Battlespace Nomad, page 1
BATTLESPACE NOMAD
©2025 WILL CRUDGE
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ALSO BY WILL CRUDGE
OPERATOR CHRONICLES
Battlespace Nomad
Fire Team Nomad
Operation Nomad
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Thank you for reading Battlespace Nomad
Afterword
Key Characters
Other Books
About the Author
A special thank you to Ray Tebeck, U.S. Army Special Forces (Retired). Without his technical advisory, this story would have never been possible.
1
Corporal Jimmy Stiegel pushed the planet down, but it wouldn't relent. Instead, he pushed himself up with the sandbag's weight between his shoulder blades. The smell of grass and soil mixed with sweat and morning breath as Jimmy's muscles flexed. Physical training (PT) was a necessary – albeit mundane – aspect of military life for any soldier.
The sun beat down on him as the sounds of grunting soldiers were eclipsed only by the booming voice of the first sergeant as he called out the obligatory commands.
"Up!" the senior first sergeant sounded off. The soldiers of the 4th Battalion, 5th Field Artillery Regiment, did as they were told in the hot morning sun. Bodies did pushups while hefting sandbags on their backs.
"Down!" the senior noncommissioned officer called out.
Jimmy lowered his upper body as his muscles shook from the effort. Drips of sweat saturated his eyebrows, and his eyes were filled with salt and soil; he was unable to wipe his eyes without flopping to the ground.
But it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Jimmy pushed himself with a mission. Unlike his peers, he had a reason to test his limits, as he had ambitions that drove him.
"Up!" the call rang out once more. Jimmy grunted as the sandbag shifted, threatening to fall off his back. He dipped his shoulder down to balance the heavy object, but the first sergeant saw it happen and called out to Jimmy.
"Stiegel! Damn it! I said up!" the first sergeant snarled.
"Roger, First Sergeant!" Jimmy replied, pushing against the laws of physics. He locked his arms straight with the sandbag in the center of his back, pressing on his spine.
The exercise continued for several more repetitions before the air-raid siren sounded.
Expletives filled their air with a cascade of profanity as the thumping sounds of sandbags plopping in the grass could be heard. Jimmy took the opportunity to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, clearing his vision finally. Once his vision was restored and the burning from the salt in his eyes dissipated, he noticed everyone was rushing for the bunker. Not one to be left behind, Jimmy followed suit.
The herd of sweaty troops rushed to the concrete bunker and shuffled inside as the first sergeant stood at the entrance, gesturing for his soldiers to enter. Air-raid drills were commonplace, so the mood was more of frustration than fear. Jimmy waited his turn, but when the senior non-commissioned officer saw him, his eyes were slits and glared at him knowingly.
"Corporal, wait here," the senior NCO said.
The other soldiers shuffled in, and in seconds, Jimmy was alone, standing at parade rest while waiting for the first sergeant to speak.
"Son, I've been informed that you've put in a packet to apply for Ranger Selection," the taller man said with an accusing stare.
Jimmy cleared his throat and swallowed. "Yes, First Sergeant!"
"You know, I went through that process once," the first sergeant said, his tone shifting to a more empathetic tone.
"I didn't know that. Do you have any advice for me, Top?" Jimmy said diplomatically.
The first sergeant shook his head. "I made it through the course, but didn't get selected. I was already a sergeant at the time, and I wasn't willing to accept an administrative reduction to become eligible for consideration."
"I thought sergeants were eligible to try out," Jimmy said incredulously.
"They are, but that doesn't mean they're ideal candidates. The Rangers prefer to mentor and develop future leaders from within their ranks. I was a senior sergeant then and didn't want to throw a wrench in my career for a fancy badge on my arm," the first sergeant explained.
"I understand, First Sergeant. I would have done the same, I think," Jimmy said, with a dip of his chin.
"Listen, the battery commander will ask questions if we just stand here during a drill, so I'll make this quick. Why the Rangers? Have you considered other spec ops?" The first sergeant asked intently.
Jimmy shook his head. "The Rangers need forward observers, so I figured I'd have an edge in terms of getting selected. Special Forces are much more particular when choosing candidates. And I've always been told it easier to get into Special Forces if you're Ranger-qualified first."
"Son, your old First Sergeant has been around for a while, and he knows people. Let me make some calls and see what's out there for you. The Rangers are excellent and need people with your skillset, but that doesn't mean you don't have a place in the broader spec ops community," the first sergeant said.
