Second To None – First WOT
By Rocza
Email: roczadeb@yahoo.com
Story Status: Complete
Sequel Information: 1. To Sleep, Perchance To Dream, 2. Ay, There’s The Rub, 3. For In This Sleep Of Death, 4. What Dreams May Come, 5. Second To None – Zero Week
Series Information: Jon’s Series (To Sleep Perchance to Dream)
Season: 9
Spoilers: None
Categories: Angst, Episode Tag/Missing Scene, POV
Pairing: None
Content Level: PG-13
Content Warning: Strong Language
Summary: Jon-Jack’s Clone-tries to stay busy during Basic Training – First WOT
Archive Permissions: Any who want it are welcome. Just give me credit.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and Atlantis and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; not me. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author’s consent.
Author’s Notes: Here is part 6 in this series. Yes, the often called for ‘mini-me in basic’ story, part two. Any ideas for new practical jokes are more than welcome. My only requirement is that they do not injure anything but the pride of the target and that they involve readily available items. If you can’t buy it at Wal-Mart, it is not readily available.
Special Thanks: To my husband, Sgt Snuffy, for helping me organize my pranks and for the wonderful suggestion of putting the glitter trap in the Snake Pit. To Spec Skippy and his list of infinite possibilities and JillPadelf for directing me to it.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
“Activity and sadness are incompatible.” Unknown Source
Week One Agenda: Weapons Issue, M-16 Breakdown & Reassembly, First Week Briefing, Records/ID Processing, Medical & Dental Processing, Dress & Appearance I, Rank Recognition
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
Jon woke to the sound of reveille Sunday morning and the shouting of the two TI’s. He hoped they liked his gift this morning. He had left a six pack of No-Doz on the desk after returning from his latest recon and acquisition trip. Since TSgt Vega had appointed Jon the Dorm Chief, Jon found it easier to slip in and out at night. The Dorm Chief was the bunk right next to the TI’s office, which also happened to be well out of site of the Dorm Guard. And since the Dorm Guard was the only one awake all night long, he was easy to bypass.
The TI had made Jon and the other Element Leaders switch bunks to ‘make them more accessible.’ The Element Leaders were in the first bunk in each row in the bays. Bay A housed Elements One and Two. Bay B housed Elements Three and Four.
Since Jon and the other element leaders had to switch bunks anyway, Jon had made the decision to have everyone bunk in element order. This way the trainees would always be in the correct order. And as TSgt Vega had made perfectly clear on their first day; order is good. Chaos is bad.
“LINE UP FOR PC IN 5,” SrA Reglin barked.
Jon dressed and immediately got to work pushing the stragglers towards the front. He was the last to line up after he and his element leaders cleared the bays and the latrine.
Jon didn’t mind being Dorm Chief. In reality, it involved absolutely no leading. It was just a way for the TI to piece out the responsibility of herding the trainees to their various appointments. Jon figured that if he was going to be singled out anyway, why not be Dorm Chief and save one of the other trainees the grief. Besides, as Dorm Chief, he would be more mobile than the other trainees and thus more able to pull off some of his more elaborate pranks.
Speaking of which, it was almost time for his most elaborate prank. On last night’s acquisition mission, Jon purchased a laptop. It’s amazing what you can find in a 24-hour Wal-Mart store. It took nearly an hour, but he was able to program the laptop to call the public address (PA) system for the squadron through the internet. His next programming feat was to set it up to dial the system at specific times and play pre-recorded messages. The first of which should play at about 0630 this morning, during breakfast.
Jon ate his breakfast quickly and departed for the patio with the rest of his Flight. Just as TSgt Vega exited the building, the PA announcement warning was heard. All around him, trainees snapped to attention.
“Attention in the squadron. All trainees are to make the following change in their ATO, page 15. Insert the following into the diagram for Chain of Command, above Trainee and below Training Instructor – All Creation, including dirt. Repeat – All Creation, including dirt. Contact CQ for details about this change.”
Jon had a clear view of TSgt Vega’s face as the message registered. Surprise and shock were clearly visible. Dutifully, trainees around him began to pull out their ATO’s to make the change. TSgt Vega stood in shock for a full minute, then immediately and loudly started countermanding the order to change the ATO; dressing down any trainee that didn’t immediately put the ATO away.
“O’NEILL! GET ‘EM BACK TO THE DORM NOW!” TSgt Vega hollered and then strode away for the doorway to the CQ, leaving confused trainees in his wake.
