|
|
Post by Michael Hobbar on Oct 29, 2013 17:43:58 GMT -5
Hobbar sat down on the bench and took off his helmet. Even though this was a sim he still sweat like it was real combat. Well that was the point wasn't it? The sims were meant to help you in combat. For this exercise Captain Jones had placed Kilo Company in a war torn city and they had to get out of the city to make for extraction as enemy forces closed in. The simulation ended with most of Kilo being killed though, as the ARM had enemy mechs...and the company only had so much anti armor ammo to spare. Captain Jones while disappointed was still reflecting on how the simulation was better than last week. Last week they only got three city blocks before being killed by armor. This time they'd made better and had eight blocks going a different route...right into a enemy patrol of armor. Hobbar's platoon did alright, he managed to get them into some buildings for cover although it didn't help when those buildings had exits to enemy infantry positions. They were only two hundred yards from the extraction point and got killed.
Not to mention Jones always ran the simulation with radio communication not working and the HUD's totally gone. It helped in real combat, if you relied to heavily on technology then eventually you'd loose. The outfits everyone wore looked the same as the real outfits, except in the middle was a large red square, if someone hit you anywhere on your body it'd blink on how severe the wound was. Hobbar went to the locker and placed the helmet inside. He still had on the body armor, leggings and boots. Sitting down he started to take off the straps of the armor slowly taking the right shoulder strap off. Unbuckling it he stopped to notice he was all alone . Maybe it was better to reflect here now that he was alone. Or maybe just be better to enjoy the quiet.....
|
|
|
|
Post by Berlioz Lamond on Oct 29, 2013 18:18:08 GMT -5
It was always that walk back to the locker room after a combat simulation that was the worst part. Regardless of his performance, some part of Berlioz still recoiled at how lost in even simulated combat he could get. There was always that weird disconnect between what was real and what the system was showing him, and when the sim' dropped, it took some time to adjust to not fighting for your life.
They'd actually picked something similar to his usual for this operation, similar in setting at least. Urban combat was the most familiar environment he selected for his own training sessions, however his scenarios didn't involve extraction, which made a change. That said fighting with the SDC was a marked difference in comparison to the Republic Army. They, for a lack of a better way of putting it, were simply better soldiers. They maintained combat effectiveness, they didn't suffer when under sustained fire, they took more enemies down. The SDC were precise, efficient and professional, which is exactly what he had found lacking in his previous deployments. It was a relief that he could dedicate more of his attention on doing his job, than trying to do another soldier's job as well and keep the other members of his squad out of harm's way.
That said he was disappointed with his own performance, fighting without Coms or a HUD made fighting that much harder. He accepted that his lifespan matched up with the group reasonably, he couldn't have continued that firefight solo, but in terms of confirmed kills he'd been lacking in that last operation. His aim was off, hands would start shaking far too quickly when trying to make controlled shots. The idea that he might be losing his edge was somewhat of a terrifying notion, if he wasn't good enough to be a soldier then what was he? It would be nice to have a skill set that didn't involve taking lives, but unfortunately his career path didn't leave many alternatives considering how effective he was. That was the legitimately depressing part, he hated killing, but was so ruthlessly efficient at it. The simulator didn't hold back either, you could feel the recoil of your rifle, the slam of rounds hitting your cover, or the disgusting sensation of someone's shoulder dislocating in CQC.
He stepped into the locker room shaking his head clear, perhaps he'd need to speak to someone regarding his hands if he couldn't sort them out himself. Popping the helmet seals and pealing it off his head, the taste of unfiltered air was always welcomed. It was as his helmet came off that he saw the lieutenant sitting on one of the benches. He knew that this wasn't a combat situation but considering their operation had only finished recently he still flinched to his hip, reaching for a sidearm that wasn't there. He just needed time to calm down, that was all, right?
|
|
|
|
Post by Michael Hobbar on Oct 29, 2013 18:56:44 GMT -5
Hobbar finished taking off the second shoulder strap when Lamond walked in. He then put the armor over his head and body and finished taking it off placing it on the bench. standing up he then knelt down and began to take off the leg armor which didn't do that much of protection. As he did, he noticed that Lamond reached for the side arm that he didn't have. It was one thing for the first few seconds to feel the weapons after the simulation is over . But it'd been over for the past five minutes...was something going on with Lamond? Well if there was something going on he'd talk to him about it. This than led Hobbar to remember the exercise and tried to remember what Lamond was doing...or for that matter wasn't doing. He couldn't remember exactly where it all went wrong.
