Captain Greene and the Lost Patrol - Theme: "Moonlight Serenade"
Background
The Great War wasn't Captain Greene's first, he'd served in both Alaska and Canada. He'd seen and done things no man should. Infantry. A real leatherneck. By comparison, guarding the place that was building the weapons that would end the world was paradise. When the "Big One" finally happened, he was one of the "lucky" few that didn't throw their guts up in a bloody pile and die during the following few weeks in that miserable bunker. But much like the rest that 'survived', his skin rotted, his insides churned and his mind was set loose. What brought him back from the brink was the reassertion of his duty by the good Doctor. The chain of command was broken, and needed restructuring. Dr. Clarke was now in charge, and being the highest ranking surviving soldier, the soldiers of Pentax were now under his command, and were his responsibility. Just like Anchorage. Just like that fucking trail across Ontario. His boys needed him.
In the decades, or uh. Has it been..., sorry, I can't, for a second there I couldn't....the, centuries since he's had to whip his boys into shape. Poor practice, new recruits. Whatever. They're the Marines finest. There's more of them now than ever, and they're razor sharp. Clarke's sermons and preachings never really resonated with Greene. He preferred to stay on the surface and focus on his job: Protecting Pentax and his superiors. Sure, they looked different now, but on the inside they were the same, right? They were still American. Still had the same job: Protect agains the Chi-Coms or the Canadians or the raiders or the Church or The Sidewinders or the Painted Rocks or whoever else. Even with the seemingly never ending steady stream of recruits being referred to him, he could whip them into shape.
When, "The Crawler", an ICBM transpoter (
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crawler-transporter) was formed, Greene finally felt he had another home. The base, though stationary thorugh its first few years, was a throwback to the army bases of old where he was trained. In the years after where it was converted into an active mobile war-platform, he felt he had direction, as its leader. He felt comfortable, secure, safe in the mind. He didn't have that mawing itch that had been ripping at him so hard in winter 2077.
He'd been fine patrolling with his old buddies for a few decades. Johnny, Michael and Samson. At times Greene didn't recognize them because they were dressing different or saying things unlike them, but he always felt secure that his boys were by his side during all of it. They'd carried him through Alaska, they drank with him after Canada, they'd managed to find him decades after the Big One, they were here for him now. Didn't matter if the orders or the brass were crazy, didn't matter if he didn't recognize Texas anymore, all that mattered was he knew him and his boys were in the mud together, and just like before they'd get eachother out. Always.
That was until recently, he got the order from Dr. Clarke to deliver their most recent big project: a radioactive dirty bomb to the city of "Boomtown", a hive of enemy combatants. They took the crawler that direction, shoring up in the hills and sending scouts by foot so as not to alert their presence. But something was...off. Something rang wrong to Greene. Couldn't shake it. His boys reported everything was in position, ready to go. But as he walked over to that dirty bomb, he had this attack like his heart was giving out. Saw things he'd never seen before: standing guard outside Pentax, seeing these streaks of bright light crossing the sky, fire ripping the horizon like it was some forecast, but it felt more real than anything he'd felt in years. It felt like a swarm of flies in his brain, like his mind was giving out again. His boys helped him center himself, and he couldn't do it. Couldn't start another Big One. His boys told him that. He radioed back to base the weapon had malfunctioned, then destroyed the radio system.
Now him and his platoon, completely loyal, traverse the desert in their vehicle. They can't produce for themselves, so they must raid, but Greene mandates that they never kill unless absolutely neccesary when they take. He still regularly plays poker with his Boys, and asks them what to do. In the base of the crawler, the dirty bomb lies unused.