, and to the prolongation of internal violence. The presence of intoxicated combatants will continue to be a feature of armed conflict and requires a fuller accounting to adequately prepare policymakers and military planners for future conflicts.
READ ON
http://www.strategicstudiesinstitute.army.mil/pubs/display.cfm?PubID=850
Who'd all be aviators, and not afraid to fly!
For Duty, Honor, Country, their courage I admire!
But it takes more than courage, son, to get to be a flyer.
When you are only twelve years old of course you want to fly!
And tho' you know not what is Death, you're not afraid to die.
But of the million, more or less, all must have perfect eyes;
So only half a million now, can dream of future skies.
Then comes high school, science, math; Some choose the easy way:
Football, cars, and dating girls; teen pleasures hold their sway.
And of the quarter million left, one half go on to schools;
The other half will dream and drift, and never learn the rules.
Now comes the day of testing, eight hours of Stanine Hell;
On every subject known to man, four- fifths will not do well.
The one in five who pass this test Apply for flying schools,
The Application Boards will now Eliminate the fools.
Then comes two days of nakedness, Flight Surgeons poke and prod;
To pass this Flying Physical one needs to be a God!
And now, five hundred lucky souls will start their Pre-Flight days;
Endure demerits, hunger, cold, as upperclassmen haze.
One-half survive this mental game, and go to Primary schools,
But only half will hack the course, move on to Basic rules.
Two hundred fifty now will try to pass those Basic tests;
Formation flight soon separates, the " tiger" from the rest.
One hundred twenty five will then pin on those pilot wings;
The best become hot fighter jocks; the rest fly other things.
Some will die while learning those essential combat skills;
Some will die in combat, some will score their "kills".
But they have learned a lesson, sometimes lost on you and me;
We must always fight for Freedom, because Freedom's never free!
He's a knight in shining armor, that the cruel tyrants fear;
He's that deadly drop of venom on the tip of Freedom's spear.
Engaging him in battle is a course that only fools would choose;
He's the world's fiercest warrior, for he has the most to lose.
So when you see that fighter pilot, standing at the bar;
Taking out the garbage, or tuning up his car.
You'd best walk up and offer him your thanks, extend your hand;
He's that rare "one in a million" who protects this sacred land.
Having a conversation with my adult daughter is like walking on a razor blade. Some days I am wearing combat boots and it is quite comfortable and today I must have been out of my mind and ventured out there bare footed....again!!! We started out ..or should I say I started out quite innocently talking about my beloved grandson who I watch for her daily since she has found no one else who can since finding her job which works odds hours of the day and evening. The term "oh Mom will do it" seems to be oh to familiar in my daughters vocabulary...both to her duties and also to give away to her friends. It seems I am so talented that she is either proud of what I can do or thinks I have nothing better to do with my days than to help her and her friends out with their kids and projects or she is trying to keep me busy so I will not feel old and useless as she as averted to a few times in conversation. My delema is finding the balance, the boundary and the dignity to stand up and say I think this is not what I really want to do. I have always had a hard time saying NO...not only to her but to anyone.... I always want to be an example of giving and giving and giving and going the extra mile... Until I am exhausted and burnt out. I have been learning over the past 10 years or so that my miles are not always to give to others ....they sometimes are to give to me in order that I have to give to other when God asks me to give to others (?). Another words I need to hear His voice and follow Him and not anyone else. So in terms of this conversation....I said something that made her cry. I was direct, emotionless (she said) and uncaring (she said) , and made her feel like crap right before she had to go to work. Thanks alot MOM!!!
So now I feel like crap, and have been crying ever since....but the truth be told....what I said was the absolute truth. I am so sorry that she feels this way about my delivery, that I am direct and unemotional. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love her and her son more than life and would give mine up for them. In fact I do on many occasions. But she only sees the way I speak and try to control her, or change her. How I "make" her feel. Oh how I wish my mother were alive today so I could tell her that I messed up so bad in my life because of sin and not because of the way she was with me. I used to yell and fight and tell her horrible things and do and say and act wickedly in front of her to make her think that it was something she did to make me rebel like that. The way she left my dad, the alcohol she drank the parties, my step dad the way she beat me, something...and yes it mattered...But it is sin that separated me from God not her. Sin made me wicked and evil and put drugs into my veins not her....I loved her and wanted her attention and love back.
And I know when my daughter is yelling at me and crying and hurting there is that little girl that is saying deep inside ....but mommy something is wrong and I don't know what to do and I need you to fix it and I don't know how to ask.....mommy I love you and need a hug....
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