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An hour later, Jill was quietly woken by Lisa. Jill had gotten in late the night before and had told both of them what she had been up to. Lisa had decided not to wake the girl but to let her get up on her own. However Mike had called and told her to get the girl up and to the palace landing pad. She had a date aboard the IWS Stuart, a fleet provisioning and resupply vessel. It was part of the Majestic’s Battle Group.
Jill and her step mother both took the trip to orbit with both of their principle agents. Lisa took her camera with her. They were escorted into an immense distribution room by a marine who was on his first deployment. Jill couldn’t help but wonder did she look that young. The Stuart was designed to completely resupply troops that had been in combat for months and needed to be re-equipped with everything. It wasn’t uncommon for the distribution room to have a couple platoons of marines being outfitted at the same time. They found a Master Gunnery Sergeant waiting for them.
“Good day Colonel Wilson,” The woman greeted Jill.
Jill gave her “a who me” look.
The Sergeant smiled at the confused girl and continued, “I am Sergeant Millie Green. I will be getting you outfitted today. When I tell you to, please stand on this dot,” she pointed to a green dot on the floor big enough to stand in, “and say your name clearly. Your ID number is zero, zero, zero one. Your grade is Cadet Colonel. Your rank is commander Queen’s Own Royal Corps of Cadets. When you say all of this, your dog tags will be created, which will include your DNA profile, with your other identification information.” The sergeant said softly, she had outfitted many marines, having started her career at Paris Island, the Marine training world. After she made Master Gunnery Sergeant she was transferred to the Stuart. This could be her last assignment. Her boys were getting to the age where they needed her around. More so with their father missing in action! If she couldn’t find a permanent party shore duty someplace she would consider leaving the marines. She was looking forward to the next few minutes though, as she had always enjoyed outfitting baby marines. While the girl in front of her was not a baby marine she was the very first person in the unit that was being stood up. When she was sure the girl had understood her she said, “Please step on the green dot.”
Jill stepped onto the dot and spoke, “Jillian Wilson, zero, zero, zero one, Cadet Colonel, Commander, Queen’s Own Royal Corps of Cadets.”
“Scanning,” The AI said, “Gunny, Colonel Wilson’s uniforms will be in bin three. Will the colonel need space fatigues and weapons?”
“No,” Lisa said firmly, “She will not need weapons or space fatigues.”
“Aw mom, you’re a spoil sport,” Jill chuckled.
“Colonel,” The sergeant asked, “what uniform will you need today?”
“Mom,” Jill asked Jill, “any ideas?”
“Sergeant Green I am clueless, any idea?”
“May I suggest then that she, wear just a plain day uniform?” the sergeant suggested, “Are you going into the field today?” Jill shook her head, “Okay then an office uniform should be suitable. Although everything will fit you, your new boots will need a little breaking in.” Without waiting for confirmation she went to bin three and pulled out a day uniform. “Normally we just hand you your stuff and say be gone with you. Not today. As the first cadet commander we need to make sure everything is perfect. Step into my office and put these on.” She pointed to an open door with the sergeant’s name plate next to it, “They should fit but I want to make sure.”
Jill took the clothing to the sergeant’s office and dressed. When she had gotten out of bed she had showered; but had only thrown on a sweat suite. Lisa had said not to worry about the clothing. Just wear something comfortable. She was amazed and thankful that the Supply AI had included things like a bra, and panties, as well as socks. Everything fit perfectly. She couldn’t help but notice that everything had her name and grade on it. As she stepped out of the sergeant’s office her step mother took a couple of photos. The sergeant approached the young woman and asked, “Permission to touch.”
“I guess so,” Jill replied.
“Colonel,” the sergeant said as she approached the young woman, “it’s important that you look perfect every time you address your troops or are seen by them. You can’t have a hair out place. Your gig line, (that’s the line of where the edges of the button flap on your blouse and the seam in front of your trousers are,) has to line up perfectly.” The sergeant competently made sure the young lady’s gig line was razor sharp, “you must always make sure your buttons and awards are perfect. Because you are in a marine uniform I am going to use the same placement as I would on my uniform.”
The sergeant opened a jewelry box and began placing the insignia on the uniform. She placed, a shield shaped device with a scarlet red crown on a field of space black with tiny jewels simulating the star system of Trena. In very fine lettering around the shield were the words “Queen’s Own Royal Cadet Corps,” One each on either collar. On the shoulder epaulette went two more crowns with an Eagle under them. Over her right pocket was a name plate, it read Col. Wilson QORCC. “Colonel, in the jewelry box is your ribbon holders. In a normal cadet unit or military unit by the time you reached this exalted rank you would have won several citations, and awards. But as this is a new unit, with you as its inaugural commander you have none so we’ll leave the left chest bare.”
She walked around the young girl who was almost the same age as the kids entering marine boot at Paris Island. She wanted to make sure that girl’s uniform was perfect. She had always enjoyed getting young recruits their stuff. They hadn’t picked up an attitude when they were standing in her supply room at Paris Island Marine Corps Recruit Training Center. As she finished up she spoke to Jill, “Colonel, as you go forward from here, what you say and do sets the precedence for the corps of cadets. Your actions over the next couple of months will set the system and standard that your successors will follow.” She plucked a piece of lint off the epaulette, “Colonel, when it stops being fun get the hell out of dodge.”
“Thank you sergeant,” Jill said took two steps back, and as she had seen her grandmother and father do on countless occasions, fired off a salute.
The sergeant snapped to attention and returned her salute. “Good luck colonel.”
As the cadet and the Sergeant saluted each other, Lisa took several photographs. Years later they would hang in the academy on Home, in halls of the administrative building that had had photos and paintings of each cadet commander. Jill would be the one with the shortest tenure.
With that the women left. Jill pulling a fair sized duffle bag of her stuff behind her. Jenny went to help her but the sergeant locked eyes with her and shook her head.
Every Last Mother's Child Page 132