After Action Review
Mission Objectives:
(1) Infiltrate Canada
(2) Obtain package “Daisy May” from sympathizer in Ann Arbor, MI.
(3) Rendez-vous with “The Doctor”
(4) Disrupt daily activities of civilians in designated target area
(5) Conduct multiple printing operations in multiple areas
(6) Report back to “Sanctuary” with “Daisy May”
Report:
Paper Agents Sputnk Mixon and Nathan “Cornfed” Lewis depart “Sanctuary” HQ at 0900 27 JAN 11 in “Marion Spook” [1970 something Voltzwagon bus BABY BLUE X 1] after conducting several safety briefings. We reached the Lewis family home early that afternoon and began repairs and basic maintanence on Marion. First contact was made with the househould Hell Hound codename “Charlie”. Terrifying experience. That evening we bivouaced at Cornfed’s twin brother Jim’s home. Woke to the strange voice of a woman standing over my body. “Who is this person?” Who is this woman? Was our cover blown? We left town immediately after breakfast of sausage gravy. It was delicious.
We reviewed the last of our safety materials before we reached the Canadian border with our documentation held eagerly in our hands. We had a well constructed introduction. At the window Cornfed stumbled on his lines, rambling about paper, paper, beaters. You know. Paper. Uniforms. We pulp them. We’re picking up a Hollander beater. That kind of thing. I quickly informed the gate guard that we were veterans and in minutes we had completed our first objective.
Winter has destroyed Canada.
We were allowed into Detroit with neither pomp nor circumstance. A bum yelled at us while we refilled Marion Spook. We started getting the Michigan Disease. Never going back. Within the hour we had zeroed into our location where we were to pick up “Daisy May”. We found her frozen into the ground, her beautiful basin filled with frozen leaves, the jaws of her roll clamped down on some incomprehendable metal box which appeared to be a switch to some other machine that Daisy May had eaten. The blue tarp which had been draped over her had deteriorated so much that the fibers fell apart in our fingers. When we tried to rock her from the ground we broke her free of her stand and she fell to the ground. Cornfed’s back was in critical condition and he winced with pain every time we tried to lift her. When she finally came free we realized that she was the heaviest thing we’d ever endeavored to lift. Things looked grim. After a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich we returned to our task to find our contact in this area waiting to assist us in our mission. Between all of us Daisy May came to be loaded into Marion Spook and we were again on the highway. This time towards Buffalo.
We were too exhausted to continue our journey after we got lost in a labyrinthine complex of construction jobs confusing us as to the true wherabouts of the fabled bridge back into Canada. We purchased a duty free bottle of whiskey and rented a room. We were whiskey drunk within the hour and began stumbling around town. Our collective judgement skills led us to the bar with the most females dressed in the dirtiest clothing. We were looking for a man named Bad Larry. We heard he could help us in getting ourselves across the tundra again without losing our minds. We sniffed and we sniffed but in the end we just got drunk.
I had to stumble back to the hotel. I fell asleep. At 0330 Cornfed opened the door to the room and began talking about the civil unrest in Egypt. It was a hilarious diatribe which ended in him vomiting while hollering the Artillery mantra: Steel Rain. He had succeeded in his search for Bad Larry even though I had ghosted him under the awful influence of whiskey. The following morning we hazarded the return leg and arrived in Buffalo without drawing any attention from the local law enforcement officials who eye-balled “Diasy May” with distrust. My training in conversational magic saved us from harsh interrogation proceedures. “These are not the droids you’re looking for.”
Nathan Lewis distinguished himself as the foremost expert on mechanical affairs. His relationship with the Spook took on the appearance of a bond or some other kind of love. These two were made for each other.
Objective (2) was accomplished at 1900 29 JAN 11 and a deep drunkeness ensued. The Godfather came in the plane at 2345. We picked him up in the Marion Spook.