Once he was gone, Jon was unable to contain his smile. Grinning he called out, “FLIGHT 1342, FALL IN!” His Flight quickly formed up and they marched the short distance back to their dorm. Once back in the dorm, he told them to clean their bunk areas and their assigned common areas.
A half hour later, TSgt Vega and SrA Reglin still hadn’t shown up. Jon was running out of things to keep them busy. So, with nothing else, he started an impromptu ATO class in the dayroom; starting with rank recognition.
“I’ll never get the order for the flag officers right,” one trainee announced. “I mean, why is Lieutenant General higher than Major General, when a Major outranks a Lieutenant. And why in the hell are they called flag officers instead of Generals.”
Jon grinned. They were trying to apply logic to the military. “Because they post a flag outside the building when they are in residence and an Admiral is a flag officer, but not a General. Just memorize it. Don’t analyze it.”
“Right, just memorize it,” came another trainee’s dry response.
“Let me make it easy for you. Brigadier General, Major General, Lieutenant General, General. Be My Little General,” Jon laughed at their reactions to the memory device.
“Cool! Where did you learn that?”
Jon shrugged, “My uncle gave me a few pointers. Of course, it helps that I’ve been around Air Forces bases for most of my life.” Well, most of Jack’s life anyway.
“You have another one for the other ranks?” a third trainee asked.
Jon thought carefully, “Not as good as that one. Let’s see…
“Airman Basic – basically knows nothing, so no stripes…
“Airman – may know something but isn’t sure what, one stripe for still being a baby…
“Airman First Class – is absolutely sure that they want a First Class ticket home, two stripes...
“Senior Airman – been an Airman so long they qualify for social security benefits, three stripes...
“Staff Sergeant – had staff surgically implanted upon promotion, four stripes...
“Technical Sergeant – technically a sergeant, but acts like an officer, five stripes…
“Master Sergeant – slave driver, six stripes, one over the top to protect from all the shit from above…
“Senior Master Sergeant – been a MSgt so long they qualify for social security benefits, seven stripes, two over the top since the shit from above has doubled…
“Chief Master Sergeant – God of all he surveys, eight stripes, three over the top, immune from all the shit from above…
“Command Chief Master Sergeant – Base Commander’s pet Chief, eight stripes with a star, often thinks he is equal with a Brigadier General…
“Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force – Air Force Chief of Staff’s pet Chief, eight stripes with an eagle and wreath, having learned from being a CCMS, he now thinks he only outranks full bird Colonels…”
Jon heard a snort from the hallway and froze. Shit! He whipped around and peeked out the dayroom door to see SrA Reglin taking deep breaths to try and control his laughter and wiping tears away. Jon turned and jerked his thumb at the door and mouthed ‘Reglin.’ The rest of the Flight quickly became quiet and studied their ATO’s closely.
A few minutes later, SrA Reglin entered the dayroom looking as serious as ever. He chewed Jon out for daring to ‘sully the honorable ranks’ with his trite comments. Then he dispersed the Flight to various cleaning duties and for the various religious services.
That afternoon, the trainees were escorted to the break patio and allowed to call home. However, they were only allowed three minutes to let their loved ones know that they had arrived safely and here was their new mailing address. The quick call both helped and hurt. Jon called Daniel knowing he wouldn’t be home and left a message on his machine.
Later, through the gossip chain, Jon heard that someone had placed fake vomit in every water fountain in the building, including each of the guarded dormitories. Trainee speculation was high on which TI had masterminded the prank as they polished their boots on the patio that evening. The trainees turned in to bed exhausted, but ready to face the coming week.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
The Flight woke to the sound of Manic Monday by the Bangles instead of the usual reveille, followed by a very pissed off TSgt Vega shouting at the PA speaker. Jon was sure that that particular shade of red indicated a dangerously high blood pressure. He would have commented on it, but found that he liked his head firmly attached to his shoulders.
As PC and breakfast seemed to progress without any more practical jokes, TSgt Vega seemed to regain some of his equilibrium. The Flight proceeded to the processing center and completed their tasks without incident. TSgt Vega and SrA Reglin were back into top shouting form. Well, they were loud anyway. Lunch was the typical eat on the run and execute escape and evasion (E&E) techniques when near the Snake Pit. However, the TI’s in the Snake Pit were impossible to evade. Finally free from the dining facility, the Flight was just forming up on the covered deck when a blue rope TI stormed out of the CQ doorway.
