Rank & File (Anchor Point Book 4)

by L. A. Witt

  “He wasn’t happy. Especially because I chose to take orders to a ship since I needed some time at sea so I could make senior chief. Going back to a ship meant deploying, and there was a pretty good chance that when I got off the ship, I’d be moving to another base. He grudgingly made it through the deployment, and he moved here to Anchor Point when I transferred, but things were never really the same between us. Especially when I told him there’s about a ninety percent chance that my next set of orders will be overseas.” Will sighed. “Or maybe he was pissed because I made him move away from his other boyfriend. Or boyfriends.”

  “What a dick.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Not that I’m surprised.” I rolled my eyes. “We almost always lived in officer housing when I was a kid, and my mom hung out with the officers’ wives. So even before I was old enough to know what sex was, I knew who was cheating, who was sleeping around . . .” I shook my head. “Life on a Navy base, I guess.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s nuts.”

  “It is. When we were in San Diego, the wives would come over a couple times a week and have wine with my mom. Once they were all buzzed, they’d start gossiping about who was fucking who. My brother was sixteen then, and he’d eavesdrop in case they started talking about someone’s daughter being a slut. Then he’d go try to hook up with her.”

  Will rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. In fact, my sister-in-law is the daughter of a retired rear admiral. They met in high school, before my brother went off to the Academy. I don’t know if they met because he found out she’d sleep with anything that moved, but it honestly wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Damn. You ever follow in those footsteps?”

  “Nah. I probably would’ve slept around a lot more than I did, but I was too scared.”

  Will straightened. “Scared?”

  “Oh yeah. Thing is, by the time I was in junior high, my dad was a CO. It sucks. Believe me, I sympathize with the captains’ and admirals’ kids who rebel by sleeping around or getting high at every opportunity.”

  Will scowled. “Yeah. Me too. I haven’t been to a single base where I haven’t had at least one experience of arresting some high-ranking officer’s kid. Usually for vandalism, or something alcohol or drug-related, or for fooling around in a parked car with someone they shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t blame them at all.”

  “Right? I mean, Captain Rodriguez’s twins seem to have their heads screwed on pretty straight. Captain Carter, though? From the supply ship?” Will groaned and rolled his eyes. “His poor daughters are so desperate for attention, they don’t even try not to get caught.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Of course he bails them out every time and sweeps it all under the rug, which only makes it worse. I figure they’re going to keep doing bigger and bigger shit until he has no choice but to ask them what the hell is wrong.”

  “Hopefully that’ll happen before they do something that’ll destroy someone’s life.”

  “No kidding. It wouldn’t be the first time, either.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  He arched his eyebrow. “So did you ever get into trouble during your Navy-brat days?”

  I shook my head. “Absolutely not. My dad put the fear of God into both of us from the time I was in kindergarten. Said getting busted for doing something stupid would destroy our chances at the Academy.”

  Will blinked. “He was using the Academy to keep you in line when you were in kindergarten?”

  “Well . . .” I pursed my lips. “Okay, the longer version is that when I was five or six, base security picked up my brother and his friends for shoplifting at the Exchange. They were dumb teenagers who ripped off a couple of candy bars. Not exactly a federal crime, you know? But Dad still had to pick him up from security. He read my brother the riot act for . . . I mean, looking back it feels like hours and hours, but it probably wasn’t that long. Maybe two hours. My parents made me sit in on it too so I’d understand how serious this kind of thing was. So when I was right about kindergarten age, I got to listen to my dad tell my brother for two hours about how stealing a candy bar could ruin his life forever.”

  Will’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

  “Ya think?” I rubbed my eyes, suddenly exhausted by the topic. “You know what the shittiest part about that was?”

  Will arched an eyebrow. “Besides browbeating a couple of kids over a candy bar?”

  “Yeah.” I exhaled, absently running my hand up the middle of his chest. “The thing Dad kept harping on the most was that if we fucked up like that, the only career we could hope for was on the enlisted side.”

  The other eyebrow came up. “Is that right?”

  Cringing a little, I nodded. “As far as my dad is concerned, the only respectable career is as an officer, and the worst thing a person could possibly be is enlisted.”

  I thought Will might get pissed, but instead, he laughed. Like, really threw his head back and laughed.

  “Oh, he’s one of those officers.” Rolling his eyes, he clicked his tongue. “I wonder what he thinks the Navy would be if us lowly NCOs weren’t around to do the hard work. He might actually have to get his hands dirty.” As soon as he’d said it, he quickly sobered. “Er, sorry. I shouldn’t talk shit about your dad. Isn’t like I know the guy.”

  “Actually, you’re not far off the mark. And he’s well aware the Navy would never function without the enlisted ranks. He just thinks that’s for other people to do. You know, the unwashed masses.”

  “Of course,” he muttered. “We live to serve.”

  I laughed, but not with much feeling. “As if officers don’t do plenty of shit work. Ask me how I know.”

  His brow furrowed as he touched my face. “You don’t seem very happy with the Navy.”

  I blinked. “Of course I am.”

  “Are you?”

