September 7th OE 102
Nepal, The Himalayas
10:24 a.m
Somewhere near the lower peaks of the deadly mountain range, a lone red Personal Trooper flew over head scanning for its objective. Which the mission briefing said… what did it say again? The pilot slowly moved to pick up the journal sitting in his overhead compartment, he slowly picked through each page as the Wurger flew on auto pilot. “Where was it? Which page… oh right. The end page of this 3rd journal.” He flipped through the pages so quickly he was as if they were a stack of cards being shuffled by a poker dealer. Each page seemingly filled with scribbles and notes, all describing certain events and jobs, some seemingly even mundane things such as ‘I took ibuprofen last night before bed.’ It was like someone trying to record history, both succeeding at said job and at the same time being quite miserable for the fact he had to log everything himself everyday. His memory wasn’t getting any better.
Finally, the last page. And it seemed empty, of course it was. Half this book wasn’t filled either, that was journal 4 which was filled to the brim. And this was journal 6. With a relaxed sigh, the pilot called out to his coworker to find out what exactly they were doing again. “Hey uhh, I hate to bother you but what was our objective again? Was it like, finding some vehicle? Finding a person? Finding a base?”
Nepal, The Himalayas
10:24 a.m
Somewhere near the lower peaks of the deadly mountain range, a lone red Personal Trooper flew over head scanning for its objective. Which the mission briefing said… what did it say again? The pilot slowly moved to pick up the journal sitting in his overhead compartment, he slowly picked through each page as the Wurger flew on auto pilot. “Where was it? Which page… oh right. The end page of this 3rd journal.” He flipped through the pages so quickly he was as if they were a stack of cards being shuffled by a poker dealer. Each page seemingly filled with scribbles and notes, all describing certain events and jobs, some seemingly even mundane things such as ‘I took ibuprofen last night before bed.’ It was like someone trying to record history, both succeeding at said job and at the same time being quite miserable for the fact he had to log everything himself everyday. His memory wasn’t getting any better.
Finally, the last page. And it seemed empty, of course it was. Half this book wasn’t filled either, that was journal 4 which was filled to the brim. And this was journal 6. With a relaxed sigh, the pilot called out to his coworker to find out what exactly they were doing again. “Hey uhh, I hate to bother you but what was our objective again? Was it like, finding some vehicle? Finding a person? Finding a base?”