by Sandy Addson
“Toton,” cursed Chantal as she flipped the Ukrainian girl the bird.
“Ladies! Do not force me to put you two in the hospital again,” said Alex before things got out of hand. Alex may have been the smallest of Winnie’s crew but she grew up in Steveston, the hardest town on Canada’s west coast and knew how to take care of herself; and like many sergeants before her, she was more than capable of taking care of matters with her fists.
Her two crewmates glared sullenly at each other but both kept their tongues.
“Alright then, I’m going off to see how the rest of the platoon is doing. Once you have Winnie ready, head to the showers. Corporal Smith and Sir Kay are going to stand guard. So, take your time and enjoy yourselves. This will be a full inspection so you know what that means: pressed uniforms, styled hair, makeup and shaved legs and pits. If anyone in the inspection party sees even a hair out of place, there will be hell to pay,” said the sergeant
“And no swearing Sergeant you will have to remember that one as well,” said Becky without even so much as a smile on her face.
Alex’s face took on a neutral mask. Major Steves, the support company’s commanding officer, had a thing about swearing in general and when it came to women in particular. Alex had nearly lost a stripe two months ago because the major had caught her swearing at the rest of the platoon after a poor performance in a training exercise. Leftenant Grassa had saved the situation with some clever political maneuvering. Unfortunately, that option was no longer available.
“I’d better see all the ammunition stowed correctly or I’ll leave my boot sticking out of your rear entrance,” replied Alex finally.
“Yes ma’am,” replied the walker’s loader with a big smile knowing that she’d just scored one against the bloody-minded sergeant.
Unlike their allies who deployed walkers in individual regiments like tanks, the Canadian Army had deployed its walkers as part of their infantry battalion’s support company. Each battalion had a walker platoon of three sections; the 1st or heavy section consisted of two medium Grizzly assault walkers, while the 2nd and 3rd sections had two light Guardian walkers each. The Guardians were one-man units, whose main armament was a tempest flamethrower; backed up by several Browning machine guns. Why the walker had so many weapons always perplexed Alex. The driver could only handle one weapon system at a time so why have so many? That she even asked that question was most likely why she ended up with Grizzlies.
Unfortunately, two weeks ago, as part of a rescue attempt for a scouting patrol, the platoon had taken their first serious losses. They’d gotten the patrol out, but a hidden PAK 40 anti-tank gun had cost the unit a Grizzly and a Guardian walker. They had recovered the walkers and while the Guardian had been patched up and was ready to get back into the line, the Grizzly had been a complete write off. What hurt more though, were the two dead and one wounded from the engagement. That one of the dead had been 2nd Lieutenant Grassa had cut the entire platoon deep. The Lieutenant had been in command of the platoon since its creation six months ago and her death had left a big hole in the unit. She’d been the platoon’s mother, taking care of everyone and everything and made it look so easy while she was doing it. As Platoon Sergeant, Alex had been trying hard to fill that hole but there was only so far that ‘The Shrew’ could stretch herself.
That the platoon was down two walkers made the situation both better and worse. While she didn’t have as many personnel to worry about, the Battalion CO still expected the walker platoon to function at full effectiveness. As she approached the 2nd section, which now contained all three Guardians it was the section commander Sergeant Ida Vergamy that was first to see Alex coming.
“Ma’am,” she shouted, jumping down from her Guardian and gave Alex a parade level salute.
Alex sighed, “Don’t you start with that bullshit Ida. I’m not in the mood.” Ida was the closest friend that Alex had in the platoon, but sometimes her attitude grated Alex nerves.
The other NCO lowered her hand and gave Alex a big smile her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Get used to it Alex, you’re the platoon’s commander. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll try and make a lady out of you, especially after what you pulled off two nights ago.
Alex groaned at even the suggestion that she could be made an officer. She liked being a Sergeant. Getting her hands dirty and ‘just’ commanding Winnie; she could handle that. But given that the alternative was a complete stranger taking over the platoon, she’d long ago decided that being in command was the lesser of two evils.
