Blood Contact

by David Sherman

  Bass again saluted Conorado. "Aye aye, sir!" he said loudly. When the captain returned his salute, Bass pivoted and marched to the platoon commander's position in front of third platoon, which had been empty until then.

  Conorado looked at his company again, it seemed to each Marine that his skipper looked him directly in the eye. Conorado filled his chest, then bellowed, "Platoon commanders, dismiss your platoons." He made an about-face, and he and Myer marched back into the barracks.

  While the platoon commanders took their men to the assigned locations, the platoon sergeants joined Gunny Thatcher and took their incoming men from his control. Sergeant Hyakowa, first squad leader of third platoon, acted as platoon sergeant. He took six new men to the company classroom. Conorado and Myer were already there.

  Hyakowa put the replacements in the front row of seats. In another moment the entire platoon was present, everyone seated and looking attentively at their company commander. Finally, Conorado spoke.

  "I've already met with all the platoon commanders and platoon sergeants, so everybody knows what to do. I'm here with you, the men of the third platoon, because your loss of leaders on Diamunde was so much greater than anybody else's. Third platoon is going to have the greatest reorganization in the company. There is one leadership change that I want to tell you about myself. You are not getting a new platoon sergeant." He held up his hand to forestall questions. "By that I mean you aren't getting somebody new, someone you don't know. I'm sure that every one of you who's been here for any time at all will agree with Brigadier Sturgeon, Commander Van Winkle, Top Myer, Gunny Bass, and me that Sergeant Hyakowa richly deserves to be your new platoon sergeant."

  Cheers and shouts of congratulations broke out. The Marines closest to him slapped Hyakowa on the shoulders or pounded his back. Hyakowa had acted as platoon sergeant on many occasions, so everyone knew that he would do a superb job. Even the woo seemed pleased. It hopped onto Hyakowa's shoulder, where it glowed a bright pink.

  "As you were, people! "Top Myer bellowed. The pandemonium died out and the Marines looked back to Conorado.

  "Gunny Bass and Sergeant Hyakowa have spent considerable time figuring out a reorganization of this platoon. Top Myer, Gunny Thatcher, and I agree with what they've come up with. So I'll let them tell you the rest of your reorganization." Abruptly, he stepped out, heading for the classroom entrance.

  "Platoon, a-ten-shun!" Myer bellowed.

  The Marines jumped to their feet and stood rigidly at attention as Conorado left, followed closely by Myer.

  "Relax, sit down," Bass said as soon as they were gone. He strode to the front of the classroom, where Hyakowa joined him, facing the platoon. They waited a moment while the Marines resumed their seats. The six men in the front row, in a new situation, not knowing much if anything about their new leaders or fellow Marines, sat stiffly while the Marines behind them lounged. Some of the new men watched the woo as it returned to its usual perch on Dean's shoulder.

  Bass studied the men in the front row for several seconds, then raised his eyes to look at the rest of the platoon. "We've got a lot of new Marines for you to meet. I'll call out their names." He looked back at the front row. "When I say your name, stand up and turn around so everyone can see you. Many of you have already met Corporal Pasquin." Pasquin stood and glowered at the platoon. "I've read his record and spent some time talking with him. He was on one campaign when he was with 25th FIST. He also served on a peacekeeping mission to Cross and Thorn, and a peacemaking deployment to Rodina when he was with the 18th, so he's been around a bit. He's on his second enlistment. I'm sure once he gets to know everybody and gets his feet wet here, he'll turn out to be a fine asset to this platoon." Pasquin sat and Bass went on to the other new men, none of whom had the rank or experience that Pasquin did.

  "PFC Dobervich joins us from Arsenault. Right, he's a boot, this is his first duty. The same goes for PFC Hruska. PFC Yi just graduated from gun course. PFC Quick," he shook his head, "is an oh-one," infantry military occupational specialty, "just like the rest of us, but he spent his first four years in the Corps on embassy duty. This is his first assignment as a real Marine." He raised his voice and continued talking over the breakout of laughs and jeers that greeted Quick as he stood, red-faced. "PFC Rowe joins us from 11th FIST. He's got a couple of campaign ribbons, one for a peacekeeping mission and one for an indigenous-forces training operation—and most of you know what they can be like. Now he's going to find out what it's like to be a Marine in the active Corps." This time Bass allowed the laughter to go on for a moment while he stood slightly bowed, looking at the floor to hide his eyes.

