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"If we had to fight a war during the seventies, warn't nobody coming. There wasn't a unit in the whole fuckin' Army, not the infantry, not the artillery, not the armor, not the airborne, that was combat ready because the criminals owned the Army. And the Corp would have been hard pressed to carry a war on its own, especially with our own drug problems.
"If you guys go up there thinking that you're being handed the keys to the candy shop the unit that receives you will be fucked. When they really need the shit, when lives are going down the drain and your buddies are dyin' all around you, the shit they need won't be there.
"The ammunition and weapons and every little bit of equipment that we depend on will be sold out from under us. And then we are fucked. It's happened. And I'm damned if it will happen on my watch." He looked back at the fire and poked at the flames, his rage subsiding. He made a faint motorboat sound.
"We fought long and hard to erase that," he continued briskly. "We had to, 'cause a military like that just can't function.
"It's about respect. If you think you can pull one over on me, you haven't got any respect for me and you won't obey my orders, or the orders of your officers, when it's time to lay it on the line." He paused and looked at the fire for a moment, hoping that some of them were getting it. But he was really talking to Stewart and they all knew it.
"Now, you guys are good, really good, on paper. But if you think money is what it's all about you can't be Strike troopers 'cause you won't be there when I need you." He really did not want to lose the investment that he had made in them but he was deadly serious and both emotions showed. Sincerity usually does.
"So now you begin to learn the big secret, the biggest secret, maybe. I won't tell you what it is, you have to learn it on your own. I will tell you that it ain't `money isn't everything' or anything trite like that. But this is a start. So, here's the bottom line: if you want to wear a combat suit, if you want to be what you've trained to be for fourteen weeks, you have to throw those bundles of money in the fire."
The squad had been listening intently to him, pulling it all in. Now they clutched at the bundles, gulping spasmodically as they looked at each other. They each held several thousand dollars and they had worked hard for it. They definitely did not want to give it up.
"Or, you can stand up and walk back to camp and after graduation you'll be cycled to your local guard forces, no pack drill, no court-martial, just a little paper shuffle.
"Statistically, you have a better chance of survival in the Guard. Unless the Posleen land directly on you, Guard is going to be holding fixed positions and won't be moved from battle to battle like Line and Strike. As Strike troops, you are going to be fed into the blender over and over again, and no matter how good you are, a lot of you are going to die. All you have to do to join the Guard, is hold onto the money. That ought to be easy. Right?" Having said his peace, he leaned back against the pine tree behind him and waited for a reaction. He scratched his head with a short stick, automatically brushing the resulting dandruff off his shoulder.
Stewart still had him fixed with the basilisk stare. Now he finally spoke.
"We could cut you in."
The offer did not offend Pappas, it was fully expected and he had hoped for it to drive the point home. Also, he could tell that Stewart was offering it pro forma, without any expectation that it would be accepted.
"No, I don't think so. You see, I already know the big, big secret."
"Yeah," whispered Stewart, for the first time looking down to the wad in his hand. He slowly pulled the rubber bands off and fa
"Money can never be important enough, can it?" asked Stewart.
"No, but that's not the whole secret, either," answered Pappas. Then he watched as the squad, one by one, some with a visible struggle, but most, strangely, with hardly a sigh, tossed the money in the fire.
"Okay," said Pappas tiredly, "get some sleep. An' I hope you never learn what the rest is." Then he got up and ghosted into the night.
* * *
Now Pappas wished he had terminated their asses. Somewhere in the immediate area of the McDonalds the squad was loose and, if history served, getting in some sort of trouble. He spotted Ampele being led around a corner by a nice-looking, if slightly plump, young lady and ran him down.
"Where's Stewart?" he asked, pulling Ampele back around the corner.
"Wha . . . ? I don't know, sir. I was just talking to Rikki here. He was over by the bathrooms with his squad just a minute ago." He started to step back inside the restaurant, then seemed to pull back as if co
"Miss," Pappas said gently, "if you'd just excuse us for a moment?"
Her hand reluctantly drifted back into sight and the sergeant dragged Ampele firmly away by one thick bicep.
"Focus. Worry about the wahines when we get to Indiantown Gap." He walked into the restaurant and caught a glimpse of a second squad member ducking through the employees' door. He caught the door before it could close then stopped, looked around and turned towards the bathrooms.
"Gu
"Yeah, and this is Stewart we're dealing with. The only thing I'm wondering is if it's a double bluff." He yanked open the Men's room door, or tried to at least. Something had it stuck fast.
"Stewart! Open this damn door or face the consequences!" he snarled, dragging at the door with all his might. "Hwone! Htwo!" There was the sound of something being forcibly removed from the door and it opened just in time. Nine members of second squad were crowded into the not terribly large bathroom. One and all they were looking at him as if he had gone insane.
"What's wrong, Gu
"Okay, where is she?" asked Pappas, meeting him stare for stare. The bathroom smelled like most, a little cleaner with a smell of dilute urine and other matters best left u
"Where's who, Sergeant?"
"The other half of the pair. The one you didn't sic on Ampele." At the reference the broad platoon leader looked chagrined; again the sergeant had proven he was two jumps ahead.
"I have not a clue what you are talking about Sergeant," said Stewart, an absolute picture of i
"Ampele, stay here. Stewart," he said, sinking a meaty hand into the slight PFC's shoulder, "we need to have another little chat." Pappas dragged him out of the bathroom and then outside into the autumn mists.
"If I have told you oncet," said Pappas mildly as he slammed the private into the outside wall of the burger joint, "I have told you twicet," he continued, driving the brim of his campaign hat into the bridge of Stewart's nose and his finger into the private's breastbone, "do not fuck with me. I think you may be officer material, but you're more likely to end up in Leavenworth. The stupid bitch is above the third acoustic tile from the left starting from the urinal, undoubtedly scared out of her life. There was a smell of perfume and a scattering of bits from the tile you were trying to hide behind the squad.