Soldiers

by John Dalmas

  "Good. The company is at Lecture Shed Four. Do you know where that is?"

  "Yessir."

  "Go there and report to Sergeant Fossberg. They'll just be starting to show the cube now. You'll see most of it." He clapped his hands. "Now RUN!"

  Vernon turned and fled, barely taking time to close the door behind him. Mulvaney grinned at the others. " `Just up and quit!' Hmph! I hope he makes it through. I like his self-honesty. Also, he answered my uncertainty about the pace of training. We'll proceed as we have been."

  At 2015 hours, B Company was back in the hutment, where the trainees showered and lazed around a bit. Some went early to bed.

  But not Esau and Jael. Sergeant Hawkins had reminded them before the company was dismissed; they had a date with him at 2030 hours. They walked to the orderly room together, not knowing what to expect. Somehow their mutual hostility had died. They didn't know why, and didn't wonder. It was simply gone.

  They arrived several minutes early. The Charge of Quarters told them to sit down and wait, then returned to his novel. Hawkins walked in on the dot. "Recruits," he said, "we need privacy. Captain Mulvaney said to use his office." He opened the door to it, held it while they entered, then closed it behind them.

  He pulled two folding chairs side by side, so he could see their occupants at the same time. "Sit," he ordered. They sat. He examined them quietly, ordering his thoughts. "I'm going to call you by your given names," he began, "to save time and confusion. I'll ask questions, and tell you who's to answer." He paused, then spoke more loudly, for emphasis. "The other one will remain silent until called on."

  His calm eyes examined Jael. "Jael, why did you punch Esau?"

  "Because he said I was playing up to Corporal Fong, and that Corporal Fong had said what he did because he… wanted to commit adultery with me."

  Hawkins eyebrows rose, and he turned to Esau. "What did Fong say that made you think that?"

  "He congratulated her on her chin-ups. She did eleven. But he didn't say a thing to me, and I did thirty-nine! And I didn't say she played up to him!"

  "Hmm. Jael, why do you think Fong congratulated you on your chin-ups?"

  "Because when we started doing chin-ups two weeks ago, I could barely do four."

  "I see." He turned back to Esau. "None of that sounds very lascivious to me. Has Jael flirted with anyone since you've been here?"

  "Not that I've seen."

  "Not that you've seen. Do you think she might have when you weren't around?"

  Esau didn't meet his eyes. "No, sir," he said.

  "All right. Jael, you claimed that Esau said you'd played up to Corporal Fong. Esau claims he didn't say that. Which is it?"

  "He never said it in so many words, but that's what he meant. Otherwise why would he have said anything at all?"

  "Um." The sergeant examined the situation. "What- Jael, I'm asking you this question. What were you and Esau talking about just before that?"

  She gestured slightly toward her husband. "He was upbraiding me because I didn't run fast enough this morning."

  "Um-hm. Esau, do you think she could have run faster?"

  "Most of 3rd Platoon and half of 4th finished ahead of her. And they started out behind!"

  "You avoided the question, Esau. Now answer me. Do you think she could have run faster?"

  "She should have."

  Hawkins' tone sharpened. "Recruit Esau Wesley, I asked you a question twice, and twice you've avoided answering it. Now… "

  Esau interrupted. "But she lied! She said I accused her of playing up to him!"

  "That doesn't answer my question. It's backflash, Recruit Esau Wesley, and it's earned you a six-by pit to dig before you go to bed tonight. You've got to break that habit. Another backflash tonight and you'll go without breakfast again in the morning."

  Esau seemed to shrink, but his expression was bitter and obstinate.

  Hawkins' voice was mild again. "Now, I'll ask you once more. Your last chance. Do you think she could have run faster this morning? Or is it just a matter of she couldn't run as fast as most of the others?" Esau didn't answer at once. "The answer, Esau," Hawkins prompted, his voice soft but ominous. "The answer. Nothing else."

  "No, sir. It seems to me she ran as fast as she could."

  "Thank you, Esau, for your honest answer. So why did you, ah, upbraid her for her late finish?"

  Esau looked at his hands, folded on his lap. "I'm the leader of our fire team. I'm responsible for it. And her and Isaiah Vernon are both in it."