  "All right, here's the deal," Bass said, standing erect, arms akimbo. "We've got two squad leader positions to fill." He paused to clear the lump that suddenly filled his throat. "I don't think anybody will have any problem with Ratliff and Bladon moving up. Knock it off!" he snapped as his men began congratulating the new squad leaders. "I'm sure a day will come when they're busting your asses to get you ready for an inspection, or to take an objective with more people shooting at you than you think you can face, when you won't be so happy with them." He paused and glared at his men in mock menace. A couple of the new men swallowed and wondered what kind of hardass they had for a platoon commander.

  "Sergeant Kelly," he nodded toward the gun squad leader, "is now the senior squad leader and will be acting platoon sergeant when either Sergeant Hyakowa or I are gone. Now, we've got four fire team leader slots to fill. The first one's easy—we've got a new corporal, Corporal Pasquin. Rabbit, if I give you Dornhofer as your first fire team leader, can you handle Pasquin for second fire team?"

  "No problem, boss," Ratliff replied.

  "Fine." He looked at another Marine. "Juice, think you're ready to be a fire team leader?"

  Lance Corporal Justice "Juice" Goudanis jumped in his seat and gawked at Bass. After a few seconds he closed his mouth and swallowed, then said, "I do believe so, Gunny."

  "He okay with you for third fire team, Rabbit?"

  "If he can't do the job, I'll kick his ass around the barracks until he can," Ratliff said, straight-faced.

  "Fine. Sergeant Hyakowa and I will spell you if it takes that long. Also, you get Schultz, Dean, Van Impe, and Godenov. Your new men are Dobervich and Quick. Divvy them up however you want, then let Sergeant Hyakowa and me know what you did.

  "Tam, your fire team leaders are Rat and Chan. Okay with you?"

  "Chan did real good as shift leader with the feldpolizei on Wanderjahr," Bladon answered. "Yeah, he's fine with me. And I know the Rat's going to continue to do the outstanding job he's always done."

  Corporal "Rat" Linsman lifted his chin and tried to look superior. Lance Corporal Chan's heart raced and his eyes glowed. He was sure he could do the job, he hoped he could.

  "Good. You also get Watson, Claypoole, Nolet, and MacIlargie." He shook his head. "Think you can handle MacIlargie?"

  Bladon laughed. "No problem. He's still learning chapter one of the book I wrote when I was a PFC. I know all of the stunts he'll try to pull better than he does."

  "All right. You also get Hruska and Rowe. Get 'em organized and let me know what you did."

  "Hound, Stevenson gets your second gun team. Yi's your new man."

  Sergeant Kelly simply nodded. The gun squad was lucky, it had only lost one man on Diamunde.

  "That's it, then. Unless anybody has any questions, squad leaders... Yes?" He nodded to MacIlargie, who raised his hand.

  "Uh, Gunny? I was paying close attention to what you were saying, but I only heard two fire team leaders named for second squad. Did I miss something?"

  "No-o-o," Bass drew the word out, "but I imagine you'll wind up wishing you were in first squad. Squad leaders, do it. Tam, see me and Wang in the passageway for a moment."

  The three squads broke up into groups in different parts of the company classroom as Bass, Hyakowa, and Bladon left.

  Ratliff had one new man to put in each fire team. Since P
asquin was a corporal, he had to be a fire team leader. Ratliff gave him two men who'd been on operations with the company, Dean and Godenov. He pretended not to notice the glances Pasquin and Dean exchanged when he made the assignments. Dean bristled at the look Pasquin gave the woo.

  Why me? Dean wondered, stifling a groan. Rabbit should have given him Schultz—Hammer would straighten this guy out in a hurry.

  Dornhofer was his most experienced fire team leader—he got first fire team and the least experienced man, Dobervich, along with the toughest man in the company, Lance Corporal Schultz. Goudanis, the least experienced fire team leader, was third fire team leader, with Lance Corporal Van Impe, who might have gotten the promotion if he wasn't still on light duty from the wounds he received on Diamunde, and PFC Quick, who at least had some experience, even if it wasn't in the infantry.