"Thank you, Top!" Jimmy said with sincerity. His world brightened a bit, and his face stretched into a smile.
"Now get your ass in this bunker before the battalion XO starts lurking around. I don't care to endure his mouth right now," the first sergeant grumbled.
"Yes, First Sergeant!" Jimmy said as he crawled into the bunker packed with sweaty soldiers and foul odors.
As he crammed himself in, other soldiers grunted in protest as they shuffled over to make room. But Jimmy was less frustrated. In fact, he was elated. The bunker was adorned with nothing but molded concrete walls and soiled soldiers, but nothing would shake him out of his mood. He felt a calling to do more than just being a rank-and-file soldier, and the first sergeant's gesture put him in the mood to endure anything the Army could throw at him.
Until something was thrown at him.
The tear gas grenade appeared out of nowhere, bounced just in front of Jimmy's feet, and came to a halt in the center of the bunker.
An expertly crafted series of colorful expletives abounded as the soldiers fought to scramble out of the cramped space. But they were packed in solid, and the grenade popped, creating panic. Jimmy instinctively held his breath, squinted his eyes, and rolled to his right toward the exit.
Moments later, coughing and gagging, the soldiers poured out of the bunker. Jimmy's eyes burned, but he dared not rub them. He found himself face down on the grass, gasping for precious air.
Then he heard his commander's voice call out. "You have all been slimed by chemical weapons! Let's talk about the proper response, people. Someone give me the first step you take when chemical weapons are detected.
Jimmy raised his hand as his vision began to return to him.
"Corporal Stiegel! What's the first step?"
"Sir, the first step is to call it out with the hand and arm signal and don your protective mask.” Jimmy rattled it off like he was a living field manual.
"That's right, and that's verbatim. Excellent!" The commander said. "What's next? Someone else, feel free to chime in.”
The questions were asked, and the answers were given. Everything in the Army was one training opportunity after another. When soldiers weren't training, they maintained equipment or did miscellaneous details. This was Jimmy's entire world, and he loved it.
But he wanted more.
Even though his skin still burned from the tear gas, he remained in good spirits. There was something rugged about the seemingly pointless training exercise, making him feel tougher than he was moments before. That was the way things were in Jimmy's world. With every aggravating aspect of Army life, there was a lesson to be learned and an opportunity to grow.
The impromptu training event concluded, and the soldiers were released to shower.
Jimmy trudged his way back to his barracks room. He smelled awful, as did his peers. The scents of cotton-polyester athletic uniforms combined with sweat, grass, and a tinge of tear gas. Fortunately for Jimmy, he was a corporal, so he had his own room and wouldn't need to fight for a turn in the shower.
It was like any other Monday in the Army. PT in the morning, followed by personal hygiene and breakfast at the chow hall if the line wasn't too long.
Jimmy accomplished all three as if he were on autopilot. Soon, the time came for morning formation, when the actual duty day was to begin.
With a fresh scent and a clean set of pressed fatigues, Jimmy arrived at the front of the motor pool maintenance bay where the morning work-call formation was to be held. The rest of the soldiers in the artillery battery were gathered in groups, chatting and cracking jokes as they waited for the first sergeant and commander to arrive.
"Corporal Stiegel," a voice called out behind him. It was the familiar voice of his supervisor, Sergeant Shields. Jimmy wheeled about and stood at parade rest for the senior NCO.
Shields was tough but fair, and ordinarily didn't cause Jimmy any headaches. However, this time his expression was skeptical. "What did the First Sergeant pull you aside for this morning? Is there something I should know?"
Jimmy understood his supervisor's concern. If the first sergeant pulled one of his soldiers to the side, he would also be asking questions. "It was regarding the packet I submitted for Ranger selection, Sergeant. He was just asking me if I'd considered going Special Forces instead.”
Sergeant Shields didn't seem to buy it, and Jimmy got the impression he was being a bit paranoid.
"Are you sure that's it? Why didn't he come to me first?" Sergeant Shields asked. Jimmy knew the question was rhetorical, but the sergeant seemed to be anticipating an answer, nonetheless.
Jimmy shrugged. "I don't know, Sergeant. I just know when the first sergeant wants to speak, then I'd better listen.”
