Two presents for the sergeant major.Mature

The team arrived at the pickup spot ten minutes before the Chinook reach the destination. Jamal handled point as the sergeant then the corporal was raised up into the hovering stationary Chinook. After a brief postponement, Jamal was hoisted up. The Chinook immediately took off for the home base. Jamal took a seat next to the corporal. The corporal looked at Jamal. ‘Are you some kind of deranged psychopathic killer? You did not have to kill them. You could have tied them up or just knocked them out. Man, you are sick,' he said.


‘Yeah, I know.’ Jamal closed his eyes and went to sleep. What seem like only a few minutes later, Jamal felt someone's hand on his shoulder as he slowly opened his heavy eyelids. ‘Hey, it is time to unload. We are at Fort Hope.' The pilot said. It was approximately 0600 and Jamal had something he really needed to do. The team unloaded and they returned their weapons and equipment.


Sergeant Shelton said, ‘I will see you guys at debriefing at 1400. I am going home to get some sleep.' He started his Dodge and departed.

Corporal Richardson mounted the Harley and took a long stare at Jamal. He shook his head and started his bike. ‘Man, you got some serious issues,' were the final words he spoke to him that night.

The time was 0800; Jamal knew precisely where the sergeant major would be. At 0400, he runs five miles from the NCO mess hall to the parade ground. At 0600, he trains the base self defense classes. So right around now, he should be just coming into the office. Jamal sat in the Ford as the sergeant major's maroon convertible 1998 Jaguar sped into the parking lot. Sergeant Major Wilson tarried a few minutes to talk to a young lady before he entered Special Operations building. Jamal gradually exited the truck, entered the building, and carefully opened the door of the unit's office. He was carrying his backpack with him. Jamal entered the tranquil office. The sergeant major sat at his desk with his back to the door. Jamal abruptly spoke. ‘Good morning, Sergeant Major.'


The haggard sergeant major turned in his leather chair and looked at Jamal over his glasses. ‘So, private, did you have the guts to carry out your mission,' he inquired.

Jamal emphatically reached into his backpack to retrieve the two bags. He opened them and dumped the rank despicable contents on the desk. By this time, they had developed a very disgusting foul odor and it immediately permeated the entire office. ‘Here they are, Sergeant Major. You tell me.' Jamal wasted an entire day cleaning up the mess in the sergeant major's office. He was also docked one-month pay for that stunt, and spent three weeks in psychotherapy.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed