He turned to Grant Skiffington. “Mr. Skiffington, you have your orders! I will be along as an observer only. You will handle the mission as you deem fit. As a little added incentive, the side that wins the exercise gets two weeks leave before having to start Fleet School.” That triggered an undercurrent of excited murmurs and at least one unabashed cheer.
To Emily’s dismay, Skiffington ordered everyone back on to the trucks. Emily stepped close to him, speaking in a low voice.
“Skiff, the road is going to be blocked. They’ll have ambush teams all along it.”
“And now that we know they’re there, we’ll be ready for them. Relax, Tuttle. Once we blow through their ambushes and get behind them, we’ll have a fast run to the bridge.”
Emily thought that if she were defending the bridge, she would have ambushes set up every mile. With every attack, Blue Company would be whittled down just a little more, until the force that reached the bridge would not be strong enough to do anything. “Skiff, take a look at the map,” she said urgently. “We can cut cross-country-”
“Mr. Skiffington!” Sgt. Kaelin bellowed. “You have a mission to accomplish! Take that bridge!”
Skiffington smiled sardonically. “Their playin’ our song, Tuttle. Time to move.” He put his map back into its pouch. “Everybody on the trucks!” Skiffington shouted. “You, too, Tuttle.”
Emily walked back to her truck, her face red and lips pressed together. “Got a problem, Tuttle?” Sgt. Kaelin asked her. She wheeled on him angrily.
“You’re supposed to be an observer here, Sergeant! Why are you egging him on like that?” she demanded.
The Sergeant shrugged eloquently. “Always somebody egging you on, Tuttle. Get used to it.”
They reached the river road, turned north, and promptly hit an ambush in force. Emily guessed there must have been thirty or more soldiers shooting at them. Skiffington tried to organize a sharp counter-attack, but everyone was so pinned down it took time. They finally drove off the ambushers, who were forced to leave behind one smiling recruit. She blinked a cheerful orange and waved at them. All told it cost Blue Company five dead, seven wounded and delayed them for three hours.
Emily again implored Skiffington to leave the road. “They are going to nibble us to death if we stay on the road! When we make it — if we make it — we won’t have enough troops left to take the bridge.”
Skiffington paused, dug out his field map and inspected it. Emily pointed out an alternate route, cutting across country. “This is not an easy walk,” she said, “but we’ll be hard for them to find in these hills, away from this damn road. With a little luck, we might surprise them.”
Sgt. Kaelin frowned and looked at his watch. “Time’s running out, Mr. Skiffington. You are the commanding officer. You’ve got a mission to accomplish and a lot of ground to cover before you can do it. What are you going to do?” he demanded.
Skiffington pointed down the road. “That’s where the enemy is, Tuttle. We can’t kill them if we don’t fight them.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Everybody on the trucks! We are moving out!”
Sgt. Kaelin sighed and shook his head. “Wrong answer, recruit.” As Skiffington blinked in confusion, Sgt. Kaelin took out a small box and pushed a button. Skiffington’s uniform began to blink fluorescent orange. “Your commanding officer had just been killed by a sniper!” Kaelin turned to Emily. “Tuttle, you are now in charge.” He looked at his watch. “You have twenty-one hours and twenty minutes left to complete your mission.” And while Emily stared at him, open mouthed, he winked at her and walked away.
Fighting back a sudden rush of panic, Emily took stock. She had ninety-four men left, seven of whom were wounded. Only thirty had food, water and extra batteries for their rifles. She quickly stripped the extra batteries from the “dead” soldiers, including the Red Company soldier who had been involved in the ambush. The soldier from Red Company had two water bottles. Emily took them both, along with four packets of field rations. The dead soldier stuck out her hand. “I’m Susan Matt,” she said. “This should be very interesting. Good luck.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me where the rest of Red Company is?” Emily asked.
Matt gestured to her blinking uniform. “Dead men tell no tales,” she intoned solemnly, then ruined it by giggling.
Emily divided the Company into five platoons. She considered who to make platoon leaders. One choice was easy: Cookie Sanchez. She took Hiram Brill by the arm and pulled him aside. “Do you want to be a platoon leader, Hiram?” she asked out of hearing of the others.
Fresh beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and the color drained from his face. “Listen, Em-Emily,” he stammered. “If you need me, I’ll do it, but I’d much rather be, you know, like you staff officer or something. I’m real good with maps and-” He paused, looking away from her. “I really don’t like making battlefield decisions,” he said miserably. He took out his notebook and held it in front of him, as if he were offering her a gift of great worth. “But I’ve got everything you need to know about everyone in Blue Company.”
Emily remembered the look on Brill’s face after he led the Blue Company victory over Green and Gold. And she recalled the brilliant analysis that allowed him to do it. She made a decision. “Okay,” she said briskly. “You are my aide de camp, chief advisor and right hand man. But,” she said sternly. “When I want advice, I want it because I need it right then and there. You can’t get all nervous and close up on me. Deal?”
Brill breathe in relief. “I won’t let you down.”
“Okay, Mr. Advisor, I need four platoon leaders right now. Suggestions?”
Brill thought for a moment, his face taking on that peculiarly blank expression that she had seen before when he was concentrating intently. Cookie called it his “village idiot” look. Then, abruptly, he was back.
“Okay,” he said. “You want Kimball, Lee, Zavareei and,” he smiled grimly, “Skiffington.”
Emily considered. Rob Kimball was a tall, beanpole recruit with a shock of unkempt hair who had shown an unbridled enthusiasm for tactical exercises. What’s more, he had shown a talent for devious and cunning tactics, always doing something that caught his opponents by surprise. Sandra Lee was slow talking, calm and steady, but incredibly focused. She wasn’t afraid to take risks and Emily thought she would walk through fire if that is what it took to accomplish the mission.
“I don’t know Zavareei and Skiffington is FOF,” she said, a little more sharply than she intended. In the back of her mind a voice was screaming at her that time was running out. They had to get going!
“Kara Zavareei is a high energy type who will keep her troops motivated and moving,” Brill replied easily. “And Skiffington is ten feet behind you, looking fine. If we have to break through enemy defenses at the bridge, put his platoon out front.”
Emily turned. Grant Skiffington was standing there with a nonchalant grin, eating a ration bar. “Sergeant said I could finish the maneuver with you,” he said, explaining his rebirth. “And I hope you don’t mind if I took one of your ration bars. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Her staff problem resolved, Emily took stock of logistics. The Company’s biggest problem was immediately evident. Even after the extra “ammunition” had been passed out, there were still twelve soldiers without working batteries to power their rifles. Others had only a few shots left. They had depleted their batteries at the rifle range. Emily thought furiously, then, borrowing an idea from Hiram Brill, called for the four fastest long-distance runners. When they stepped forward, she took them aside.
“We are about four miles from the camp as the crow flies, she explained. “You take the truck back up the road about a mile. That will put you closest to the camp. Leave the truck there, in case Red Company has more ambushes set up. Cut through the fields to the camp and beg, borrow or steal as many batteries as you can find. Field rations, too. Don’t load your packs too heavy, because you’ve got to catch up to us. Come back a different route and don’t go near the truck. If the enemy sees it, they’ll stake it out.”