"Well, can you repair it?"
Charles "Duke" Hudson asked the question to the pair of legs sticking out from under his sink. He was a tall, no-nonsense middle-aged man whose brown buzz cut hair had gone mostly to gray, especially in the last two years. The response was garbled, so he bent over and repeated his question. The response come back garbled again. This time, recognizing the futility of answering while under the sink, the owner of the legs slid out from under it and stood. The blonde woman was almost as tall as Duke was. She was also muscular and in her thirties. For some reason, the term Valkyrie came to mind every time Duke looked at her.
"Yes, Duke. I can repair it. But it's going to cost you," Margaret "Lulu" O'Keefe replied. In addition to being the General Manager of O'Keefe Plumbing and Heating, she was also a close friend of both Duke and his wife, Claire.
"How much, Lu?"
Lulu grimaced before replying, not a good sign in a plumber, " But let's wait for Claire. That way I only have to be subjected to verbal abuse one time."
"That much?" Duke exclaimed, surprised.
"Duke, it's not like I can get in my truck and drive to Fairmont for parts anymore," Lulu said as she cleaned her hands with a kitchen rag.
Duke didn't need the reminder. Over a year ago the life of everyone in the West Virginia town of Grantville—and history itself—had changed forever. In a brief instant, on a Sunday afternoon. When, under unexplained circumstances, in what everyone now called the Ring of Fire, the whole town and its inhabitants were transported back in time to 1631 Germany. They'd wound up in the middle of the period that historians knew as The Thirty Years' War. Since that day, daily life had become a struggle for survival. Bits and pieces of the past—or future, depending on how you looked at it—ground to a halt, just like Duke's broken trash compactor.
Lulu sat at the kitchen table and pushed her toolbox next to her chair with her foot. "Maybe you need to retire the beast and accept the inevitable. Who knows, maybe one of these days someone will reinvent it. Anyway, it's just a labor saving device. And I know you're as well aware as I am that we have plenty of cheap manual labor available. In fact, I don't understand why Claire hasn't hired a maid. Think of all her responsibilities, working for the government yet. Where is she, by the way?"
"She's helping a German family that just moved down the block, the Hoffman's," Duke answered. "The man used to be a mercenary officer of sorts, I'm told. But now he wants to join our Military Police unit. He seems like a dependable sort and his wife, Ilse, is pregnant with their fourth child. So, Claire went to lend a hand with the kids and the house. You know how she likes to keep busy."
"Yes, I know. We all like to keep busy." Lulu sighed as she found a more comfortable position in her chair.
Unsaid between the two friends was that in Grantville everyone kept busy to forget. There wasn't a family in town that had not been affected by the event. In the case of the Duke and Claire, their two grown kids and grandkids were left behind. Lulu had lost her fiancé and older brother the same way.
"Well, while we wait, would you care for a beer?" Duke asked.
"Don't mind if I do. This is my last call before heading for home and another exciting night of educational TV and movies repeated for the umpteenth time."
Duke opened his refrigerator, took out two beer bottles and passed one to Lulu. The bottles were recycled but the labels announcing the latest product line from the Thuringen Gardens were new. He pulled a chair and sat across from Lulu.
She took a long sip before smacking her lips. "Wow, I think this batch is the best one yet."
"I think you're right," Duke replied, after doing his own tasting. "So, Lu, how's business?"
"I can't complain," she answered. "The business is booming, thanks to all the new construction. I've hired six more employees and we may need to hire more. The family is also discussing the possibility of starting our own plumbing fixtures manufacturing. We think there's an untapped market out there for the wonders of indoor plumbing, especially with this weather. And you, how are things with the MPs?"
"The usual," Duke said, relaxing into his chair. "Brawls after payday, fights just for the sake of fighting. Dan Frost still wants to form a Military Police unit like the Italian carabineers. But he's having problems finding someone to fill in for Elizabeth Pitre now that she's with the toy trains. And I don't want the job. She originally asked me to be her top kick."
"She made a good choice," Lulu said. "It's a damn shame that it didn't work out for you two." Lulu paused a moment and looked thoughtful. "You helped her become the kind of officer she is now. I remember when she was just a wet behind the ears shave-tail, wearing her cowboy boots in utilities."
Duke smiled fondly at the memory. When they were first introduced, Pitre had gone pale as a ghost when someone let her know that her new platoon sergeant was a former Marine DI. "Don't be so harsh, Lu. No one packed for the Ring, remember. She was only supposed to be in town for Mike's sister's wedding. I really didn't have to work too hard with her. There was a lot of good material already there. Besides, she had her colonel father's example to provide her a good starting point. She is definitely one of the best young officers I ever had the pleasure to train. Heck, I considered her good enough to be in the Marines. If anyone has the wherewithal to get that harebrained transportation scheme off the drawing board, it's going to be her. But, she needed a first sergeant with more transportation experience than I have, so I'm out."
"That's high praise coming from you, Duke." Lulu continued to stare intently at her beer bottle until she suddenly asked. "Do you miss it?"
"Miss what? The Corps?"
"Yes. The green machine, Uncle Sam's misguided children, our Corps."
"Yes," Duke admitted. "Sometimes. But I put in my twenty years and left others to carry on the mission. No one is irreplaceable, Lu. Besides, I wanted to keep my promise to Claire to return to our hometown."
"Come on, Duke," Lulu said. "You weren't like every other Marine. I did twelve years, you know. After Dad died and I had to request a compassionate discharge, I only got a pat on the back and a farewell bash at the NCO Club. I hear that you, on the other hand, got a phone call straight from Headquarters, Marine Corps, to try to get you to reconsider your decision. I've never heard of the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps doing that for any other gunnery sergeant."
"So what." Duke shrugged. "Like I said, Lu, I promised Claire and I don't like to break my word. And just how did you hear about that, anyway?"
"Willie Ray told me one day. It was a while back, one day when we were shooting the breeze at the Gardens. And just in case you want to know, he was happy that you didn't decide to stay in. Otherwise, after the Ring of Fire, he wouldn't have had any family left in town."
"I think," Duke muttered, "that my brother talks too much."
"Maybe so," Lula said, grinning a bit. "But he told me that it wasn't until you accepted the job with Dan and the MPs that you started overcoming your doldrums. Then you took young Pitre under your wing and that helped to finally return you to your usual cheery self. Well, almost." Lulu leaned back in the chair and took another sip of beer before she went on. "That led me to suspect that you miss the Corps as much as I do."
"So what if I do? The Corps, like the rest of the twenty-first century and my kids are, and pardon the pun, past history." His bitter reply warned Lulu that she was getting closer to overstepping the line.
"Sorry, I know how much you miss Kathy and James. It was thoughtless of me."
Duke relaxed visibly before replying. "And I know how much you miss Billy and your brother. So why we don't drop the subject and talk about something else?"
"Fine with me," Lulu agreed, glad that they had managed to avoid a tender subject. "Have you heard the latest scuttlebutt about John Simpson?"
Duke shook his head and made a shivering motion. "No, I haven't. That's way above my pay grade and that's the way I like it."
Lulu snorted and plowed on in. She leaned forward with a conspirator's smile. "He's been put in charge of a special project. By Mike Stearns, no less."
Duke snorted and took another sip of beer. He was clearly amused. "Are those two talking again? I'm kind of surprised. I'd have thought that even after the elections, those two would still have some irreconcilable differences on most issues."
John Simpson's first attempt to push himself into a leadership position after the Ring of Fire and, later, his party platform during the elections that saw Mike Stearns elected as the new nation's president were generally reviled. That had strained his relationships with most of the town's residents. Most of the up-timers saw him as a representative of the managerial class. Considering that the closure of the local mines had condemned Grantville to a slow death, he wasn't a particularly popular man.
"They're talking. Just barely. But . . ." Lulu's reply was preempted by a familiar voice calling from the living room. "Duke, I'm home. Where are you?"
"In the kitchen, Claire," Duke called out. He heard his wife talking to someone and wondered who had dropped in.
"Ah, there you are," Claire said. "Hi, Lulu. I see you're loafing around my kitchen and drinking my beer instead of working hard. Let me guess, my compactor is dead, right?" Claire, a short and plump, but attractive, middle-aged brunette took off her woolen watch cap and mittens before kissing Duke.
"Well, girlfriend," Lulu answered with a grin, "unless you want to pay me a lot for handcrafted parts, I think you'd better call for a burial detail and the Wilson kid can play taps on his bugle. How's Mrs. Hoffman?"
