NationStates Jolt Archive

With a stark face, a plug of tobacco in his lip, and a slow, paced walk, Commander-General Mark Spitz stared at the several men on the large platform. Taw! A round left the barrel of one of the men's weapons, heading downrange toward a nearly invisible target. The platform was large, made of wood, capable of holding several men at a time. The men currently onboard were all lying down, in the prone position, firing their rifles, obvious to Spitz as being Remington 700s, his favorite hunting rifle. Several more rounds fired off, with instructors standing by with their binoculars, signaling either a hit or a miss. Spitz continued to walk, peering over a small ridge, toward the new running track. No stands, no concession stands, just the track. He watched as the eight men on the track rounded the nearest turn, and sprinted to the end of the straightaway. Three men on the sides of the finishing point jotted down, presumeably times, on paper.

"Hey, Mark," a voice shouted from behind. Spitz turned around, squinting as the sun came onto his eyes. "What?" he replied.

"You see those guys down there running?"

"They just got done."

"Well, yeah. Anyway, that was those guys we pulled for SOF-D. We had them run that mile you were talking about the other night."

"Yeah? And how'd they do?"

"Let me just say this. The guy who came in first ran a 3:51 and the guy who came in last ran a 3:59.2."

"That's good...that's real good. We did say to be considered they had to run sub-four, right?"

"Yeah. And they did it. The only problem is that's just eight guys. We need twelve for a team. What'd you think?"

"Not much, but it's all we got."

"That's true."

"Yeah it is. Hey Jim, I need a total report on my desk by midnight tonight. Men, units, equipment, everything."

"Sitport?"

"Nah, I just want to know where we are."

"Aight, you got it. I gotta get back to the shotgun course. They're having a field day in there."

"Hahaha, I'm sure. See you later, Jim," Spitz said. Stupid Colonel, he thought.

-----

Commander-General Mark Spitz sat in his office, on the far end of the Command Building at Masekela Military Base. He opened the manilla folder in front of him.

Four thousand eighty-two men. All in the latter stages of training. Eight prospects for SOF-D. Sixty-eight pickup trucks. Thirty SUVs. Nine old Hueys. Men are armed with M4s and AKs. Waiting to procure Kevlar vests and "hockey-style" helmets... Spitz read the documents under his breath to himself. I hope the Senate knows what it's doing. They're paying outa' the butt for training. Whose idea was it to bring in old GRUNTs from ole Sniper Country to train these guys? Over five billion on training alone. Then not nearly a hundred million on equipment. Then the rest in the Military Budget going to construct this place. They say when it's all done it'll be the size of Louisiana in the US. Sure, I don't doubt that, but it'll be years before it's ever that big. How are four thousand men supposed to protect the lives of millions? And one single military base for all operations. What the heck is this?! he said to himself, enraging himself as he did. And what about freaking uniforms?! Tomorrow, I'm going to the Senate. We've got some...kinks...to work out.

He stood from his desk, and headed for the door, the motion/heat sensor light turning off as he left.

Clad in khaki pants and a half-tucked white button-up shirt, Commander-General Mark Spitz stood at a large oak podium, finishing his lecture on the need for better and more equipment for the troops of Backwood, not to mention more troops.

"..therefore, as it has been clearly drawn out, any invasion by any foreign power would result in the ultimate demise, if not devastation, of Backwood as a whole. I sincerely urge the Senate to consider more funding for the purpose of recruiting more troops, and better equipment for the men serving this nation."

Many mumbles were heard throughout the large Hall, of the Senate. Finally, the Speaker of the Senate, John Philips, leaned over his microphone and began to speak.

"Commander-General... Mark, listen. I personally understand what you're asking, and I realize your concerns. However, I believe you fail to realize what we as the Senate, the complete governing body of the nation of Backwood, are struggling to do. This nation was founded less than a year ago. Heck, many of us are still coping with the devastation of Sniper Country! We as the Senate are trying to found cities, explore and map the nation, set up a military, intelligence agency, not to mention all the domestic and demographic issues we're currently facing. I understand that some four-thousand men without the best equipment in the world is not enough to keep any large force at bay for an extended period of time, and would never be able to successfully defend this nation from a full-fledged attack or invasion. But, on the other hand, it is all we can really afford at the moment. I know how that must sound to you, but hear me out. We're an isolationist country. We can't risk being open with other nations right now. This is one of the main reasons why we're struggling like we are, not only with the military, but with everything. Citizens are having to establish villages and towns in the middle of forests. There is no real highway system. Look around. Hood is the only real established city in this nation right now. And unless we're looking at it becoming a single megalopolis, we need to expand into the jungles and mountains that cover this area. And later on, the military is going to aide in this. Your argument was mainly for better equipment. And I will assure you that as soon as we can allocate more funds for equipping the troops, we will do so. But as for now, you must settle for what you have. Your men are receiving, as far as I and anyone else in the Senate is concerned, some of the best training this world has to offer. A hundred and fifty GRUNTs that survived Sniper Country's demise are training your men. Some would say that's something to be reckoned with. Not to mention sixty two of those GRUNTs saw action in the Omzian War, and fourteen of them saw action in the Royal Palms Conflict. You have Lee Ramsdell training your men, Mark! The epitome of the SCAF is training your men! The only other person you could ask for would be David Lewis, God rest his soul!"

Spitz stood, silent.

"Ahem, anyway, we'll deliberate on the subject at hand, and you'll get a response within a few days, hopefully. The Senate dismisses Commander-General Mark Spitz from the podium."

Spitz nodded and stepped back, following a man out a door, into a large hallway. His tennis-shoes squeeked across the marble floor, as he made his way to the doors. He opened them and went outside, as the sun broke into his eyes. He donned his Oakley sunglasses and baseball cap, which bore a four-leafed clover on the front and the number "42" on the side. He got in his pick-up truck and rolled the window down. As he pulled away, two AK-47 assault rifles in the bed of the truck slid back, making a clanking noise as the truck sped off. He hoped he had gotten his message through, although it didn't look too promising.

-----

The sun had been down for just a few minutes. John Philips sat at his desk, staring at a sheet of paper. It was a list of the men training his military. Several of these men his father had known. He set the list down, and scooted to his keyboard. He began to type.

To: NATIONAL LEADERS, KNOWN, WORLD
From: JOHN OCEAN PHILIPS II, SENATE SPEAKER, ROGUE NATION OF BACKWOOD
Subject: WORLDVIEW
Code: NONE

"National Leaders:

My name is John Ocean Philips II, Senate Speaker of the Rogue Nation of Backwood. Many of you may remember my father, John Philips, the original Speaker of the Sniper Country Senate. As most of you may also know, he was killed in the decimation of Sniper Country during the Omzian War. I, his son, and countless other Citizens roamed about for what seemed like eternity until finding a piece of unoccupied land. The land we have now settled. And now I come to you, the people of the world, seeking wisdom, advice, and whatever means necessary to have our nation be as successful as many of yours currently are. I thank you for your kindness and time."

-John Philips, Speaker of Senate, Backwood

He then sent the message over the National Database Link, to every known government in the world listed. He silently sat back in his chair, wondering what tomorrow would bring.