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Messages - James Hendricks

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Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: May 01, 2017, 03:24:28 AM »
Sully had gone home after his visit. There was no more work on base to be done, and he had a half-carved chair in his garage that was calling his name. He settled in with a jar of shine, his tools (nothing powered, he was drinking after all). He began carving one of the arm rests. It was cathartic, and just what he needed.

The night stretched on and he kept carving. He was about halfway through the bottle of shine by that point - 'Damn this batch was weak.' he thought. He finished the chair and sat in it. It creaked, but held. It needed stain and a good sealant, but at least the carving was done. It was a rocking chair, so he began to go back and forth - that's when his phone dinged in his pocket.

Fishing it out he saw her text. He was beginning to think she wouldn't text back.

I don't want to fight either. I just wanted to make sure you're alright.

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: May 01, 2017, 02:53:37 AM »
Lainey had known Sully as long as he'd been at Bragg, which had been a long time now. She had no idea of his true posting, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she'd pieced it together. Clerks don't normally get long training deployments.

"Thanks Lainey. I mean it." He said to her before she set about her work.

The doctor was cordial, but he could tell the guy had a chip on his shoulder. Who could blame him? He didn't know Sully from Adam. He didn't know their history, he just saw some dick of a meathead soldier who had made a friend cry.

So, he was happy a couple hours later to be out of that place. The doctor had signed off on everything physically, and the head shrinker had as well. That out of the way, he made his way to his truck. By that point, it was getting close to 1700. He knew he should've come early.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, and took the number that Lainey and written down. He added it in his contacts under "Red". Then he took a dive. A short text, just enough to see if she even wanted to talk more.

Hey, I feel like an asshole. Can we try that one more time?

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: May 01, 2017, 12:26:35 AM »
"Damn it." He sighed as she left. He tried to say something but nothing that could fix this came to mind. He let her leave, for the second time, and mumbled to himself as she did so. She was right. The army had him, and beyond that, the unit. It wasn't something that was easy to get out of your blood. It wasn't like they had normal operating rotations. And he was often deep in country, with no way to contact her.

He was deep in thought when Lainey strolled in, and the sound of the door closing startled him out of it. The way she was looking at him told him that she had either heard everything or Ellie had told it. Her pursed lips told it all.

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 11:53:14 PM »
The look on her face was what sold it, he knew he'd crossed the line and he - like always - immediately felt regret. "Look, Red, I'm just trying to say that there's a lot of shit between us. Ain't nobody debating that." He told her. "I know I was a shit husband. Probably would've been a shit father." His temper was gone now, replaced by regret.

He gave a shrug. "I just wanted you to know that I wish things had been different. For you, I mean. I took you away from Kentucky and I know that."

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 11:32:13 PM »
"The fuck you want me to say Ellie?" He said to her, after she'd said her peace. "I took the selection cadre position. I stopped deploying." He shook his head. "And it wasn't enough." He sighed. "You know I'm always fuckin' sorry. I wish I had been there when it happened." He rubbed his face now, another sigh escaping him.

"I'm glad you're good with this." he said at last. "Cause I sure as fuck ain't tryin' to change it." He said, still angry.

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 11:10:29 PM »
She was mad. And he knew when she was mad what would happen, but now he was mad too. He hadn't meant it like that. "Christ, Ellie. You know I didn't mean it like that." He fired back. "You know I ain't tryin' to cause fights." When he got angry, the g's started to drop. "I was just sayin' I'm glad you're not with someone else.."

He sighed, she threw the divorce in his face. "And don't fuckin' forget I wasn't the one that did the leavin'." A breath. "You." He pointed at her. "Left me" the finger poked into his own chest as he indicated himself. "Remember?"

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 10:11:30 PM »
"A cat.." He said, laughing with her now. She always had made him jealous. When they'd first met, she'd been bookish, a straight A student and head of the student body. He'd been a jock, a rebel, and had often cut class. But there was something about her, likely the way she'd called him on his bullshit from day one, that had attracted him.