"I guess Duke told you about our new neighbors," Claire answered. "She's about ready to pop, I think. But after three live births and two miscarriages, Ilse is pretty much matter-of-fact about the whole thing. Let's hear it for Teutonic phlegmatic practicality." Claire rolled her eyes a bit when she made that last comment and moved toward the sink and the coffee pot. She took the pot off the heating element and rinsed it out, saying, "And Duke, you have a visitor. John Simpson is waiting for you in the living room."
Lulu almost gagged on her beer. Duke's face was a study and he appeared to be speechless for a moment. She and Duke exchanged puzzled glances and then looked at Claire, who continued making coffee. Claire was apparently totally without a clue as to the bombshell that she just dropped on her kitchen. Duke finally managed to clear his throat. "Come again?"
"I said that John Simpson is waiting for you in the living room. I found him at our doorstep, ready to push the bell, when I got home. I told him I was going to make some coffee and that I'd find you. Will you tell him that it will be ready in a couple of minutes?"
"Sure, love," Duke replied. He stifled a laugh when he saw Lulu making signs to ward off evil in the direction of the living room. He made a severe face in her direction and rose to go see what John Chandler Simpson wanted.
Duke entered his living room to find Simpson carefully looking at his "love me" wall. This was the first time Duke had seen Simpson up close. The older man was tall and distinguished looking, regardless of his secondhand coat and clothes. Simpson looked to be at least in his late fifties or early sixties. Surrendering to the inevitable, Duke cleared his throat, catching Simpson's attention.
Startled, Simpson turned around. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Hudson," he said. "You caught me unaware. This is quite an impressive collection of awards and recognitions, sir. We haven't actually met, I'm afraid. I'm pleased to meet you. I'm John Simpson." Simpson advanced with his right hand extended to shake hands.
Duke was put a little off guard by John Simpson's unexpected friendly demeanor. He shook Simpson's hand automatically, noticing the firm, confident grip, and stammered a response. "Thanks, Mr. Simpson. My wife asked me to tell you that coffee will be ready shortly. Would you like to have a seat?"
"Don't mind if I do, Mr. Hudson," Simpson said. "And I'll gladly accept a cup of coffee. It's a little chilly out there at this time of year." As Simpson sat down, Duke noticed an unnatural stiffness in his left lower leg. A stiffness that was familiar to anyone who had been around military hospitals. Two purple hearts had gained Duke a somewhat regretted experience with those institutions.
Simpson noticed his gaze and replied to his unspoken question. "I lost my lower leg to an RPG in Vietnam. I was with the Navy's riverine forces. The boat section under my command was ambushed by the NVA as we tried to relieve a South Vietnamese battalion. I lost a lot of good men that day."
A shadow of sadness swept over Simpson's face. A veteran combat leader himself, Duke didn't need to be told what was going through this man's mind and he didn't have to wonder which loss was more important to him. That spoke volumes about Simpson, the man. Embarrassed and oddly intrigued by this revelation, Duke could only offer his apologies. "I am sorry, Mr. Simpson. It was rude of me to stare."
"I don't mind it too much," Simpson said. "I saw by your wall that you're in a good position to understand. In fact, that's the reason I'm here. Mike Stearns has asked me to head a new project. When I started to look for people who could help me with it, your brother was kind enough to tell me about your qualifications."
"My brother may be exaggerating a bit there, sir. And frankly, I don't know if I can be of any help to you." Duke immediately got the impression that his low-key answer provided the right tone. Simpson smiled at him.
"I doubt it, Gunnery Sergeant Hudson. I think you're the right man for the job. And, I have a proposal for you."
Claire Hudson woke up suddenly and realized that her husband was not beside her in bed. She raised her head and looked around the darkened room until she saw him sitting in one of the recliners by the window. He was staring out into the night, deep in thought. She then looked at her nightstand clock and almost cursed at the early hour, before continuing to stare at him. Even after more than twenty-five years of marriage, he was still occasionally an enigma to her. Tonight, though, she had a pretty good idea what was on his mind. Damn John Simpson, she thought.
Claire still felt as much in love with Duke today as she had when she was seventeen. Through all those years Duke had been a gentle, caring husband and truly her best friend. Now, as she watched his not-quite ominous presence in the darkened room, she couldn't fail to think of that other aspect of his persona, the warrior. It was an aspect that he had struggled to keep hidden from her and their kids through his time in the Corps. Unlike other Marines she knew, he seldom raised his voice or tried to run his family like an extension of his unit. Watching other women struggling with husbands who, unlike Duke, couldn't keep their lives in the Corps separate from their lives at home had made her feel truly blessed.
Still, she was very much aware of his potential for, and expertise in, applied violence. Not from him, of course. She had tried early in their marriage to get him to open up and confide in her. But that was before she learned from older and more experienced Marine spouses to let sleeping dogs lie. In an organization of close-mouthed professional warriors, her husband set unbeatable standards for that trait. However, other Marines and occasionally their wives had slipped up and told her of his exploits. The stories were usually told with a strange measure of admiration, awe and wonderment at his courage. Sometimes they seemed to describe a legend in the making. Even when the Corps deigned to recognize those exploits, like his Silver Star after the Gulf War, it had come as a total surprise to her. That day, darn the man, he just told her that they were giving him some kind of award and it would be nice if she and the kids could dress up and attend. The presentation and the divisional parade that followed managed at the same time to annoy her with his discretion and make her feel truly proud as she stood with the wives of the other men receiving awards.
Now, once more, the warrior aspect of his persona was being summoned. After Simpson and Lulu left, Duke had told her about Simpson's proposal for a new Marine Corps. And then he had refused to discuss it any further. She knew that he was conflicted and had an inkling of the source of that conflict. She had hoped he could resolve it on his own. But, Claire chided herself, she knew full well that, in a roundabout way, it all depended on her. She was no longer the innocent girl who was unaware of what the love of her life did for a living.
Claire thought hard for a few moments. Was she strong enough to demonstrate that she was a warrior's wife? Claire had never been either horrified or frightened of Duke's feats. She knew, all the way to her core, that as long as he and his brothers stood guard against all enemies, she, their children and their nation would be safe. So, maybe she was a warrior's wife after all, she thought. There was only one way to find out.
Clearing her throat, Claire said, "Duke, it's too early. Come back to bed."
Her husband, startled, broke from his introspection and looked at her for a long time before replying. "Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you up."
"I know, Duke. Come back to bed, please. It's too cold to sit up like that." She watched as he reluctantly got up from the chair, shed his robe and slid in beside her. Claire immediately spooned against his back, ignoring the chill from his skin and clothing. "Why you don't tell me what the problem is, Duke?"
"I don't know if I want to discuss it, Claire."
"Well, why I don't start then?" She felt his surprise as his body stiffened. Don't chicken out now, Claire Louise, she admonished herself. "You're concerned about me and my feelings, right? Don't be. Do you remember why I originally got you to promise to put in your twenty and move back to this town? Did you forget?"
Duke turned around under the covers to face her. "Claire, I think that you lost me there."
"The kids, Duke. I wanted them to know what it's like to grow roots somewhere. And we did that, in the few years that we had together before they grew up and left home. And, after the Ring, I am so glad that we did it that way. They grew up to be such wonderful people and friends. And, I hope, they have a great future ahead of them. Kathy, our wise little girl, found this marvelous young man and . . ." Claire stopped as she read his expression. With an accusatory tone, she snarled, "Stop rolling your eyes, Duke. I can see them."
Duke smiled and propped his head with his hand as he looked down at her. "But we are talking about the long-haired freak, Tim?"
"Yes, the no longer long-haired freak. When are you going to admit that you love him as much as I do? He says the same thing of you, by the way. Men, you have a funny way to show you care. I swear I'll never understand you at all," she said, with feigned disgust.
"We like to be mysterious. Yes, I like the freak. He actually grew up to be a solid man and a good husband for Kathy."
"Yes, he did. And I'm sure that the fact that he got a degree, a good job and even joined the Guard, helped. I'll remind you that without any prodding in your part, he went through their OCS and got commissioned as an infantry officer. Our Kathy is a warrior's daughter. She would never have settled for a lesser man. They had given us two beautiful grandchildren, well . . . three by now." Claire stopped and started sobbing as Duke hugged her tightly. They shared the pain for the grandkids that they could no longer watch grow up. It was a pain that time might ease, but never erase.
After a seemingly long time, Claire cleared her throat and looked up. "Thanks, sweetie. I'm better now. Anyway, Jamie, excuse me, James. He's a grown man now and hated that nickname with a passion. You told me that he was well on his way to following in your footsteps, right?"
"My last report from Patrick at Parris Island was that he was a shoe-in for honor graduate. By this time, I expect him to be well into his first tour." Duke smiled with pride at the memory and then chuckled. "And yes, he hated to hear that nickname from everyone else but you, Kathy or Kim Chaffin . . . "Okay, sweetheart. I see your point. But what about you? I was also doing this for you."