  “I . . .” I wanted to get defensive, but . . . happy? With the Navy? Had there ever been any other option?

  Finally, I shook my head and blew out a long breath. “Eh, I’m just at that stage where it’s still kind of shitty. Like, I’ll be happy once I manage my own McDonald’s, but I’m not enjoying the entry-level burger-flipping part.”

  Will laughed quietly. “You do realize there’s still plenty of bullshit at the top, right?”

  “Yeah. But that’s where I want to be. It’s where I’ve always wanted to be.” I sighed again. “I guess I underestimated how long you really have to be part of the rank and file before you get there, you know?”

  He nodded. “In my rate, paying your dues means standing at the gate and checking IDs for hours on end. Believe me when I tell you I understand.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “That . . . always has seemed like it must be miserable.”

  “Oh God. You have no idea.”

  “Yeah?”

  Will chuckled and propped himself up on his elbow. “Back when I was an MA3 at my first shore command, the CO’s wife complained because every time she came through the gate, it was shift change. So then the CO came down on our chain of command, saying that the sentries needed to stay on the gate for longer stretches so it didn’t hold up traffic.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Does shift change really make that much of a difference?”

  “No. But it does take a second for one guy to step out while another steps in, and they might make a few comments back and forth about something. Like that the ID scanner is on the fritz, or whatever. It really doesn’t make much difference to anyone but us. There’s extra people on the gate during shift change, since the oncoming and outgoing shifts are both there for all of ten minutes.” He rolled his eyes. “My best guess is that a sentry was distracted for a second and didn’t salute properly, or . . . who knows?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled. “God forbid the captain’s wife not get saluted properly.”

  “You would be amazed how much shit we have to
deal with from officers’ wives who wear their husbands’ ranks.”

  I snorted. “No, I wouldn’t. I worked in an admiral’s office when I was an ensign.”

  “Oh.” He grimaced. “Yeah. You get it.”

  “Uh-huh.” I paused. “So what happened after she bitched?”

  “We all had to stand longer shifts on the gate. Nothing is better for morale than telling a bunch of kids they get to spend more time being bored, bitched at, and exposed to the weather, and that their feet really will stop hurting after they get used to it.”

  “Do they get used to it?”

  “Eventually, but it definitely fucks with morale. When the next set of bullshit changes come along, they’re already pissed off, and it gets worse. That’s why we had such an awful retention rate at my last command. You had guys in their second terms who had every intention of making a career out of it, and by the time they were up for reenlistment, couldn’t get away from the Navy fast enough.”

  I chewed my lip. “What about the ones who stick it out? Does it get better for them?”

  “If they end up at a better command, sure. I’ve had a couple of people transfer here from other commands, ready to get out at the first opportunity, and then they decide they’ll stay after all. Amazing what happens when you treat your people like human beings. And when you don’t . . . well, you can’t be surprised when your attrition rate is high.”

  “Except people leave from the good commands too.”

  “Well, yes.” Will shrugged. “Not everyone wants to stay for life. Not everyone likes it as much as they thought they would.”

  My heart sped up.

  He cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

  I sighed. “I just . . . I can relate to wanting to jump ship. Sometimes it’s frustrating, you know? And I know it’s a long game. Gotta get through the bullshit before you make it to the better stuff. It really sucks at this level.”

  “I can understand that. One of my old chiefs—way back in my early days—said Wog Day was a pretty good metaphor for Navy life.” He paused. “You been through Wog Day yet?”

  I groaned.

  Will laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes. So you know how it goes. And according to this chief, the first five, ten years of your career is like an extended version of Wog Day. It’s bullshit, it’s shitty, but when it’s over, things get better. And I can tell you from experience that the first half of my career was kind of like going through the Tank of Truth and Wisdom—it sucks, and it feels like it takes forever, but then it’s suddenly over, and it’s all downhill from there.”

  That was a pretty apt description for how I felt about my career lately. I shuddered at the memory. Of everything they’d thrown at all of us who were crossing the equator for the first time that day, the Tank of Truth and Wisdom had been the worst. It was an inflatable raft filled with every kind of liquid imaginable that wouldn’t create an actual biohazard, plus garbage thrown in. I wasn’t entirely sure what had been in it, only that the smell was what finally made me heave over the side of the flight deck. And that was before they’d made me crawl through it like the other wogs.

  It wasn’t fun, but it was a point of pride in the career of anyone in the fleet. When it was over, you were a shellback. Next time you crossed the equator, you’d be heckling the hapless wogs on their way through the day-long hazing. No one particularly enjoyed going through it, but you weren’t truly a man of the sea until you had. Like every other shellback, I was glad when it was over.

  “So at what point do I feel like I’m a shellback instead of a wog still crawling through the Tank of Truth and Wisdom?”

  Will smoothed my hair. “It’s different for everybody. For me, once I made E-6 and stopped getting shit on, everything was better.”

  “Everyone keeps saying it’ll be better once I make lieutenant commander.” I held up my crossed fingers. “Let’s hope so.”