“YOU,” he shouted at TSgt Vega. “HAVE YOUR FLIGHT FORM A BUCKET BRIGADE AND FOLLOW ME.”
“ELEMENT ONE, RETURN THE DORM AND BRING THE BUCKETS AND MOPS. ELEMENTS TWO THROUGH FOUR, STAND FAST. O’NEILL ON ME,” TSgt Vega ordered and followed the blue rope back into the CQ hallway. Jon followed closely. What he saw as he entered the main CQ area was a vast wall of bubbles, floor to ceiling, pouring out of the CQ latrine doorway. The three TI’s were valiantly trying to contain the mass from spreading further into the room while the Squadron Commander, Colonel Harding was wading into the latrine trying to find its source.
“TRAINEE, HAVE YOUR FLIGHT START TRANSPORTING THIS MESS TO THE PARKING LOT!” the blue rope barked.
“YES, SIR!” Jon replied, before running back to the Flight. “FLIGHT, FALL OUT AND FOLLOW ME!” The Flight hurried after him into the hallway.
Jon directed the element leaders to coordinate the Flight into a bubble transport team. Before too long they had eliminated enough of the bubbles for Colonel Harding to find the cause of the mess.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
The practical joker had struck again. Someone had dumped a bottle of dish shop in each of the toilets in the latrine and then added dry ice. The bubbling toilets had quickly filled the small latrine with bubbles. They only stopped when the dry ice was removed. Colonel Harding was pissed. No, pissed didn’t quite cover it.
Livid and soaking wet, Col. Harding stood in the latrine doorway angry enough to eat nails. The joker would pay. Article 15, loss of a stripe, no make that all their stripes, correctional custody for at least a month, maybe more. Mumbling about Article 15’s and correctional custody, Col. Harding exited the latrine and surveyed the damage.
The latrine was soaked and still had bubbles in every nook and cranny, even the ceiling tiles were wet. However, everything in there was water proof. So, no real damage. The CQ reception area, however, was another matter. The carpet nearest the latrine was soaked. The posters and other notices on the walls surrounding the latrine door were wet and in some cases unreadable. The bubbles hadn’t reached the desk or any of the electronic equipment. So, physical damage was limited to some posters and paper. However, the damage to the unit’s reputation was more extensive and harder to repair.
“Have this latrine and carpet cleaned and replace that,” he pointed to the paperwork on the walls. “And just where in the hell are those damn Captains of mine?”
The TI on CQ duty, looked up, “At lunch, Sir.”
“Lunch. Great.” Col. Harding continued to scan for physical damage when he noticed the sneakers. What? Then he noticed almost an entire training Flight lining the hallway. A baby Flight. Sneakers meant they were still in their First WOT. Just perfect!
The other practical jokes had been harmless, but more importantly, they had been relatively invisible to the trainees. A few harmless crank calls, a bogus PA announcement, and a sudden rash of red piss didn’t harm the morale of the unit. If anything, it helped to relieve some of the strain the instructors were under.
But this prank had gone too far. It was visible to the trainees and undermined the authority of the TI’s. And not just any trainees, but a whole baby Flight of trainees.
Mother-effing hell! Someone will pay! He wound up to give good verbal tongue lashing on all the TI’s present, when the PA sounded. Surprised, he glared at the TI on CQ duty who was well away from the controls.
“Attention in the Squadron. All Training Instructors are required to report to the Anger Management Class in Room 104 in lieu of dinner. Repeat, all Training Instructors are required to report to the Anger Management Class in Room 104 in lieu of dinner. Contact Col. Harding for details.”
The colonel’s eyes snapped to each of the three TI’s present in the CQ office. “What a good idea,” the colonel replied in a very low and dangerous voice. “This ends today. I want all instructors in the conference room at 1800. The rest of the squadron is on lock down at that time.”
“YES, SIR!” the TI’s chorused.
“Dismissed!” Col. Harding spun around and headed to the locker-room to change into a clean uniform.
“FLIGHT 1342, FORM UP OUTSIDE.”
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
TSgt Vega left the classroom after the commander had dressed down the entire cadre of instructors. He spent extra time dressing down the poor CQ TI in front of the entire cadre. The Colonel then made it perfectly clear that anyone who played a practical joke would be immediately sent to correctional custody, or CC, for an attitude adjustment. He also made it clear that it was everyone’s top priority to determine who the prankster was and to report them and any of their pranks immediately.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Col. Harding had pulled him aside and asked him if he would need any help controlling the potential damage this incident did to his baby Flight. TSgt Vega was to report on the status of the discipline and morale of his Flight to the commander daily. DAILY! Hell, no, he didn’t need any help. He wasn’t even sure if any damage was done. He was on his way to CQ now to do a ‘listen in’ and find out what his Flight had been up to during the lock down.