Claire propped her head with her hand as she unconsciously imitated his stance. "What about me? Don't worry. We're more alike than you ever guessed. Tell me why you decided to join the Corps. And please don't tell me that you liked the uniform. I haven't been a teeny bopper for a long time."
Amused, Duke studied her face for a while. "I don't know, patriotism; perhaps? We lost a lot of guys in the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut and I felt like I needed to do something."
"Well, I share those feelings, too. Or do you think I followed you around the world, bore your children and lived in accommodations that would shame any third world nation, only because of your ruggedly handsome looks?" Claire asked.
"No. I stood by you and made a home for you because it was my contribution to the common defense. And now, once more your country is calling you. And I'm ready to do my part, just like you are. And, by the way, I know you got a call from Sergeant Major Overstreet when you announced that you were retiring instead of accepting your first sergeant stripes."
"Damn, I'm going to kill my brother," Duke muttered.
"No you aren't," Claire said. "I didn't hear it from him. You see, I entertained a wives' delegation shortly after you put in your papers. It was headed by Mrs. Division Sergeant Major. All the wives in your chain of command came to see me. All the way down to Mrs. O'Rourke, your first sergeant's wife, even. Mrs. Overstreet had called them from D.C. to give them a heads up on our situation."
"The dragon squad?" Duke grinned. "They sent the dragon squad? I'm sorry if they give you a hard time, sweetie."
Claire giggled before laying her head back on the pillow. "Don't be silly. They were my friends and they were doing the same thing that I had done with the wives of the men in your platoon. I'm sure some of the wives of your lance corporals thought I was part of the dragon squad, too. Part of the unofficial job description for a senior NCO wife is making sure that a subordinate's wife is receiving the proper support as she attempts to accomplish all the difficult tasks expected of a Marine wife."
Duke knew this. He just hadn't realized, consciously, that Claire knew it as well. After a moment's thought Duke realized that at all those wives' soirées she had attended, more than diapers and husbands had been discussed.
Claire went on, "In fact, I wasn't totally sure we were doing the right thing, back when you retired. But after they heard my reasoning, they backed me up a hundred percent. It's kind of funny, but I occasionally miss the joy of helping a new Marine wife to get on her feet. Maybe I can get that joy back again."
Duke smiled into the dark. Yes, helping a young Marine to get on his or her own two feet was one of the more intangible pleasures of the job. Funny, he had never realized that his wife could sympathize with that. Maybe she was right and they were more alike than he thought they were.
"Okay, sweetie," Duke said. "You've sold me on it. Tomorrow I'm going to call the admiral and . . ." He stopped when he saw the surprise in her face. "Yes, Mike is making Simpson an admiral. But, don't be too impressed. Last I heard, his navy consists of four people, counting himself, and no ships. Well, five, now, I guess. Counting me. Hey, would you like to make love to the whole one man Marine Corps? I've been told in good faith that I have ruggedly handsome looks." Duke leered and wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
Claire suppressed her amusement and kept him at arms' length. "Hold your horses, lover boy. We need our sleep if we're going to start this Marine Corps off on the right foot."
"We?" Duke repeated, totally flabbergasted at the thought.
"Of course. You are going to ask Lulu, right?"
"Well, yes. After Simpson, she's my next call. But you said we."
"Ah, my ruggedly handsome boy toy." Claire grinned, reaching for him. "For over two hundred years, Marines' wives have known that if someone had bothered to ask us in the first place, a large portion of the problems Marines have experienced would have been resolved. But what can you expect from an organization that got its start in a tavern? And, if you think I'm going to miss this opportunity to make my mark in the name of marine wives, past, present and future, you're out of your ever-loving mind. "
"Here we are," Lulu said, pushing the door of the small room by the main office entrance open. "What do you think?"
"It's small, but I think it will do, Lu," Duke said. He entered the office, more a cubicle than a full fledged office, but it had real walls and a door. "Are you sure we're not going to have any problems with your family?"
"Duke, remember I'm the general manager," Lulu said, smirking a bit. "Anyway, this was my brother's office. We've only used it for storage since the Ring. Just consider it the O'Keefe Company's contribution to the support of the new Marine Corps. Claire is okay with all this, right?
"Lu," Duke said, shaking his head in bemusement, "she was the one who pushed me to agree. Not that she had to push too hard. By the way, Claire is taking charge of clearing our way through the government. She also had some ideas about how to equip ourselves that she wants to explore. Do you know a Tracy Kubiak?"
"Darnn, Duke, she really wants you out of the house." Lulu chuckled as she cleaned some spider webs with her hand. "Tracy? I think she runs a canvas tent manufacturing business from her home. She used to be a parachute rigger sergeant with the Eighty Second Airborne Division. Is she joining us?"
"No." Duke shook his head regretfully. "I think Claire wants to find out if she can be our supplier. Besides she just had a baby." As he talked, he curiously scanned the office contents for possible use.
"Oh," Lulu said. "Well, that would kind of cramp a woman's style. Okay then, what's first on the agenda?"
"We need to find some more Marines. Just the two of us, and Claire, is not going to cut it."
"Even if we have the strength of ten because our hearts are pure?" Lulu asked as she tilted her head to one side and opened her blue eyes in a wide innocent stare.
Duke snorted, amused. "Even then. We can only be in one place at a time. Do you know anyone who fits the bill?"
"Not that many," Lulu answered. "People here tend to join the army or the guard. We Marines stick out like sore thumbs. I know some WWII, Korea and Nam gyrenes but I think you mean relatively young folks."
"Yes. And I also need them with NCO experience. I think I already got one, though. Do you know Calvin Hobbs? He used to be a sergeant armorer with the Twenty Second MEU."
"I know his wife, Nancy," Lulu said. "She once told me he was into living history and weapons. Good idea, that. He may be a big help."
"I'm going to give him a call later today, Lu." Duke stopped for a second as he scratched his head. "You know, we need a corpsman, too."
"Way ahead of you, buddy. Do you remember Aunt Beulah's right hand woman, Mary Pat, Elizabeth's good buddy? Didn't she have a NCOIC working for her at military medical training? Dorrman, David Dorrman is his name."
"Yes, I remember," Duke said. "I was introduced to him when I was still working with Beth Pitre. You're right. He mentioned once that he had been an independent duty corpsman."
"He was also with the Fleet Marine Force and saw action. He's the one we definitely need to recruit." Lulu paused a moment, then straightened her shoulders as she faced him. "I've also got another one for you. But I'm not sure how you're going to feel. Just hear me out, before you say anything, okay?"
"If you insist. But so far, I like everyone that you've mentioned," Duke said as he crossed his arms and waited for her tale.
Lulu leaned against the doorframe. When she found a comfortable position, she started telling her story. "His name is William Musgrove, goes by Wild Bill. He used to work as a mechanic at Fairmont Jiffy Lube. Since the Ring, he's been working for the government in the repair shop. He was a corporal with amtracks. However, he left the Corps as a private with a BCD."
Duke eyebrows went up. "A bad conduct discharge, Lu? Just tell me there's more to his story than that."
Lulu, expecting this reaction, continued calmly after taking a deep breath. "There is. Just hear me out. I got this from a mutual friend, because Wild Bill is as closemouthed as you are. It seems that his track was redlined even after repairs and he told that to his platoon commander, a world-class asshole. The lieutenant, a rather fresh butter bar, courtesy of Canoe U and the Basic School, decided to take it for a test swim anyway, regardless of Bill's warning. His gunny was at the company, so there weren't any older and wiser heads around to reason with the idiot. Of course, to no enlisted person's surprise, the track sank. Bill had to rescue the trapped driver, who was not only his best friend but also his sister's fiancé. After they swam to shore, the lieutenant tried to put the blame on the driver. Bill lost his cool and hit the butter bar. He broke the idiot's jaw."
Duke had to shake his head. In twenty years in the Corps, he had seen variations of the same story repeated many times. "Wow, I can't say that I can blame him. But why the BCD?"
"The asshole's father was another Canoe U grad and an admiral. Bill had to take the BCD or face serious brig time."
Duke snorted in disgust as the picture become clearer. "Damn. I see. But are you sure he might still be interested in giving the Corps a chance? If I were him, I might still harbor some resentment."
"I can see him this afternoon and invite him to come over tomorrow to discuss it, Duke."
"Works for me, Lu. Next thing, recruits. We need to set high standards for the first class. I want down-timers mostly, with military experience, preferably as NCOs or officers."
Lulu nodded, as she followed his reasoning. "Let me guess—train the trainers, right?"
