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Filace didn't exactly have an alternative to instituting the draft. The lack of soldiers left its ranks severely depleted, but the new draftees couldn't just be given a rifle and sent to the front. Of course, there simply wasn't enough time to properly train them, either. Thus, many of them got to enjoy an abridged boot camp before they were packed away and sent to some backwater post. Most of them ended up patrolling the border, some ended up setting up roadblocks, while a select few got the honor of joining the Naval Infantry and spending their days in an isolated, hot, humid jungle 152 miles from the nearest village (and the nearest girls) doing little more than watching a river and checking the papers of the occasional vehicle. Zone is E4 Comments and Criticism are most welcome. Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr "Aww, come on Sarge, even you've got to see this is bull. So I've got a girly mag, big deal." "Well, if you haven't figured it out by now, you soon will that some officers, especially these butterbars the academy keeps turning out, are real sticklers for the rules." "Yea, sometimes I think they send us draftees with the sticklers just as a sick joke." "You got out of four weeks of boot camp, kid. I wouldn't be complaining." "Oh, so that's supposed to help? Send us off to battle without even getting enough proper training?" "You know, Jackson, most of us wouldn't exactly consider standing guard on some quiet jungle road the same as being in battle. "But," "Shut it and get up! Butterbar's coming!" Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr "Private Jackson! Where in the Sentry's Code does it say a sentry shall rest and chat with his buddies?" "No where, sir!" "Then what the hell is your excuse!?" But before Jackson could answer, the Sargent's headset squawked. "Sir, a Centaur's coming up. Army by the markings." Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr The lieutenant began shouting orders as the men manning the bunker and mortar began getting into position. P1110393 by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Built only a few weeks ago, the bunker was so new that the grass hadn't even grown back to the edge of the concrete walls. But that's not what the men were worried about. They were busy making sure that everything was perfect, that every man was at his exact position per the textbook. Of course, the MRAP probably didn't present a threat. Most likely just another supply of high-tech computers or some important civies (average civies had to travel on one of the massive barges hauling steel and cement). Probably a missile base, the men thought. Perhaps a new airfield or secret testing site. Whatever it was, it must be something big given the number of trucks and barges heading there. But of course, that wasn't what the men were worried about. Right now they were making sure that every last detail was perfect lest their commanding officer decide to write them up for inattention to duty, negligence, or whatever other offense came to his mind. Within seconds, everyone was at their places and a few minutes later the chirping and howls of various jungle animals was replaced with the low, steady rumble of 330 horsepower. The rumble continued to grow, and within a few moments, the massive Centaur came around the curve. The Sargent, or more accurately, whoever the informed the Sargent was right, Army markings and an Army crew. Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr As the massive vehicle came closer, Jackson couldn't help but wonder who came up with the Navy's checkpoint strategy. A bunch of guys with M4s, grenades, and a SAW versus one of these armored beasts. Hell, if that thing wasn't friendly, it could crash through the checkpoint and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. And of course, Jackson, Sarge, and the Lieutenant wouldn't exactly be in a good position, considering that they were supposed to stand in the middle of the road just behind the paint-on-wood barrier. Fortunately for Jackson, this Centaur wasn't any different from any of the others, and it slowed down and came to a complete stop about five yards from the gate (if you could call it a gate). Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr The two front doors opened and the driver and passenger hopped out. They walked up to the gate, saluted the Lieutenant, and the driver handed over his papers. "We've already unlocked the back, sir. You man will have no trouble checking our cargo." The Lieutenant paused for a moment before speaking. He loved issuing orders, especially to soldiers, and he was rather upset that they were one step ahead of him. "As it should be!" the Lieutenant snapped in reply. As he read the soldier's papers, he continued. "But it looks like they have you Army guys playing delivery boy for naval computers." "Yes, sir. All we were told was that someone wanted the job done right for once." Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr At this, the Lieutenant's face began turning red and Jackson had a sudden coughing fit. He may have been in the Navy, but he was still green enough to laugh at the joke. The Lieutenant glared at him before shouting to the soldier behind the truck. "Private Goldberg, what have you found!" "Just two NeoGen X-5000s, boxes properly marked for delivery to Arthur Hastings, Brickeon Technology." "And the code?" "It matches Mr. Hastings', sir." Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Returning the papers to the driver, the lieutenant told the driver "you're clear to go." Then to his own men, "Sargent, clear the road and get this gate up!" Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Rumble in the Jungle by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Additional Pics of the Centaur Mine-Resistant, Ambush Protected (MRAP) Vehicle. Centaur MRAP by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Centaur MRAP by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr Centaur MRAP by Capt. Genaro, on Flickr