Corpsman

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “Liege!” Fanny called out, standing up from a crowded table as Liege entered the club bar.

  As her bunkie, Fanny was the only person to call her by name. To everyone else, she was “Doc.” It had taken Liege awhile to get used to it, but “Doc” was a badge of honor, one she now wore proudly.

  “Pull up a seat, Doc,” Corporal Wheng said. “We’ve got two pitchers to finish off before we hit the ville.”

  Normally, the three corporals and the sergeant would be at the NCO Club, which was why they’d planned the welcome for the two newbies out in town. But with Liege late, they’d been fine with starting the drinking on base. Pitchers were much cheaper on base, too, so there was that benny.

  Liege liked Wolfshead Red or Guinness. Neither of which was sold at the club, though, but, she wasn’t going to turn down free beer, even if it was the Munchen piss-water most everyone else seemed to love.

  She took the proffered stein and wormed her butt in between Fanny’s and Victor’s.

  “Welcome, boots,” she said, lifting the stein to the two newbies.

  “Boots!” Wythe said, laughing. “You heard that!”

  One of the two, PFC Korf, really was a boot. He looked like a gangly baby, and he smiled stupidly, holding his stein as if he’d never had a beer before. He had the puppy-dog attitude, just happy to be playing with the big kids.

  The other newbie wasn’t technically a boot. Lance Corporal Tamara Veal was a huge girl, maybe bigger than any other Marine at the table. She hunched uncomfortably at one end of the table, her stein clutched in her hands. She looked out-of-place and not too happy to be there.

  Liege hadn’t really had much contact with Veal since she’d arrived the day before, but she knew the lance corporal had been on the Marine track team before getting banished back to the grunts. Liege had expected to see some slender runner, but it was obvious that this girl hadn’t been tearing up the marathon circuit.

  With Veal and Korf, the squad was now T/O.[3]

  The party was supposed to leave the E-Club and head out of town, but pitchers kept being bought, and they each had to be drained. After an hour-and-a-half, it became evident that the night out in the ville had been abandoned. Sergeant Vinter made her excuses right about then, and Corporal Acosta left soon thereafter. Both Corporals Wheng and Sativaa hung around, though, closing the club at 0100 with the non-rates.

  Liege had a good conversation with Korf, and her initial impressions were confirmed. He was an eager puppy, wanting to please. Although the party was for both of the newbies, he must have bought at least a third of the pitchers.

  Veal was a tougher nut to crack, but Liege pulled up a chair beside the big woman and shared a stein or two with her. She thought Veal somewhat reserved, but not in a snooty way. One-on-one with Liege, the lance corporal opened up about her career to date, which was entirely on the track team. By closing time, Liege had decided that she liked Veal—which wasn’t surprising; Liege liked almost everyone.

  Wythe and Williams wanted to take the party out in town as the E-Club closed, but with a 0600 PT[4] session in the morning, cooler heads prevailed.

  More than slightly tipsy, Liege and Fanny started to leave together to go back to the barracks. As they stepped off, Liege looked back to the table and saw Veal standing in the awkward manner of someone not quite knowing what to do.

  She pulled Fanny to a halt and asked Veal, “Well, girl, you coming? We sisters have to stick together, you know?”

  The lance corporal smiled with a hint of relief and joined them. With one arm linked in Fanny’s, Liege hooked her other in Veal’s, and the three squadmates stepped through the club’s front hatch and into the night.

  Chapter 4

  “You have what?”

  “I’ve got the Brick.”

  Liege stared at the lance corporal standing in front of her. Golf Company had been out in the field for the last two weeks on their work-ups, and this was her first day back assisting in the battalion sick call since then.

  “Uh, according to your records, Lance Corporal Weisman, you’ve never been in regen, so how could you have BRC?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just know I have it.”

  “OK, wait a second while I talk to the chief.”

  Liege left the Marine standing there as she searched out Chief Sou—Chief Hospital Corpsman Soukianssian and the senior corpsman in the battalion.