He'd had to fight to get her, but he hadn't fought not to lose her. And that is exactly what had happened. "Well, I have to say I'm glad that it's just a cat." he added after a pause. "I mean, any guy would be lucky to have you. But..yeah." He said, trailing off. He felt like a kid in her presence. She had always been so proper. And he had an obvious drawl and had to work hard to avoid double negatives.

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 09:47:46 PM »
It's fine. He'd heard those exact words, in that exact same delivery escape those lips multiple times. And they pulled him back to arguments passed. It obviously wasn't fine, he'd always say. But most of what hadn't been fine had revolved around his line of work. Long months alone for her. Not being able to even speak openly about what her husband did. Deployments were secretive. No sending off parties or welcome homes. Deployments would regularly get extended.

He knew it had been harder for her after what had happened. She had wanted children, but that hadn't worked out. That had been when things had begun breaking down. And from there it had been a slow, spiraling decay.

"Henri?" He asked feeling a wave of jealousy tighten his gut. "New boyfriend?" He added, before she could answer. She'd taken the cuff off by that point, but if she still had it on she'd notice his blood pressure raise just slightly.

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 08:44:52 PM »
"Right, ok." He should've known that. But she had a way of making him stupid. He shifted again, unresolved feelings sinking into his mind as the minutes stretched on. Their marriage hadn't been bitter. Not at first. But it had gotten that way. By the end, they were barely speaking even when he was home. And when he wasn't? Well, they had grown apart and she had left.

"Yeah. I mean.." he wasn't good at this. "I know how hard it was for you. After - everything." He said, trying not to touch a nerve. "But you seem good here, yeah?" He added, again, trying not to step into a landmine.

He rubbed his beard, eyes scanning her. He caught sight of her name badge. 'Clark'. For some reason it made him feel off that she'd dropped his name. Jealous? He didn't know.

Historical Missions / Re: An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 08:08:29 PM »
The door swung open and he looked up. Before his brain made the connection, she'd goaded him with that nickname - Jamie. "Ah fuck me.." He said, running a hand over his face. It just had to be Ellie. It was like the cosmos wanted to fuck with him as much as it could today. He took a breath and looked into her eyes. She was wearing glasses. She wore glasses when they first met.

"You're not the one giving the exam, are you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  This was going to be extremely awkward. It wasn't like they had never been in a situation like this before, but the current dynamic was..interesting to say the least.

Ellie and he had been the love at first sight, high school sweethearts that everyone knew would get married. But years passed and their relationship cooled. Finally she had enough of him, the unit, and the life it brought and had asked for a divorce. This was the first time he'd seen her in over a year - the last time was when she needed his signature to sell their house in Fayetteville.

"You're looking good." He said, finally. "How long have you worked here?"

Historical Missions / An Apple a Day
« on: April 30, 2017, 07:26:56 PM »
January 2017, Ft. Bragg, North Carolina

Sully hated these days. Draw down and recuperation weeks seemed to drag on, and it was time for his annual medical and pysch eval. And since, to maintain a sense of transparency, the DoD required the team to see non-CAG medical and psych personnel. That meant going to the medical center, Womack, and a whole shit ton of paperwork.

He made his way from the kill house, where he and his team had been running the new operator, Vegas they called him, through some drills to get him up to full readiness. He fished his keys out of his pocket and found his truck in the parking lot. It was a beat up 4x4 Chevy, but it got him from point A to point B, and that's all that mattered to him. Starting up the engine he pulled out of the complex and out into main Bragg facility.

A short ride later, he was at the medical center. Soldiers and support staff filtered in and out, most with their families. He shut off the engine after parking the truck and exited the vehicle, walking towards the front entrance.

The waiting room for the Deployment Health department was busy. Bragg was about to deploy troops on a few major ops. Argentina was going to shit. Syria was still the wild west, and the DoD had committed two thousand more troops. Then you had the regular rattling of sabers from North Korea, Iran, and other wannabe world dictators.

