Though the Stars Fall (United Humanity Marine Corps Book 1)

by Bill Roberts

  So this is why Lance and I had no idea what was going on. As I march to the center of the amphitheater I silently congratulate Langsdorf on pulling off this little surprise. We stop and face Langsdorf a couple of paces from him and centered. Our arms go up in a salute and since I am senior I say: “Majors Benson and Morris reporting as ordered, Sir.”

  Langsdorf returns the salute and we drop our arms. From off to my side I hear Harkins begin to speak. “To all who shall see these presents, greetings. Know ye that having completed the syllabus of training for the vehicles of Heavy Combat Systems I do award Major Lance Benson and Major Shawn Morris with the wings of a Heavy Combat System pilot. These Marines shall be authorized to wear these wings on their uniforms to denote their skill and courage. Given this day, the Fifteenth of May, in the year of our Lord Two Thousand and Seventeen. Signed Bart Langsdorf, Colonel, Heavy Combat Systems, Commanding.” I reflect that Harkins must loathe this as Langsdorf solemnly places the breast patches on the chests of our flight suits and shakes our hands.

  Langsdorf resumes his spot centered in front of the both of us. Harkins continues: “To all who shall see these presents, greetings. Know ye that having demonstrated a mastery of mounted warfare I do award Major Lance Benson and Major Shawn Morris their spurs. When Edward III at the Battle of Creçy, was asked about his son, the Black Prince, he replied: Let the boy earn his spurs. As then let the spurs be a symbol of Major Benson’s and Major Morris’ courage and skill. Given this day the Fifteenth of May, in the year of our Lord Two Thousand and Seventeen. Signed Bart Langsdorf, Colonel, Heavy Combat Systems, Commanding.” Langsdorf bends down and fixes the spurs to our boots.

  I have always thought of the spurs as an Army tradition. As a Marine tanker I often work with the U.S. Army and had watched Soldiers participate in a similar ceremony in the Cavalry, where they award spurs and Stetsons. Marines tend to mock this. Privately, I think we mock it because we have no such tradition in the Marine Corps and we are secretly jealous. Regardless, I am impressed by the ceremony. Langsdorf is building a new weapons system for all of us, not just Soldiers. This ceremony is a great way to show the pilots not from the Army what we are really doing here. I consider his decision to adopt the spurs a brilliant move. As a Marine I doubt I will ever wear them again. But they will decorate my wall for the rest of my life.

  Langsdorf finishes attaching the spurs and stands up. He shakes our hands and says loudly: “Dismissed.” Lance and I pop our arms up in salute. As he returns it he says quietly: “Just head off to the left and don’t return to your seats.” Our arms drop and we march smartly to the left side face the crowd and remain at attention. Once we have stopped Langsdorf loudly proclaims: “Well don’t just stand there come on up and congratulate them.”

  The next fifteen minutes are a swirl of shaking hands, back slaps, and fist bumps. The first people to shake my hand are Harkins and Dvoracek. Forced by convention to shake our hands and congratulate us, they do not at all look congratulatory. The smiles on their faces do not reach their eyes and their congratulations are muttered quietly. Not above a little flippancy I smile broadly back at them and thank them effusively for their praise.

  The next person in line is Chief Malloy. As he shakes my hand he says: “Sir, you’ve earned them, congratulations. You and Major Benson have been exactly what this place needed. I can’t think of anyone who deserves those wings and spurs more than you two.”

  Chief Malloy is becoming a real friend. I reply: “Thanks Chief, from you that really means something.”

  After a few more people, whom I never met before congratulate me, Lieutenant Colonel Ramirez comes up. He says: “Great work Shawn, Thurgood owes me Ten bucks.”

  I laugh happily and reply: “Only ten? You should have more faith in me than that.”

  Ramirez grins: “Hell, I only bet one. It was ten to one odds.” He steps off smartly before I can reply.

  The crowd continues to work its way through congratulating Lance and me. I shake a final hand belonging to a Gunnery Sergeant. I start to look around and realize everyone is still hanging around. I wonder what that is for. Langsdorf solves the riddle by announcing: “The beer is ready in the chow hall. Let’s wet our new pilots down properly.” The room fills with various cheers and ‘Oohrahs!’ Everyone heads for the door with haste. I do not blame them. I have not had a beer for three months. I wonder where Langsdorf got them. Never mind, it is Langsdorf. He just does these sorts of things.

  I see Langsdorf hang back and follow suit. He had not congratulated us with the rest of the throng. I grab Lance’s arm. He looks at me curiously and I nod towards Langsdorf. Lance looks over at Langsdorf and relaxes next to me. We would both wait till the room cleared and see what he wants. Nobody seems to notice the three of us hanging back and soon we are alone.

  Langsdorf faces us and says: “Remember you are Marines, if I catch you wearing those spurs again, I will send pictures to every Marine tanker I know.”

  I laugh loudly. I know that is an empty threat. Not because he would not do it but because: “Sir, you’re so old all of the tankers you know are retired or have died from old age.”

  Lance piles on: “Well except for Shawn and me. And honestly, I would love some pictures. I could give one to Jenn.” Oooh. Roberts would love one of those.

