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crack_van2012-02-07 11:23 pm
http://users.livejournal.com/_steelphoenix_/) wrote in crack_van2012-02-07 11:23 pm
Entry tags:
How to Survive Accurate Mortar Fire (And Other Inconveniences of War) by godofwine (NC-17)
Fandom: GENERATION KILL
Pairing: Nate Fick/Brad Colbert
Length: 21800
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
godofwine
Author Website:godofwine, AO3
Why this must be read:
Every fandom has its OTPs and popular pairings; in the Generation Kill fandom, Nate/Brad is one of those. But every once in a while, you come across a fic that really makes you think about and deconstruct both the characters and the pairing. This is one of those fics.
This fic takes both Brad and Nate from very different narrative beginnings: Nate, entering OCS; Brad's first firefight in Somalia - and then tracking onwards through their careers. Seeing them develop as characters is an absolute delight. It's not until nearly three-quarters of the way in that any romantic involvement even happens - but it feels inevitable, and perfectly right in a way that few other fics achieve.
There's a strongly lyrical quality to this fic: the writing is both spare and detailed, as required, and combined with images and narrative interludes creates a beautifully rounded story. Both the character voices are strong and distinctly them, and the narrator voice is separate, direct, and excellently executed. It's one I've read over and over again, and am always finding new things about.
In December, against the crystal clear sky of forgotten rural wilderness, Brad fights in real, live, wartime combat for the first time.
He's 26, a lot older than he expected to be to be in this situation, but that's a good thing, he supposes. He's been on a lot of humanitarian missions, fought in some skirmishes with armed locals, but nothing like a real firefight.
When he first joined the Marines, he was half sure he'd never see any actual action even though he was in it for life and peace never lasted that long. But he was so young then, so desperately young, living out a dream of heroism and adventure.
He was going to help people. He was going to prove himself.
It makes him smile to think of it now.
On the comms, the platoon leader calls all teams to a halt. There are reports of the RCT team taking some fire up ahead. They're going to confirm this and assess the proximity to their current route before moving on.
Brad's platoon is on its way to scope out a missile battery two klicks north. Behind him, his Corporal takes advantage of the break to rest, not watching his sector.
The thing that Brad later remembers most is the crispness of the night, the way the full moon reflected light so perfectly you didn't need your goggles. On the comms, the battalion leader is telling their platoon leader to standby. He breathes: inhale, exhale.
In his scope, across the glade, a man raises his AK.
For all the talk of combat adrenaline and losing control of your bladder, your nerves, Brad feels mostly calm. He feels his world contract to the grip of his hands on his M-4, the press of the eyepiece against the soft flesh of his right eyelid, the movement of the man that only he sees, the involuntary twitches of his muscles. His strongest understanding is that the night chill has set in, and his fingers are clumsier than he's used to. It'll have to do.
He says, "This is an ambush," and pulls the trigger.
How to Survive Accurate Mortar Fire (And Other Inconveniences of War)
Pairing: Nate Fick/Brad Colbert
Length: 21800
Author on LJ:
godofwineAuthor Website:
godofwine, AO3Why this must be read:
Every fandom has its OTPs and popular pairings; in the Generation Kill fandom, Nate/Brad is one of those. But every once in a while, you come across a fic that really makes you think about and deconstruct both the characters and the pairing. This is one of those fics.
This fic takes both Brad and Nate from very different narrative beginnings: Nate, entering OCS; Brad's first firefight in Somalia - and then tracking onwards through their careers. Seeing them develop as characters is an absolute delight. It's not until nearly three-quarters of the way in that any romantic involvement even happens - but it feels inevitable, and perfectly right in a way that few other fics achieve.
There's a strongly lyrical quality to this fic: the writing is both spare and detailed, as required, and combined with images and narrative interludes creates a beautifully rounded story. Both the character voices are strong and distinctly them, and the narrator voice is separate, direct, and excellently executed. It's one I've read over and over again, and am always finding new things about.
In December, against the crystal clear sky of forgotten rural wilderness, Brad fights in real, live, wartime combat for the first time.
He's 26, a lot older than he expected to be to be in this situation, but that's a good thing, he supposes. He's been on a lot of humanitarian missions, fought in some skirmishes with armed locals, but nothing like a real firefight.
When he first joined the Marines, he was half sure he'd never see any actual action even though he was in it for life and peace never lasted that long. But he was so young then, so desperately young, living out a dream of heroism and adventure.
He was going to help people. He was going to prove himself.
It makes him smile to think of it now.
On the comms, the platoon leader calls all teams to a halt. There are reports of the RCT team taking some fire up ahead. They're going to confirm this and assess the proximity to their current route before moving on.
Brad's platoon is on its way to scope out a missile battery two klicks north. Behind him, his Corporal takes advantage of the break to rest, not watching his sector.
The thing that Brad later remembers most is the crispness of the night, the way the full moon reflected light so perfectly you didn't need your goggles. On the comms, the battalion leader is telling their platoon leader to standby. He breathes: inhale, exhale.
In his scope, across the glade, a man raises his AK.
For all the talk of combat adrenaline and losing control of your bladder, your nerves, Brad feels mostly calm. He feels his world contract to the grip of his hands on his M-4, the press of the eyepiece against the soft flesh of his right eyelid, the movement of the man that only he sees, the involuntary twitches of his muscles. His strongest understanding is that the night chill has set in, and his fingers are clumsier than he's used to. It'll have to do.
He says, "This is an ambush," and pulls the trigger.
How to Survive Accurate Mortar Fire (And Other Inconveniences of War)
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And again. And again...:-)no subject