Part 22 (1/2)
Schultz barely grunted in reply, and didn't bother looking at his fire team leader; instead he kept watching out the aperture of the strongpoint overlooking Pohick Bay.
”Yeah, Hammer, you were a mess,” Lance Corporal MacIlargie said, with a wary glance at Schultz. ”I didn't know how you kept going.” He noticed how carefully Schultz rolled his shoulders.
During the fight where third platoon stopped the Coalition pursuit of the defending soldiers, and the subsequent battle when the Marines chased the rebels back out of the tunnel, patches of synthskin on Schultz's back had torn loose and he began bleeding again. By the time the Marines reached the open air, Schultz's back was drenched with blood. Claypoole had worried that the bleeding was from exit wounds, that Schultz had been shot many times and was probably dying.
Doc Hough rushed him back to the battalion aid station before the last shot was fired. Schultz only permitted that because he knew the fight was over and the Marines would have to hold in place.
At the BAS, they began pumping plasma into him while Lieutenant Brauner, the battalion surgeon, and HM1 Horner were stanching the bleeding. After the bleeding was stopped, they applied a fresh layer of synthskin to his back and thighs, then pumped four units of whole blood into him to replace what he'd lost.
Schultz lay naked under a sheet; they'd had to cut his chameleons off to get to his injuries. When the sedative wore off and he was once more fully conscious, he threw the sheet aside and stood up, and demanded his weapons and helmet and a fresh set of chameleons.
”You get back in bed, Marine!” Lieutenant Brauner snapped. ”I'm not letting you leave here again before you're healed.” He flashed a signal at a corpsman sorting vials into a medical cabinet.
The big man turned a stone-hard gaze on the medical officer and growled, ”Weapons. Helmet. Chameleons.”
”You heard me, Marine. I said get back in bed. That's an order.” Brauner had treated many injured Marines who wanted to return to their units before they were fit for duty and knew the way to deal with them was to speak firmly. Schultz just looked at him and held out a hand for his weapons. Brauner stepped close and put a hand on Schultz's chest to push him back to the bed.
It was like pus.h.i.+ng on a flesh-warm marble sculpture.
”Not a good idea, sir,” Horner said, cautiously sidling close. To Schultz, he said, ”We don't have an extra set of chameleons in your size, Hammer. We'll have to requisition a set from Supply. So just lay back down on your bed and rest for a while, and we'll let you go as soon as the requisition comes in.” Schultz turned his gaze on Horner, and the senior corpsman took an involuntary step back.
”Weapons. Helmet,” Schultz growled. He lashed out and knocked the shotgun out of the hand of a corpsman who was sneaking up behind him to slap him with a fast-acting sedative. ”Now!”
Brauner gaped at him. How had the big Marine seen the corpsman behind him and known what he was doing?
Schultz looked around and saw what he was looking for. The doctor managed to jump out of his way in time to keep from being bowled over when Schultz went to the pile of weapons and blood-soaked uniforms cut from the bodies of wounded Marines. It took just seconds for him to find his own. Still naked, but armed and with his helmet tucked under an arm, he headed for the exit from the BAS.
At the door, he paused and looked back. ”Where?” he asked, then nodded when Horner pointed in the general direction of third platoon, and set out to rejoin his unit.
”If you start bleeding again, I'm not responsible!” Brauner called after Schultz when he found his voice again.
Schultz ignored him, just as he ignored the pounding footfalls hurrying behind him a moment later.
”Hammer, you can't go back like that,” Horner said when he caught up with the big man. ”Come on, I'll take you to Supply, and you can get a fresh set of chameleons.”
Schultz stopped, and gestured for the corpsman to lead the way.
And that was how he came to be wearing new chameleons when Claypoole said he thought Schultz was dying on him and MacIlargie noticed how carefully the big man rolled his shoulders.
Of course, Schultz was careful when he rolled his shoulders, just as he was careful of how he stood, and sat, or made other movements. He may not have been willing to stay on bed rest in the BAS, but he wasn't willingly going to do anything that would tear his wounds open again.
