gathered_

conquest they build sort of temple palaces to the God Kings and fill them with the loot they gathered. I guess they’re like a lot of soldiers. You know what Kipling says: ‘It’s loot, loot, loot that makes the boys get up and shoot.’ But that can’t be their only motivation.” Can it?

35
Ft. Indiantown Gap, PA Sol III
0523 August 5th, 2002 ad


“Whoooee!” said Stewart, as he entered the company headquarters. “What a fuckin’ party!” Behind him the sky was just beginning to lighten, but it was still impossible to tell a black thread from a white. A very technical “before dawn.”
At the tableau at the CQ desk he stopped dead.
The room was not particularly large, what would have been a living room in a single-wide house trailer. The floor was cheap linoleum, the overhead bulbs shielded with simple plastic covers. On the far wall was a desk made from unfinished plywood with a phone on it. Above the desk was a sign welcoming the entrant to Bravo Company 1st Battalion 555th Infantry, “The real Black Panthers.” There was a door on the right with the sign “Day Room” over it and a corridor led off to the left.
Beside the desk, taped to a folding chair with wrap upon wrap of duct tape, was a chubby sergeant unknown to Stewart, his eyes wide over the gag. Behind the desk, butt firmly planted in a swivel chair and feet propped up, was Drill Corporal Adams, eyes closed. A massive gray machine gun of some sort was lying on the desk, the oversized barrel covering the door. His hand rested lightly on the pistol grip. By the door to the day room were three of his squad, similarly armed, machine guns slung on shoulder straps. All three had evil grins on their faces.
“What the fuck?” asked Stewart and stepped forward for his squad to enter behind him. At the first glimpse of the tableau the squad began to spread out, some of them taking up positions to look out windows while others fanned out through the room. Wilson simply spun around to cover Stewart’s back.
Adams rolled his head up and cracked one eyelid.
“Top wants to see you in his office,” rasped the drill corporal. “Now.” He jerked his head towards the corridor and closed his eyes again.
Stewart took one more look then headed down the corridor. The corridor followed the far wall of the barracks to another open area. In the open area was another desk that had Ampele sprawled across it, mouth open wide and snoring. An MP private was sitting in the chair of