The CQ intercom could be activated in the dorm without the dorm residents knowing. This allowed the CQ on duty to listen in on any conversations. It was usually used with the older Flights that had earned some TI-free time. If the Flight violated that trust, the TI would know and the Flight would be clueless as to how the TI had found out.
“I want to listen in on 5-A,” he told the CQ.
The CQ hit the mute and then the intercom button for 5-A. Muffled voices could be heard, “Pick it up… faster… Thomas, have the Latrine Queen and the rest of the Bowling Team finish up and join the rest of us in the drills… Everyone to their bunks… Ready. Line up… Nope, we need to be faster… Back! Let’s try it again. Ready. Line up…”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” the CQ muttered.
TSgt Vega grinned, “So much for damage control. They don’t seem to be slacking off on the discipline at all. Heck, they’ve been unsupervised for almost and hour and they are still working.”
“…Come on, O’Neill. It’s not like the TI is here. We should be kicking back…” a voice drifted through the speaker.
“…Look, Tinney, this isn’t about the TI. It’s about getting our shit together as a Flight. We have this opportunity to practice without the TI’s yelling at us. Seize the damn day, already. Now, either line up or get the f—k out of our way. Comprede muchacho?...” TSgt Vega recognized his Dorm Chief’s voice.
“…Yeah, fine, whatever…” came the second voice again.
“…Alright, again. Let’s make this one our personal best… Ready. Line up!...”
TSgt Vega smiled. The kid may not scare easy, but he sure knew how to build teamwork. He would rather have a competent Dorm Chief over an intimidated trainee any day “Shut it off. Thanks for the help,” he called as he left to rejoin his Flight.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
Tuesday dawned bright and early to the normal sound of reveille. TSgt Vega was in a good mood as a result. Hopefully, Col Harding had scared the prankster into hiding permanently. By breakfast, TSgt Vega was almost whistling. He ordered the Flight into breakfast and headed to the CQ to pick up some requisition forms. He had almost made it to the Snake Pit to sit down for breakfast, when he heard a snap, like a mouse trap. Looking up, he watched in horror as a cloud of blue and silver glitter fell from the ceiling right onto the four TI’s in the Snake Pit.
Oh my God!
Taking several steps back to avoid the drifting glitter, TSgt Vega did a quick scan of the room to see that the entire room was watching the TI’s in stunned silence, even the trainees on KP. Shit! Shit! Shit!
The blue rope TI in the Snake Pit rose to his feet slowly, sending glitter drifting in every direction. He glanced at the other victims. When one tried to speak, he stopped them with a single finger. Then spoke with deadly calm, “Gentlemen, please go change. TSgt Vega, please coordinate with the KP team to clean this mess up. I’ll go inform the Commander.”
In silence the glitter-covered TI’s exited the dining facility. Once they left, the trainees immediately started shoveling breakfast down as quickly as possible. Apparently, none of them wanted to remain for the commander’s arrival. TSgt Vega couldn’t blame them. He didn’t want to stay either. Sighing, he left to find the contractor in charge of the dining facility.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
TSgt Vega began to tense up again as his Flight approached the squadron area. He was dreading the return to the practical joke free-for-all at the squadron. Once he had marched his Flight away, he had been able to relax a bit without worrying about becoming the next victim of a practical joke.
Of course, he had taken most of his frustration out on his trainees, as it should be. Though, he honestly didn’t see too many mistakes or errors. They still couldn’t drill quite yet, but they had only been at it a week. They still bounced too much, but that would go away with time.
They had worked well this morning at the armory. Each trainee had been issued their training weapons, and received several hours training on breaking down and reassembling the M-16. They would practice and clean the weapons tonight and attempt to qualify on the range tomorrow. That left this afternoon for drill practice.
The only unusual incidents outside the practical jokes had involved his Dorm Chief, as usual. When the Combat Arms Technician handed the rifle to Trainee O’Neill, the trainee had quickly cleared the weapon without instruction and nodded to the technician before moving on to the next station.
