AWD #256: Coordinated Training
Coordinated Training
Summary: Amos and Bennett put their heads together with regards to pre-Picon training
Date: 19/Sep/2013
Related Logs: References to Recruitment Drive
Amos Bennett 
Battalion HQ - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The headquarters of Third Battalion, Eighth Marines is the primary command location for all Marines associated with Task Force NOMAD. The walls and desks are covered with maps, photos, and satellite imagery. Secure phones are bolted to each bulkhead, and for added insurance, each desk possesses its own encrypted wireless unit with its own independent wiring. The small room is always manned by a wireless operator and a duty sergeant, though it tends to explode with activity during duty hours.
AWD #256

It's been a long day in Marine HQ and with the amount of paperwaork thats just been passed down from on-high, it looks like it's still got a long way to go yet. Most of the other desks have bodies attached but the noise level is remarkably low, everyone seems to have their head in their own work, with only occasional queries being directed either to specific individuals, or the room in general.

One of the marines with the large piles of binders infront of him is Amos, but then he's playing at S3 so that's not perhaps so surprising. There's a brief, but intense discussion between him and the S2 over what looks to be an ariel recon shot, before the pair go their separate ways back to their own desks.

Some time between when Amos leaves his desk to speak with the S2, and returns to his pile of binders, a pilot has appeared. Duty blues, shiny wings, dark hair pulled back into a sleek braid that falls between her shoulderblades. She's not specifically trying to be stealthy, but she is a little less ostentatious about her entrances than some of her ilk. "Good evening, sir," she greets the man politely, favouring him with a warm smile. "I am looking for Captain Ommanney. Do you know where I might find him?"

Amos eyes the pilot as he approaches his desk, but listens as she speaks, offering her a tired, but friendly enough smile once she's done. "Twice in two days," he starts, setting the sheet in his hand back into the binder on his desk and closing it, "do I take it then that you are Captain Saint Clair here to discuss the suggestion I gave your Ensign? Or has Air Wing some other pressing need of the Batallion?" Then, since he realsies he didn't lead with it, he offers, "I'm sorry Captain, I do indeed know where he is for he is me and I am he as it were." Moving things to clear space on his desk he then asks, "would you care to take a seat, or should we go get coffee?" By which he means, the pot over in the corner that some enterprising young ensign just refilled.

Bennett's expression brightens to a grin as Amos speaks; perhaps she finds something he said to be amusing. Perhaps she's just happy she found her man. "We always have need of your batallion, Captain," she answers, blue eyes twinkling. "How about I fetch us some coffee, since you were just about to sit back down." A couple of folders she's been toting around are slid onto his desk, and she sets off without waiting for his reply. "Cream, sugar?"

Amos is reaching for his cup as Bennett starts to move and as such, ends up holding it up towards her rapidly retreating back. Oh well. Setting it down again he decides to just roll with it and answers without fuss, "just cream, or milk if they've got it." Unlikely at this time of day, but you never know. Settling into his chair he eyes the new foldiers a moment then rests his hands together across his stomach and waits for the pilot to return.

Bennett pivots in time to snag the cup, and slips off to fill it with coffee. For a woman with as much rank as she has, she doesn't seem to mind playing secretary. The steaming mug is brought back moments later, and set in front of the marine before she claims a chair opposite his desk. "And to answer your question, yes, I am here to discuss joint operations between the Ghosts and your batallion. It is actually something I have been meaning to come to you with for some time, Captain." She sips her tea, watching him carefully. "Did you have any specific ideas at the moment, or would you like to hear my thoughts?"

Amos takes the coffee. Coffee first. "Some time?" he then asks with a faint smile, "are you sure it's me you're wanting then Captain, or do you simply mean the man in my position? As I explained to your ensign, I'm a new arrival myself." Still though training an dplanning is his thing so he continues, "my initial thoughts are to go through any and every manouver we may need on Picon." His eye flick to his binders as if to indicate that that's what's been taking his time of late. "Air support, search and rescue, basic insertion and retrival, the works."

Bennett arches a brow slightly and answers with that same bemused look, "Both. I am aware you have only recently inherited the position though, Captain." She sips her tea again, listening while he speaks. A small, though decisive nod of agreement at the end. "Absolutely. How much experience do your men have with insertions and retrievals in hot zones? I believe it is something we will be running a fair bit of down on Picon, so it may be a good place to start."

