Inside one of the huts Garner, with some ice on his hands, was taking stock of the situation.
“Ortega needs stitches on his tongue. Barry is in stand-by already because of a possible spinal cord injury. While the guy with criminal records... He has a dislocated shoulder. Maybe, this time we'll get rid of him for good.
On the other side, from Team 'A' two arrived unconscious, and one with hypothermia”
Trautman was sat at his desk, in front of some papers, and didn't reply.
“I could say that your selection is over”
Trautman stayed silent again.
“Where do you want to get, colonel?”
Trautman was filling out the modules for the courses.
Every one of them had to learn Vietnamese.
Then he wanted four helicopter pilots and four tank pilots. He wanted special forces soldiers that once on board any chopper, knew what was really going on better that the pilot himself.
They had to be experts about everything that could possibly happen both on and off the field, from the beginning to the end of the mission, and to be even more expert than their own colonel was, or anyone else commanding them at the time.
Because that was the only way to survive, in Vietnam.
Only then, did Trautman stop a while to think about Garner's words.
By now, he already had an idea about who was going to pass the selection and those who wouldn't.
In the long run, Rambo could turn out be problem, because of his young age.
But he wasn't doing bad: on the contrary, he was holding on even too well for his young age, and he would probably pass the selection.
His real problem was his head.
He was aggressive, impulsive and solitary, too solitary, and inside the kind of special forces Trautman was going to create there was no place for solitary types, because when you are in war, a lone man has no meaning. Only team work really matters.
And most of all, he was going to lose it any moment.
Not with his body, but with his mind: he was losing lucidity, and Trautman couldn't afford any fragile men, inside his Baker teams... But it was normal, for his young age.
Maybe he would pass the selection, but it would just be a lucky shot, because his mind had quit already. His mind was beyond the point of no return already.
Trautman knew the kid very little, but he had overheard some phrases mentioned by Rambo, and he had started believing that Rambo had joined the army to run away from home. And if he was right, Rambo had done it in order to run away from a violent father.
Trautman tried to overcome those thoughts.
Whatever the kid's story was, his past or his age, nothing should matter to him.
If he passed the selection, he would join the Baker team. Otherwise, he would go back to his former unit, just like all of the others.
Because that's the way his program worked and that's the way it had to be.
Rambo was going to lose his head any moment, and Trautman's duty, at the time, was to break the boy for good.
“Garner?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to decide about the boy”
“Rambo?”
Trautman nodded.
“And what exactly should I do with him?”
“He is going to lose it. I want you to finally break him. And try to be objective with him, because I can't”
Garner tilted his head a little, puzzled.
“Why?”
“Because he is too good for someone so young. He is too trained, too strong, too motivated. He would be the first to join the SOG at such a young age and I can't be objective about him... Also because I don't give a shit about his age: he is going to lose it with his head. So I want you to finally break him. Take care of him yourself”
“Ok”