  Langsdorf scowls ferociously: “Listen you uppity morons; I only did this because I had to. I would have loved to just let you run around without wings and spurs forever. Especially you Shawn, since you think the wings are so silly looking.” His scowl becomes an outright snarl as he continues: “But, unfortunately, I have these two pain in the ass officers who have, for some unexplained reason, performed absolutely brilliantly. Not only did they make the Kodiak a better machine, they also made Heavy Combat Systems a better place to work.” He sighs theatrically. “So, despite my better judgment, I was forced to recognize them for their efforts.”

  Lance and I grin and chorus: “Thank you, Sir.” We know this is the closest thing to congratulations we will ever get from Langsdorf. Honestly, I would not have it any other way.

  Langsdorf replies: “Don’t thank me. Like I said I didn’t want to do it. Now get out of here. You are delaying me, and your idiot selves, from drinking beer.”

  That is a very good point. Without another word Lance and I bolt for the door. I hope there is still some beer left. Never mind, Langsdorf probably got enough to get us all wrecked three times over. Which, come to think of it, is an excellent idea.

  CHAPTER 11

  Deployment

  The three dimensional display on top of my desk takes up all of my attention. I page through data fields, reports, and requests. The display covers most of the top of my large, old fashioned, and non-issue wooden desk. The only government property in my office is the 2nd Heavy Armor Battalion colors in flag holders behind me. Government Issue furniture is as dismal as it is uncomfortable. I have been doing this far too long and have way too much money to put up with suffering through GI furniture in my office. I have taken great pains on making my office look substantial and old fashioned. The walls are painted various shades of green, no beige here, and covered in memorabilia from my decades of service in two Marine Corps. The desk is colossal and solid wood. My desk chair and the chairs in front of my desk are opulent leather. I have a leather couch and chairs in the far corner of the office with a solid wood coffee table, for more informal office meetings. I even manage some wooden blinds on the windows. The result is an office that somehow manages to exude power and warm, inviting comfort all at the same time. As good as it looks, I think it smells even better. It smells of varnished wood, plush leather, and the warm sunshine streaming in through the blinds.

  I close my eyes and inhale deeply, savoring the smell and wishing I could be doing something else, anything else. I absolutely hate looking through data. Well, not everything we have to do is fun so I open my eyes and resume paging through the informati
on projected above my desk. Ahh, the glory of command.

  Outside I can practically hear the beehive of activity that is 2nd Heavy Armor Battalion. The Marines are all feverishly finishing the thousand and one final tasks necessary to prepare for deployment. We have long since completed the training regimen. The next three days will instead be filled with things like paperwork, final gear inspections, packing, and the latest intelligence briefings.

  Svetlana and I had returned from San Diego yesterday. We had taken separate transports. I hate the lengths we have to go through to keep our relationship secret. But, we really have no other option. Neither of us are looking forward to spending the next six months pretending we are just a normal XO and CO. At least we will get to see each other every day. At least we will not have to suffer through the delays of sending messages, and spending every day wondering if the other was still alive.

  As I finish reviewing the Battalion’s spare parts list Sergeant Major Sanchez walks in. I close down the display and give him my full attention. “Good Morning Sergeant Major, how may I be of assistance?”

  “Good Morning, Sir,” he replies. His uniform is as impeccable as ever. I think the universe would implode if I ever saw a wrinkle on him. “I just got finished meeting with all of the first sergeants.” Each of the companies has a first sergeant. It is one rank down from sergeant major. They do for the companies what the sergeant major does for a battalion. “The Marines have all returned from the pre-deployment leave on time. None of them seemed to get in any real trouble.” Thank God for that. It seems like I spend half of my time in garrison dealing with Marines who have gotten in trouble for one thing or another. “A bunch of them did get married though. So we are going to have to deal with that.” The Sergeant Major scowls as he says this. He was from the school of thought that felt: If the Marine Corps wanted you to have a spouse, it would have issued you one.

  I do not agree with this sentiment, but I do believe that getting married a week or two before leaving on a dangerous deployment for six months is not the brightest of ideas. Good idea or not, these new spouses are now part of the 2nd Heavy Armored family. “Is there going to be any problems getting them all fully registered with the MoD before we leave?” The Ministry of Defense provided a great deal of benefits to the families of active duty members of the military. This includes things like health care and housing.

  “Working on it sir. Right now I don’t see that we’ll have any problems. They should all have a house and be in the system before we take off,” he replies crisply.

  I do not particularly like Sergeant Major Sanchez; he is too stiff, too formal, for him and me to ever get along personally. However, he does his job professionally and efficiently. What more can somebody ask for? “Thank you Sergeant Major. If you run into any trouble let me know and I will get The General to help out.”

  The Sergeant Major nods professionally and leaves my office. I bring up my display and continue paging through. I digitally sign a document or two before someone else interrupts my work.

  Master Guns Franco booms from my door: “Good Morning, Sir!”

  I look up and smile. Franco never did anything halfway. I reply: “Good Morning to you Master Guns. What you got for me?”