  “Uh, Chief?” she said when she tracked him down. “I’ve got a lance corporal who’s telling me he has the Brick.”

  “Have you taken his vitals?”

  “No, Chief. I mean why? He’s never had regen, and he’s 19 years old. He doesn’t have the Brick.”

  “You know that and I know that, but does he?”

  “We’re eight days from our shake-down cruise, Chief. He’s trying to scam out of that.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Lance Corporal Weisman, from Fox.”

  “Bigeye, what can you tell me about Weisman, lance corporal, one each,” the chief asked HM2 Fiorelli, one of the Fox Company corpsman who was going over some sort of list at an adjacent desk.

  “Weisman? Good kid, bad story. He brought his honey-wa from Kunter or Dysktra 3 or someplace like that and set her up in the ville. Only this fine young lady is rather fond of the many strapping young Marines here. Rumor has it that she’s had more than a few boyfriends since she’s been here and she’s only waiting until we deploy so she can shack up with some guy from 3/4. Weisman’s been pretty stressed out, from what I hear.”

  “She’s shacking up with other Marines? And they know she’s with Weisman?” Liege asked, surprised at what Fiorelli had just said.

  “That’s the scuttlebutt.”

  “But they know Weisman’s a Marine?”

  “Geez, Neves, come on back down to reality,” Doc Fiorelli said.

  “But that’s a Jody,” Liege protested.

  “And the military doesn’t Jody each other, yeah, we know,” Bigeye said, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the chief. “Most won’t, but there will always be some assholes. You should see what happens after a fleet deployment from Station One. All those Quadrant widows and widowers go crazy looking for hook-ups.”

  Liege was shocked and more than a little embarrassed about her naiveté. She was single, and she’d been enjoying the attention and company of men outside of the battalion, but she’d also assumed that no Marine or sailor would Jody another. To hear that some would was a major let-down. She’d heard the term “Quadrant” or “Quad widow” of course, for women or men whose Navy spouses were off on deployment, but somehow she thought the Marines, at least, didn’t play that game.

  “So now we know what’s up, don’t we? Weisman’s afraid his doe will find another stag, and he wants to be here to keep it from happening,” the chief said. “It happened with your sergeant on the last deployment,” he added to Liege.

  “Sergeant Vinter? She’s married?”

  “Was married,” the chief corrected.

  “And her ex ran off with another Marine?”

  “No, a civilian. Lots of civilians, including a Marine wife. Vinter came back and found out, and we thought she was going to kill him. But no, she just went to Div-Legal and filed for an immediate divorce.”

  Liege tried to imagine coming back from a deployment and finding out a husband or wife had gone wild. Sergeant Vinter was one tough SOB, but it still had to hurt.

  “So what do I do with Weisman?” she asked the chief.

  “Work him up.”

  “But he doesn’t have the Brick.”

  “Probably not. But you’re not the MO,[5] and neither am I. While you’re keeping him busy, I’m going to give the chaplain a call and see what we can do.

  “You say Wiesman’s a good kid, Bigeye?” he asked Doc Fiorelli.

  “Yeah, a good Marine. Just young and in a hard place.”

  “Doctor X‘anto might want to get him to psyche to make sure his mind’s on straight. We don’t
need him doing something stupid. Give First Sergeant Herrera a head’s up, too. He needs to make sure someone keeps an eye on the young man until we embark.”

  “Weisman would be better off without the witch,” Fiorelli said.

  “You know that and I know that, but I doubt the kid agrees.”

  “That’s because he’s young,” Fiorelli said.

  Liege was young, too. She and Weisman were the same age, but she didn’t think she could ever get so messed up about a guy that she’d lie just to get out of a deployment.

  As she walked back to her station, Liege wondered how he’d even managed to support his girlfriend or whatever she was. Tarawa was not the cheapest place to live, especially near the bases, and being a lance corporal, he wouldn’t have much money to spend on her. Liege had just received approval to make her Avó a dependent, and that had been a major goat-rope of bureaucracy. It was only after a medical exam back on Nova Esperança had found him 100% disabled and Liege could prove at least six months as his main source of financial support that it had been approved. But until her next promotion, she would not be authorized military housing, so for the time being, Avó and Leticia had to stay back in the favela.

