(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/American_soldier_in_Vietnam.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Randy James Johnson<br/><br/><strong>Age:</strong>24<br/><br/><strong>Gender:</strong>Male<br/><br/><strong>Occupational Specialty:</strong>Indirect fire infantryman (11C)<br/><br/><strong>Weapons proficiency:</strong><br/>- Mortar, M224 (60 mm) and M29 (81 mm)<br/>- Grenade launcher, M203<br/>- Machine Gun, M60<br/>- Rifle, M16A2<br/>- Pistol, M9<br/>(note:  he can operate other weapons, these are just the ones he's qualified on or had extensive experience with)<br/><br/><strong>Branch:</strong>United States Army<br/><br/><strong>Appearance:</strong>Randy had always been a big boy, and people were surprised to find he didn't play football in high school.  (He was, however, ping-pong champion of his Middle School and still has the speed and coordination to prove it.)  Standing 6'2" he'd always been stocky (until reduced rations over the past couple of  years have enabled him to slim down a bit.  His red hair has been bleached strawberry blond by exposure to the elements, and (fortunate in some ways, not in others) this exposure has also toughened up his skin.  The freckles are hardly noticeable.  Now there's little to distinguish him from the majority of soldiers who have fought in every other war this century.<br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong>He's generally distant, if not always quiet.  Like most soldiers, he doesn't like change - unless the change is good, which it rarely is.  Reorganization is always a bad change, as it separates soldiers from their brothers they've grown to trust and rely on.<br/><br/><strong>Background:</strong><br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Before the war</span>:  Just a kid from a small town in Oklahoma. He's a big boy with red hair and freckles and isn't repulsive, but he's no Robert Redford either. He spent his high school years trying to buy beer and get laid. His best grades were in gym and shop. He failed chemistry, had to retake physics, and satisfied most of his science requirements in biology. He happens to be pretty good at math, but the higher stuff he just doesn't get.<br/><br/>His jobs have consisted of working the counter at Dairy Queen, delivering pizzas for Domino's, and working in his uncle's auto repair shop.  And the Army.<br/><br/>By the summer of 1995, Randy James Johnson had been out of high school a year and had gone from working part time in his uncle's garage to full time. He was no skilled mechanic, but proved valuable in doing all the relatively simple things. As the "real" mechanics tore apart engines and transmissions, Randy fixed flats, changed light bulbs, changed oil, replaced brake pads, and did tuneups. And occasionally, he would learn a little something about real mechanic work. Already he was doing small engine repair on the side, fixing the occasional riding mower or dirt bike.<br/><br/>The Summer of '95 was also his first Summer Camp with 1/180th Infantry, a unit of the Oklahoma National Guard. A couple of his friends from high school had gone into the Army, one in the Air Force, and two in the Marines (though one was kicked out for reasons unknown.) Randy didn't really want to join the military, but like many young men he felt he didn't want to miss out either. It was maybe a little patriotism that he wouldn't admit out loud, and needing the confirmation that he was man enough for the military. He was easily convinced to join once he was given all the other excuses .. job training, educational benefits, and a little income on top of that.<br/><br/>(http://www.armedforcesinsignia.com/data/shopcart7/image_db/DUI-0180B_W.png)<br/><br/><br/>Besides, if the Russians or Chinese or whoever actually invaded, wouldn't it make sense for him to be part of the Guard so he could defend his home? He had joined way back in November of the prior year, but it took a while to get him a slot to go to basic training. He then found out his desired school (diesel mechanic) wasn't open to him because there were no slots for diesel mechanics in his infantry company.<em>Oh, the things you learn after signing on the dotted line.</em>The Battalion did, however, have a need for young healthy guys who could hump mortars long distances by foot.<br/><br/>That was how Randy became an 11C (or "Eleven Charlie" in Army talk) - an "Indirect fire infantryman" or to keep it simple - motarman.<br/><br/>(http://www.qmfound.com/parachute_wings_med.gif)<br/><br/>Even though things were heating up the world over, in the US Army it was business as usual in many regards. One of those regards meant that legions of soldiers who had no business going to airborne training were going to airborne training just so they could earn the coveted jump wings that it seems no soldier was complete without. Not everyone who wanted to go to jump school got to go, but where there's a will, there's a way. For PVT Johnson, it involved some repairs to his First Sergeant's riding mower and getting a set of tires for his truck at wholesale.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Going to war</span>:  By January of 1977, PFC Johnson was en route to Europe, not as part of the Oklahoma National Guard, but with a contingent of the newly reconstituted 173rd Airborne Brigade.<br/><br/>(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/58/173Airborne_Brigade_Shoulder_Patch.png)<br/><br/>As time went by and mortars weren't replaced and mortar ammo got low, the brigade found it had more mortarmen than it needed, and not enough M-60 gunners strong enough to hump the guns and ammo. That's how PFC Johnson started carrying a machine gun instead of a mortar baseplate. And when the 173rd was decimated, its survivors, including SPC Johnson, became replacements for the Air Cav. As fuel for the helicopters began to run low, PFC Johnson (yep, he was busted for something that was totally not his fault) went from the Air Cav to the Armored Cavalry. A few months later, CPL Johnson (because in the Army these things matter) was then placed in charge of an infantry squad consisting of five Americans, a Canadian, and a Polish soldier who claims his mother was from the US and he wanted to join the American Army. His English wasn't very good. As fuel for armored vehicles became scarce, Spec. Johnson found himself a grenadier, this time in the "foot cavalry".  The rational for giving him the M203 was because he was a mortarman, and that was the closest thing they had to a mortar.  It was an adjustment to make (from the M60) but he does enjoy being able to blow things up from a distance, and getting to see them blow up -- not always an option with mortars.<br/><br/>(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8f/3_Infantry_Div_Patch.svg/200px-3_Infantry_Div_Patch.svg.png)<br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Going home</span>:  He understood (a little) why the people in charge kept wanting to reorganize the army. On the other hand, he figured they didn't understand that the common soldier doesn't really fight for his country or his flag or his mother and the apple pies she bakes -- he fights for the guy next to him. One of his old top sergeants told him that a long long time ago. Was it really over a year? It made perfect sense to him once it was explained. Not may soldiers who have been in combat with one group of guys for a while ever want to go to another unit, so he wasn't crazy about this reorganization. Even though he didn't know anyone that well in his new "company" it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He<em>knew of</em>a few of them, and they seemed to be okay.. After all, they weren't rookies either.<br/><br/>Besides, they're reorganizing so they can go home. He wouldn't care if he was put in with a bunch of male ballerinas from the Air Force if it meant going home.