Brigadier Sturgeon briefed his primary staff and major unit commanders on the important items in Lieutenant General Billie's meeting: when reinforcements would begin arriving; and the Supreme Commander's total disregard for the Force Recon reports. So, he said, 34th FIST had to come up with its own plans to defend against an a.s.sault by overwhelming forces.
Commander Daana, the FIST F2, intelligence officer, accented the need for defensive plans when he summarized the latest reports from the FIST's own reconnaissance squad-”someone” had been clearing lanes through the pa.s.sive defenses along the waterline; disarming mines and prepping underwater obstacles for demolition.
While the others got to work setting their defenses, Sturgeon took Captain Shadeh, the FIST F1, personnel officer, aside to put him to work rea.s.signing Marines from Whiskey Company to the infantry battalion. Sturgeon then notified Commander van Winkle to expect the new Marines and to have his S1 ready to distribute them to the companies.
It was a solemn third platoon that gathered for a platoon meeting following the memorial ceremony. The platoon hadn't lost any men killed or too badly wounded to return to duty since early on the Kingdom campaign, before the Marines learned how to defend against Skink rail guns. That was also the last time they had lost a squad or fire team leader. Sergeant Bladon, who was then the second squad leader, had lost an arm then, and enough time had pa.s.sed between the injury and when he began undergoing the regeneration process that his arm might not grow back. Even if it did, he would have to go through extensive rehabilitative therapy before he could be returned to duty. Either way, he wasn't there to resume leaders.h.i.+p of second squad. First squad's Corporal Goudanis had also been too severely wounded to return to duty, and might never be well enough.
On that occasion, then-Corporal Linsman and then-Lance Corporals Claypoole and Dean were promoted to fill Bladon and Goudanis's positions and the vacancy created by Linsman's promotion. Now Sergeant Linsman was dead, and so was the gun squad's Corporal Barber.
Ensign Charlie Ba.s.s didn't look at the three new men who stood together at the rear of the platoon, the only Marines present who were fully visible-the rest of them were in chameleons, with only their heads and hands visible. Staff Sergeant Hyakowa kept close but un.o.btrusive watch on the new men- he wanted to see how they reacted to the platoon's response to the loss of men and promotions from within.
”No Marine is expendable,” Ba.s.s told his platoon, ”we all know that. But it's also true that no Marine is irreplaceable. Today we have to replace two good Marines. I'm not going to go into how good Sergeant Linsman and Corporal Barber were, I already said that at the memorial service.” His voice broke and he had to pause for a moment; both of them had been with him as long as he'd been with the platoon. They were the twelfth and thirteenth Marines who had been with third platoon when he joined it as platoon sergeant who had died or been wounded too badly to return.
He found his voice again and continued. ”I've discussed matters with the Skipper, the Top, the Gunny, and Staff Sergeant Hyakowa, as well as Sergeants Ratliff and Kelly. First, we're all in agreement that it's past time that Corporal Kerr became squad leader and got a promotion to Sergeant. Congratulations, Tim.”
He paused for a moment to give the members of second squad a chance to add their congratulations, then said, ”As you were, people! And remember, n.o.body who isn't already a sergeant gets to pin the new stripes on Kerr, and then not until after after he is formally promoted.” He paused again as a wave of good-natured laughter ran through the platoon. The laughter raised his spirits; the platoon's morale was already rising. he is formally promoted.” He paused again as a wave of good-natured laughter ran through the platoon. The laughter raised his spirits; the platoon's morale was already rising.
”Lance Corporal Kindrachuk has been known to get particularly rowdy and barbaric on liberty, but he's a solid gunner who knows his business. He's taking over first gun team.” Again, there was a round of congratulations, before Ba.s.s quieted the platoon.
”Now we've got a fire team leader slot to fill,” he said, and looked innocently at all the expectant lance corporals in the platoon. ”This personnel change shouldn't come as a surprise to anybody. Corporal Doyle is taking over as fire team leader.”
