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Beachhead

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November 17th, 2019


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Gender: Male
Status: Divorced
Age: 36
Country: United States

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October 28, 2019


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11/07/2019 10:02 AM 

Starter Example Six: Pre-Joe Time

Covert Operations School
Undisclosed Location
Central America
July
0700

"I said run ya filthy meat sacks!  If I gotta tell y'all one more time, I'm gonna put a forty-five slug in each a yer asses!"

The jungle had been quiet with the soft and harmonious sounds of birds, insects and the rustling of leaves as they fell to the forest floor.  It was still too early for the reptiles to be moving much, and most mammals had been active all night.  Yet, as paired groups of soldiers passed by, they were under watch by every creature, seen or not.

Most of the wildlife here had never seen humans, thus were wary of the strange and loud creatures.  Others, however, had a naturally occurring fearlessness that came from centuries of never seeing humans and not having a natural predator.

The humans often encountered curious big cats, bush dogs, coatis and monkeys snooping through their camp during the day, and often times at night.  However, it wasn't uncommon to see deer, tapirs and other large mammals and birds wondering through either.

Thus far, no harm had been done and the soldiers did not plan on harming them or shooing them away if there was no threat.  That didn't mean they weren't careful though, as any of the big cats could potentially become a problem should their fearless curiosity turn into opportunistic hunger.

This morning, however, the animals kept their distance.  The loud voices and sounds were more than enough to remind them that humans were potentially dangerous as well.  Especially if it came from the bellowing alpha male escorting the herd through the vegetation.

These men and a small number of women were not like the sparsely populated natives... They were too fair skinned and easy to spot without their camouflaged coats.  Their heads were also of varying colors instead of strictly dark brown to black.  They were also much louder and traveled in more organized patterns.

Scarily enough, there were times when they couldn't be seen or even scented.  They were silent through the jungles and sometimes encountered the natives, stopping them from destroying the forests, killing animals or routing their foul smelling machines though the brush.

Frankly, the fair skinned ones were protective compared to the indigenous.

The running soldiers soon broke out into a large, natural clearing surrounding a marsh.  The humidity and sweat rolled off their faces in torrents and their breathing was heavy and loud as they followed a well beaten trail around the saturated, grassy pool.  Upon completing the circle, they returned to the beaten path they had approached on.

Again their leader barked out his displeasure with their performance, making most if not all of the participants mentally beat themselves for agreeing to show up to this uncivilized and untamed land.  It wasn't because of their hatred for nature, but because they hadn't been told it would be overturned by the constant badgering and insults being slung at them.

They'd missed the memo about this 'training program' being more of a severe punishment than extra training.

Several miles later, and the group returned to their hidden base camp.

Their leader called them to a halt and let them catch their breath for a few minutes.  Once they were rested enough to stand straight at attention, he stood before them, hardly winded despite having run with them, as well as run ten miles before daylight on his own.

He was a legendary Drill Sergeant from Fort Benning, Georgia, originally born and raised in Alabama.  He held all the records at the Ranger School, and was the most sought after and respected Physical Training Instructor in the world.  He was a survivalist and weapons specialist, and there was no one even close to his level of Covert Ops abilities, other than perhaps Ninjas...

He could get in and out without detection rather easily, and he never failed a mission or left a man behind.  Even being wounded and stranded during Gothic Serpent in Somalia, Africa, he'd gotten his entire team out alive and accomplished what they'd set out to do.

Now, he was putting his skills to good use teaching new generations of Army Rangers and Covert Ops specialists.

Even if it took him away from his wife and young son for long periods of time...

"Well done today.  Git some chow 'n' showers.  Dismissed."

His voice had softened for the first time since their training session started.  It was still a hard Southern drawl that would force anyone to listen, but it didn't echo through the rain forest anymore.

6'2" of muscle and battle hardened skill watched in silence as his recruits dispersed without a second thought.  His chocolate brown eyes peered over them for a brief moment before relenting and turning to find the large facility beyond.  His light brown, military cut hair was soaked in sweat and flattened against his head, but still somehow managed to move just a little as a rare breeze blew in over the compound, most likely sourced from one of the many inbound/outbound helicopters and transport planes.

Master Sergeant Wayne Sneeden II breathed a deep inhale and took in the moist air, then let it out in a satisfied sigh.  Military life wasn't for everyone, but he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do, though a father and farmer came in a close second...

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