  "And?"

  He looked at Hawkins now, frustrated and upset. "They can't run as fast as the others, and they're weaker!"

  "I know that. But do they do as well as they can?"

  Esau deflated. "I guess."

  "You have some doubts, do you?"

  There was a brief lag, then Esau answered. "No. No doubts. She tries all right, hard as she can. And I suspect he does too."

  "Are they improving?"

  Grudgingly, "Yessir."

  "Good. That's what we want them to do. What we want all of you to do. And you Jerries are doing well. You were strong to start with, and you try hard. Your corporals just completed their training here, and they tell us how impressed they are with you all. Jael in particular, because she's a woman. And most young women don't get the kind of physical exercise young men get. Even on New Jerusalem I suspect."

  He paused, sizing up Esau, who seemed to be coming out of his black pit. "Tell me, Esau: have you said anything to Isaiah about his running? And his strength?"

  "Once or twice."

  "Did you ever upbraid him the way you did Jael?"

  Esau relapsed a bit. "No, sir."

  "Why is that?"

  "He's not my wife."

  "Do you think your wife's running, and her strength, reflect on you personally?"

  He met Hawkins' gaze now, and his voice turned monotone. "It's not that. But I'm our fire team leader, and because of them, my team is the weakest in the platoon. I'll never make squad leader, or recruit platoon leader."

  "Ahh! So you want to be squad leader. At least. Why?"

  The question took Esau by surprise. "Why, so things'll be done right, and folks'll give it all they've got. Captain Mulvaney said it himself: we'll have to give it all we've got to win the war."

  Hawkins nodded slowly. "Those are good reasons. So let me tell you how that works. You start with the people assigned to you, whoever and whatever they are. Some will be strong, some not so strong, some smart, some not so smart. Some able, some not so able. A leader's job is to work with what he's got, and make them an effective team. To do it with fairness, and a minimum of turmoil and resentment. A fire team and squad live together, work together, defend each other. They're closer and more loyal to each other than brothers.

  "We senior cadre will base our final decisions on leadership on how well you lead. On your ability to handle the personnel you have." He paused meaningfully. "Including your fairness.

  "You, Esau, are physically strong. And fast and smart. But those aren't enough by themselves. Just now, Ensign Berg and I have misgivings about your suitability for leadership. You've shown excellent potential, but you have two major weaknesses. One, you are sometimes surly, and take your frustrations out on others. In this case your wife, which is seriously unfair.

  "The other is your backflashing. You backflash more than anyone else in the platoon. When given orders, carry them out! Don't answer back, or argue or discuss-except when invited to. You can't be given authority to order others, when you take orders so poorly yourself."

  Hawkins got to his feet. "Now. About your punishments-Recruit Jael, for punching Esau in the eye, you will dig a pit tonight, six feet long, six wide and six deep. After lights out. Recruit Esau, you will also dig one, for backflash. The CQ will supervise you. Report to him in the orderly room at 2200 hours.

  "You are now dismissed."

  Jael and Esau didn't go directly to their hut. Instead they strolled silently along the r
oad that framed the battalion area. Esau's hand found hers, and she accepted it. After a bit he spoke. "At school once, Speaker Farnham chided me for bullying other kids. I denied it, didn't think I did it, till he gave me instances." He stopped, turned her to him, and held her two hands gently. "And this morning I was bullying you. The onliest one here that means much to me. I'm truly sorry, Jael, and I hope you'll forgive me." His voice broke then, taking him by surprise, and he took her in his arms, his tears falling on her hair and upturned face.

  "Oh Esau, I do forgive you, I truly do. And I hope you'll forgive me for striking you. That was bullying, too. I'm not sure I'd have done it, if I hadn't known inside that you wouldn't hit me back. So that makes me a bully."

  They clung to each other in the unlighted street until Esau could speak again. "Sweetheart," he husked, "I'm not sure but what I might slip up and talk like that again sometime. I'll surely try not to, but man is a weak vessel, and I might could slip up. So if ever I bully you again, just punch me in the eye. To remind me." His composure slipped again, and again his tears fell on her.