"Absolutely right, Lu," Duke replied, as he tested the chair behind the desk. "This chair is in severe need of oil for its wheels. Our main base is going to be in Magdeburg where King Gustavus Adolphus has set up his capital. It's a river town, so we're talking brown water operations. But if I understood the admiral's intentions, we're going to end up as a blue water navy soon enough. He's going to need Marines for both force protection and to provide his ground-fighting elements."
After making sure that the chair could support him, Duke sat down in a gingerly fashion. Lulu watched, amused. "This means that we're only going to have time to train one boot camp class here before we move the whole shebang over there," Duke said. "We need to concentrate on boots who can be trained to form the NCO cadre first. We need to have a rifle company in place in Magdeburg by the end of next year. If we do the job right, they can keep running the recruit training, so we can grow exponentially. I told the admiral we can have a battalion by the end of 1634."
Lulu raised her eyebrows as she digested the news. "Wow. That's quite a timetable, Duke. Now, I believe that Simpson went to Annapolis. They're brainwashed with the Mahan crap from day one. Still, I think it's doable. It's going to be hard on us, but doable. At least we have two advantages the guys at Turn tavern didn't have."
"Don't be so harsh, Lu. Without Captain Mahan's theories of sea power we would never have had the kind of navy or, by the same token, Marine Corps that was preeminent in the twentieth century. I just wonder how the admiral is going to apply those theories in this century. Anyway, you said that we had two other advantages. What are they? Don't keep me in suspense, Lu," Duke said, as he started clearing some of the supplies from the desk.
"Unlike them, we've got over two hundreds years of accumulated Marine experience. And, of course, female logic isn't something they had either. It's a good thing you have me and Claire on your side."
Duke stopped emptying the desk and tried to repress his laughter. "I suspect I'm going to be reminded of that for a long time." He then went back to opening the desk drawers and looking at their contents.
"Say, Duke, I've got a question." Lulu cleaned a corner of the desk and perched on it. "What is going to be our policy for women in combat?"
Duke opened the last drawer and stared at its contents for a second. Then, with raised eyebrows, he slammed it shut. A perplexed Lulu could only ask. "What?"
Duke gave her an uncomfortable smile. "I think I just found your brother's stash of girlie magazines."
Lulu snorted. Then she continued speaking in a very matter-of-fact way. "Don't throw them away, Duke. I hear there are folks who pay good money for them."
Duke looked like he was expecting a joke. But when he saw her looking back without any hesitation, he decided to drop the subject and answer her question.
"When I originally talked to the admiral his plans were no females at all. I told him that if he wanted me, he'd better want you, too. I told him that because I'm not going to do everything by myself. He had to agree to that if he wanted me, so he did. And, of course, if we let you join, we can't refuse any other women who want to try."
Lulu smiled. "I'm the camel nose under the tent, I see."
"Sort of," Duke said as he leaned back in the chair. "The truth is that I'm not going to handicap myself by being forced to choose poor candidates just because they're men. I don't plan to waste my time like Jackson did at the beginning."
Lulu smirked in disgust at the mention of Jackson's name. There was bad blood between her and Jackson. After the Ring of Fire, she had offered her services to the new army. After Jackson told her he didn't needed either women or fat jarheads, Lulu was furious. In front of his staff, she had invited him to step outside so she could sweep the street with his bony doughboy ass. Luckily for Jackson's ego and health, someone had the presence of mind to get Dan Frost and Duke, who put a stop to the confrontation. Later, when Jackson had been forced to let women into his Army, Lulu had felt vindicated. But she had never tried to join up again.
Duke didn't need to be mind reader to know what his friend was thinking, so he continued talking. "Like the up-time Corps, women are going to be excluded from direct combat roles, like infantry, artillery and cavalry. I know that this is very restrictive compared with what the army allows. But they don't have to think about operating in cramped shipboard conditions or opposed beach landings. However, I don't plan to send them to the rear, either. If there is anything that the Croat raid demonstrated to everyone, it was that we don't have a rear. So, I expect every Marine, regardless of gender or duty, to remember that we are all riflemen first. I plan to train everyone under that standard. Can you live with that, Lu?"
Lulu thought for a second before nodding her approval. "Yes, I can live with that. I suppose I'd better brush off my combat skills then, eh?"
Duke smiled. "Yes. But you aren't the only one. I have to get in shape again, too. And we need to do it before we start boot camp. So, we can work up together." He started rummaging through the desk again. "Say, Lu, can you find us some pens and paper? I want to write down what we discussed so far and start working in the basic plan."
Lulu stood up and brushed her pants. "Sure, Duke. Meanwhile, can you clean the desk and the chairs? I'm going to get some of my boys to clean the place, later. You know, I remember seeing two manual typewriters in my dad's junk. I bet we can use them in Magdeburg."
"You bet we can," Duke grinned. "But I'm not sure if future generations of Marines are going to be happy with us. You know we're going to have to reinvent paperwork."
Lulu, a former administration and supply specialist, laughed hard as she exited the small office.
GRANTVILLE FREE PRESS
May 11, 1633
First Marines Complete Training
by Jason Waters
The early sun was not completely over the horizon when this reporter observed the last Marine "boot" passing the marker that completed the final force march of their training at the Hudson farm. Recruit Kimberly Ann Chaffin, 19, of Grantville, crossed the final line five seconds after the last man on her platoon at 0715 today, completing . . .
Claire Hudson wiped the tears out of her eyes as the last troops disappeared around the bend of the road. With a flourish, the high school band ended their rendition of "The Girl I Left Behind Me." As a sudden silence settled over the crowd, most started walking back into the direction of town. Claire felt rooted to the spot, a feeling shared by many of the women around her. All of them, with the exception of naval spouse Susan Dorrman, were Marine wives or sweethearts. She also felt a sense of déjà vu, as the memory of her participation in many departures ceremonies like this in the twentieth century mixed with the reality of 1633 Grantville.
After a deep breath, Claire took stock of the situation. She was now the defacto senior spouse, or the senior dragon lady in her husband's words. One of the last things that he had asked her to do while they were saying their goodbye was to watch out for all of them. As she looked at the mostly young women, she knew that she had a great task ahead. Gathering her flock around her, she stood by her neighbor and now duty translator, Ilse Hoffman and addressed the women.
"Ladies, tomorrow we will meet at my house for coffee at 1400 hours. That's two in the afternoon. Don't look so surprised; you married Marines and that's how they talk. Learn it. Bring your problems and we can discuss them and find solutions. The wives of Captain Lennox's unit are going to provide us with child care support like they did today at Ilse's house. You all have my phone number. If you need help or want to talk; I'm here for you. Thank you and I'll see you all tomorrow."
As the group broke up, Claire found herself walking with Susan and Ilse. Nancy Hobbs and Bill Musgrove's fiancée, Connie Miller, joined them. Nancy had her arm around Connie as she sobbed quietly. Her on and off relationship with Wild Bill seemed to be on at the moment. To the whole detachment's amusement, her overnight goodbye almost made her warrior late for the initial formation.
Looking at Claire, Susan told her, "Well this went well. At least we were not left at the pier watching the ships as they became smaller and smaller towards the horizon."
"Yes but watching a horse's rear end doing the same thing lacks some of the romance," a saddened Nancy shot back.
For several steps the group walked in silence until Claire started giggling. Then the whole group, including Ilse who had only understood part of the observation, part in hysteria and part in relief, broke into loud laughs.
Wiping her eyes, Claire spoke to her friends. "Well, it's obvious that except for Connie, we all have gone through similar experiences. At least Magdeburg is not at the other end of the world and hopefully we will be able to see the guys soon."
"They might be at the other end of the world as far as we are concerned, Claire," Nancy Hobbs replied as she kept walking with Connie. "I was hoping that after Calvin left the Corps, I would be able to keep him around but look at us now; back to square one. And this time, we have no phone or e-mail and we're back to the old-fashioned snail mail if we are lucky."
"She's right, Claire. Becoming a geographical widow again sucks. There's got to be a way to remain together," Susan added.
Claire kept walking as she thought about it. The other women waited for her insights. Finally, her mind made up, she addressed her friends. "Ladies, I have an idea but up to this moment it needed to be fleshed out. However, as I see that you all share my concerns, I feel that I can talk briefly about it. Obviously, we are going to have to refine it before we present it to the group at large. Let me talk to you about something that I'm calling Operation Exodus."
Gunnery Sergeant Hudson halted the Marine horse and wagon column with a sharp raised right arm sign. His "Detachment, Halt" command was relayed down the line by his junior leaders with loud shouts. He twisted on his saddle and gave the hand signal for leaders forward. As was usual whenever he did this, he couldn't stop feeling like an extra in a John Wayne movie. Loud commands once again relayed the order down the column. After weeks of training with Lennox and his cavalrymen (it was going to take Duke a long time before he felt comfortable calling them Marines) together with the practice gained during the journey, he knew mounted commands were now second nature for everyone.