  Bladon returned in a couple of minutes. He was grinning widely, but wouldn't tell anyone what Bass had wanted to see him about.

  After Bladon made his assignments, MacIlargie, looking confused asked, "Corporal Bladon, you put me and Rock in the same fire team."

  Bladon nodded. "That's right. You and Claypoole. All of my troublemakers together, right where I can keep an eye on you.

  "Who's our fire team leader?"

  Bladon laughed. "You'll find out soon enough," he said with a smile. "Then you'll probably wish you were in a different company."

  MacIlargie turned to Claypoole, a pained expression on his face. "What'd I do, Rock?" he asked. "What'd I do wrong? I haven't done anything wrong yet."

  "I'm not sure that's the problem," Claypoole answered softly. He looked a bit queasy himself.

  Bladon was still laughing as he left the classroom to tell Bass and Hyakowa about the assignments.

  Chapter 3

  In nearly two years, Company L only had two promotion ceremonies. During the previous year, on board the amphibious battle cruiser Tripoli en route to Diamunde, Charlie Bass was promoted from staff sergeant to gunnery sergeant. Almost a year before that, on the Confederation ship HMS Gordon bound for Elneal, there was a promotion ceremony for the company's squad and fire team leaders, whose ranks were lower than called for in the table of organization.

  The infrequency of promotion ceremonies wasn't unusual—promotions came slowly in the Confederation Marine Corps. When there weren't many casualties, promotions were very slow. Thirty-fourth FIST had suffered very few casualties on Elneal, none on Wanderjahr. But the war on Diamunde had opened up a lot of slots for promotion, especially in the FIST's infantry battalion. The sharp end of the stick always gets chipped and dented and the infantry battalion was the point of the sharp end.

  The entire battalion, resplendent in dress reds—high, stock-collared scarlet tunics over blue trousers for the enlisted men, scarlet tunics over gold trousers for the officers—formed up on the pebble-strewn parade ground flanked by the barracks. Nearly all of the Marines, except for the most junior men who had just arrived on Thorsfinni's World with the 34th FIST as their first duty assignment, had at least one medal sparkling on their chests, usually the Marine Expeditionary Medal. Most had one or more silver comets glinting on the medal's ribbon, indicating multiple awards. Many wore ribbons indicating unit citations. A few wore personal decorations for heroism. Some of the Marines in the battalion had so many medals, they clumped together and projected far out from their chests.

  Usually, for sergeants and below, company commanders presided over promotion ceremonies held in the individual company areas, but on this occasion Commander Van Winkle was going to handle the ceremony himself. Too many Marines had been lost on Diamunde, and he felt it necessary to give these promotions with his own hand: partly to honor the men who had died or were wounded too badly to return; partly to emphasize to everyone the importance of the promotions, and the value of the ranks the newly promoted men would have. Van Winkle believed it would also make an impression on the replacements. The new men should know that their battalion commander cared, that his Marines were important to him.

  There was another point Van Winkle took into consideration. The Diamunde campaign, the third major war on that world, rated more than just another comet on the Marine Expeditionary Medal, and a new campaign medal had been struck for it. Along with distributing promotion warrants, Van Winkle would pin these medals on the new lance corporals, corporals, sergeants, and staff sergeants. He'd been briefly annoyed when Brigadier Sturgeon said he wanted to preside over an awards ceremony for decorations for heroism, but quickly let that annoyance go. The ceremony was going to be long enough as it was, without making the men stand for the additional time involved in making the personal awards, so perhaps it was better to have two ceremonies on different days.

  Commander Van Winkle completed his brief and, he hoped, inspirational remarks, and then, in a voice that carried without amplification to everyone on the parade ground, commanded, "Sergeant Major, call the roll!"

  Battalion Sergeant Major Parant cried out in an even louder voice, "The following Marines, front and center!" He lifted a sheet of parchment, holding it at the top with his left hand and the bottom with his right, and began reading off names in company order, alphabetically within platoons. Each name was preceded by the rank the Marine was being promoted to. Eleven men were called from K Company. Nine names were called from the first and second platoons of Company L, which had been in the thickest of the fighting in the Diamunde campaign. Company L's third platoon by itself had five.

