Jacked Up Part 5

I was the only passenger on the plane and the only others were the two pilots. It did not take long for us to get permission to take off and we did it on full power, it felt very impressive. We flew south and eventually circled a massive military base. When we landed the heat was oppressive, especially for someone who had dressed for a Detroit day.

One of the pilots un-dogged the door and let the steps down. As I moved to get off he said “Welcome to Elgin Air Force Base, lady; although I think that you may be heading next door.” A jeep came up to the plane and a soldier in hot weather combat dress with no insignia got out and helped get my luggage on board. He told me to get in and we set off away from the flight line. I was staggered by the number and variation of aircraft that stretched into the distance. We ended up at another set of gates where we showed our ID’s and the sentry saluted us both as we drove in.

“Welcome to Hurlburt Field, Major. Here we do the things that we tell everyone we would never think of doing. I am told that this will be your home for the next six months, should you last the distance.” We pulled up at the admin building and he told me that my bags would be taken to my quarters but that I should now go inside and ask to see Major General Johannsen. When I walked into the building I was confronted by a couple of armed sentries who requested that I put any weapons I was carrying into a box which they said would be held for me until I left.

They did not turn a hair when I pulled out my pistol, ejected the magazine and jacked the round out of the chamber. Or when I reached down to pull out the .38 that was in an ankle holster. When I pulled my jumper off with relief and unstrapped the throwing knives on my arms they did show some surprise but did not pass any comment. I was then asked to go through a metal detector. When that proved that I had nothing else but my jewellery I was given a button to clip on my lapel. I was told that this would open any doors I was allowed to pass through and would also track where I was in the building.

They gave me the directions to Major General Johannsen and let me in. The Anita in me was amazed at the level of security but I had seen it before in the more secure bases overseas. I expected this Johannsen to be a grizzled veteran and was surprised to find that he was only in his fifties and looked like a healthy university teacher. I saluted him and he told me to be at ease and sit down. He then asked me to show him my ID’s and permits, which I did. He looked through them and then said “I believe there is one you have not shown me Major Jackson. It is imperative that you show me this or else you will be escorted to the outside of the base and left by the side of the road.”

I pulled out my wallet and extracted the permit from the then-President. He looked at this and smiled. “All present and correct, Major, you will now be given some training that this permit says you are allowed to have in order to fulfil its intention. Here we take bright young boys and turn them into well-educated and erudite killing machines. You are now a student at the USAFSOS, the Special Operations School. We train all sorts of people in what we call Irregular Warfare and, on the way, give you intensive training in Regional and Cultural Expertise. I have been instructed to make sure that you take the courses set in the Middle East. You will also get intensive training in Arabic while you are here but, in order to graduate we need you to stay alive as a lot of our combat sessions are live fire. As you have just survived a terrorist bombing I expect that loud bangs will not make you flinch too much. Any questions?”

I said, “Just the one, sir. Who ordered my posting?” He smiled and told me that the order had come from outside Homeland Security and that I had been asked for by a four-star general who had been well placed in an earlier administration. I realised that the deposed President still wanted to make his mark in the world and wondered who it was that he wanted me to kill. Perhaps he, or his minions, had looked at my record and not realised that my original postings were as a favour for the family of friends and not based on actual experience, something that was very common in his tenure.

He gave me all of my accreditation and said I was dismissed, adding “You do not look like you could swat a fly, madam, and that must surely be your greatest disguise.” I saluted him and left. Back at reception I reloaded my pistol and put it back in the holster but put the others in my bag. Carrying my jumper, I was directed to another office where I was issued with a hot-weather combat uniform which was the usual dress around the base. I was shown a cubicle to change in and, with my other clothes in a paper bag I was shown the door outside where my earlier driver was waiting for me. “Very fetching, Major, I will take you to your quarters. There is a base map there and I expect that you will be ready for chow soon, the mess hall is only a short walk or an even shorter jog.” He was smiling when he said this but I knew there was truth behind the smile. I expected I would be meeting him often in the next few months as I reckoned that he would be my personal trainer.

In my quarters I found my bags and a full range of kit. There were a couple more hot weather uniforms as well as a dress uniform. I now had several pairs of boots and sneakers as well as army issue underwear and exercise gear. I took everything off and had a shower before redressing with the army issue outfit only. I knew that lacy bras and pants did not work in this environment. I then unpacked some of my own clothes, especially my nightwear and various bottles of creams and lotions. I then sat down with a pair of nail clippers and shortened my fingernails to a workable military standard with the Anita me getting a little upset at this before I visualised some situations where long nails could get her killed in the field.