Shields huffed. "Well, I hope whatever it is, it had better not interfere with our day. We have vehicles that need maintenance, and I want to get started on our inventories as soon as possible.”
"Roger, Sergeant," Jimmy responded. Inwardly, his mood was finally dampened, and the prospect of having to endure inventorying every nut and bolt of their equipment was tedious and universally hated among most soldiers.
There he was, hoping for a shot of being an elite operator on some level, but he was relegated to checking every wrench and comms cable his section was assigned. Sergeant Shields was a notorious miser and went to great lengths to constantly inventory his assigned equipment for fear of having to pay for a missing item.
"I'll need to take your soldiers and get started with maintenance, so we have daylight left to finish the inventory this afternoon. While we have a few minutes to spare, I'll check with the parts clerk and see if any of the parts we ordered have come in yet," Shields explained.
Jimmy didn't bat an eye. He merely nodded and agreed. He knew he would have to survive the rigors of basic soldiering for a little longer.
"Roger, Sergeant," Jimmy said. "I'll have Jeski and Sanchez handle the vehicle maintenance while I lay out the gear on my personal hand receipt.”
"Solid plan, Corporal," Shields nodded. "I'll be back in a second."
The gaggle of troops got denser as soldiers arrived in anticipation of morning formation. Jimmy kept his head on a swivel as he awaited the arrival of his two soldiers assigned to him. Like him, they were trained forward observers. Unlike him, they lacked ambition and were happy to do the bare minimum to get by.
That also meant they were notorious for not showing up until the last possible moment. "Move your asses, you two!" Jimmy called out as he spotted his soldiers meandering their way towards the front of the building.
They broke into a jog and shuffled their way over to Jimmy before stopping and snapping to parade rest.
"It's about time, soldiers," Jimmy said with a scowl.
"Hey, Corporal, we're here before formation, aren't we?" Jeski spouted.
"Drop," Jimmy said, stone-faced.
Jeski grumbled while Sanchez giggled.
"Oh, what are you doing letting your battle buddy go through this all alone? You drop too, Sanchez," Jimmy growled.
"Aw, c'mon, Corporal. What'd we do?" Jeski said, as he and Sanchez remained in the pushup position. "Our muscles are toast from this morning."
"I'll answer your question with another question," Jimmy said knowingly. "What is it I always say about formation time?"
"Early is on time. On-time is late. And late is unacceptable," both soldiers said in unison.
"Recover," Jimmy ordered.
The soldiers stood back up, wiping the bits of asphalt off their aching hands before standing at parade rest.
"Fall in!" the first sergeant's voice sounded off.
The troops formed a series of rectangular formations by platoon. Jimmy stood to the left of Sergeant Shields, and in turn, Sanchez and Jeski stood to his left in rank order.
The mundane accountability process was the next order of business as the platoon sergeants reported all troops were present and accounted for. Jimmy was expecting the senior NCO to hand the formation over to the commander so he could say a few words, but instead, the first sergeant craned his neck and then locked eyes with Jimmy.
"Corporal Stiegel, see me after formation," he said.
"Roger, First Sergeant!" Jimmy called out. His mind was abuzz with questions. Sergeant Shields huffed slightly, but not so much that the sound carried. Jimmy knew Shields was unhappy that his best worker bee was being diverted.
When the formation concluded, and the platoon sergeants sent their people to work, Jimmy walked to the first sergeant with Sergeant Shields in tow. Both NCOs snapped to parade rest when they arrived before their senior ranking NCO.
The first sergeant looked curiously at Sergeant Shields, seemingly wondering why he was there. But Jimmy knew. Sergeant Shields was notorious for wanting full control over any situation to a fault.
"Corporal," the first sergeant said, with an expression that betrayed no emotion. "I made some calls, and today is your lucky day."
"Forgive me, Top?" Sergeant Shields cut in. "Is this about the Ranger thing? Because we have a busy day ahead of us, and I need Corporal Stiegel.”
The first sergeant nodded. "Sergeant, you'll have to adapt and overcome today. Because I've set up an appointment for Corporal Stiegel this morning, and he'll be with me."
Sergeant Shields' eyes went wide. "But First Sergeant, I-"
The senior NCO waved him off. "But nothing, Sergeant Shields. You have two able-bodied soldiers left to handle maintenance. That's what the schedule has for today, after all.”