“How are the Guardians?” Alex asked as she walked past her friend to view the three light walkers. Since the Guardian only had a single crewman, Alex had ordered the platoon’s entire maintenance crew (all three of them) to help with their rearming. She and Winnie’s crew could get the walker back up and running faster without help anyways.
“Oh, pretty much up and ready. Unlike you and Winnie, we know better than to run into no man’s land to take on the enemy after they showed the good sense to withdraw,” replied Ida, her amused tone suddenly turning serious.
“If we hadn’t, we would have been accused of not being aggressive enough, and that would have been used as a mark against having women as walker crews,” replied Alex.
“Bullshit. You did it for the thrill. You’re as addicted to the combat rush as much as any paratrooper. Do not use ‘we have to prove ourselves every time we go out’ excuse. Even the Leftenant wasn’t buying that anymore,” said Ida hotly; her Italian accent coming through toward the end of her rant.
Alex resisted the urge to deck her right then. Ida hadn’t been there from the start; she didn’t know how close things had been. “The Leftenant knew the score a lot better…” she started.
“And she’s dead. And the only thing keeping this platoon together now is you. Did it ever occur to you what would happen to this platoon, to the entire idea of women in combat if you had died last night? Alex you’re the toughest woman in this platoon; hell, you’re one of the toughest people in the battalion. You do not have to keep proving that,” Ida said hotly.
Alex was about to say something when she glanced around and saw that everyone in earshot was now focused on the two women. She cut back her remark suddenly remembering that she was at least for now in command of the platoon, and while Ida was a friend, she was also junior in rank to Alex.
Taking in a deep breath, Alex hissed quietly “This ends now. I will not tolerate being dressed down by a subordinate. Once we’re back to being on more equal ranks, we will return to this discussion behind the showers. Clear?”
Ida, surprised and hurt by her friend’s abrupt pulling of rank: stepped back and once again gave Alex a parade ground salute. Only this time there was no playful mocking to it.
“Those walkers had better be ready to fight since you’re all standing around gawking,” said Alex to the rest of the platoon, her voice breaking as she tried to shout the point.
The Shrew had spoken, and suddenly everyone became extremely busy.
“Sergeant Mackenzie!” shouted a voice from across the yard.
Swearing under her breath, Alex turned to acknowledge Major Steves as he moved determinedly towards her with a sharp parade drill salute.
“Why are you and your ladies, not getting ready for the inspection?” he said angrily. The officer was a short thin man that could have made a good walker crewman himself if he had wanted to. Instead he was a short man in a tall man’s army who felt it was his right to take out his frustrations upon those who were both shorter and lower in rank to himself.
Only problem was that Alex wasn’t having any of it. “Sir; we are sir,” she replied.
“No, you’re not. You’re wasting precious minutes rearming your machines. This is why you women always need so much time getting ready: you waste time with things that can be done later,” said the Major in a condescending huff.
“Sir, standing orders…” Alex started.
“I am well aware w
hat the standing orders are Sergeant,” Steves interrupted. “I am also aware that such orders are conditional depending upon the situation. And right now, the situation is that our Brigadier is going to be inspecting this company in less than two hours and your platoon is a disgrace because you are not using your time efficiently. I swear Sergeant if this platoon is not parade ready when the Brigadier arrives, I’ll bust you down to Private and see how Sergeant Vergamy does in command. Now stop this pointless rearmament and get your walker ready for inspection. Oh, and the Company Sergeant Major tells me that you’re late with the daily reports again. I’m surprised Sergeant, being a woman, I expected more from you regarding secretarial work.
“Yes sir, is that all sir?” Alex said through gritted teeth.
“Isn’t that enough? But yes, that is it for now,” he said as he turned and marched off to wreck one of the other support platoon’s day.
Watching him leave, Alex waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to Ida.
“Sergeant, finish rearming the Guardians, and then get them ready for inspection,” she said.