For the following five (5) days went as follows:
0730 Wake up. Drink coffee. Smoke cigarettes out the window. Hate the snow. Love the snow. Drink Coffee.
0845 Depart for NCCC (Niagara County Community College) Smoke cigarettes and bitch about the snow.
0930 Arrive at NCCC. Realize that half of our belongings have been thrown into the trash compactor by a rogue janitor who is rumored to be “slow”.
1000 Complete set up. Begin the processing of fibers and initialize sheet formation.Begin staring blankly out at the frozen horizon. Wonder at the lives of these young people who seem to not notice us. So many cellphones.
1500 Drive van on top of stack of wet sheets of paper made from the fibers of military uniforms on the sidewalk while people wait for their parents to pick them up from school.
1600 Depart NCCC laughing at the silly things that people said and did over the course of the day.
1700 Start drinking.
Distractions abounded but we retained our military baring. This objective was completed in a manner that was more than satisfactory. We met with four (4) potential Combat Papermakers who all showed significant aptitude in the trade. Though the students seem confused and alienated from the real world, the veterans still seem plugged in and aware of their surroundings. This gives reason for hope that more veterans might be contacted in the area.
After the completion of this objective Cornfed and I immediately initiated our secret objective of completing a short illustrated book featuring his words and my design. I diverted my energies to complete a series of prints that I had kept in the weapons locker for far too long. The images were derived from a special experiment conducted by me, Paper Maker Sputnik Mixon, while I was on a powerful halucinagen called “Mushrooms” by civilian youth. I was trying to contact an interior world which I have had lodged inside of myself since the nightmare of my deployment. Space. I intend to open up space and the future, but inside of the present. This series culminated in an experimental print on a mirrored surface. Though I believe this artifact to be satisfactory I find flaw in it, but I am overwhelmingly excited to experiment with the capcity for further work. I noticed that there happens a double image when one prints on a mirror, and while it ruins, to some exaggerated degree, this most recent piece, it could prove useful in the future to highlight the transparent potentials of CYMK ink when exposed to light. A color/light show for the mind. The future.
The book, WAR ON TERROR, looked like a success until the very end of the job when we realized collectively that I had miscalculated the thickness of the lines for the letters and we did not have time to fix this problem so a command decision was made to close the job down and to complete it at a later date. The disappointment led us to drink.
We were taken to the bar by three local women and one local male. We were a detachment of three: Margibald Polanski, Cornfed Lewis, and Sputnik Mixon. Everything was going fine and everyone seemed very drunk and very content with the flow of the evening until there came a woman who had become loud with her arms draped around Cornfed. She purchased drinks for Nate and I as a showing of belief in the merit of Combat Paper, but she neglected Margibald. This infuriated our colleague so much so that a few minutes later while Margibald was recieving a lapdance from this woman she punched her in the face with her pimp ringed hand.
I only heard of the proceedings later because I was out on the street smoking weed with the locals. The entire bar was filled with the University of Buffalo art faculty and the recipient of the punch happened to be a curator for a local gallery. We call these priority targets out here on the front lines. It turns out that Lewis was there to handle the affair and the woman turned out to be good humored about the whole situation. She purchased more drinks, but this time only for him. Everyone went home to their own places. The next day the rumor rung loud through the halls and people either condoned or condemned Margibald’s loose canon actions. She had a lot of support it seems.
It is my opinion that disciplinary actions be taken. The success of our mission was endangered recklessly in a way that may negatively relations in this area for some time to come.
On the morning of 14 FEB 11 I arrived at the temporary headquarters to find Nate and DCAM packing the vans. We left town within the hour and within the next two we had picked up Daisy May and we were on our way back to the Sanctuary.
As of the writing of this AAR Daisy May sits happily at home in the cargo bay of the Marion Spook. I have been transported to Burlington, Vermont on a CLASSIFIED MISSION with The Godfather to reclaim lost pride.
It is my assessment that over the course of the two and one-half weeks that it took to accomplish these missions the Paper Agents involved excersized the greatest amount of loyalty to the cause. They maintained a sense of discipline in line with their sense of duty.
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The Paper Trail 