  “Yeah. Let’s hope. As long as you don’t turn into one of the dicks we’ve got running my part of the base.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We just got a new security officer here at Adams, and he and I have been butting heads for a month.” He groaned. “Every fucking SECO is on a power trip, I’m telling you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because half the time they’re senior enlisted who went warrant officer, so suddenly this former enlisted guy’s got his commission, and he’s in charge of an entire security department.” Will rolled his eyes. “Motherfuckers always seem to forget they used to be the guys they’re currently stomping on.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. And, um, if it’s not too weird to offer some unsolicited career advice while we’re in bed . . .” He lifted his eyebrows.

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll take anything I can get.”

  He trailed his fingers up my forearm. “Do not forget where you came from. When you get up there in rank, remember how miserable you are right now. Your guys on the bottom of the totem pole will have exponentially more respect for you if they think you understand what it’s like for them, and you don’t treat them like shit on your shoe.”

  “Good to know. I’ll remember that.”

  “Everyone with any authority should, but they don’t. A lot of COs seem to forget that they’re only as good as the rank and file they’re commanding. If the rank and file respect him? They’ll walk through fire for him. If not?” Will shook his head. “They’ll do just enough work to stay out of trouble, and that will not look good when he wants to advance.”

  “Duly noted. What do you think of Captain Rodriguez?”

  Will shrugged. “I like her. I’d like to see her rein in some of her people, especially jackasses like the security office, but she’s one of the better COs I’ve worked for.”

  “She does seem pretty chill.”

  “She is. Doesn’t take crap from a lot of people, either. Not that you really can at that level, but I’ve seen some COs who were doormats, so . . .”

  “I’m amazed they last long,” he said.

  “Yeah. Me too.” Will was quiet for a moment, and I realized he was watching me intently.

  I squirmed. “What?”

  “Just, uh . . .” He chewed his lip. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

  “Sure.”

  He searched my eyes. “Are you happy with your career? I know you’re not thrilled with where you are right now, but . . . in general?”

  “Like, am I happy with being in the Navy?”

  Will nodded.

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “This is what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m impatient and really want the next few years to go by as fast as possible, but yeah. I am.”

  “So after you’ve advanced a few more paygrades?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What’ll it be like when you get there? On a day-to-day basis, I mean.”

  “It’ll be—” My teeth snapped shut. “Well, sure as shit more interesting than it is now.”

  Will held my gaze but didn’t speak.

  I gulped.

  He absently caressed my arm. “The upper echelon isn’t all standing on the bridge and giving orders. There’s a reason most of the admirals are either gray or bald.”

  I chuckled, but it wasn’t enough to shake loose the ball of lead in my stomach. “I don’t expect it to be easy. Just . . . less boring than pushing paperwork, you know?”

  “I’ll give you that. There’s definitely more happening at that stage.” He paused. “I’m curious about something.”

  “Sure.”

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “If you weren’t in the Navy, what would you be doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” I shrugged. “Never really thought about it. This has been the plan since I was a kid. What about you?”

  “I’d probably be a civilian cop.”

  “That what you’ve always wanted to do?”

  He nodded.

>   “So you get it.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but he let it go.

  Though I went along with the drifting conversation, my mind kept wandering back to that part. His comments had rattled something in me. How much different would it really be when I rose to the top? Sure, I’d have a higher security clearance, and I’d be involved in bigger decisions than ordering supplies for the training classrooms, but the actual day-to-day shit?

  Well. I pushed the thought away. I’d find out when I got there.

  The only thing I knew for sure? It would be a hell of a lot better than where I was now.

  All I had to do was get there.

  After a while, I glanced at my phone and scowled. “It’s getting late. I should probably go.”

  Will frowned, watching his hand run along my arm. “Yeah. Probably.”

  Disappointment tugged at me. Just once, I wanted to wake up in the same bed. This was the first time in my life I’d slept with someone beyond a one-night stand and still had no idea what he looked like when he woke up scruffy and disheveled. There was something kind of endearing, maybe even a little charming, about seeing a guy in that frazzled, grumpy, precoffee state.

  “You know.” I slid my fingers through the graying hair on his chest. “We could always take a weekend out of town. Go to Portland or something.”

  Will’s lips quirked like he was really thinking about it. “Yeah, I guess we could.”

  “It would be a little risky,” I admitted. “But better than going out here in town.”

  He nodded.

  “If we’re smart . . .” I couldn’t finish the thought because I didn’t want to talk him out of it. Out of going to Portland, or out of doing this.

  Will sighed. “If we were smart, we wouldn’t do this at all.”

  Damn it. Heart thumping, I said, “Yeah. I know.”

  “So . . .”

  We locked eyes. His hand was still on my arm. I was still in his bed. Yeah, if we were smart . . .

  But here we were.

  I swallowed. “So I should book a room?”

  “Yeah. Book a room.”

  On my next three-day weekend, I met Brent in Portland. We didn’t dare take one car—Anchor Point was a small enough town, someone was sure to see us leave together. In fact, to be safe, he drove up on Friday morning, and I left later in the afternoon.