“But the Major said,” started Ida.
“The standing orders are very clear and given by a competent superior officer Sergeant. Rearming and refueling all walkers coming off the line is the priority,” replied Alex in the tone that she took when she was ready to hit something.
“Take command of the platoon Ida. I have to go finish off the daily reports,” Alex said. They were already late but the excuse of needing to get them done would give Alex a chance to cool down before the inspection.
“Ma’am,” replied Ida. This time there wasn’t any mockery in her tone; just respect for having to deal with an asshole.
Alex headed to the Lieutenant’s old tent to spend some time alone and to calm down. Steves’s badgering always brought the worst out in her. Once inside she pulled out one of her precious bottles of Coca Cola and after draining half of its contents actually did try to get some of the endless paperwork done.
Pretty writing had never been a strong suit for Alex, however since joining the army back in ’44 Alex had become reasonably fast at printing. As a result, she was actually able to finish her daily logs and after-action reports before she too had to head to the showers to get ready for the inspection.
Putting the logs, and more importantly her Cokes, back into the platoon’s strong box for safe keeping, Alex got a runner to send in her reports to battalion HQ. Only then did she head back to Winnie’s lager, collect her personal kit and then head to the camp’s showers. As she approached, she could hear the sound of her platoon enjoying one of the few luxuries that they could get this close to the line: hot showers. Making sure that the women could enjoy this luxury without having to worry about several hundred men trying to catch a peek at naked female flesh stood Corporal Jane Smith of Able Company’s Alfred platoon and ‘Sir Kay’ her Automated Infantryman. It had been one of the unwritten agreements among the growing, but still small, population of female soldiers serving in front line and close to front line units, that they would cover each other when showering.
“Afternoon Sergeant, better hurry they must be through most of the hot water by now,” said the Corporal as she shouldered a large two-handed wrench.
Alex was about to say something back when Sir Kay actually gave her a passable bow.
“You teach it that Smith?” asked Alex taken aback by such a human action from the machine.
“What the bowing? Oh no Sergeant; he picked that one up himself after we watched those Robin Hood serials last week. Sir Kay is the best gentleman of the lot I’d say,” replied the mechanic with pride.
“It at least knows how to keep its mechanic happy, which I imagine can’t be said about a lot of walker crewmen,” said Alex as she remembered the number of dirty looks, she gotten from her own mechanics when she brought Winnie in after a fight.
“Oh, he does that,” said Smith patting the ten-foot monster on its hip.
“Well if you excuse me, I’d best take your advice and get in there before all the hot water’s gone,” replied Alex stepping into the shower area.
**
Two hours later with bodies washed, hair curled, eyebrows plucked and the last of the precious Paris lipstick used, the women of the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada’s Walker Platoon stood at rigid attention. Their combat boots were mirrored black, and their infantry battle dress fit perfectly, thanks to hours spent tailoring them. Behind the young women stood their walkers. Winnie and the three Guardians along with being fully armed, fueled and ready for battle had been washed and as many of the scratches and bullet marks that could be reached had been painted over.
“Jesus, they think they’re in a fucking Guards battalion,” said a new private in the mortar platoon when he saw how the women had turned out. The men of the support company had also taken advantage of the showers, and their appearance could be described as ‘clean’ if a person was feeling generous. To their credit however, all of their equipment was maintained and battle ready; and to any battlefield commander that was what was important.
Alex couldn’t help but snort at the comment though. The men could get away with that attitude. They hadn’t had to fight tooth and nail just to be allowed their share of the action. The Sergeant knew that there were still a lot of officers in the higher command who thought that women had no place in combat. This despite the Soviets deploying women fighter pilots, snipers, and those damned Daughters of the Revolution. Not to mention that it was a fact, not a theory but a proven fact, that women made better walker drivers because of their lower centre of gravity and their smaller size.