Later, the trainee had asked him if they were required to sling the weapons over their shoulder or could they cross-hang them, as long as everyone hung them the same way. When asked to demonstrate, he repositioned the rifle so that it hung free on his chest, leaving his hands free. Seeing the advantages to this position, TSgt Vega approved and watched as the trainee instructed the others in how to hang the rifle correctly.
Throughout the morning, TSgt Vega felt vaguely uneasy at the casual way the trainee handled the rifle, like it belonged there. In a way, he guessed that it did. He had caught the trainee casually resting his arms on the weapon. Another time, the trainee had been directing the other trainees with his left hand while his right rested ready on the grip of the rifle, but his finger never strayed to the trigger. He was obviously familiar with the weapon and had handled it loaded many times before. That kind of training always showed true. Even John Wayne could never seem to keep his finger off the trigger though he was as casual in his handling.
The other thing that bothered TSgt Vega was that O’Neill almost acted like a different person carrying the M-16. He oozed a command presence that no recruit should have, especially in First WOT. TSgt Vega felt that he was catching a glimpse of the man that the kid would eventually grow into. TSgt Vega felt a surge of pride that he would have a hand in shaping that future man, to help him grow to reach his full potential.
Yup, some days being a TI was worth every sleepless night and every bout with laryngitis.
“FLIGHT, HALT,” he called out, having reached the dorm. “CLEAN UP, RACK THE WEAPONS, AND RETURN HERE FOR DRILL IN 5. FALL OUT.”
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
That evening, just before lights out, the PA activated again. “Attention in the Squadron. Until further notice, God may not contradict any orders given by the Training Instructors. Repeat, God may not contradict any orders given by the Training Instructors. God must contact the Chaplin’s Office directly to request a change of orders. Contact Chaplin’s Office for details.”
TSgt Vega sighed and called lights out as his Flight settled in to sleep.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
And so the week progressed.
Wednesday morning saw the floors of the dining facility covered in a snap power concoction made from mixing iodine crystals and ammonia and allowed to dry. It would pop and spark with each step. KP detail was ordered to carefully clean it up and to dispose of it in a metal trash can for pick up and disposal. However, SrA Reglin had heard from another TI that the occasional snap could still be heard throughout lunch.
The Flight spent Wednesday at the firing range, taking MRE’s for lunch. Ten trainees initially failed to qualify at all and had to be coached into Category III. Another 12 qualified as Category III, 9 in Category II, and the reminder in Category I. 7 shot expert. And one trainee had a perfect score, a first for TSgt Vega. However, TSgt Vega was unsurprised to find that O’Neill was the trainee.
The evening prank announcement came over the PA just after 1900 hours. “Attention in the Squadron. Until further notice, the proper form of address for the Squadron Commander is Colonel or Sir. Anyone found addressing the commander as ‘His Majesty’ or ‘Dad’ will be reported to the First Sergeant.”
It was quickly followed by another not so bogus announcement, “All Flights send a runner to CQ. Repeat, all Flights send a runner to CQ.”
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
Thursday was spent in the classroom and on the parade ground drilling. It wasn’t until late evening that TSgt Vega learned about the latest prank. The trickster had snuck into the Commander’s office and using a single piece of string, connected everything in the office. Once the commander opened the door the whole room was disrupted.
The commander had the phone number to the PA system changed the night before, but the trickster had found the new number and dinner was greeted with: “Attention in the squadron. Each Flight needs to send a runner to CQ to pick up the monthly supply of Flight line. Repeat, each Flight needs to send a runner to CQ to pick up the monthly supply of Flight line.” The two TI’s in the Snake Pit were unable to hide their snorts of laughter from the trainees. The trainees in-turn shrugged confused about the joke.
Friday morning greeted the trainees with the Finally Friday song by Kenny Chesney. TSgt Vega just grinned and pushed his trainees down to PC. At breakfast, they found all the sugar dispensers were superglued to the tables.
TSgt Vega actually sighed in relief. The main prank was over so they could get on with their day. Only the PA announcement was left, and that wouldn’t ruin his day. He thought that it should bother him that these pranks were becoming routine. But then made a conscious decision not to care. So with a clear mind, he formed up the trainees and led them off to Wilford Hall Medical Center for final medical and dental screening.
That evening over dinner he actually cracked a grin at the prank announcement, “Attention in the Squadron. Any trainee interested in donating funds to the Anti-Mime campaign in Bosnia, please contact your TI. Repeat, any trainee interested in donating funds to the Anti-Mime campaign in Bosnia, please contact your TI. Please, help stop this silent killer.”
