Though, I personally had never serves I was ever involved mentally with all things military. Call it a case of self-survival. The types of personal arms and their capacity. Fighting styles, basic equipment and field orders of the day. All were within the list of curiosities that I slaked incrementally here and there. One opportunity close up to the beast itself had me wondering about my own fate and how I was plotting it. Running into a small group of armored car jockey’s I became privy to the latest light tracked variant sporting what appeared to be top mounted MG’s on a lean and low armored frame. Judging from my vantage point just above the commander’s hatch she was slimline and part of the latest inventory.
I had occasion to tilt a couple of beers wayward without he crew. A mixed bag of hot and sassy youngsters with grit in their teeth and metal in their souls. They all seemed hard and ready to throw caution to the wind with their futures. That is somehow I met up with the Spanish colonel. The SOB and I sat at a small table upon in a remote part of an abandoned school room exchanging varying degrees of hot air. Something told me that not only was he hiding something but it had to do with only one of us walking out that door. I got an armlock around his neck and managed after much effort spent to squeeze the life out of him. Only then realizing that he was wired with a small quantity of C4 with that sort of timer that was imminently going to be set off if I dawdled. Where the Hell things were going to go from there was anybody’s guess as I struggled out into the hallway trying to put as much distance between me and that newly extinct two-faced bandit.