Still, as Lieutenant Grassa had driven home to Alex time and time again: all that it would take was just one SNAFU on any of their parts and everything that they’d won would be taken away from them. That SNAFU hadn’t happened under the Lieutenant’s watch and Alex had vowed that wasn’t going to happen on her watch either.
Hence, the Guard’s quality while on parade.
However, Alex wasn’t the only one to hear the man’s comment, all of Winnie’s crew did. Fortunately, Chantal didn’t rise to the bait and maintained her ‘at ease’ pose. Unfortunately, Becky and Sarah did take the bait. Sarah’s response was simple; she flipped the man the bird. Becky’s response was far more provocative for many, as she leaned back, established eye contact with the mortar crewman and blew him a kiss.
“No movement in the ranks,” ordered Chantal. The Acadian had taken over Alex’s role as the crew’s disciplinarian as Alex ‘played’ at being platoon leader.
Chantal’s order was mimicked by the Mortar’s Platoon Sergeant. Unfortunately, where Becky and Sarah were smart enough (or just more afraid of what Alex would do to them) to instantly obey, the Private had other ideas.
“But Sergeant, did you see what that bitch did?” he said in a too loud a voice.
“Quiet in the ranks,” hissed the Sergeant, as the Mortar Platoon’s Lieutenant looked over to see who was causing problems right before inspection. Fortunately, the Private’s friends quieted him before he said anything else.
Near crisis dealt with, both Platoons settled down and were ready in more than enough time for inspection.
**
As the Brigadier walked down the ranks, Alex realized that this really wasn’t the usual kind of inspection. First off, the Brigadier was accompanied by far too many people. Oh, the two Galahad equipped members of the Lone Scots, 1st Canadian Army’s Headquarter Defense and Personnel Battalion were to be expected. Every commanding officer above the rank of Major had an escort of men in the powered suits now. Also expected were the Brigadier’s several aides, and the Seaforth’s Battalion Commander, and his aides. What wasn’t expected were the two other Galahads bearing the insignia of the Coldstream Guards escorting a British Colonel and a British Female 2nd Lieutenant.
For his part, Brigadier David Sharpe was equally uncomfortable with this inspection but for entirely different reasons. He was a Permanen
t Forces officer that others would describe as an old school hard ass. But he was also, like most modern senior officers, a severe pragmatist. He’d had to absorb a lot of new things these past three years, the two biggest were now right in front of him: walkers and women walker crews. As he walked into line with Winnie his eye was drawn first to the walker. Although not as large as some of the German machines, up close the Grizzly walker class was still an impressive machine of war. All American designed Walkers were roughly man shaped with a torso, two arms and two legs. The Grizzly was armed with the same 75mm cannon present in the older model Shermans. It could fire a wide variety of shells and was still considered a very effective anti-infantry weapon. The two powerfists were also highly prized by their crews, being useful for everything from mundane tasks such as clearing obstacles and entrenching to tearing apart German bunkers and tanks. But then Brigadier Sharpe’s gaze turned to the walker’s crew. He was then less impressed and more amazed by what he saw.
Before him stood four girls, all of them appeared to be far too young to be in the army let alone in combat. Unfortunately, that was a pretty standard reaction for him anytime he reviewed any infantry unit nowadays. Most of the soldiers on the bleeding edge were too damn young. His reaction to the walker crew was perhaps more severe, due to how small they all were. The tallest was maybe 5’5” in her boots, while the girl with the sergeant chevrons was maybe 5’2”. He couldn’t reconcile the aggressive behavior that he’d read in the after-action reports with such a petite thing.
Though petite wasn’t probably the right word. The Brigadier was more than willing to admit that there was little fragile about the red-haired sergeant. She projected a similar no nonsense, tough as nails air that he’d seen in all the good non-coms of any army.
“Sergeant Mackenzie isn’t it?” said the Brigadier to Alex.
“Yes sir!” said Alex as she snapped the older man a perfect parade ground salute. Though she kept it out of her voice, Alex got very nervous. She’d been in the army long enough to know that it was never a good thing when a senior officer knew your name.