He signed in, was handed a pen, stack of paperwork, and told to have a seat. Finding an empty chair, he piled into the paperwork. Most of the questions were standard, but he knew his answers would be scrutinized heavily by both the doctors at the center and the brass in the unit.

Sully finished the paperwork and handed it back to the nurse behind the desk, returning to his seat and pulling out his phone. He had been playing Tetris for about fifteen minutes when a male orderly opened the door leading to the exam rooms. "Sergeant Hendricks? We're ready for you."

Hendricks stood and followed the man back through the door and to an exam room. "Have a seat, the nurse will be right with you." The orderly instructed. Sully gave a nod and hopped up onto the exam table. His eyes looked around the room, everything was so bright and clinical. It was strange how he felt more uncomfortable here than he did in the depths of some foreign land.

Historical Missions / Re: Urgent Mercy (Operation Whirlwind Phase I)
« on: April 29, 2017, 03:56:51 AM »
Vegas got the net traffic first, he made sure to reply. "Assassin 3, this is Crusader. We read you five by. Be advised, delta zulu is clear. You have three friendlies at your pos, over." He nudged James. "Boss, we got Rangers inbound."

"Alright. We got a good lay of the land. Let's rally back, eh?" He got nods from the other two men. He keyed his PTT. "Voodoo, Redneck.  You got Rangers on you. Try not to scare 'em too bad, brother."

"Rog." Paul replied, giving a signal to rally up. He led Speedy and Castle down the stairs of the manor house where he'd set up a makeshift TOC. The early morning sun was up over the hills now and he could see the shapes moving through the low grass. When they were close, he made sure to identify. "Friendlies!" He called out. By that point, James, Mother, and Vegas were rolling up as well.

"Hate to cut the welcome wagon short, but we got friendlies in contact. Got a UK element under fire." He reported. Vegas was busy running the radio.

"Tango 4, Crusader. Roger troops in contact. Interrogative - you boys need assistance, over."

Historical Missions / Re: Urgent Mercy (Operation Whirlwind Phase I)
« on: April 28, 2017, 06:45:56 PM »
Flashback/Backstory: show
Korengal, Afghanistan - 2004

The sound of distant gunfire reverberated across the valley. A loud pop followed shortly by the crack as the round came nearby the pair of soldiers. The two men, assigned to the 3rd Special Forces Group, hunkered down behind the berm, trying to make themselves even smaller targets.

Somewhere, up on the mountainside, a sniper had engaged them during their patrol.

"Fuck!" The larger man yelled, his thick beard covered in dust from pressing against the dirt. "Last time I volunteer for a mercy run." He said, his words coming in a rush as he moved just slightly to peek up over the dirt mound.


That round had been much, much closer. Only when he heard the hiss of the next round did he know that the sniper had the pair zeroed. This was supposed to be a hearts and minds, moto mission. Taking medicine and bandages to a local family whose daughter had been hurt during fighting between US forces and the Taliban. The Taliban had been on the run from the area, so the jaunt down from their FOB should’ve been a nice, light hike. Key phrasing being should have.

"Sully, I think we've got incoming." The smaller man said, his brown eyes pressed against a pair of binoculars and looking to their east, towards the mountain road that lead down from the sniper's roost. "I'm counting three, make that four victors. Look to be full of heavily armed assholes."

"Copy that." The shorter man, Staff Sergeant James Hendricks replied. "TOA our pos?" He asked, using the slang and shorthand to save time. He pulled out his laminated map, making notes of grids with a grease marker.

"They're cooking. So I'd say they're probably five, ten minutes out at the most."

"Shit." James replied, rubbing his beard.

"Alright pass me the comms." He said.

"Gotcha." His comrade, Stafford, replied.

James keyed the handset. "Raider actual, this is Raider 1-1, how copy, over?"

Static. He twisted the knob.

"I say again, Raider actual this is Raider 1-1, how copy, over?"

" Raider actual, solid copy, send traffic, over."

"Raider we are in contact. One sniper. Four victors inbound our pos, ten mikes out. Request immediate air support, over."