By Saturday, the whole unit had adjusted to the new atmosphere. Everyone was on pins and needles until the prank, and then everyone relaxed and enjoyed the brief respite from the all too serious task of training.
Overall unit morale had improved and for this reason alone, Col. Harding had backed off of his ‘zero tolerance’ stance. However, he was still ready to jump on any training Flight that failed to demonstrate the proper level of discipline in or out of the squadron area.
Saturday’s prank didn’t manifest until lunch. This time, the salt shakers were sabotaged using baking soda and lemon juice separated by tissue paper. When the victim tried to get some salt, the tissue dissolved and triggered a chemical reaction that popped the lid off the salt shaker and sprayed foam everywhere. Four of the booby-trapped shakers had gone off before the remaining shakers were carefully removed from the dining facility.
TSgt Vega had just finished turning over the Flight to SrA Reglin and was just leaving the squadron area for some well deserved rest at home, when the day’s bogus announcement came over the PA.
“Attention in the squadron. All trainees are to make the following change in their ATO, page 42. Add the following as an additional detection technique in the ATSO section. Final determination for dissipation of detected chemical agent will now be ‘rip the MCU-2 mask off the closest 2Lt.’ Repeat, ‘rip the MCU-2 mask off the closest 2Lt.’ If 2Lt continues to glare steadily at you, the chemical agent has dissipated. All questions should be directed to the Readiness Office.”
Chuckling, he climbed into his car and headed for home.
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
END FIRST WOT – Story continued in Second to None-Second WOT
Preview of Second WOT Agenda: Rendering Courtesies, Human Relations, Self Aid and Buddy Care, Law of Armed Conflict, Code of Conduct, Cultural Sensitivity, Weapons Cleaning, Warrior Role, Job Classification Interviews
~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG~~SG
End Notes:
Almost all the practical jokes in this story came from this website. Fun reading or instructional primer? You be the judge. http://www.lysator.liu.se/jokes/practical.html
Military pranks and Skippy’s List can be found at http://www.skippyslist.com/
Acronyms:
ATO – Airman’s Training Order
ATSO – Ability to Survive and Operate – instructions for chemical warfare survival training.
Blue Rope – This is a TI with a light blue rope around their smoky the bear hat. It denotes that they supervise the TI’s and are therefore 10 times meaner than any single TI. There are usually 4 assigned to a training squadron and they are always Senior NCO’s.
CC – Correctional Custody
CQ – Charge of Quarters – this is the central command center for the dormitories.
E&E – escape and evasion – used when entering hostile territory
ID – Identification
KP – Kitchen Patrol
M-16 – Fully automatic rifle, firing a .223 round from a 30 round magazine. Maximum effective range for a point target is 602 yards. For an area target is 875 yards.
MCU-2 – This is one of many kinds of military chemical attack gas masks. The MCU-2 is currently the one most widely distributed in the USAF.
MRE – Meal, Ready-To-Eat
PA – Public Address – usually an overhead announcement system. Specific systems target a single building or the entire installation.
PC – Physical Conditioning
POV – Point of View
Snake Pit – Place in the BMT Dining Facility were the TI’s eat and observe the trainees. It is positioned so that a trainee must pass the table to go anywhere in the dining facility. Trainees must use caution when passing the Snake Pit so as not to encourage the TI’s to strike out and bite the trainees, like vipers.
TI – Training Instructor
WOT – Week of Training
Enlisted Rank:
AB – Airman Basic
Amn – Airman
A1C – Airman First Class
SrA – Senior Airman
SSgt – Staff Sergeant
TSgt – Technical Sergeant
MSgt – Master Sergeant
SMSgt – Senior Master Sergeant
CMSgt – Chief Master Sergeant
CCMS – Command Chief Master Sergeant – technically the same as a CMSgt but don’t think they aren’t a lot more powerful than a regular Chief.
CMAF – Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force
Commissioned Rank:
2Lt – Second Lieutenant – butter bar
1Lt – First Lieutenant
Capt – Captain
Maj – Major
LtCol – Lieutenant Colonel
Col – Colonel – also known as a mess officer, full bird, and full bull.
BG – Brigadier General
MG – Major General
LG – Lieutenant General
GEN - General
Heliopolis Main Archive
A Stargate: SG-1 Fanfiction Site
Second To None
by RoczaSite Navigation
Support Heliopolis