I had one thing in my favour here, and that was that they saw Anita as a dainty young woman while inside there was a veteran combat soldier. I was sure that there would be a concerted push to be very nice and helpful with the target to spit me out of the system as quickly as they could, perhaps on my own two feet but maybe in a body bag. It mattered not to the particular part of the army I now lived in. I was lucky that Anita had been a fitness person and we had a chance when it came to the physical side of the training.

I walked to the mess hall for early chow and as soon as I sat down at a vacant table, I saw my driver getting his tray. Either I was being watched or else my kit had trackers sewn into it, probably the latter. He came over and asked if he could sit with me and I said that it would be all right as long as he found the time to introduce himself. He laughed and said that it was an ingrained trait around this base to be secretive and that no-one wore any insignia of rank or a name badge. He told me he was Major Quinn and that he had been assigned as my trainer while I was here. As we ate he said that we would be going through weapons training first, then some physical fitness evaluations and then I would start the other training once I passed the initial basics.

He looked sad when I said “Oh, I see I am not really wanted here and you would like me out of the base in a week or less.” He then thought a bit and said “Major Jackson, what I am going to say is not to go beyond this table. You are not the first with a particular permit that has crossed my path recently. Someone must be looking for a ‘true patriot’ for a particular job and I am sorry to say the ones that went before you did not pass the first day. They were all ‘friends of friends’ and had been given their permits more as a joke between the supporters of the administration rather than any actual ability. You do come with your CIA and Homeland Security background so you are a long way ahead of the others already but I fully expect to be driving you to the gates before the week is out.”

When we had finished our meal and took our trays back to the counter for washing he said “We start now, maybe you can be somewhere nicer tomorrow night. The range is not far away but you and I will do a five mile jog to get there, OK?” I had expected something like this so had limited my intake during the meal. We left the mess and he broke into a jog with me alongside him. I know that he expected me to keel over soon but I stayed with him the whole way. Both of us inside my brain were happy to be running, me especially with this fit young body at my command.

When we reached the range he stopped at the indoor shooting range and stood for a few moments getting his breath back. He finally smiled and we went inside. We were shown a vacant spot where there were targets set up at various distances. On the table there was a selection of side arms with ammunition. He ordered me to take my time as this was not a race but to select a weapon for the closest targets, load it and fire. Then I was to select a weapon for each of the targets going away. He then said that when I had finished firing I was to field strip each weapon and lay them on the table stripped. He then gave me a set of ear protectors and a pair of safety glasses and said “Go ahead, make my day.”

I looked at the targets and then at the weapons. There was a short-nose .38 so loved by the earlier G-men because of the ease of carrying but useless unless you were standing next to the barn door. The .45 Glock was a lovely weapon and would be perfect for the middle range targets but the H&K automatic pistol had the longest barrel and, in single shot mode, would be good for the longer ranges. I put on my protective equipment and called for the range to go live and the range officer, who had joined us, called it live. I picked up the .38, loaded it and took out the first three targets – heart and head, heart and head, heart and head.

While I stripped the weapon the range officer hauled the targets in and took them off the clips, marking them with ‘Major J’. I then loaded the Glock and did the same to the next three targets which were reeled in while I stripped the weapon. When I loaded up the H&K I noticed that they had supplied high-load ammunition which gave an extra kick when fired so was ready for that when I took out the furthest three targets. While these were being reeled in I stripped the H&K and was then told to stand by as, when they had been unclipped, there was a single target right at the end of the range, far too far away for any of the guns supplied.

The range officer handed me a .44 magnum, the ‘Dirty Harry’ model, and one bullet. He said “This is just a little game of mine, no pressure. I have a standing bet with my fellow officers that one of the recruits will hit the target somewhere. So far I have lost every time and no-one will be upset if you follow the tradition.” I hefted the gun, a truly large lump of metal, to get the feel of it and then loaded the one round. Cocking back the hammer I took the marksman stance and brought the gun up at a steady speed, firing as the sights hit the centre of the target and keeping the upswing with the recoil. I then ejected the case and put the gun on the table, stepping back and taking off the glasses and protectors.

Major Quinn reeled the target in while the range officer smiled at me. I had put the shot inside the rings, not at the centre but close enough for his bet to be won. He looked at Major Quinn and said “I think this is one-nil to Major J, Q, I may follow you out to round two, care to double the bet?”

Marianne G 2021