The announcement was met with dead silence, except for a strangled gasp from Corporal Doyle. The three replacements exchanged nervous glances; they didn't know what the problem was, but they all realized something something was wrong. was wrong.
”Come on, people,” Ba.s.s snapped. ”What's your problem? Doyle's already got got the rank. He's proven himself more willing than most to speak his mind when he knows he's right.” That drew loud laughter. ”And he's demonstrated that he knows enough, even teaching men junior to him things they need to know. Corporal Doyle has a lot of fear when we go into action, fear that would paralyze anyone not a Marine-and would paralyze a lot of Marines. But he's able to overcome it and function through his fear. And he's got leaders.h.i.+p experience from when he was the company chief clerk. the rank. He's proven himself more willing than most to speak his mind when he knows he's right.” That drew loud laughter. ”And he's demonstrated that he knows enough, even teaching men junior to him things they need to know. Corporal Doyle has a lot of fear when we go into action, fear that would paralyze anyone not a Marine-and would paralyze a lot of Marines. But he's able to overcome it and function through his fear. And he's got leaders.h.i.+p experience from when he was the company chief clerk.
”Maybe you you haven't been paying attention, but I've been watching Doyle ever since he was on that patrol with me on Elneal. I've seen him grow since then, and even more since he joined the platoon. Everybody involved in making the decision to move him into that slot agrees that Corporal Doyle deserves to be a fire team leader.” haven't been paying attention, but I've been watching Doyle ever since he was on that patrol with me on Elneal. I've seen him grow since then, and even more since he joined the platoon. Everybody involved in making the decision to move him into that slot agrees that Corporal Doyle deserves to be a fire team leader.”
Well, not everybody everybody. First Sergeant Myer had roared with outrage when Ba.s.s nominated Doyle for the slot and Hyakowa seconded the nomination. The Top still wanted Doyle court-martialed for insubordination for forcing his hand during the Avionia deployment. It didn't matter to Myer that the operation wouldn't have succeeded in its final, successful, step had Doyle not gotten his way; he'd been insubordinate!
When Top Myer wouldn't calm down, Captain Conorado had ordered everybody out of the company command bunker and closed the blastdoor behind them. The company clerks went with the others. Closed blastdoor or not, the Marines waiting outside the bunker could hear the fireworks that went on for some time between the company commander and his top dog.
Then there was a couple minutes of silence, during which the Marines waiting outside fought cases of the fidgets, and began wondering how much blood they'd see spattered on the bunker walls when the blastdoor finally reopened.
None, as it turned out. Top Myer sat at his field desk, not quite glaring, not quite expressionless. Captain Conorado sat serene with a hip perched on a corner of his field desk.
”Palmer,” Myer growled at the company's chief clerk when Conorado looked at him, ”adjust the company roster to show Kerr, Kindrachuk, and Doyle in their new positions.” He turned to Staff Sergeant Hyakowa and growled, ”Let me know where you plug the new men in, and any other changes you make in the platoon roster.” He turned to his console and made busy.
Ba.s.s and Hyakowa left the company office bunker and returned to the platoon for the memorial service.
”So,” Ba.s.s said, looking at the new men for the first time, ”I'm Ensign Charlie Ba.s.s, and this is my platoon. Who the h.e.l.l are you?” The three were PFCs John Three McGinty, Emilio Delagarza, and Lary Smedley. Thirty-fourth FIST was the first a.s.signment for each of them, and third platoon was their first operational unit. Delagarza had gun training and became the a.s.sistant gunner in second gun team.
”I don't know about you other two, though,” Ba.s.s said. ”We really only have one open slot. PFC Quick has a shattered arm, but we expect him to come back shortly, which means one of you will be an extra man when he does.
”Corporal Doyle!” Doyle jerked and jumped to his feet. ”Y-yessir!” ”You're good with new men. Which one do you want?” ”S-sir?” Doyle squeaked. ”You heard me, Doyle. Which of these new men do you want in your fire team? Speak up quickly, now. Don't make me think I was wrong about you.”