  She scowls: “I just got off the phone with Division. They say our request to back up the embarkation by one hour has been denied. When I asked them why, the fucking assistant logistics officer had the balls to tell me that he was concerned we would not make the launch on time if he approved our request.” She growls threateningly. “I’ve been in the Marine Corps since that major wore diapers. And he wants to lecture me about timelines.”

  I wink at Franco: “Officers. Who needs ‘em?”

  Her anger evaporates into a low laugh. She replies: “You got that right, Sir.” She takes a deep breath and continues: “Well except for the officers around here. They’re okay.”

  It is my turn to laugh: “I’m touched by your effusive praise Master Guns.”

  Franco grins: “You should be, Sir.” The grin disappears and she continues: “I’ll get with the section chiefs and make sure everybody knows we’re on the original timeline.”

  I nod my head towards her: “Thanks Master Guns.”

  Franco mutters something and ducks back out. I turn back to my display and get through another report before: “Good Morning, Sir!” I look up to see Bennie barging into my office with a huge grin on his face. Without waiting for a reply from me, he heads right past my desk and sprawls on the couch in the corner. After his feet are plopped on the table and his hands are behind his head he continues: “How was your holiday?”

  Somehow his brown hair and eyebrows look even bushier than normal. I imagine that Bennie had probably accomplished new heights of debauchery over the last couple of weeks. I am sometimes jealous of it, but long ago I learned about the pain that drove it. Once upon a time, many years ago, Bennie and I were partying in St. Louis on leave. He had gotten a phone number from an exceptionally attractive woman at every bar that we had hit. I knew none of them would lead to something serious. Deep in my Cups I asked him why he had an endless string of pointless girlfriends. Deep in his Cups he told me. He told me about a woman named Cait. The story was long and convoluted, but the important part came at the end when he told me that the Synti killed her and after that he could never look at any woman without thinking about her. We have never spoken of it again. It is not the sort of thing you do.

  I lean back in my chair and reply: “Judging by your appearance, not nearly as good as yours.”

  Bennie waves a hand with a casual air. “I just whiled away the time at the family house in Bhordighera.”

  Sure he did. “I hear the Church of Santa Maria Maddalena is quite beautiful,” I reply innocently.

  Bennie grins: “Mate, I assure you the thought of going to a church never crossed my mind.”

  “No,” I say. “No I don’t imagine it did. So how much money did you lose vainly trying to impress the ladies at the casinos?”

  “First off,” Bennie assumes a tone of mock seriousness, “I always impress the ladies. Second off, my gambling skills are the top banana. I, in fact, won a great deal of money. I find your faith in my abilities entirely too insubstantial.”

  “My humblest apologies,” I reply.

  “You are forgiven, Sir. Please do not let it happen again.” Bennie brightens and continues: “How about you Shawn? How was your holiday?”

  “Absolutely fabulous.” I look towards my open door meaningfully.

  Bennie understands instantly. He gets up with his usual energy, bounds over to my office door and closes it. He faces me as he heads back to the couch. “All right Shawn, I want details. I am burning with curiosity.”

  I answer Bennie’s question: “It was great. We went to San Diego, ate great food, spent a lot of time at Balboa Park, and she made me look like an idiot on the surfboard.”

  “Splendid,” Bennie replies. “I am glad you two managed to stay out of trouble.”

  Trouble? If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. I prepare a withering response, but a knock at the door interrupts us. “Enter,” I bellow towards the door.

  Svetlana enters the room and shuts the door behind her. She takes in the two of us and asks sweetly: “Confessing your sins Benedict?”

  Another dismissive hand wave as he responds: “No Svetlana. Just discussing the finer points of the Riviera and surfing.”

  Svetlana smiles and says: “He is really terrible at surfing.”

  Since Bennie confronted us after Awful Svetlana and I have talked to him about our relationship from time to time. Still it feels odd to hear her talk about spending time with me to someone else. We have been careful for so long it definitely takes some getting used to. Despite the oddity of the situation it feels good. I revel in the happy look on Svetlana’s face. Hiding something like this, especially from our friends
, had been grating. We had been so worried about what would happen that we had never stopped to think about how nice it would be to share it with them. We are finding that having one of our friends in on our secret is actually very nice indeed.

  “Is he now?” Bennie raises an eyebrow at me as he says this.

  I really am terrible at surfing. Humiliatingly so. Before the two of them can discuss my inadequacies on the surfboard any further I bring us back to business: “How are things going out there XO?” Sometimes being the commander has its advantages.

  Recognizing that play time is over Bennie gets up from the couch and heads for one of the chairs in front of my desk. Svetlana also heads for a chair. As she sits she says: “Good, Sir. I understand you already talked to the Sergeant Major so you know we have no personnel problems. Furthermore, Master Gunnery Sergeant Franco just talked to me so I know we are on the original schedule.” Svetlana looks over at Bennie as she says the last bit.

  Bennie chimes in, his baritone coolly professional: “That will not be a problem, Sir. Franco and I never expected those clots at Division to approve our request. So everything else looks like it is still right on schedule.” He now looks back over at Svetlana.