"Understand all, Raider 1-1. Passing you to USAF JTAC on station, call sign Almighty. Send traffic."

"Almighty, Almighty. This is Raider 1-1, troops in contact, request immediate combat air support, over."

"Reading you five by on all Raider 1-1, send your grid, over."

“Grid cords follow: Bravo 34 Sierra 40, keypad 8, request run from west to east if possible, Almighty, over.”

“Grids marked and valid. Passing to Archangel to prosecute, will advise of west to east approach, Almighty out.”

A few seconds later, the sounds of jet turbine engines could be heard. Screaming overhead, a pair of A-10 Thunderbolt IIs, commonly referred to as Warthogs, tipped their wings in unison as they moved into the sun drenched valley. The trucks exploded into flames, and seconds later the actual sounds of the main cannons of the Warthogs could be heard. A loud buzzing sound like a million angry hornets.

“Good effect on targets, Almighty. Raider out.”

"Raider, Raider 1-1, BDA to follow: Four vehicles destroyed, twenty EKIA. We’ve got no movement on the ridge. Good effect on target. Raider 1-1 out."

CAG Ops Center, Ft. Bragg, North Carolina - 3 Days Ago

“James. Sully.” the owner of the voice kicked the chair the bulky, bearded man was sitting in. “Hendricks!” The voice said, shaking James out of his musings, who shook his head and looked up.

“Jesus fuck. What?” James said, a little louder than he’d meant to, causing some heads to turn.

“The briefing is over. You’re sitting here like a fucking ass.” The other man said.

“Christ, Jax. You could’ve just nudged me.”

“I tried.” Came the reply from Christopher ‘Jax’ Jackson. James’s long time friend and fellow team leader within the US Army’s 1st Special Operational Detachment - Delta, now officially called the Combat Applications Group. “So how much did you hear before you zoned out?”

“I heard it all. Just because I was balls deep in thought doesn’t mean I was fucking dead.” He said, pushing himself up from his chair. “Reassigned, political bullshit, national security directive, CIA spooks, yadda yadda.” It had been 16 days since a narcoterrorist had blown up the US embassy in Argentina an attempt to force the government to comply with their demands.

“Yeah. Let’s go see how bad it is.” Jax shrugged.

The pair made their way to the list, as other operators filtered out and around them. Their fellow CAG shooters moving about their day. James put his hands on his hips while he checked it over.

“Well fuck me.” Jax said, shaking his head, his curly brown hair shaking slightly. “They’ve put me in god damn liaison support in Langley.”

James stifled a groan. “What wisdom. Let’s move one of our best field operators and put them behind a desk.”

“Fuck you complaining about?” Jax asked. “You get to go in country and drop some freedom.”

“What?” He read the sheet. His team, Charlie Alpha 2 had been tasked with a low light entry via a presecured airfield followed by direct action against any elements and direction of friendly air assets while further tasks were prepared.

James rubbed his chin. “Whelp that’s that.” He said finally. “Until further notice.” He said, quoting the sheet’s assignment for Jax. “Well man, have fun being in the rear with the gear.” Typically he’d have been excited and ready to be on the frontlines of an engagement.

But this was different, this situation in country was dicey. Everyone could tell that. US involvement in Latin America was necessary, but the US government was hesitant to commit fully, leaving gaps of coverage for other countries to pick up. He pushed that shit away - he had a job to do.

“You still owe me a fiver from our day at the range. Don’t forget that.” Jax said, pushing against James’s shoulder with a closed fist.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” James said chuckling. “See you around.” He responded before he turned and headed towards the elevator. The doors parted, and he stepped in. Riding up in the box was quiet. No elevator music. Almost like a tomb. That silence was broken as the doors opened. The hustle and bustle of the TOC belied the serious nature of the current threat. To the right stood a ready room, he needed to get his gear and get to the tarmac before the next flight left.

He headed into the locker room and grabbed his go bag. Once he slung it over his shoulder, he moved out of the room and back towards the elevator, using it to move back up to ground level and the parking lot. He found the rest of his five man team waiting on him. They’d split his normal team of ten into two separate groups for this run.