Duke easily controlled his spirited mount, Henderson, with his knees. The horse tended to be easily spooked. Of course, Duke couldn't fail to appreciate the irony that a Marine infantryman who trained for most of his adult life to ride into combat in amtracks, helos and LCACs was now going into the breach on horseback.
Duke felt more than saw when the first of his gathering subordinates, Staff Sergeant O'Keefe approached him. The spires of Magdeburg Cathedral beyond the tree line beckoned him. Those spires marked the end of their two-week trip and the long months of preparation and training. The cathedral was the tallest structure on the horizon but there were other buildings, possibly new construction, that were starting to give it a run for its money.
"So, that's Magdeburg Cathedral," Lulu commented after stopping her mare, Lejeune, beside his horse.
"Yes, it is, Lu," Duke responded, looking at her intently. She looked tired, but as usual remained stoic about her discomfort. Lulu wasn't one to let her fatigue keep her from getting the job done. Once again, Duke gave thanks to the Lord for her and the remarkable group of men and women who had chosen to follow him to help in the formation of the new Marine Corps.
"Don't look like much from here," Lulu said, leaning forward on her saddle to rest her backside. Duke smiled, Lu was not a born horsewoman and he felt sympathy for her soreness.
"Wait until we get into town. The place is a goddamn phoenix. The admiral told me that for a city that was practically razed to the ground, its rebuilding is way ahead and starting to look a lot better that you could expect." Duke's eagerness for their new home and the tasks ahead started to color his voice.
Lulu smiled at her friend's enthusiasm but her reply was preempted by the arrival of the rest of their up-time cadre of former veterans. The first squad leader, Sergeant Hobbs, and the second squad leader, Corporal Musgrove were followed by their chief medic, Petty Officer Dorrman. Dorrman, or as he was now known, the "Chief", walked from his combination horse-drawn ambulance and first-aid wagon at the rear of the wagon formation.
"Magdeburg, I presume?" Dorrman asked as he wiped his brow with his soft "bonnie style" hat.
"Oh yes. We finally made it," Lulu replied, looking down at him. "After two weeks of invigorating horseback travel. Forget trucks, Humvees or helos, only horses for me from now on." There was more than a heavy hint of sarcasm in her tired voice. "Ouch, I can't feel my butt any longer."
"Gee, Staff Sergeant O'Keefe, did you forget already? The Corps never promised you a rose garden," Wild Bill, the youngest of the senior NCOs, joked to the chuckles of the tired group. Musgrove had definitely enjoyed the trip, occasionally commenting that he would have paid money for an adventure outing like this back up in the twenty-first century. The consensus of the older NCOs was that Wild Bill had been in the sun without a cover for way too long.
"Yeah, right, Musgrove. Tell that to my butt," Lulu shot back. Her humorous comeback was typical of the rapport that the cadre shared. Humor was a good way to ease the stress of daily life under wartime conditions. Her horsemanship had improved during the trip but everyone knew the relationship between her and her mare was, at best, an armed truce.
Duke, knowing that the conversation was only going to go downhill from there, stopped their usual mock insult humor fest cold with his instructions. "Can the chit-chat, guys. This place looks as good as any to stop for lunch. Get your people dismounted and let them take a break under the trees while we wait for the scouts' return," he ordered. "Also tell them to try to clean up a bit and secure all the loose ends. I want them to look like Marines and not like a band of unemployed carnival people when we arrive in town. Got it?"
"Or worse, like the army. No problem, boss." Hobbs, a quiet, middle-sized man with unexpected depths, replied. The NCOs quietly returned to the column and a series of barked commands got the troops dismounted, under the trees and away from the main road. The men went with an eagerness that indicated that they, too, welcomed the rest stop.
Duke, after seeing to his mount and his own small needs, watched contentedly as the others quickly got the temporary rest stop organized. Captain Lennox had been a tough but skilled taskmaster and instructor. Take care of the horses first was something Lennox believed down to his bones. And that belief was now deeply ingrained in everyone. And, it had to be admitted, riding certainly beat the hell out of marching. The horse herd, which the Scotsman Lennox had personally selected, was destined to become the Navy and Marine Corps' four-legged "motor pool" in Magdeburg. That last thought brought Duke's attention back to the cavalryman's special status.
When Simpson first approached him last December, seeking help in the formation of a new Corps to support his planned navy, Duke only expected to contend with one flavor of Marine. He was honest enough with himself to recognize that the Scotsman was an innocent bystander and not responsible for the "Horse Marine" gaffe foisted on everyone by the secretary of state, Ed Piazza. He even understood the rationale behind the decision. It just simply caught him, Simpson and most especially, Lennox, by surprise when President Stearns and General Jackson designated his new escort cavalrymen as Marines, too. It made a sort of sense as in the here and now—legations and embassies required protection by mounted troops and on the other hand American tradition and custom was that Marines guarded the embassies—but no one was happy with the decision. Although Claire had found the whole situation sidesplitting hilarious, just like the rest of the wives.
At least, Duke consoled himself, unlike Lennox, he didn't have to contend with the operalike dress uniforms that came with the Marine guard's duty. That had been another of Ed's great ideas.
Throughout the preceding months, Duke and Lennox had had long conversations about what being in the Corps meant, usually over a cold beer at the Thuringen Gardens. In the process they had established a friendly working relationship. It had helped that Lennox had been favorably impressed with the Corps' basic philosophy that every Marine was first a rifleman.
Duke and Lennox had reached a compromise, of sorts. That compromise gave proof to the notion that two veteran NCOs could find acceptable solutions to any military problem—as long as there was the proper alcoholic lubrication. After the base and training organization was firmly established at Magdeburg, all of Lennox's new troops' initial training would be in Duke's hands. The plan was to start with the junior officers and then continue with the rest. That would provide every new Marine in both organizations with the same set of core competencies and values. Of course, Lennox would continue to run the specialized cavalry and diplomatic security escort training.
Overall, Duke was satisfied with the progress so far. The troops were shaping up well and had cemented the practical teamwork learned in their temporary boot camp at Grantville early in the year. Most of them would make excellent NCOs for the rifle company he needed to have in place by the end of the year. Duke watched as the group of men, following orders, sorted themselves into work details. Of course, security was quickly set up. Some things had not changed from the time of the Roman legions. Other troops saw to the horses and wagons after a detail brought water from a nearby creek for the mounts. The men were soon preparing their rations, doing general cleaning, and the all-important coffee brewing over the newly lit campfire. The last two weeks on the road had sharpened their field craft, and most had former mercenary experience, so their actions were quick and precise.
Only after the immediate tasks were completed did some of the Marines, accompanied by their new entrenching tools, seek some privacy to answer the call of nature. On their return, they were received with humorous catcalls and an occasional joker making the twenty-first century hand signal for gas attack. Duke found it mildly surprising, but amusing.
"Looks like Wild Bill's handiwork," Dorrman commented as he approached Duke.
"Must be," Duke agreed. "Chemical warfare was not in their training curriculum. And, I can't tell you, Dave, just how very happy I am with that." Another of the surprises that the past months had brought was Duke's growing friendship with the younger man. Dorrman, as he was outside of the chain of command and as senior as Duke, had assumed the role of confidant and sounding board for both Duke and Lulu.
"You were on Mike Stearns's side during that brouhaha in Congress, I gather."
"You bet," Duke said. "And I wasn't alone. As well, although he hated to admit it, the admiral supported the President's stance and would have quit in support of it."
"You really like the old man?" Dorrman asked.
Duke, after thinking for a moment, replied. "Yes, I do. And I was as surprised as you are, Dave. Simpson is not a man who is easily liked. Part of the problem is his own damn fault, I think. But, I can sympathize with his position. When we ended up here after the Ring of Fire, his domestic situation with his son, which was barely under control, went completely off into the abyss."
Dorrman nodded. "Yeah. Poor guy. I agree with you, Duke, the admiral occasionally has control issues. The sad part is that I can also see it from his point of view. Seventeenth-century Germany would not be the place I would have chosen for my forced retirement. Especially not in the company of a bunch of hicks."
Duke smirked before replying. "Then, of course, the hicks went ahead and formed an army. And, as a Navy man through and through . . . suffice it to say, and pardon the pun, he was totally out of his depth."
After a hearty guffaw, Dorrman continued. "He wasn't the only one. Remember the strange look Mary Pat gave me the first time I called "attention on deck" at the Sanitary Commission?"