Did it even matter now, it was all over. He tried to think of something else but went over the same scenario in his head again and again of what had happened during the exercise. So many things! Well at least his platoon was the longest, Franks led his platoon straight into an ambush by going down a narrow ally to reach a street. Needless to say enemy armor made short work of that fiasco and killed almost his entire platoon. It didn't help they had to reach the extracton point in half an hour! Good thing it was just inside a simulation though. Getting the last of the armor off of him, Hobbar carried it over to his locker and closed it tight. Turning around he saw that Lamond was taking his armor off. "Lamond you seemed to be distracted during the simulation. Are you alright?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Berlioz Lamond on Oct 29, 2013 19:16:45 GMT -5
Berlioz froze. For a lot of soldiers, officers questioning their combat effectiveness was common place, but it had been a very long time since someone had ever even really paid attention to him, after three or four operations, simulated or not, they'd just leave him to get on with it, they knew he'd produce results. But was it really that obvious that he'd been under-performing? He didn't know how well everyone else did, their platoon sustained the least causalities until the very end but still, had it stood out that badly?
If it had, then that was a serious problem that needed addressing. He didn't need senior personnel on his back, he'd sort this issue out and go back do making them all happy as usual. They'd put a rifle in his hands and send him out, just like every other day and if he could keep himself together, they wouldn't take that rifle away. After all, what is a soldier without his rifle? Of course that was just a saying, his scores in CQC were physical evidence that a soldier is still extremely effective without a firearm but it was more the idea of losing his ability to do the only thing he was good at that scared him.
He covered the short distance between them, coming to a position of ease with the helmet under one arm and the other by his side. "Yes sir, I was just thinking about alternatives to how the simulation panned out." That obviously was a lie but it made his life easier. The only time he ever wanted to see Dr. Baker again was to pick up his meds and that was it, if they suspected something was wrong...
He kept loose eye contact with the lieutenant, hoping he bought it...
|
|
|
|
Post by Michael Hobbar on Oct 29, 2013 19:49:19 GMT -5
Hobbar watched Lamond walk over to him and with his helmet being held "Yes sir, I was just thinking about alternatives to how the simulation panned out." Hobbar closed his eyes for a few seconds or two. He remembered giving a similar answer a few years ago to his suprioer officer. He knew it was all bull but the fact that he at least started to talk about it. More than that he knew when someone was lying to him, one thing that Hobbar noticed in people were their facial expressons when they lied and Lamond had those exact signs. No, something deeper was going on with the private it was more than just 'oh I'm remembering what happened in the simulation sir' no something was going on. And perhaps it was Hobbar being paranoid or maybe it wasn't . But he had a suspicison that it was something deeper than just the training simulation. No it had to be something more than that, anyone could see that! Maybe he missed home? That was a very serious possibility he knew people who tried to stay connected to their wives or husbands as much as possible. Hobbar grew up as a single child and even though he loved his parents, he didn't have anyone he was attached to. Did something happen in combat recently that had severely effected him? "Come on Lamond....don't pull that sh.it with me. You and I both know it's something other than the training simulation that has you acting strange. Do you perhaps miss home or miss your family and friends, or lover? I'm not trying to be judge and jury here I just want to know if this will effect you on the battlfield also. " He knew that what he was asking had to be embarrassing for Lamond to answer..but he just had to know. If it was then he'd had to see the Doctor about it. What if he screwed up during combat. |
|
|
|
Post by Berlioz Lamond on Oct 29, 2013 20:13:00 GMT -5
The loose eye contact instantly turned to a hard stare. He tensed up, the adrenaline from earlier not helping the situation but he kept a lid on it. Home? How can you miss something you don't have. Does everyone in this fucking place have a home to go back to? Still keeping Lieutenant Hobbar in his gaze he calmly asked, "Permission to speak freely, Sir." Berlioz needed to get a point across and didn't want to be accused of disrespecting a figure of authority. The nod from Hobbar was enough.
"Sir, I signed up to be a soldier. I have done nothing but fight and kill for six years, everyday I'm not in a combat zone I'm training so the next time I'm in a firefight I can kill the enemy before they can kill my squadmates. With respect, Sir, my home life is not something think about because it's not important, I did not join the military to think about the past, I joined to help people."
He paused, not wanting to sound to aggressive. Berlioz was just trying to convince the Lieutenant that his combat performance wasn't a problem, not scare Hobbar into leaving him alone. He let out a short breath before continuing.
"I have been shot, beaten and broken in the line of duty, taken more lives than anyone should. Maybe I'm not a role model of a human, but so long as I'm still breathing, I will follow your orders. I will keep the members of this platoon alive. I will kill as many as need be, and I will die in some foreign countryside, for this Republic"
Only the last part of that was a lie, he could at least say that. It wasn't for the Republic, it was far more selfish than that. He had guilt and shame to cleanse. Dying on a frontline somewhere would be a fitting end for someone like him.