“Hey Top.” Said the man up front of the group. Paul “Voodoo” Harris. Former Ranger, and James’ assistant team lead. James gave him a nod before speaking.

“‘Sup Voodoo, you ready to reap the whirlwind?” He asked.

Paul gave a laugh and a firm nod. “Let’s go kick some teeth.”

The group stepped out further into the parking lot, jumping into Paul’s truck for the short ride out of the CAG compound to the airfield. As they pulled up to the gate, they got a wry smile from the old gent sitting in the guard hut.

“Good huntin’.” The man said, his wrinkled face pulling into a smirk. “Have a good ‘un.” He added.

“Have a good one.” Paul replied as they pulled out of the compound and onto the road to Pope field. James, who was sitting shotgun, switched on the radio for some noise during the ride. “In Argentina, the President has formally filed a complaint with the UN Security Council, protesting what he says is imperialism in his country” The truck turned onto Reilly Road, driving slowly to avoid the convoys littering the roadway.

“Latest intel says the president is likely under house arrest or armed guard, and is acting under duress.” A voice from behind James said. It belonged to the most recent addition to the team, Ryan Brown, the team’s radioman and a trained JTAC. Nickname ‘Vegas’. He spoke again. “Wanna bet they ask us to go rescue the poor bastard?”

“Come on Vegas, even for you that’s a gimme.” James replied. He turned his attention back to the radio. “The news from Argentina is grim.” The voice on the radio was saying. “The military has instituted martial law in many provinces.”

Their intel had already confirmed that the military was on the cartel’s payroll. That did complicate things, the cartels were well armed but they didn’t have access to the military hardware that they had now gotten as part of the coup. If he was reading this right, the world was about to turn some pipe hitters loose on Argentina, and then follow it up with a few metric tons of ass kicking.

After a short jaunt, they were at the airfield, James could see a M-28 Skytruck, a STOL fixed wing plane with it’s back stairs down and ready to go. Paul brought the truck to a stop, and the team exited. He tossed the keys to a man standing nearby. “Take her back to the parking garage? Cover is in the toolbox.” The other man nodded and got in, pulling away as the team moved up the stairs and into the M-28.

Puerto Rico - 12 Hours Ago

The flight to Puerto Rico was just long enough for the team to catch some shut eye. When the plane touched down at the airfield, James could already see the full extent of the operation. HMMWVs surrounded the runway, with large walls of sandbags and barbed wire blocking the approach to the landing strip. Army and Marine personnel were on patrol around the cordoned off area.

Looks like the CIA, or whoever was running this show, had clearly begun calling in some assets. He could see a few guys he recognized from DevGru, Marine Raiders, Rangers, and even what looked to be USAF JTACs.  James stood and moved down the ramp as the aircraft powered down for a refuel. His team followed. He slid his sunglasses over his eyes, and then began scanning the scene. He noticed nearby they were loading a pair of GMV 1.1s  into the back of a C130. That was their next ride. When he noticed two men unloading equipment crates and replace them with crates of rice, he cursed silently.

He hustled over. “Ma’am!” He called to a young woman wearing glasses nearby the ramp. The kid couldn’t have been more than late 20s. She offered a hurried word to the two plain clothes men in front of her before turning to face him.

“Can I help you?” She asked sternly. He eyes scanned him, sizing him up silently.

James pulled out his ID. “Master Sergeant James Hendricks. My team and I need to catch that bird.”

“Which unit are you with?” The woman asked, uncertain, checking her tablet.

“I’m afraid that’s classified. I can tell you were are with the US Army.” James responded, his eyes locking with those of the agent. Operational security was paramount, one couldn’t assume this woman had clearance to know their movements. “Your orders for this operation should be filed under national security directive 34.”

“Ah. You’re the CAG team  we pulled to link up with the rebels.” The woman said, turning towards the plane, where the men had stalled their loading of the rice. ”We need more room. Take out one of those GMVs.” She turned back. “Melanie Preston.” she said, introducing herself.. “You’re late and I need to catch that convoy.”