"Yeah," Duke grinned. "But she got over that really quick. And later she found great amusement in the irony that an air force brat, who is now an army officer, has a navy petty officer as her NCOIC. The same way that her best friend has a Marine NCO as her platoon sergeant. Lucky for us, there's only one Coastie in the whole town."
"Damn leatherneck humor."
"Dumb squid."
Their friendly banter was interrupted when Lulu arrived from her rounds. "Everyone's doing well so far and . . . what you two are up to now?" she asked, curious at their caught-in-the-act guilty expressions.
Duke finally replied, somewhat sheepishly, "Nothing much, Lulu. Just thinking about our current situation."
Amused, Lulu snorted. "Right. Which part in particular? The lost in time part, the fact that we're supposed to start a new military service or that we are getting too old to play Lewis and Clark? And, let's not forget all the good folks who would like to see us dead or back in whichever hell we escaped from, hah?"
"Touché," Dorrman said. "I see that your new close relationship with Lejeune hasn't improved your humor."
"Respectfully, Chief," Lulu said, "bite me. I don't know how Lennox seems to enjoy all this riding, day in and day out."
Dave snorted before replying. "He was born in the saddle, Lu. The folks here are a lot hardier than we are and things are definitely different in these times. But speaking about Captain Lennox, Duke, have you changed your mind about accepting a commission like he did?"
"No," Duke shuddered. "Like I told Mike and Jackson, I feel that I'm doing the right thing. The admiral and I agreed that having up-timers as senior officers was a losing proposition in an organization that was going to be composed of almost a hundred percent down-timers. Besides, you know we don't have any trained Marine officers in our ranks to do the job. And it will be a cold day in hell before we tap the army for senior leaders."
The amused chuckles of his audience let him know that he was not alone on his low esteem for the army.
Duke smiled as he continued. "The training of good NCOs is going to provide the backbone for the new Corps and impact in their efficiency. Anyway, children, we get to recruit and train our own officers. I hope there are enough young whippersnappers in Magdeburg with the appropriate background to run through the Basic School. Still, it is going to require that we to find the right kind of leader to put it all together. We need someone who can be a disciplinarian but not a martinet, a people person, open to new ideas and concepts but still able to use his experiences and battle skills from this time effectively. In other words, we need an officer who is equally at ease on the battlefield or in the realm of academia. We need someone who can be a diplomat, move easily in the social circles and command a rifle platoon. An Archibald Henderson-type organizer, more than a Chesty Puller-style warrior, at least in the beginning."
Lulu, momentarily taken aback with Hudson's long list of requirements, was left speechless. It was a few moments before she was able to reply. "Shit, Duke. You don't ask for much, do you? I don't think Napoleon or Frederick the Great have been born yet, and Alexander and Caesar are long dead. Where do you think we're going to find this paragon of military virtue?"
Duke Hudson nodded as he considered the subject. Contrary to popular misconceptions, in the up-time American armed forces the Marines had been the true warrior intellectuals. The study of military history and other subjects was deeply encouraged and ingrained in their training. That was always surprising to those who considered leathernecks as simpletons who were always interested in the most destructive direct approach. One of Duke's personal deep-seated beliefs was that the origin of that curious inconsistency could be placed squarely at the feet of the constant bureaucratic inter-service warfare. The Marines had had to wage a hidden war for their survival every year since their formation. Actual war provided the occasional respite from the bureaucratic war that went on most of the time. The constant struggle for funds, material and missions with the much larger army, navy, and the air force had led to a relatively small organization whose leadership, both in the enlisted and officer ranks, was extremely flexible and adaptable. How to find the same flexibility and intellectual agility in down-timers was going to be interesting to say the least.
"Beats me, guys," he finally admitted. "I talked to the admiral about our requirements on his last visit to Grantville. He didn't have a good idea, either. However, he told me that he discussed the matter with King Gustav, in his role as our captain general."
A clearly puzzled Dorrman asked, "So, what did the king . . . excuse me, our captain general have to say?"
"Well, Chief, you have to remember that Gustavus Adolphus had a great reputation as a military thinker, according to our history. I expect that now, thanks to Julie, Baroness Sims, he's going to hang around to add to that image. One of his most remarkable qualities, according to the books, was his able selection of good subordinates. I'm sure he's got someone in mind."
"In other words, you don't know either, right?" Lulu asked.
"Not a clue, Lulu," Duke admitted. "And neither does the admiral. I asked him already. The king is keeping it close to his vest. He wants to wait to meet us first and do the introductions in person."
"Darn, I hate surprises." Lulu told him as she tried to dig a small rock with her boot.
"Take a number, Lulu. We are getting to the crunch now. I think we have a handle on the initial NCO manning, thanks to our recruiting in Grantville. The bottleneck, in my opinion, is going to be in our officer recruitment and training. As it stands now, our plan still calls for a fully manned company by year's end and a battalion by the end of next year. Of course, that's only here in Magdeburg. We also need to think about Lennox's requirements, which weren't in our original plans. By next year, he's going to have the equivalent of a short battalion with two companies. So, yes, you could say that I am anxious to meet the king's candidates and get the ball rolling."
Dorrman shook his head. "That's a very ambitious plan, Gunny. Do you think we're going to have the time to do it?"
"We don't have a choice in the matter, my friends," Duke said, grimly. "I don't have to read tea leaves to know that Richelieu and his friends are not going to give us the time we need for a leisurely build up. I wouldn't be too surprised that if by this time next year, we're right smack in the thick of it."
The nods of agreement and the silence that followed his statement proved that his two friends agreed with his assessment. Oh, well as Wild Bill said, no one promised us a rose garden, he thought.
Finally, Lulu cleared her throat. "And on that cheery note, I'm going to check how everyone is doing and see if Kim has taught the pup any new tricks."
Dorrman snorted. "I thought that sum of her repertoire was the ability to piddle on folks at the drop of a hat."
Lulu smiled as Duke tried to stifle a laugh.
"Well, my dear Chief, I'm hoping that Kimberly can teach Puddles to attack unsavory characters, like navy men." Lulu concluded with an innocent smile as she walked away.
"Hey, I resent that," Dorrman called after her before turning to Duke. "What are you planning to do now?"
"Do? Well Chief, it is my intention to sit down, wait and see if our company clerk can deliver lunch with the meager resources left. I left my NCOs to take care of business. I like to call that leadership. Don't you have a wagon to get ready?" Duke asked.
Dorrman smiled, amused by the seeming innocence of his Marine friend. "Not as long as I have a corpsman striker; extra work builds his character. Anyway, Lucas is a lot better with the horses that I ever plan to be. So, let me join you and we can make sure that we don't get poisoned by our eager chef."
"That's a plan that I can live with," Duke told him as they walked towards the campfire.
Duke and Dorrman were sitting at the campfire conducting an impromptu tactical discussion with other Marines while they waited for lunch. When they heard a guard loudly announcing the scouts' return, they continued sipping their coffee. After dismounting and hobbling their mounts. the scouts left their horses in the hands of fellow leathernecks and joined Duke and the others at the campfire. Other Marines started to drift in closer to hear their report and silence quickly spread around the area. The scout leader, Lance Corporal Hans Hoffman, removed his sunglasses and began to come to attention before starting his report but was stopped by Duke's gesture. "Lance Corporal, relax. It's cold and it's been a long day for your guys. I want you all to sit down and drink your coffee first. The report can wait."
"Danke, mein freund," Hans murmured, as he sat down and sipped coffee from the cup someone put in his hand. Duke allowed him time to unwind.
Hans, a man in his early thirties and Duke's former neighbor, was the oldest and most experienced of the down-timer recruits. He was being groomed for a staff NCO position and, like Hudson, had rejected a Marine commission. The group that now surrounded the campfire waited patiently for his report while his fellow scouts, Gustav Franker, Noah Wilson and Dallas Chaffin also sat down to catch their breaths and warm up with coffee. They, too, had been wearing sunglasses. That suggestion from Dallas had quickly become the scouts' trademark. At last, Hans put his cup down, picked up a nearby stick and started drawing a rough map of Magdeburg.
"Admiral Simpson sends his compliments, Gunny. He's pleased that we finally made it. The navy yard is here, the embassy is here and the king's palace is there. In the yard, we can use a temporary barnlike building for quarters. However, I wouldn't move anyone inside until we have cleaned and disinfected it thoroughly. We'll need to use . . . what do you call it, Noah?"
"You mean the DDT, Hans?" Noah asked.
"DDT, danke. We should use it to kill all the fleas and other insects. I'm sorry, but it looks like tents again, tonight. We also need to dig new outhouses and a well to make the area livable. The admiral sent me and Mister Cantrell to check the site he's picked out for the permanent barracks. It's good and has a nice view of the river. There's space for all the planned buildings, ranges and the parade ground. As per your orders, I scouted two routes to get to the yard. One here, around the outskirts, is longer, but faster, as traffic is light. Noah scouted the other route through town. Noah?" Hans prompted Wilson to continue the report.