  "Sergeant Bladon!" Sergeant Major Parant called, and the new second squad leader broke ranks and marched forward to join the growing rank in front of the reviewing stand. "Corporal Goudanis! Staff Sergeant Hyakowa! Sergeant Ratliff! Corporal Stevenson!" Altogether, sixteen Marines from Company L were called forward to be promoted. Mike Company had the second largest number of promotions, fourteen. Headquarters Company had six.

  Finally, the forty-seven Marines were standing in one long line in front of the reviewing stand. Parant turned to face Commander Van Winkle and announced, "Sir, all present and accounted for!"

  "Thank you, Sergeant Major," Van Winkle said, then held up another sheet of parchment and read, "Know ye all men, that placing special trust and confidence in..." The commander recited the names in the same order they had been called forward, using the words of the archaic Marine promotion warrant, which hadn't been changed in centuries, to announce the promotion of the forty-seven Marines. When the reading was over, he rolled up the parchment and handed it to the ensign who was his aide. He descended the three steps from the reviewing stand to the parade ground and was followed by the battalion sergeant major and the aide. Parant carried the individual promotion warrants, and the aide bore a case with forty-seven Third Diamundean Campaign medals.

  Moving from one man to another, Van Winkle handed over a promotion warrant and then shook the Marine's hand while saying a few words of congratulations. Then he took a medal from the case and pinned it onto the man's tunic.

  "You're getting pretty impressive there, Staff Sergeant," he said when he pinned the medal on Hyakowa's tunic. Hyakowa already had eight campaign medals and several comets on his Marine Expeditionary Medal, to compliment his Good Conduct Medal and the Silver Nebula and Bronze Star medals for bravery he had earned on earlier campaigns.

  "Thank you, sir," Hyakowa said. "It happens after time."

  "I always thought there was a wise guy hiding under that calm and collected surface of yours," Sergeant Major Parant said. "Maybe we should assign you to a different company—you've been hanging out with Charlie Bass too long." Hyakowa snorted discreetly.

  "Congratulations, Staff Sergeant, you deserve it." Parant gave Hyakowa's shoulder a stiff, short-swing left as he shook hands with him. "I owe you three more."

  Hyakowa managed not to react to the sharp punch. "You have to catch me first, Sergeant Major," he said. The enlisted men of the Confederation Marine Corps practiced a time-honored ritual—pinning on the stripes. Every enlisted Marine of equal or higher ran
k was allowed, during the day or two following a promotion, to punch a newly promoted Marine on the shoulder one time for each chevron and rocker of his new rank. A staff sergeant's insignia was three chevrons over one rocker.

  Parant laughed lightly and moved on with his commander to Sergeant Ratliff.

  It took three-quarters of an hour for Van Winkle to pass out all the warrants and pin on the campaign medals. The battalion had been standing at attention for close to an hour and a half by then. It was time to release the men—but not until after a few closing remarks.

  "We are Marines," Van Winkle said, resuming his position on the reviewing stand and taking a moment to look over his battalion. "More than that, we are the epitome of Marines—the infantry. From time immemorial, Marines have been the tip of the spear, the sharp end of the stick. Wherever and whenever there have been Marines, Marines have been the first to go into conflict, the first to make contact with the enemy. It is Marines who have guarded the most important installations at home and abroad, on-world and off. It is Marines who went ashore to secure ports, Marines who guarded shipping and fought off and defeated pirates and other raiders. It is Marines who, simply by appearing on the scene and making known their willingness to do battle, have prevented wars—only the foolish are willing to fight against Marines.

  "We are the few, we are the proud. We are an undying band of brothers. We are the guardians of all we hold true and dear. We the Marines stand ever vigilant, ready at a moment's notice to step into harm's way. When we do, we know we will defeat that harm. We know that because we know our leaders are the finest leaders there are, as are the Marines who were promoted today, and as are the lance corporal fire team leaders and corporal squad leaders who have yet to be promoted. We know we will take care of our own. And we know we are the best. We are Marines."