Most recent edit on 2005-09-17 22:22:13 by EschaTon

Additions:
As I reached for my back I noticed the void of emptiness in my back pocket. My hand surged in and[,] to my dismay[,] I did not find my wallet. Thoughts raced through my mind. Did I lose it in my last mission? Did I forget to pack it when I left Annapolis? Was it stolen from me?
A week before my next assignment in first year training[,] the packages containing what I would need to survive for the next few months started to come in from all over the country. Boxes started to pile up by the door. My temporary apartment became an empty void in the complex[,] ready to be taken over by whichever family got to it first. As the week progressed[,] more and more stress over the last few packages I still needed came into play. Do I really need this? Did I get enough of that? Multiple trips to supply stores for odds and ends were made in the days before I left. By Thursday night I was finally ready to go. I had said my farewells to the few friends I had made and I went to sleep in my safe bed one last time.
Next morning[,] I awoke around eight startled by the landlady knocking at my door. “Time to leave[,] bum!” I got my last peaceful shower and [an(?)] inadequate breakfast. Around nine a transport truck came to pick me up. We loaded up the truck to the [breaking] point of cramming things in every little nook and started off[:] [t]oo much stuff. Five minutes into the trip[,] my commander asked me, “Did you get everything you need?” I replied with a simple nod.
Two and a half-hours later we arrived in an undisclosed location. Tensions were high as I neared the point of being completely responsible for my well being. We navigated the civilian traffic and parked in the garage under headquarters. It took only moments to unpack my equipment from the truck and move it over in front of my new home in the east wing [ <- If the truck was so full, how did you unload so quickly?].
At that point[,] it was time to check in. I left my escort and my commander and started over to the check in office. As I walked over[,] I reached for my back pocket to get my ID out of my wallet. That is when panic stuck [struck]. My wallet was not in my pocket. I instantly checked my other pockets to no avail[,] as thoughts of terror ran through my mind. I walked back to my commander horror stricken of his reaction to the fact that [because] he would have to discharge me before I even came into the project.
I returned bearing the bad news and all I got was looks of disbelief. My commander was especially upset since he had asked if I had everything before we left. My escort remained calm[,] and we both went to the check[-]in office to work things out.
After an hour[,] we got everything worked out[,] and I was issued a temporary ID badge. Relieved that I would not have to be discharged and shamed I moved my stuff into my new home. The rest of the day went on without another glitch as I got to know my fellow operatives and the mission.
Five days later I received a small package from a contact in Annapolis containing my wallet. The commander at the central office asked for my ID when I went to pick it up. My response,[:] “It’s in the box.”
[We will be discussing comma usag in class soon. Please pay attention.]

Deletions:
As I reached for my back I noticed the void of emptiness in my back pocket. My hand surged in and to my dismay I did not find my wallet. Thoughts raced through my mind. Did I lose it in my last mission? Did I forget to pack it when I left Annapolis? Was it stolen from me?
A week before my next assignment in first year training the packages containing what I would need to survive for the next few months started to come in from all over the country. Boxes started to pile up by the door. My temporary apartment became an empty void in the complex ready to be taken over by whichever family got to it first. As the week progressed more and more stress over the last few packages I still needed came into play. Do I really need this? Did I get enough of that? Multiple trips to supply stores for odds and ends were made in the days before I left. By Thursday night I was finally ready to go. I had said my farewells to the few friends I had made and I went to sleep in my safe bed one last time.
Next morning I awoke around eight startled by the landlady knocking at my door. “Time to leave bum!” I got my last peaceful shower and inadequate breakfast. Around nine a transport truck came to pick me up. We loaded up the truck to the point of cramming things in every little nook and started off. Too much stuff. Five minutes into the trip my commander asked me, “Did you get everything you need?” I replied with a simple nod.
Two and a half-hours later we arrived in an undisclosed location. Tensions were high as I neared the point of being completely responsible for my well being. We navigated the civilian traffic and parked in the garage under headquarters. It took only moments to unpack my equipment from the truck and move it over in front of my new home in the east wing.
At that point it was time to check in. I left my escort and my commander and started over to the check in office. As I walked over I reached for my back pocket to get my ID out of my wallet. That is when panic stuck. My wallet was not in my pocket. I instantly checked my other pockets to no avail as thoughts of terror ran through my mind. I walked back to my commander horror stricken of his reaction to the fact that he would have to discharge me before I even came into the project.
I returned bearing the bad news and all I got was looks of disbelief. My commander was especially upset since he had asked if I had everything before we left. My escort remained calm and we both went to the check in office to work things out.
After an hour we got everything worked out and I was issued a temporary ID badge. Relieved that I would not have to be discharged and shamed I moved my stuff into my new home. The rest of the day went on without another glitch as I got to know my fellow operatives and the mission.
Five days later I received a small package from a contact in Annapolis containing my wallet. The commander at the central office asked for my ID when I went to pick it up. My response, “It’s in the box.”

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Oldest known version of this page was edited on 2005-09-08 23:32:36 by DrDoctor []
My Narrative

As I reached for my back I noticed the void of emptiness in my back pocket. My hand surged in and to my dismay I did not find my wallet. Thoughts raced through my mind. Did I lose it in my last mission? Did I forget to pack it when I left Annapolis? Was it stolen from me?

A week before my next assignment in first year training the packages containing what I would need to survive for the next few months started to come in from all over the country. Boxes started to pile up by the door. My temporary apartment became an empty void in the complex ready to be taken over by whichever family got to it first. As the week progressed more and more stress over the last few packages I still needed came into play. Do I really need this? Did I get enough of that? Multiple trips to supply stores for odds and ends were made in the days before I left. By Thursday night I was finally ready to go. I had said my farewells to the few friends I had made and I went to sleep in my safe bed one last time.

Next morning I awoke around eight startled by the landlady knocking at my door. “Time to leave bum!” I got my last peaceful shower and inadequate breakfast. Around nine a transport truck came to pick me up. We loaded up the truck to the point of cramming things in every little nook and started off. Too much stuff. Five minutes into the trip my commander asked me, “Did you get everything you need?” I replied with a simple nod.

Two and a half-hours later we arrived in an undisclosed location. Tensions were high as I neared the point of being completely responsible for my well being. We navigated the civilian traffic and parked in the garage under headquarters. It took only moments to unpack my equipment from the truck and move it over in front of my new home in the east wing.

At that point it was time to check in. I left my escort and my commander and started over to the check in office. As I walked over I reached for my back pocket to get my ID out of my wallet. That is when panic stuck. My wallet was not in my pocket. I instantly checked my other pockets to no avail as thoughts of terror ran through my mind. I walked back to my commander horror stricken of his reaction to the fact that he would have to discharge me before I even came into the project.
I returned bearing the bad news and all I got was looks of disbelief. My commander was especially upset since he had asked if I had everything before we left. My escort remained calm and we both went to the check in office to work things out.

After an hour we got everything worked out and I was issued a temporary ID badge. Relieved that I would not have to be discharged and shamed I moved my stuff into my new home. The rest of the day went on without another glitch as I got to know my fellow operatives and the mission.

Five days later I received a small package from a contact in Annapolis containing my wallet. The commander at the central office asked for my ID when I went to pick it up. My response, “It’s in the box.”