"Gunny, Dallas and I went through town. I got us a route but getting through is going to be a challenge. The place is like a zoo. There's traffic everywhere and no one to play traffic cop. It also stinks to high heaven, because the new sewer system is still under construction. On the other hand, it bustles with activity and energy just like Grantville, but multiplied by ten. Looks to me like a good place to live as long as you don't mind the stink or the noise. There's lots of new construction going on, so we may have problems hiring workers for the barracks. I talked to Swedish and German soldiers at the checkpoints and got the names of several of the local equivalents to a contractor. I also warned them to expect us, so we can go through the checkpoints without stopping. Hans?"
"Danke, Noah. Gunny, I discussed your request with the admiral. He told me that you could do whatever you think best. He also said that if you go with the main plan you really need to make sure that you show the colors. He also gave me a letter and a package for you. He said that he had wanted to wait and surprise you but thought that you could use something to start us on the right foot. Here it is." Hans passed Duke an envelope and a small package wrapped in oilskins.
"Thanks, Lance Corporal; you and your team performed admirably." Duke pitched his voice so everyone could overhear his compliment to Hans and his scouts. He then stood up to address the whole group. "Listen up, Marines. During the trip, I've talked to you about my ideas for our outfit. Right here, right now, is where we start making them a reality. We have a whole town full of civilians and allied soldiers who have never heard or seen Marines before. So, they don't have an idea of what to expect. We have an excellent opportunity to make a good first impression and help jumpstart our recruitment efforts. We're going to ride through town and let everyone know that we've arrived. So, this is the plan. I want everyone to remain in formation, keep your horse under control and try to look sharp regardless of what we encounter. Tighten up your saddle and accoutrements. I don't want anyone falling off his or her horse in front of the crowd. Police your uniform and person and remember—today we create history. That is all. We will leave in two hours, but before we do, we will police this area. O'Keefe, Hobbs, Dorrman, Hoffman and you, too, Wild Bill. A moment of your time, please."
The other Marines moved away, some to start their preparations, others to continue their interrupted rest. Duke opened the admiral's letter as he walked away from the campfire. He quickly scanned the contents and a wide grin split his face. Lulu exchanged curious glances with the rest of her colleagues as they followed the gunnery sergeant, wondering what was going on. Duke stopped to open the package and started issuing his instructions. "Hans, I need you and your scouts to open the way for us into town and provide traffic control. Your people are going to be my road guards. Lulu, do we still have those orange construction vests we swiped from your great uncle?"
"Yes, in the first wagon. I was wondering what you wanted with them. So, Hans and his boys get to wear them, right?"
Duke stopped walking as soon as he was far enough from the main group not to be overheard. "Right, I want them to stand out like sore thumbs, Lulu. Get them those vests after lunch, please. Hans, I'm counting on you to prevent any civilians from getting in our way or getting hurt, but be polite about it. Discuss it with your scouts and maybe you can use some of the folks to help you practice your crowd control drill before we leave."
"Yes, Gunny." Hoffman replied, making a notation in his always-present notebook.
Duke turned towards the corpsman. "Dave, as soon as we arrive at the barn, I want you to collect a detail and start working on our new quarters' habitability and sanitation. The only living thing that I want sharing my bedding is my wife."
Dorrman laughed. "I share that feeling. It will be done, Gunny."
Duke then addressed his two platoon leaders. "Hobbs and Musgrove, after we arrive at the yard, we're going to conduct evening colors for the first time in Magdeburg. I want it to become a Marine responsibility from now on. Please, organize the troops and maybe get a little practice for the flag detail before we depart, okay?"
Puzzled, Sergeant Hobbs raised his hand. "Yes, Gunny, but isn't it going to be a tad too early for evening colors?"
Duke addressed the whole group with his answer. "Guys, have you seen how dark the night gets around here? Magdeburg doesn't have an electric grid yet. So, as much as I hate it, and until the night light situation improves, we're going to have to conduct evening colors while we still have daylight. Around 1700 would be my guess, just like the army."
Hobbs nodded his head as he followed the reasoning. "Makes sense. But it's going to feel funny. Well, we can adapt and improvise, Gunny."
Satisfied, Hudson smiled. "And overcome. That's the spirit, Hobbs. Now everyone, listen up. A month before we left Grantville, I wrote the admiral with some suggestions about our manning and organization. I am pleased to inform you that he not only approved my suggestions and the personnel actions I suggested, but to my surprise, has provided us the proper insignia. So, let me start with the junior man here. Hoffman, front and center." Hans, already standing in front of Duke, came to attention.
"Hans, I don't know what kind of officer you were before as a mercenary but you've impressed me in the short time you've been with us. As well as becoming my friend, you've shown me you have the makings of a good non-commissioned officer. Your wife Ilse has become an invaluable part of our ladies support efforts and a great assistance to Claire with the down-time Marine ladies. I'm sure she would love to know that we recognize your worth to the Corps with this promotion. Lu, Dave, can you do the honors and help Staff Sergeant Hoffman pin his new stripes."
Duke handed the metal devices to his surprised friends. Smiling, Dorrman and O'Keefe admired the well-made reproduction of a Marine staff sergeant collar insignia, a black painted metal device with three chevrons and a rocker with crossed rifles. Together, they approached Hoffman and carefully replaced his lance corporal devices with the new insignia before shaking his hand. Hoffman had stood ramrod straight during the proceedings, seemingly surprised and overwhelmed with emotion.
Hudson then singled out Corporal Musgrove. "Wild Bill . . . William, one of the most surprising things about you is that, unlike your nickname, you're one of the most evenhanded and well-controlled Marines that I have ever known. Of course, that's apart from your truly low sense of humor, which is better left unmentioned. We all know that you got a raw deal up-time, and had a promising career cut short. However, since you decided to join our quixotic enterprise, your enthusiasm and selflessness has shown us the kind of NCO that the up-time corps lost in the twentieth century. Is my pleasure to be able to remedy that situation in this century. On behalf of Admiral Simpson and myself, please accept the insignia of your new rank, Staff Sergeant Musgrove." Unlike Hoffman, Wild Bill had an ear-to-ear grin as his new stripes were pinned to his collars.
"Calvin," Duke said, "we all knew you reluctantly decided to leave the Corps to take care of your family when we were back in the old USA. It happened to many others, and we can't fault you for that. However, I am personally grateful that you decided to give our new Marines a chance, as your knowledge is going to come in handy in the months ahead. This promotion to staff sergeant is just a token of our appreciation and recognition of that experience." Hobbs snapped to attention and managed to keep a straight face through the informal ceremony but finally cracked up when Lulu hugged him.
"Funny, I don't remember being hugged during my last promotion," Hobbs commented as he struggled to glance at the stripes on his collar.
A mockingly serious Wild Bill replied, "Well, Staff Sergeant Hobbs, if I recall, you were then in an all male Marine unit. Of course, we certainly would not ask . . . or even tell."
"Wild Bill, I mean, Staff Sergeant Musgrove, shut up," Hobbs responded in the same vein
"Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant," an unrepentant Wild Bill barked.
Shaking his head at their antics as he struggled to keep a straight face, Duke turned towards Dorrman. "Dave, everyone has been calling you chief since long before we started our planning. The admiral and I think it's time to make it official and make you the first official CPO of our new navy. He also told me to tell you to go ahead and advance Lucas to petty officer. Congratulations. I'm sorry you couldn't go through a formal CPO initiation. I know that you squids make a good deal out of it." As he talked, Duke handed one of the pair of chief anchors to Lulu and together they pinned the new insignia on the collar of a smiling Dorrman.
"Don't worry, Duke. I consider this two-week nature trip with you nuts a good substitute. Even so, I may have to institute a more formal program for the newer CPOs after we're established in Magdeburg. Lucas is also going to appreciate the promotion, although I may have to explain what a petty officer is. Thanks, guys."
As everyone shook Dorrman's hand, Hudson started removing his own collar stripes to everyone's surprise and then with a devilish smile, faced Lulu. As soon as she realized what he was doing, she went pale and a look of almost panic swept over her face as she tried to retreat. Her way was blocked by Dorrman and Wild Bill to everyone else's great amusement. "Lulu, you have been my friend for longer than I've known these reprobates. You were the second person to hear about Admiral Simpson's new Corps plans, but you were the first one to believe that we might have a chance. Since that moment, you've spent your every waking moment providing the logistics required. In the process you've reinvented the Marine military bureaucracy, while serving as a loyal second in command. Yet, you still found the time to become proficient in those fields that the up-time Corps female combat policies and your primary assignment in logistics left deficient. Of course, we all know that your pugilistic skills have earned the respect of down-timers far and wide." Duke stopped, letting the expected chuckles subside.
