Turn 1 - A Day in the Life

Twilight: 2000 - Under a Blood Red Sky | Home

Camp Clark

17 April 2010

Camp Clark

0530 Hrs

You really couldn't really call it sunrise, the almost perpetual cloud cover cast a gray pallor over the camp, but at least now you could see where you were going. A bitter wind blew from the east, funneled by the Columbia River Gorge, causing the guards on watch to huddle even deeper into their parkas as they tromped through the mud. Most of the snow on the ground had finally melted, turning the roads and paths into quagmires. A group of soldiers cursed as they tried to free a horse-drawn cart filled with supplies that had become stuck. The men at the OP's scanned through binoculars across the river, and glanced at their watches, counting the minutes until their relief arrived. The cooks, already up for hours, were in the mess tents making breakfast's of potatoes and oatmeal. Sergeant's could be heard in the tents shouting "On your feet troops, you think you're gonna get breakfast in bed? Drop your cocks and pick up your socks, time to earn your pay!" They were answered by assorted moans and grumbles. Another day at Camp Clark was beginning.

The sound of a motorcycle gradually became louder as it closed in to the Headquarters CP. The rider gunned it for the last stretch, splashing mud on a couple of unwary privates who didn't move fast enough. He easily outran the dirt clods thrown at him as he raced down the main camp road. The messenger didn't slow down until he spotted the flagpoles in front of the CP. The flag detail was raising Old Glory, and he didn't want to ruin the already threadbare piece of cloth. He pulled up to the tent and switched off the engine, not bothering to lower the kick stand with all the mud, he leaned the bike against one of the corner supports of the tent. He pulled off his helmet and goggles, and tried to scrape the worst of the muck off of his oilskin as he entered the tent.

A 55-gallon drum that had been converted into a stove gave some illumination to the tents interior, barely enough to see a corporal was busily punching away on a battered old manual typewriter. He looked up as the messenger entered the tent, "What do you want?"

The messenger pulled a plastic sealed envelope out of his coat, "I have a message for the Colonel. I was told to deliver it to him personally."

The corporal sighed, and started pulling on a parka as he stood up, "Wait here, I'll have to go get him. Help yourself to a cup of coffee while I'm gone." He nodded his head at a tin coffee pot that was percolating on the top of the stove as he ducked under the tent flap.

The messenger eagerly hunted for a cup, and huddled up next to the fire. He had been on the road for hours, and the heated tent and hot coffee felt damned good.

The corporal jogged across the field that separated Colonel's quarters from the CP. He stopped at the door and knocked.

"Enter."

The corporal opened the door and stepped inside. Colonel Meyers was sitting at a small table that held a washbasin and a small mirror, his face covered in foam, a mother-of-pearl handled straight razor in his hand. He rinsed it off in the basin, and looked up. "Yes corporal, what is it?"

The young corporal cleared his throat, "Sir, there's a messenger back at the CP. He has an envelope for you. Said it had to be delivered personally."

The Colonel turned back to the mirror, and took another swipe at his face. "All right Corporal, tell him to have a seat. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The corporal snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes Sir", he replied. He backed out of the room and silently eased the door closed.

Colonel Meyers finished shaving, and wiped his face clean with a hand towel. He stood up and pulled a tunic off of the back of the chair. A message that he had to sign for personally. This couldn't be good news. The way things had been going lately, he wasn't very surprised, but he hoped that it wouldn't be this soon. He finished buttoning his tunic, picked up his cap from the table, looking in the mirror one last time to adjust it. He grinned to himself, maybe it wasn't so bad, it could just a message saying the Russian's were invading.

The soldiers of the 25th Infantry Division were filing into the various Mess Tents, grumbling as always about the chow. Black bread, fried potatoes, oatmeal, and coffee were dumped unceremoniously on the scratched tin trays. The officers and NCO's sat to one side, discussing the days mission plans. The younger soldiers joked with one another, wolfing down the food in front of them in between jibes. They almost didn't hear the first round as it came screaming into camp.

The seasoned veterans were throwing themselves to the floor as the artillery round impacted. Green recruits were frozen in terror, even as shouts of "Incoming! Get down!" were heard throughout the area. A Major yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to make himself heard over the noise and confusion, "Everyone get to the bunkers, man your weapons!" The NCO's started grabbing the closest troops to them, and started shoving them out the door, "You heard the man, move your ass!"

Wham! Wham! WHAM!

Rounds were dropping all over now, and the concussions knocked men off of their feet.

KA-WHAM!

A lucky round landed on one of the fuel dumps, sending a huge fireball into the sky. Bodies were thrown through the air like rag dolls, and flaming debris started dropping on the surrounding buildings and tents, setting many of them on fire. Several soldiers could be seen running for cover and diving into the bunkers and trenches. Some of the big guns started returning fire, sending rounds of 105 mm and 155mm hurtling over the Columbia River, hopefully giving back as good as they were getting. .50 caliber machine-guns raked the far shore, turning trees and shrubs into kindling.

Suddenly, the steel rain ended as quickly as it had begun. The artillery continued pumping rounds into Soviet-held territory, until the Battery commanders shouts of "Cease Fire!" finally registered on the fevered minds of the gunners. Secondary explosions of ammo and fuel still continued, but even they were starting to become less frequent. Shouts of "Medic!" were heard everywhere. Bucket brigades started to form, desperately trying to put out the flames.

Col. Meyers looked around the camp, surveying the damage. Smoke hung over the camp, darkening both the sky and his mood. Shell craters dotted the landscape, the new ones mixing with the old. He walked through the camp, stopping for a moment to watch a stretcher being carried by 4 soldiers, the body underneath it covered by a poncho. One of the dead soldier's arms hung over the side, flopping in time with the footsteps of the medics. His aide-de-camp spotted him eyeing the grisly scene, and slowly approached the commander. He stopped a respectful distance from the Colonel, and waited for him to acknowledge his presence.

The Colonel slowly came out of his reverie, and noticed the Captain nervously fidgeting a few feet away. He looked back at the stretcher-laden body, now receding in the distance. He slowly shook his head, then turned to his aide, "How bad was it, Captain?"

The captain slowly spoke up, "Not good, sir, we're still checking in with the various units, but at the moment it appears we lost about 30 men, with another 50 or so wounded. The hospital is rounding up blood donors, many of the men were hurt pretty bad. A lot of them were severely burned when the fuel dump went up. It's too early to say, but the doctor's think about half the wounded won't be returning to duty."

Colonel Meyers nodded his head. The Captain continued, "Besides the fuel dump, several structures were damaged. The CP took a direct hit, it's been totally destroyed."

The colonel's head snapped up. "I was just on my way over there. There was a courier who had a message for me. Did he survive?"

The captain shook his head, "I don't think so, Sir. If he was in the CP, he's gone."

Colonel Meyers took this new bit of information in. "Have some of the men search the area around the CP. Perhaps the message itself is still there. I'll want a full report as soon as you have it. And schedule a Command and Staff meeting for this afternoon. I want to talk to the CO's and 1SGT's personally about the current situation."

The captain saluted. "Yes, Sir, I'll get on it immediately." He turned and hurried off

Just another day on the front lines of Hell.