James stifled a grumble as his team did the same. “Apologies ma’am. We’ll get on the bird just as soon as you repack it. We need both of those Flyers and the two crates there that you’ve unloaded back on the plane.”

The CIA agent shook her head. “No can do. Those bags of rice are for the rebels. They must be delivered when you make contact. I’ve left you one GMV and your own personal weapons crates. The AARS and RQ-11 will be air dropped in a later run.

James eyed the plane again and then begrudgingly gave a nod. “Roger that.”  He turned to his team. “We’re down one GMV and our Raven will be off station.” He got nods from his team. They all moved up the ramp. As they arrived, a short man, bald with a goatee wearing a hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts with flipflops ambled down the ramp of the plane. He turned, giving a wave to Hendricks. “You with me?” He said, his accent thick, Midwestern with just a hint of German. Hendricks gave a nod. “Toss your gear in the back. We’re all full so it might be a bit tight.”

Once James and the rest of his team were up the ramp, he caught sight of what the spook meant. Crates of rice were packed floor to ceiling. Their own equipment cases were packed tightly with the GMV. James made room for his team, eyeing the open food crate next to the empty space. Not all rice. The CIA were likely smuggling something that rice, weapons for the resistance. James finished storing his gear and found a seat in the one of the few remaining chairs. The Hawaiian shirt spook came back aboard, and the ramp began to slide closed.

Somewhere over the Argentine/Bolivian border, 0455 LOCAL
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Paul said, shaking his head as he leaned back. The C130 was somewhere over Bolivia, heading towards the Argentine border. “They sent birds in without checking to ensure the cartel had gotten more SAMs active?”

James did not look amused. “Our intelligence held that the cartel had found the location of the MANPADS in the arsenal, but that they had not yet gotten the capability to utilize them.” He replied. “I haven’t gotten to the best part. It wasn’t even a SAM that brought her down.”

Vegas chuckled. “I’m gonna go with intelligence error?” He asked.

“Initial reports are saying mechanical..” James replied. “So gents, our original op is scrubbed. We’ve got a priority one tasker straight from JSOC.” He pulled out a map. “Due to the concern of radar tracking we’re gonna LALO approximately ten klicks away the crash site at this clearing. From there, we’re to perform recon in force and prep a DZ for a Ranger element that will be acting as our QRF when we go in and attempt a rescue.”

Elias Caruso, nickname Mother and the team’s medic spoke up. “Is the pilot wounded?”

“Unknown at this time. We will assume that she is non-ambulatory.” James replied. “We’re to prep for a hot exfil, which looks to be Ospreys from a Navy boat off the coast.”

“ROE?” Asked Paul.

“We’re to visually identify before engaging, but any armed personnel in the area are considered hostile.” James replied. “Be advised that there is at least one friendly SOF element in play, a SBS group who was also retasked.” That got nods from all.

“Gear?” Speedy, the team's weapons sergeant and heavy gunner asked as he continued giving his Mk 48, a heavily modified and updated variant M249 able to camber 7.62.

“What we can carry. No prepared DZ is nearby, so the GMVs and heavier gear will stay on the bird and be dropped to our sister elements further in country. Support elements will be a Ranger recce team, callsign Assassin, who will act as a QRF once we’ve secured the DZ.” He continued, before taking a breath. “We also have air support in the form a B-2.” He turned to Vegas. “Callsign Warhammer-1.” He got a nod from the operator.

The team nodded and without a word began prepping. James made sure he was ready to go, checking his kit. His Vickers M1911 was secure in its holster as he checked to ensure his rifle was ready to go. A LaRue tactical OBR chambered in 7.62. What it lacked in cyclic rate it made up for in stopping power. He’d fitted it with a 4x ACOG site with side canted BUIS. Strapped to his back was a updated version of the M79 40mm launcher, or Thumper.

