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the theme of this party's the industrial age: you came in dressed like a train wreck by ableedingpen for military_bluebells, Anthrobrat, nanuk_dain, Itchewsyouup
Fandoms: Generation Kill
29 Jun 2023
Tags
Summary
“You goddamn fucking piece of shit! Rudy! You fucking PTSD psycho! You're just like every other jock piece of shit in high school!”
Brad knew this was partly his fault. He'd enabled this.
None of them got enough sleep in Iraq and Ray was driver of the point vehicle; he had to keep an eye on the road for mines, check the tyres, keep the Humvee in working order when it was only held together with spit and masking tape.
Ray was his RTO; he had to keep his finger on the pulse of information, keep the ever-changing codes and encryptions in his head. Had to be on hand to fix the ancient radios, licking wires and dislodging sand from delicate nooks and crannies, and often while he was already driving.
The entire platoon rode behind him, their lives on his shoulders, and Ray coped by turning to anything that would keep him awake and aware, sharp so that no one else would suffer for his failings.
In the midst of all that, as things deteriorated – lack of sleep, lack of food, piss-poor leadership, the slow erosion of their spirit – could Brad be blamed for turning a blind eye to Ray’s increasingly desperate stimulant abuse?
Brad needed his RTO.
Those weren't just words.