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That meddlin kid
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Post subject: Hardcore--A Tale of Today's Army Posted: Wed Jun 22, 2011 1:59 pm |
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Biker Librarian
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Joined: | 26 Mar 2007 |
Posts: | 25161 |
Location: | On the highway, looking for adventure |
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A true story of our men and women in the service. Only the names have been changed.
Hardcore
It was nearly 1800 hours at the barracks. Staff Sergeant Alvarez peered out at the spring downpour. Occasional flashes of distant lightning illuminated the parking lot. Rain drummed on the breezeway where Alvarez and assorted loungers and smokers stood.
Her duty relief, Sergeant Carter, was about due. He’d be there—of that she had no doubt. For once he wouldn’t be riding that motorcycle he was always on. Even he wouldn’t ride in a mess like this!
A headlight appeared on the road. Just the one. A motorcycle? No, it couldn’t be….
The headlight swerved into the parking lot. Now Alvarez could hear the familiar rumble of Carter’s V-twin engine over the rain. A lightning flash illuminated Carter and his bike as he pulled up to his usual parking spot a few yards away.
Alvarez now realized that the two or three conversations that had been going on under the breezeway had halted. All eyes were on Carter. He killed his engine and lights. Then he dismounted and removed his helmet. Another lightning flash showed Carter carefully placing his beret on his close-cropped head.
Man, it had to be coming down in buckets, Alvarez thought. Carter acted like the rain wasn’t even there. She checked her watch. 1800 hours on the dot. Carter ambled over to the breezeway. “Evenin’” he greeted the bystanders.
“Aw, man, Sgt. Carter!” one of the E1s exclaimed. “You’re hardcore!” All the soldiers under the breezeway gaped at Carter in amazement and admiration.
Carter shot the breeze with them for just a moment and then headed inside with Alvarez to sign in. Despite the rain, Alvarez was ready to turn the job of babysitting the barracks over to him and head home.
“You certainly impressed the soldiers this evening,” she observed, as Carter signed the duty roster.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” he said in that mild Arkansas accent of his. “Just between you and me, though—next time I come out here I’m going to remember to check the forecast before I leave the house!”
_________________ The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls who, when he found an especially costly one, sold everything he had to buy it.
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