“This technique, oorah, was developed with Lieutenant Fontana’s help, oorah?” Faith said, standing in front of Decker. She was in full ground combat gear with her face shield up. She even had her Barbie gun strapped across her chest but no magazine in the well. Added to the ensemble, and not normal, was a bulging messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She’d dropped that before starting the inspection. “It is based upon the way that you… oorah… do the preinspection for somebody who’s doing a jump, oorah? Questions?”
“Like a parachutist, ma’am?” Staff Sergeant Barnard said.
“Lieutenant Fontana is a Green Beret, oorah?” Faith said. “They call it something different, oorah? Airport or something, oorah? But it’s how they inspect a jumper. Da used to inspect me and Sophia the same way. Da used to be a para. So, we start at the helmet and face shield, oorah? Grab the face shield and flex it in with the base of your palms on the bottom of the face shield, oorah? It should flex a bit but not crack or be too solid, oorah? And it can’t be so scratched you can’t see through it. Then push up on the bottom while holding your other hand on top of the helmet. All of the shields are supposed to be attached to the helmet. It can’t be loose, oorah? Or an infected’ll pull it right off in a scrum, oorah? Watch your hand there, you can cut yourself. Been there, done that, oorah…? Decker, you need to pay attention to this. You’re going to be doing it, too.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Decker barked.
It took thirty minutes just to walk the staff sergeants through what was essentially a PJMC, pre-jump manifest check, used in “airborne,” not “airport,” operations.
“You really got to watch the magazines, oorah?” Faith said. “Bunch of ’em ended up sitting for months with multiple rounds or full loads. That really fu… messes up the springs, oorah? If the spring feels weak, it’s probably bad.”
“Oorah, ma’am,” Barnard said.
“Oorah,” Faith replied. “Don’t know how to say this. Doesn’t matter if they need a shave, their boots ain’t shined or there’s bloodstains on their uniform. All that matters is their gear is right, oorah? Now you and Decker start doing checks on all the rest of the platoon. I’ll watch and critique, oorah?”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Barnard said.
“Decker, check Sergeant Hoag,” Faith said. “You check Derk, Staff Sergeant. Derk’s been through this and knows the drill. I’m going to go prepare them,” she added, hefting the bag. “I’ll send them up when it’s time.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,”
“Derk,” Faith said. “Barbie gun.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Corporal Douglas said, unclipping his M4 and handing it over.
“Nobody saw this,” Faith barked. She opened the gun, slid out the bolt, closed it up, latched the dust cover and handed it back. Then she pocketed the bolt. “I should remember to get that back to you. But if I don’t, for God’s sake don’t hit the beach that way, oorah?”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” the corporal said.
“Fumitaka,” she said, dipping into the messenger bag then holding out a Ka-Bar to the lance corporal, butt first. “Switch Ka-Bars. Don’t go ashore with this one.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Fumitaka said, switching blades. He fingered the edge and shook his head. “You couldn’t cut butter with this, ma’am.”
“That’s the point, Lance Corporal,” Faith said, making a note in her notebook. She adjusted one of Filipowicz’s sling clips so it was barely hooked, switched out one of PFC Summers’s magazines for one with a bad spring and generally spent ten minutes making sure that there were various minor faults scattered through the platoon. She also wrote down each “fault” so her Marines wouldn’t actually go into combat with messed-up gear.
“Now it’s a real test, oorah?” Faith said, walking back to the gear locker.
“Okay,” Fumitaka said. “I guess maybe she does know what she’s doing.”
“O ye of little faith,” Corporal Douglas said. “Semper Fi, boys and girls. And keep your mouths shut.”
“Douglas!” Faith yelled from the next compartment. “You’re up!”
“Inspection complete, ma’am,” Barnard said, stepping back from Corporal Douglas.
Faith was standing between and slightly behind the two staff sergeants. At Barnard’s words she dropped her head, reached into her pocket and wordlessly handed Douglas his bolt. Barnard’s face went white and she winced but didn’t say anything.
“As I mentioned, Staff Sergeant, I have made just about every mistake possible when it comes to combat,” Faith barked, pulling out her little green notebook and scribbling a note. “Next! I screwed that one up on the Voyage. The miracle is that I am alive. Staff Sergeant Decker, while I appreciate and often admire your intense attention to detail, we have thirty Marines to go through. You will learn to be both fast and accurate. Oorah?”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Decker said. He was barely halfway through his check on Sergeant Hoag’s gear.
“Begin again, Staff Sergeant Barnard,” Faith said.
“Attention on deck!” PFC Randolph bellowed. Since he and Fumitaka were facing the hatch they were the only ones that saw the colonel enter the compartment.
“Carry on,” Colonel Hamilton said. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant.”
“Good afternoon, sir!” Faith barked.
“I was mildly curious about a four-hour inspection period on the plans,” Hamilton said.
“Checking that all combat gear is shipshape, sir,” Faith responded. “Lieutenant Fontana and I developed an evolution to ensure that during the early days of the squadron, sir. Instructing the staff sergeants on that evolution, sir.”
“And how is it going?” Hamilton asked.
Barnard had drawn Fumitaka’s Ka-Bar and fingered the edge. She glanced at the lieutenant who switched it out with the original. The dull one went back in the messenger bag.
“Better and better, sir,” Faith replied as Randolph’s loosened clip popped free under a tug from Decker. Decker reclipped it and tugged again so hard the PFC, who was standing at parade rest, nearly went on his face. “Once we have this evolution down it will take less time, sir.”
“I see,” Hamilton said, standing at parade rest. He didn’t seem in a mood to leave.
Faith wasn’t going to let that get to her; she just continued with the evolution.
“Hold it,” Faith snapped about ten minutes later. She dipped into her pocket and pulled out a firing pin, then handed it to Lance Corporal Saul. “Make sure that gets back in its right place, Lance Corporal. Carry on.”
“May the Staff Sergeant inquire when the Lieutenant forgot to put in her firing pin, ma’am?” Staff Sergeant Barnard asked through gritted teeth.
“I did not make that error,” Faith replied, making another note in her book. “It was someone else. But I’ve come close more than once.”
“Carry on,” Colonel Hamilton said, turning around and leaving the compartment.
“As the colonel said, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said, checking her notes. “Carry on.”
“And evolution is almost complete,” Faith said, checking her notes. She nodded a few times, then pulled the now refilled messenger bag off her shoulder. “Staff Sergeant Barnard, go ahead and take this into the next bay and switch out anything you’d like on your gear. Just keep a list in case I miss anything. I’ll inspect Staff Sergeant Decker while you do that. Bring the rest of the platoon into the bay when you come back.”