He could still feel every muscle in his body twitching, he needed to get out of this room and away from everyone. Once he'd calmed down he'd be fine but for now the stress of this situation was keeping him in permanent combat awareness when there was no goddamn enemy to fight. His brain was constantly telling him to scan his head around for threats, check weapons, ready himself, check squadmates and then repeat. The sooner the Lieutenant let him go, the better.
|
|
|
|
Post by Michael Hobbar on Oct 29, 2013 21:28:14 GMT -5
Hobbar waited and listened to his response. When he gave him permission to speak freely, it felt like he was actually speaking and not saying what Hobbar wanted to hear. Which is why Hobbar wanted him to talk. Because even if he couldn't solve the issue this second, just talking about it with someone was always helpful. Now Hobbar wasn't a trained Psychologist in any way he knew if people had some sort of issue. He was seeing Sergeant Amberson but that was under the direct supervision of Dr. Baker who watched and read everything that was reported back to him. But just speaking about an issue even to a complete stranger did in fact help. Hobbar couldn't do anything except maybe tell Dr. Baker about it.
He seemed very distraught about his last six years in the service and his friends being killed. Hobbar had friends killed and it effected him as well. But Lamond from the sound of things tended to push people away like if he became to close to them....he'd loose them in the next firefight. So it would seem! So it would seem. That was dangerous pushing people away in your personal life. If he got into some sort of personal issue, then he'd have no one there to help him. However Hobbar's job didn't tell him to watch over the man's personal life. Lamond's life was up to Lamond and Lamond alone. Not Hobbar, not even Dr. Baker could tell him what to do in his personal life. He was only concerned that it might effect the professional trooper in him, as he'd seen him on the battlefield. And he most certainly was!
Standing up he nodded towards Hobbar. "I understand Private. I do, I really do. I've lost very close friends who served with me. If you have any trouble I encourage you to see Dr. Baker. I don't want this to effect your performance on the battlefield. I have not seen it effect you on the battlefield...severely at least. " He added that in, not to condone Lamond but just to let him know that the lieutenant noticed it. "I can't recommend you to see Dr. Baker at least not yet and from what I've seen so far I won't. You've done an amazing job with the cards you were dealt with and I hope you continue to do well. Listen, if you have anything to do that is outside of training...do something else that doesn't involve combat simulation. Play cards, read a book get your mind off of combat when you can. I do. Try to find something you like." Hobbar then started to walk away but then added "I'll keep this conversation private but if I have to recommend you do Dr. Baker than by regulations Captain Jones has to know and then it's in his hands......and completely out of mine. Do something else that dosen't involve work. And he then walked out of the simulation room.......
|
|
|
|
Post by Berlioz Lamond on Nov 11, 2013 21:08:29 GMT -5
Berlioz was left staring at the door that Hobbar had left through, long after he'd gone. He had a faint inkling that the Lieutenant hadn't exactly gotten the message he had intended but that was vastly over shadowed by the threat of this being brought up to higher authorities. Including the good Dr. Baker. He snapped out of it, looking down at his now shaking hands, Why did it have to be now? Why couldn't I just do my goddamn job, keep my head down and not draw attention to myself? Best case scenario was that Hobbar kept a closer eye on him for awhile, worst case, the Captain got involved and Dr. Baker removed him from active service.
Hobbar wanted him to do something that wasn't work, how exactly was he meant to make up for his less than usual performance today if he wasn't training? And take his mind off combat? Was he operating on some other level to everyone else? Was everyone else just able to, turn it off? Stop thinking about it all? Just get on with their days? The idea of just being able to move on and stop thinking about everything sounded like a dream, or rather, a naive wish.
Berlioz looked back at the door leading into simulation room. Some part of him wanted to give in, to go along with the Lieutenant's suggestion and just go back to his room, pop the few meds he had left and just let the rest of the day melt away. But that just wasn't him. He was going to beat this problem and stop himself being a liability, to do that, he'd need the simulation room. He set the helmet back on his head and snapped the seal shut.
He'd slipped earlier with Hobbar, he shouldn't have let himself get worked up like that and certainly shouldn't have risked being sent to Dr. Baker. But that was then and this was him making up for it. He strode through the doors back into the simulation room and walked over to the control panel at the edge, tapping it quickly to bring up the main menu. He considered loading his default scenario, but decided against it and instead brought up the standard firing range module. He set four rounds to be performed, the first three being 30 targets in a minute and the final fourth round being 10 targets in fifteen seconds.
He hit the load button, and the familiar sensation of suddenly not being where you thought you were washed over him. He walked over to the table that was next to the shooting gallery and picked up his usual M68C9 before moving to the firing point. A timer on his HUD flashed up in the top corner as he shouldered the rifle...
---
As the environment disintegrated back into the simulation room, he walked over to the control panel to see the results. 1-29/30, 2-30/30, 3-28/30 and finally 4-10/10. He smiled to himself slightly, the results confirming what he'd wanted to see. He wasn't slipping, oh no far from it, that operation had clearly been a one off. Captain Jones didn't need to hear about this, Dr. Baker certainly didn't and he could hang up his armour and go back to his bunk relatively stress free.
Hobbar had nothing to worry about, Berlioz wasn't going to let him down any day soon...
|
|