"Mixed," Amos replies honestly. "I haven't had time to go through all the files, but those who were originally with the taskforce are generally the most reliabely trained, although many of them have spent most of the past year down on Pireas and will need a refresher. The others? We've collected marines from all over teh place and with various experience levels, both recent and over all. It's been ground pounding only on Caprica these past eight months and from what I can tell from those who've joined us from Colonel Spree it's been similar on Picon." Pausing to sip his coffeeagain he summises, "in short, we're best assuming that everyone has the training but not any recent refreshers. Given the time scale I've just been presented with, that needs to change, and fast."

Bennett mms and nods, fingertip tapping against the rim of her cup as she mulls what the marine has said. "Many of the raptor aircrew are only nominally trained in the foxtrots, and many more do not have actual combat experience with them. Combat search and rescue, of course, is a different beast entirely, and one I frankly do not have time to drill them on in its finer points. I will likely fly any such missions myself, should they become necessary." She meets his eyes again. "How about a basic capture the flag exercise to start off with, then. We drop all y'all off, under fire, and return to the LZ once your men have secured the point?"

"Throw in co-ordinating an air stike on a hostile position close to the flag and you have youself a deal Captain," AMos replies with an appreciative smile, "how long do you need to set it up at your end?" There's a nod to the CSAR comment, it's is a tricky skill set but so long as there are at least some capable of it then he'll be content. "I've been speadking with my oppo in 1st Batallion," he continues, "and I'm sure she can rustle up some of her lads to play the badguys if we need it."

Bennett smiles as her suggestion is one-upped, and gives a short nod of agreement. "As you like, Captain." Her folder is flipped open, her pen clicked on, and she makes a couple of notes on the second page. "Oh?" she murmurs to his last. "That would be helpful. Do you have any thoughts on munitions? Paintballs, frangible?"

"I've been running small teams though exercises with paintballs," Amos notes, "useful from our point of view to tell when you're hit but I think we might need to up the ante a little to remind them not to get hit in the first place. I was considering rubber bullets, although flangible might also work. Likely best to check with supplies and see which we have more of." He takes a sip of his coffee then a thought occurs and he adds, "or we could equip one side with one and the other with another, then we can distingish blue-on-blue easier."

Bennett tries not to smile at mention of the marine exercises. "So I have heard," she answers evenly. "For the raptors, I think paintballs might make the most sense. It will make it easier to spot friendly fire and the like, and should reduce the likelihood of serious injury." She jots something else down. "I will check with supply and deck, though. Anything else? Will we need to requisition some scrap metal and an unused structure or two, makeshift or otherwise, for the exercise?"

Amos gives a wry smile at that, he never figured that one of his teams getting wiped out would remain quiet but it is sometimes interesting to see just how far the scuttlebutt spreads. He nods to the comment about paint and raptors then shakes his head, "nothing that I can think of Captain. I'll speak with my Oppo, see if she has anything already set up that might be appropriate. Shall we pencil this in for two days time? Will that give you long enough to prepare your crews and have the raptors outfitted?"

Bennett skims her eyes over the notes she's made, and the rest of the scribblings she'd brought in with her. Nothing is said, outwardly, of the botched exercise; she seems to have more manners than to bring up something that's really none of her business. "That sounds perfect." The date is noted at the top of the page and marked with a box before she closes her folder and collects her tea. "It will have to be long enough," she tells him with a grin. "Well, I won't take any more of your time, Captain. Thank you for speaking with me. I will let you know if anything comes up before then; please feel free to do the same."

Amos pushes his seat back and makes to stand as it becomes apparent that the conversation is over. "Thank you for stopping by Captain, I know your time must be as limited as ours right now." Offering her his hand he states, "I'll get a provision area of operation to you as soon as I hear back from the planet, then we can firm up a plan."

Bennett rises smoothly as well, and accepts the offer of the marine's hand. She clasps briefly without shaking, as is common on some colonies. "Sounds good. I will be in touch, then." She smiles once more, releases his hand, and turns to slip back toward the hatch.

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