  Liege felt more than a little guilt as she sat back down across from Weisman. He’d managed to bring his girlfriend to Tarawa, and despite the fact that with an authorized dependent she made more than the lance corporal, she hadn’t thought it possible to bring Avó and Leticia to join her.

  Lance Corporal Weisman looked nervously at Liege, wringing his hands. He had to know he wouldn’t get away with this, at least the part about him claiming he had the Brick. Maybe the chief could get something going through the chaplain, but Liege doubted it. Like it or not, Weisman was most likely going to be with the battalion as they deployed. He’d have to rely on his fellow Marines to pull through.

  “OK, Tad,” she said, reading his first name off the display as she pulled out a scanner. “Let’s see what’s going on with you.”

  WYXY

  Chapter 5

  “We don’t know what we’re going to get. It could be all 500 hundred, or it could be none,” Chief Sou told the gathered corpsmen.

  Liege blanched at the thought. Over 500 Wyxy civilians were being held hostage by the SevRevs, and if “none” needed medical care, that would probably mean they’d been killed by the religious fanatics, as was usually the case.

  “Don’t join your team until you’re released by your commanders. Fox, that might not be for a while for you. But Golf and Weapons, join your team as soon as you can.”

  Echo and Hotel were in blocking positions on the other side of the Rose Garden Farmers Market, and HM1 Knight had another triage team ready to go for any civilians who managed to escape to that side. But the bulk of the civilians, however many that might be, were expected to come their way. Golf was the support element for the assault, so the Golf and the three Weapons Company corpsmen might not have their own Marines to treat; as soon as they were free, they would augment the five H & S corpsmen and Doctor X‘anto and provide the bulk of the triage for the aid station.

  “OK, back to your Marines,” Chief ordered.

  HM2 Gnish, Second Platoon’s senior corpsman, jerked his head in a follow-me motion, and Liege and Nica—HM Veronica Lester-Mrchenigian, Second Squad’s corpsman—followed him back to where the platoon was in position. A newsie in a bright red fiesta top, tight “butt lifters,” and an ancient helmet that was canted half off her head, with her camcorder operator in tow, saw them and rushed over.

  “Justina Gunnersen, VDV Universal,” she said, introducing herself. “So, are you here to rescue the civilians?”

  No, we’re here to shop for tomatoes, Liege thought. Can’t you tell by our snazzy uniforms and weapons?

  “Sorry, ma’am. We’ve got to get into position,” Doc Gnish said, trying to brush by her.

  The woman executed a deft little sidestep, blocking his way.

  “Can you tell me your battle plans?” she persisted.

  “You’ll have to ask the PAO[6] about anything like that,” Gnish said, trying to push around her again while Liege and Nica split off, abandoning him to face the newsie alone.

  There had to be over a hundred newsies on the scene. Most had little or no armor protection. Liege thought that with the Marines in full battle rattle, and with the Farmer’s Market only 600 meters away, they would have taken the hint, but there seemed to almost be a holiday air as various newsies jockeyed for interviews.

  This entire operation was a huge dog-and-pony show. Oh, the mission was righteous. The SevRevs were truly evil incarnate, and the Wyxy hostages were in grave danger. But the SevRevs loved publicity, and by the time the battalion had been diverted to conduct the rescue mission, pretty much every major news organization in human space and more than a few minor ones had made it to the planet.

  Even the location of the assembly area had been selected with a nod to the newsies. At only 600 meters from the market and lacking cover, it broke most rules of offensive operations. This might be Liege’s first land battle, but even an E3 corpsman knew better than that.

  Liege spotted Sergeant Vinter and took her place by the squad leader. They hadn’t prepared improved positions; the entire squad was on the open ground at the edge of the assembly area.

  “Chief says that—”

  “I got the message. I’ll release you as soon as I can,” the sergeant said, interrupting her.