The rest of the team carried their own particular favored kit for the situation. As mentioned, Speedy was on the pig. Paul carried the classic HK416 variant used by many CAG operators, and as the team’s breacher also had a shorty 12g slung in his assault pack. Mother preferred a shorter barrel for easier transition when performing combat first aid, so he’d opted for a DD M4V4. Vegas ran with an HK416 as well with a 40mm grenade launcher underslung. Rounding out the team, Castle, a former sniper with the Rangers before he became a Special Forces engineer, carried an SR25 fitted with a 6/8/10x scope and cantilevered red dot sight.

Speedy and Paul both also carried M72 LAW antitank rockets. That would hopefully be enough for this mission, but they would sorely miss the additional gear stored in the crates getting dropped to their associated elements further into Argentina.

Near San Pedro, Argentina, 0430 LOCAL

“One minute!” James yelled over the sound of rushing air as the ramp lowered. The early dawn light was enough for him to see the tree tops. He suddenly remembered his days back in the 82nd and his instructor screaming Get off my plane!.

The light went green and the team jumped out of the back of the bird, immediately deploying their parachutes. Thankfully all chutes opened and the clearing was large enough for a slight margin of error. As the last of the team came off the ramp, the plane banked hard to climb up before turning away and back onto its original course.

Each man came to the ground, tucking into a roll and immediately began packing their chutes away. As they got to the edge of the jungle, they stowed the packs under some brush and proceeded on. The clearing would make a good DZ for the Ranger element, but first, they had to ensure the area was secured. It appeared to be a former sugarcane plantation.

“Palace, this is Crusader Actual, how copy, over?” He said after keying his PTT button.

His headset crackled to life a moment later. “Solid copy, reading 5x5 Crusader, send traffic, over.”

“Palace, be advised Crusader is checkpoint alpha, say again, Crusader is checkpoint alpha. proceeding to search and secure for Assassin elements, over.”

“Roger checkpoint alpha, Crusader. Interrogative, any further remarks, over.”

“No further remarks at this time. Crusader out.”

 He turned to his team. “Vegas, Mother, you’re with me. We’re going to go up to that hill and scout the area. Voodoo - you, Speedy, and Castle stay here and secure this LZ. We need those buildings cleared.” He said, pointing to the plantation ruins. “Castle, do what you can to get ready for that QRF.”

Mission Requests / Re: Damsel in Distress
« on: April 27, 2017, 03:23:36 AM »
I like it. The 'Stan would be a familiar place for a lot of the characters involved. Sully(James) has been there a couple of times, haha.

Personnel Files / James Sullivan Hendricks
« on: April 27, 2017, 01:53:35 AM »
Played By: E.J.


    Full Name: Hendricks, James Sullivan

    Age/ Birthday: 39 / 11 January, 1977

   Nationality:  American

    Rank, Title or Position: E-8, Team Sergeant, US Army Combat Applications Group (1st SFOD-D)

    Height: 5'9"

    Build: Muscular

    Related Skills:
      ►Airborne Tab
      ►Ranger Tab
      ►Combat Diver
      ►Combat Life Saver
      ►Weapons Qualifications: Rifle (Sharpshooter), Carbine (Sharpshooter), Auto-Rifle (Sharpshooter), Pistol (Marksman), Machine Gun (Marksman)
      ►SERE School Graduate
      ►Combat and Evasive Driving Qualified
      ►Languages (Spoken): English (fluent), German (fluent), Russian (Proficient), Pashto (limited), Arabic (limited)
      ►Languages (Written): English (fluent), German (fluent), Russian (Proficient), Pashto (limited), Arabic (limited)
   Unrelated Skills:
      ►Musician (Guitar)
      ►Homebrew (Moonshine)

      ►SERE Instructor
      ►CAG Selection Cadre Instructior
      ►MOS: 18B
      ►Secret Level Security Clearance


 James is soldily built and while he is shorter than some, it's barely noticable. His frame is finely toned, but not needlessly so. He values function over form, and therefore is proportionately built. He usually keeps his hair medium length and slicked back, but is known to vary it with a buzz cut or longer length from time to time. His skin is weathered, tanned, and belies the amount of time he spends outdoors. His face is covered in an ample beard that he keeps well groomed.   