  "Honey," she answered without smiling, "I'll pray not to. Because I do love you so."

  They embraced again, this time their lips joining.

  When the couple had left the orderly room, Sergeant Hawkins went to the hut and told Recruit Isaiah Vernon to come with him, that he had questions he wanted to ask. Then he took him to the dayroom, looking for privacy. At Hawkins' suggestion, they both drew a cup of coffee from the small urn there, before sitting down on opposite sides of a cribbage table. Isaiah had never been in the dayroom before. A sort of recreation room, it was part of a company's normal setup, but the recruits' training schedule left them almost no time to use it. Most had literally forgotten it was there.

  "Vernon," Hawkins began, "you said you were being educated as a speaker of the books. I suppose by now you realize that we Sikhs don't know much about the Church of the Testaments. As children we're taught the basics of all the major religions, but we don't get down much into the, um, subdivisions. So I may ask you questions from time to time, to give me a better sense of your beliefs." He paused. "Does it bother you that we refer to you as Jerries?"

  "No sir, Sergeant. Not me at least, and I've never heard anyone complain of it. It seems like a natural thing to do." He hesitated. "We are not a people greatly given to complaint. And in The Book of Contemplations, Elder Hofer taught that we should tolerate and respect… unbelievers."

  Hawkins nodded solemnly. Their briefing had mentioned that a North American named Albert Hofer had founded the Jerrie church. "Ah," he said, "we have tolerance in common at least. "Guru Nanak founded the Sikh religion on the philosophy of religious tolerance." He raised an eyebrow. "How do you get along with other religions on New Jerusalem?"

  Hawkins knew the answer, but he wanted to learn how frank this youth would be with him. The question didn't faze Isaiah. "Sir, there are no other religions on New Jerusalem. Other religions have their own worlds, or at least a place on Terra, and we respect that. But we keep our planet for ourselves. It's in our charter with the Commonwealth."

  He paused. "From The Book of Origins, we know that long ago on Terra different religions fought each other, even massacred each other. Do they still?"

  Hawkins smiled. "There's still some intolerance, but Terra got over most of it during the Troubles, eight hundred years ago. There hasn't been any serious violence since then. An occasional fistfight maybe. Intolerance tended to grow out of fear, and when a sect had the freedom to leave Terra and colonize a planet of their own, that fear became less. And the Commonwealth tries hard not to be overbearing toward the colonies."

  He sipped the somewhat bitter Luneburgian "coffee" he'd learned to like. "I want to talk about the platoon now. You grew up differently than the other men. Do they ever give you a bad time about that?"

  "Not really, Sergeant. Esau's commented a few times, as the fire team leader, that I need to be stronger and tougher. But he's never been mean about it. When someone's as strong as Esau, and runs as fast, they might not understand why others can't."

  "Ah. That brings up another question: How do you feel about Jael Wesley showering with the men?"

  Isaiah's face showed no embarrassment. "I've never heard anyone say anything about it. Though they might, a few of them, if it wasn't for Esau. I'm pretty sure they were troubled by it, early on. But what Captain Mulvaney said made sense. As boys we used to sport together in the river, naked as newborns, and hardly anyone fretted about that. We boys didn't." He spoke more slowly now, as if feeling his way into the subject. "But that is different from swimming naked with girls or women, because sight of their flesh can make you think about having carnal knowledge of them. Maybe want to have carnal knowledge of them. The thing is, here there's no choice. She's a soldier and part of the company, so she should have the same rights. Like I said, I've never heard any of the others talk about it, but I suspect that's pretty much how they look at it."

  Hawkins sipped thoughtfully, then nodded. "Thank you, Vernon. You've helped me understand you people better." He got to his feet. "We seem to be done now. You can return to your hut. I may have more questions some other time."

  Isaiah got up too. "Yes, Sergeant." He paused. "Sergeant, may I ask you a question?"

  "Ask away."

  "Do you Sikhs believe in Jesus?"

  "Believe in Jesus? Yes, we do."

  The trainee looked at his sergeant for a long second or two, his eye contact mild. "Thank you, Sergeant," he said, then turned and left.