  Liege nodded and looked out over Fox Company, which was going to lead the assault. A tiny drone flew down low, hovering a meter away from her. She wanted to swat it away like she would a mosquito, but she tried to look serious, not knowing to where her image might be transmitted. Vinter, on the other hand, ripped out a huge burp, and the drone immediately took off for more civilized pastures.

  A Wasp overflew the assembly area and buzzed the market. All the newsies and drones turned to capture the scene. A Wasp was a deadly looking fighter, but Liege knew it was just for show. No one expected the SevRevs to simply give up, and being buzzed by a Wasp was not going to change that.

  The rest of the battalion headquarters moved into position. Liege knew the assault would kick off soon.

  The small PsyOps team took center stage a 100 meters from Liege and Sergeant Vinter.

  Speaking through a small, but incredibly powerful directional speaker, one team member said, “Inside the market; we are the United Federation Marines. You are trapped where you are. If you want to live, release the hostages. If you comply, you will not be harmed.

  “If you do not release the hostages and resist us, you are inviting a certain destruction. It is up to you. Surrender and live or resist and die.”

  It might have been nice drama, but no one thought it would have any effect. The SevRevs welcomed the End of Days, and none of them expected to survive the upcoming fight. The announcement was more for the newsies and public consumption.

  With the platoon in position, Staff Sergeant Abdálle shouted out, “Check your curtains!”

  Liege toggled the deployment switch and was rewarded with a little puff of mist that seemed to disappear. The slowly blinking green light on her display let her know her curtain was employed.

  The SevRevs had used super biologicals on Janson to kill Confederation troops, so each Marine and sailor had been outfitted for full NBC[7] protection. The curtains wouldn’t do much against projectiles, but they would protect from chemical or biological attacks.

  In front of Golf’s line, Fox started crossing the LOD.[8] The assault was on.

  Liege glanced back at the Alpha command.

  The CO was moving away from a reporter and her camcorderman, trying to ignore the two as she went about monitoring Fox. A big Marine was trying to pull back the reporter, but the woman was nimble, dodging the Marine and pressing the CO.

  Five meters to her right, Korf said “I wouldn’t be doing that,” as he watched the same thing.

  Next to him, Tamara tried but failed to smother a
laugh.

  “Eyes front, you two. To your sector,” Sergeant Vinter chastised them.

  Liege snapped her eyes back to her sector as well. Fox was moving out over open ground, and the lead elements were close to half-way to the market. Liege checked her settings and confirmed the sights were set for 600 meters.

  The M99 had an effective range of 900 meters, but for Liege, 600 meters was pushing it. Marksmanship was not her strongest suit.

  Liege kept expecting fire to reach out from the market, but a sudden snap from her right made her jump. One of the snipers, who had taken position on top of a public toilet, had just fired and was cycling in another round. She fired once more before answering fire reached out from the market.

  Despite herself, Liege ducked lower, hugging the dirt. It was the Fox Marines, though, who reacted. They immediately moved into a bounding overwatch, pouring fire into the market as they rushed forward.

  To her right, the sniper continued to fire, her shots coming unbelievably quickly. Liege couldn’t tell if either the sniper or the Fox Marines were killing SevRevs, but the volume going out was impressive.

  Just as the lead elements from Fox approached the market, the entire building exploded in a huge fireball. A shockwave rolled over Liege a moment later.

  “Filha da puta!” she exclaimed, rising up on her elbows to get a better look.

  The closest Fox Marines had been knocked to the ground, but most looked to be struggling to stand back up. In front of them, an immense column of dense black smoke billowed high into the air.

  Liege had never seen anything like this in her life, and her mouth hung open. She could imagine what had just happened to the hostages, and it made her sick to her stomach.

  To her huge surprise, figures foundered out of the ruined market, stumbling towards the Fox Marines.

  “We’ve got people coming out,” Sergeant Vinter shouted. “Get ready.”

  As the support element, one of Golf’s missions was to assist with the hostages. Third Platoon would create a corridor into which the hostages would be funneled, First Platoon would be the handling teams, and Second Platoon would provide immediate security.