Vincent G Aviano
Unregistered User
(12/12/05 7:07 pm) Reply
Getting Old
Having returned from his second honeymoon in Paris with his wife Maria, Vince Aviano sat at in the study of the Family's mansion. He was still getting used to the fact that Luigi was gone. While Don Luigi was alive, he never would have thought to sit in the study. But he was now the Don. It was his birthright.
He flipped through the envelopes. Bills. Credit card offers. The usual. One letter stood out, in a manila envelope, with a return address at 2400 Army Pentagon, Washington D.C.
He took an ivory letter opener, and cut open the envelope, removing the multiple paged letter. His eyes nearly bulged when he read the contents...
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DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY
2400 ARMY PENTAGON
WASHINGTON, DC 20040
1. You have been ordered to Active Duty from your current position in the inactive reserve of the Army...
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Vince folded the letter, which included copies of the orders, and other informational papers on returning to Active Duty...
"This is a fucking joke..." Vince commented to himself. He hadn't worn a uniform since the 1980s, when he did a brief stint for Iran Contra. Before that, the last time was Vietnam. Special Forces was his lifestyle, but this was ridiculous. Half of the original team was either KIA or dead from subseuent causes.
His wife, Maria, entered the room, with her cup of tea. "What is it, Vince?"
"You ain't gonna believe this. They've called me up.."
Maria notched an eyebrow. "Oh dear.."
Vincent G Aviano
Unregistered User
(12/18/05 6:28 pm) Reply
Back in the Habit
Vince tore open the door to his walk in closet, and walked in, pulling the string to light the bulb dangling from the ceiling. Walking to the back corner of the closet, he arrived at a plastic dry cleaner bag over a bunch of clothes.
Tearing off the bag, he found his old uniforms, ones that would certainly not fit. It had been years, and years of eating pasta and drinking scotch at that. Needless to say, he had a bit of a pot belly forming.
He looked at the sleeve of his dress uniform, at the gold stripes and rockers. He held the rank of Sergeant-Major, the highest an enlisted soldier could attain. What the hell did the Army need an old sergeant like him for? He hadn't led troops in years.
A Distinguished Service Cross, several Purple Hearts, and a Silver Star ranked high on top of his campaign ribbons from Vietnam. He took the dress uniform off the hanger, and a set of straight-green camouflage fatigues. Hell, they weren't even in service any more. He would definitely have to get new ones.
Looking up to the shelf, he found a paper bag that had been there for years. Opening it, he reached inside, and removed the object with some reverence...
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Standing in front of the mirror, he had his hair neatly trimmed. He took the Green Beret that had been in the bag, and set it on his head. Almost instantly, he heard the sounds of memories long past, like a king putting on a crown and hearing his ancestors.
"Vince...don't tell me you are going...you're almost sixty years old.." Maria said, watching her husband.
"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Someone's gotta whip these young punks into shape.."
Vincent G Aviano
Unregistered User
(12/27/05 8:04 pm) Reply
Stand-to
FORT BRAGG, NC
HEADQUARTERS, 82D AIRBORNE DIVISON
Vince Aviano walked up the steps to the Division HQ, his straight OD green uniform tailored to suit his build by one of his Italian boys in Baltimore. He looked as though he fell out of the John Wayne movie "the Green Berets".
A punk private exited the building, and chuckled at the attire of Aviano, assuming he was a deranged vet or a war re-enactor. "You're heading in the wrong direction, old timer..." the private started "The museum is.."
Vince's inner sergeant lashed out, worse than Beetle Bailey ever got from Sarge. "That's SERGEANT MAJOR to you.." he socked the soldier in the gut, and gave a sweep kick to the soldier's ankles, knocking him over. He still had the moves he learned in the Special Forces.
The soldier lay on the ground, gasping for air, as Vince adjusted his Green Beret. Both of them turned to see an older individual looking at them, one whose beret had two stars on it. A Major General, probably the post commander.
Instinctually, even though he hadn't been in uniform for almost twenty years, Vince cracked a crisp salute. "Good morning, Sir."
The General returned the salute. "Good morning...what shall I call you?"
Vince looked down at his sleeve. "Sergeant-Major Vincent G. Aviano, Sir. Reporting for duty..." He reached into his pocket, and presented a copy of his orders to the General.
The General notched an eyebrow. "Get up, soldier.." he remarked to the private, without even looking at him, focused instead on the document, and the antiquated uniform Vince was wearing. "You are a bit behind the times..Sergeant Major."
"I apologize sir, this was all I have. Last time I wore these in action, you were probably still a captain."
"Well, during Iran-Contra, I was a Captain. In Vietnam, hell, my father was a Captain. You sure do stick around, don't you.."
"Like a bad case of the crabs, sir." Vince said.
"You mean to tell me why that soldier was on the ground?" asked the General, narrowning his eyes.
"He mouthed off, so I set him straight. NCO business, sir."
"A lot has changed in the Army, Sergeant-Major, we don't hit soldiers anymore. When I asked Personnel Command for the toughest NCO they could muster, they sent me you. This has to be a joke."
Vince narrowed his eyes back at the General, getting a flashback moment. "I once ate a man's brain, because his head had already been split open and I was hungry..." Vince saw his memories coming back, vividly. "I have killed men in ways that would make you pale. I did almost four years in the jungles of Vietnam. I made E7 in five years, after my third Purple Heart. How many do you have...sir?"
The General coughed. He had never been wounded himself..
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