  Hawkins watched the door close, and smiled. You almost asked me whether we believe he's the Son of God, then thought better of it. The young Jerrie could have followed his answer-he was abundantly intelligent. But that very question, or rather Gopal Singh's reply to it, had split Sikhism even before the Troubles, the better part of a millennium earlier. Split it into the Orthodox and the Gopal Singh Dispensation. For Gopal Singh's answer had posited something akin to the Hindu avtarvad, which Guru Nanak himself had rejected in the Mul Mantra. Gopal Singh had tried to reconcile his belief with Orthodox leaders, but the split remained.

  Shortly before lights out, it began to rain. Not a storm rain, but a steady soaker muttering on roof and walls, now and then intensifying briefly. At 2200 hours, Esau and Jael reported to the orderly room, wearing ponchos. The CQ issued each of them a shovel, a short crude ladder, and a six-foot measuring stick. And digging sites some fifteen yards apart. "No talking," he warned. "Just dig. I'll be checking on you out the window." Then he returned to the orderly room.

  They dug as rapidly as they could sustain, if only to get more sleep time. Meanwhile the rain continued, and the CQ wasn't eager to come out in it. So when Esau's measuring rod indicated he was done, he tossed out his shovel, climbed wetly from the pit, and went over to Jael's. It wasn't quite as deep yet as she was tall. Without a word he jumped in. As in his, the water was about a foot deep.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  He kissed her. She tasted like rain. "Come to help out," he said.

  "The CQ-he'll see. You'll get in trouble."

  "To heck with that. We're not only husband and wife, we're comrades in war. Besides, we're eight or ten rods from the orderly room, and it's darker than the inside of a black bull." Then he turned and began to dig. When they'd finished, the CQ still hadn't reappeared, so Esau climbed out and went to the orderly room to get him. The man lay his book aside. "That was quick," he said. "You sure you're done?"

  "I'm sure I am," Esau answered. "I can't speak for anyone else."

  The CQ donned his poncho and they went out to Esau's pit. Esau jumped in. Nearby, Jael's continued to emit shovelfuls of dirt and slop. Taking Esau's measuring stick, the Terran measured height, width, and depth.

  "Looks good," he said. "You're done." Then bypassing the ladder, the corporal squatted, reached down a hand, and hauled him out. Esau was impressed. Stronger than I thought, he told himself.

  They headed for Jael's
pit. "Quit throwing a minute," the CQ called. "It may be deep enough." He measured. "Good job both of you. Fill them and tramp them, and you're done. Tramp them every foot or so the whole way. I'll know if you don't, and you don't want to do the whole thing over again tomorrow night."

  She came up on her ladder, to see the corporal striding off toward the orderly room. Filling the pits was far easier than digging them had been, and they worked hard and fast. When both pits were full and well tramped, the rain-sodden couple went to the orderly room together.

  "All done," Esau announced.

  The corporal donned his poncho again, went out with them to inspect the sites, then dismissed them to their hut.

  On their way, Esau spoke. "You know," he said innocently, "we've already lost half our sleep time. We might as well lose another half hour, and go shower off."

  She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him thoroughly. "That's a wonderful idea," she said.

  In their hut, they hung their wet things on the drying rack-the clothes from the pond were already dry-put their cold wet ponchos on their bare bodies, and ran to the latrine. After a shower, a hot one, they turned the water off and made joyous love on the duck boards before scurrying back to the hut for three hours of sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Contract

  Dr. Deborah Coonoor arrived at Bangui International Aerospaceport with zero fanfare, her visit and its possible importance publically unknown. Her welcoming committee consisted of one very tall person, Dr. Issa Libengi, who stood in the air-conditioned reception area holding a sign with her name on it. His grin was an expanse of white in a truly black face.

  Weaving her way through the crowd, Dr. Coonoor herself was dark enough not to be conspicuous: a glowing mahogany. Her raven-black hair, however, was simply wavy. Her father was from Mysore State, in the south of India; her caramel-colored mother was "black English": Celto-Saxon/Caribbean/Brazilian.

  When she reached Dr. Libengi, she extended a slender hand, which he carefully wrapped in his much larger one. "Ms. Coonoor, I presume," he rumbled. "I hope your flight was agreeable."