 Quiet while he gets to know you, he is a boisterous (but not obnoxious) in social situations. He has a quick wit and an even quicker temper. His anger can cloud his judgement, but has never seriously impeded him while in a dire situation. He enjoys a good joke and likes to blow off steam, so is known to be a practical joker. If you get on his good side he's an intensely loyal friend, but it's best not to get on his bad side. He keeps his friends close, and his enemies within shooting distance.     

 Enjoys woodworking, especially furinture making. Plays guitar in a local thrash bluegrass band called the Pale Riders. When he's got down time, he enjoys spending time on his father's land near Hazard, Kentucky where he's building a cabin. Enjoys homebrewing moonshine and other liquors.

 Field Experience:
◄1995► Graduates high school and enlists in the US Army, assigned to 82nd Airborne.
◄1997► Participates in non-combat jump as part of CENTRAZBAT '97, Kazakhstan/Uzbekistan.
◄1999► Participates in combat jump into Kosovo in support of Operation Rapid Guardian.
◄2000► Requests entry to Ranger Indoctrination Program, accepted.
◄2001► Transferred to 75th Ranger Regiment.
◄2002-2003► First deployment to Afghanistan as part of Task Force Sword (Taskforce 11). Participates as QRF in support of Operation Anaconda in Takur Ghar. Later participates in Operation Mountain Sweep.
◄2003► Returns home. Requests entry into Special Forces Qualification Course, accepted. Passes Assesment and Selection.
◄2004► Finishes SFQC, assigned to 1st Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group.
◄2004-2005► Deploys with 3rd SFG, assigned as ODA 056. Participates in hunt for Taliban leaders and personnel in region.
◄2006► Requests entry into CAG Selection Cadre. Accepted. Does not pass selection. Returns to 3rd SFG.
◄2006-2007► Assigned to SERE Cadre.
◄2008► Given second attempt at CAG Selection. Passes selection. Assigned to C Squadron.
◄2009► Deployed to Somalia in joint DEVGRU/KSK/SAS task force targeting piracy and kidnappings in country.
◄2010-2011► Deployed to Chechnya in partnership with Spetznaz GRU forces hunting Al Qaeda recruiting camps.
◄2012► Works in Libya in support of operations there, part of a secondary response team sent in the days following Benghazi attack to exfiltrate personnel.
◄2013-2015► Assigned to CAG Selection Cadre and assault training course.
◄2016► Deploys to Syria in support of US-backed forces there.
◄2017► Current year.
 Personal History:
 James (who often goes by the nickname "Sully") was born and raised in the coal country of Hazard, Kentucky. His father, a Vietnam veteran, was strict but fair. His mother, a nurse, was killed when James was 5 in a drunk driving accident.

At an early age he was fascinated with the outdoors and often spent more time there than in school. In his early teens, James took up playing football, but didn't find it to be anything he'd ever excel at, but it did give him his first interaction with a team environment. Never a scholar, James often struggled with school work, but was able to graduate high school.

 Before he left for basic James, stereotypically, married his high school sweetheart Elizabeth. His marriage was often impacted by his long deployments and desire to make the Army his career.  In 2013, he and Elizabeth divorced. They have no children together, which simplified the situation, but didn't remove the sting entirely.

 The following are publicly known relationships.

 ♂Michael Andrew Hendricks, father, living - close relationship
 ♀Elena Anne Hendricks, mother, deceased - no relationship
 ♀Elizabeth Marie Hendricks (nee Carter), ex-wife, living - strained but friendly relationship
 ♂Elias "Doc" Caruso, fellow CAG operator, living - friend
 ♂Hector "Speedy" Rodriquez, fellow CAG operator, living - friend
 ♂Paul "Voodoo" Harris, fellow CAG operator, living - friend
 ♂Jack "Dingo" Stephens, DevGru operator, living - friend

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