He then continued. "The admiral sent you the appropriate insignia but I would consider it an honor if you wore mine, Gunnery Sergeant O'Keefe. Sorry, they're a bit tarnished with my sweat, but I don't think you're going to mind too much." Hudson, assisted by Dorrman, pinned Lulu's new rank, ignoring the tears that ran down her cheeks as the other NCOs beamed their approval.
After a short round of hugs all around, he continued. "Our detachment is now Alpha company of the hoped for first battalion, Lennox's men are to become the first two companies of the second. Obviously, both he and we still need to recruit to our manning levels. If we work hard, I hope to see us fully deployed by the end of next year. I want you to start thinking about which people from our current ranks we're going to promote next. We have to fill all the open company enlisted leaders positions. Is my intention that we meet at the end of the week to discuss it. So, be prepared to defend your candidates. Yes, Lulu?"
"Err, Duke, pardon me but aren't you out of uniform?" she asked, looking at his now bare collar.
"Well, yes I am, Gunny. Thanks for noticing it. I just wanted to get the small and more important details out of the way. I would appreciate it if you and Hoffman do the honors," Duke answered, passing them a pair of rank devices.
"First Sergeant?" she exclaimed with a mixture of both surprise and pleasure as she looked down at the metal stripes with a diamond instead of crossed rifles. "I see you finally got the rank you ought to have had many years ago. Congratulations, my friend." Lulu hugged Duke first and then she and Hoffman pinned the new insignia.
After accepting everyone's congratulations, Duke continued. "Thank you, people. After we're all settled down in Magdeburg it's my intention to pay for the first round of drinks. We'll do that at a time and place to be announced later. New stripes need to be properly wet down."
"Darn, Top, is that the only way to get you to pay for booze? We may need to get you promoted more often," Wild Bill interjected, to the group's amusement.
"Hardee har har, Musgrove," Duke said. "Start counting your pennies. I expect everyone here to pay for at least a round. I'm not the only one being promoted. Now, lady and gentlemen, there is a lot of work to be done before we enter Magdeburg. I see that the so-called chicken stew seems to be ready and the rest of the troops have been served. Let's get our lunch and get this show in the road."
"Aye, aye, First Sergeant," the group chorused before returning to the campfire.
Duke finished checking Henderson' tack and bridle, adjusting his leather straps as the horse contently munched on nearby grass. After one final tug, he dropped the blanket and stirrups into place, then pulled his cover from his saddlebags. Like the rest of his small command, he had traded his road-weary bonnie-style floppy hat for a starched utility cover. His hands lingered on it for just a second as he thought of Claire starching and pressing it with her own hands. He missed her so badly that he could taste it. Putting aside his feelings of longing, he placed the cap squarely on his head, automatically checking the proper angle of the bill over his eyes with two fingers. Then, with his boot in the stirrup and his grasp on the saddle pommel, he hoisted himself into the saddle.
His Marines had policed the area well within the allotted time, providing ample opportunity to practice the drills required during their arrival in Magdeburg. Now ready, they stood by their mounts and wagons. The scouts took position at the head of the line, marked easily by their bright orange construction vests. As he watched the now silent ranks, Duke felt a momentary sense of pride in their achievements so far. Earlier, he had been especially touched, when each of the junior Marines had made the point of seeking him out to congratulate and shake his hand. Well, not everyone.
Kim Chaffin, his lone woman Marine, hugged and kissed him on the cheek instead as she whispered that she was doing it on behalf of his absent wife and daughter. That unexpected gesture had touched him deeply, making him glad that he had been able to walk away before his vision became completely misted. Later, looking into Noah and Dallas's beaming faces as they offered their own congratulations, he could not help but think that his son, James, had also been there in spirit.
In spite of all that, Duke could still have gotten depressed at the memories as he had many times before, but Wild Bill had unexpectedly come to his rescue with one of his practical jokes. Instead of being depressed, Duke found himself trying to keep a straight face as he watched Wild Bill and his whole squad of like-minded scoundrels fall on their knees, bow with their arms extended and touch the ground several times as newly promoted Gunnery Sergeant O'Keefe walked by. They loudly proclaimed that they were not worthy to be in her presence to a deeply mortified, but pleased, Lulu. Duke wondered what she would do to get even but rested assured that it would be entertaining.
Shaking himself out of his woolgathering, Duke looked down at his watch and decided that it was time. He rode Henderson to join O'Keefe in front of the formation. As he rode bedside her, he asked her sotto voce. "How you are doing, Lu?"
Lulu answered back in the same way. "Petrified and exhilarated at the same time. I can't believe that we are here at all. Not after all the problems we had. I just wish that Claire were here with us."
Duke smiled fondly as he thought of his wife. "Yes, I would have loved that, too. But I'm sure she's with us in spirit."
Lulu smiled back before looking at the formed troops again. "Yes, she is. Lord, there are so few of us for what we need to do."
Duke looked at their Marines, too. "Few, but very proud. They'll do."
Lulu smiled in reply and Duke gave her a silent nod, which she returned before barking her first command in her much practiced parade ground voice. "Marines, prepare to mount. MOUNT." Then, together, Duke and she slowly trooped the line, looking for but not finding any discrepancies. Duke took heart in their confidence and smart bearing before returning to the front, where he addressed the formation.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in a short while we are going to enter the capital city of Magdeburg to join our naval brethren for the first time. There, waiting for us, is the beginning of a new chapter in Marine history. To those of us born in the twentieth century this is another episode in the over two-hundred-year-old continuous saga of glory and sacrifice. To those of you born in this century, is the first chapter of your own glorious tale. During your training, you learned of the likes of Manila John Basilone, Daly, Butler, Lejeune, Henderson, Chesty Puller and countless others. They were men and women like you, no more and no less. They helped write each page in those chapters with their selfless dedication, sacrifice, blood and courage. I hope that you, like me, have found their lives a source of inspiration. But at the end, they belong to a future that will never be. This means that in you now rests the requirement to write the first chapters in your own book. It will be a place where others, one day, will seek their inspiration. I know it sounds like a daunting task. But rest assured that, like those Marines who precede us, you now have the wherewithal to excel and shine on your own. Because, I'm telling you, you all have what it takes and my personal trust and confidence." Duke stopped, letting his words sink in before continuing.
"On a personal note, I am grateful for your heartfelt congratulations and I'm sure that I spoke for the rest of us in thanking you for your well wishes." Duke let a smile cross his face before continuing. "I am also sure that Gunnery Sergeant O'Keefe will find the time to acknowledge everyone's best wishes, especially those of second squad." A roar of laughter broke from the ranks at Lulu's toothsome smile aimed at the suddenly guilty looking party.
"Okay, listen up. folks. When we arrive in the city, we are not only going to be on display for the good citizens of Magdeburg, but more important, our comrades-in-arms in the army, navy and Swedish forces. Let's give them a show. What say you, MARINES?"
"OOO-RAH!" Their enthusiastic roar disturbed the horses and shook leaves from nearby trees. It was to Duke's complete satisfaction.
"Okay, let's shove off and get this show on the road. MUELLER!" Duke barked.
"Yes, Gunny, I mean, First Sergeant."
"Let's show our colors, son. Uncase the guidon!"
"Aye, aye, First Sergeant."
Duke watched as Joseph pulled the cover from the unit guidon that his wife, Claire, had sewn for them. The guidon was finished with a stitch from each of the wives, sweethearts, mothers and sisters of the company members in their heartfelt wish for their loved ones' safe return. It was a new tradition in the making for their new Corps. The bright scarlet color of the swallowtail pennant with the rich gold of the globe and anchor on its center added a festive touch to the formation as it fluttered in the early afternoon light.
Satisfied, Duke nodded again to O'Keefe to give the order to start them on their way to the city and an uncertain future. "Scouts, Post! Detachment . . . belay that. COMPANY, column of twos, by the left, Forward HOOO!"
First Sergeant Hudson then spurred his horse forward to take his place at the head of the column. Gunnery Sergeant O'Keefe and the guidon bearer followed, as they led A company of the 1st Marine battalion into the City of Magdeburg for the first time in the new Corps story.
A work of fiction has many helpers apart from the main author. In one where the author is trying to write in a second language, the helpers are crucial. So, to everyone who provided his or input at work or in the bar, a heartfelt thanks. Particular thanks go to Cindy Ridgley.
Last to my editor Paula Goodlett, who kept me on track with her corrections, suggestions and insights, this is a lot better work than the story that I originally started, many thanks.