Maggie grinned. “If I know Felderman, she’ll go stir crazy. I’ll see her in about ten days. Just in time for her to supervise the evacuation of those warheads.”
Stern twisted his mouth into a sarcastic half smile and slowly shook his head. “Only a little late, but what the hell.”
“And you guys?” Maggie asked.
Stern’s face grew serious. “I have to put the brigade back together. I’ll get a new boss in a couple of weeks — he’s flying in from the States. We have orders to assist the German government in any way possible. Two detachments of public affairs people and an entire civil affairs battalion arrived yesterday, along with a horde of goddamned foreign service bureaucrats — with more coming — than Germany has… He stopped. Their faces had gone serious.
“Manure piles?” queried Griffin with a smile.
They all laughed; the tension was gone.
“Manure piles.” Stern nodded and smiled. This time he didn’t even look at Maggie and Griffin when he flagged down the waitress. Despite their protests, Maggie and Mark gratefully sipped the fresh drinks.
“What about your German buddy?”
“Joel?” Griffin answered. “He’s a hero. Of sorts, anyway. They’ve promoted him over a bunch of senior officers to be the commanding general of the German army, whatever it’s going to look like after this. The country, and their army, still has to deal with all the problems they had before the takeover, and even though there’s talk of money from the U.S. to help lessen their problems, it won’t be enough. Joel may well be the last commander of the German army.”
“There’s also talk of a re-division of Germany, but I don’t believe it,” said Stern. He leaned back in his chair. “Nobody in the States or in Europe wants to see that happen, although nobody wants another crisis like this. They’ll probably just keep us here — ostensibly to help Germany defend itself, in reality to defend Germany from itself.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Despite the arrests and prosecutions, some of the bad guys will get off. Even if they don’t, there are still some Germans who consider your friend Joel more of a traitor than a hero. Those people will be around for a while.”
“It looks like we will, too,” said Griffin.
“For quite a while,” replied Stern. “Still, you two have ten days or so for your honeymoon.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. They had hoped to keep their marriage a secret. “How did you find out?”
“American soldiers who want to marry while stationed overseas must have the permission of their commanding officer.” Stern smiled. “And though Mark signs my name better than I do, I have very efficient, and loyal, clerks. While I don’t remember signing such a document,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m sure I did, since my signature, or a reasonable likeness thereof, is on the paper.” He looked at Maggie. “Will you be Mrs. Griffin?”
“My name is O’Hara!” she snorted.
“Then you’re Mr. O’Hara now?” he asked, leaning forward and prodding Griffin in the ribs.
“Just to aggravate you, I’d hyphenate it,” Griffin replied, slapping his hand away.
“ ‘O’Hara-Griffin’ would become you,” said Maggie.
“Just plain Griffin will do, bitch,” he mumbled.
“Shut up, you bastard, or I’ll deck you here and now.”
“Ahh, love. Isn’t it wonderful.” Stern rocked back in his chair. “I remember when…” His voice trailed off. Alex tried to smile, but they could see his eyes fall to the floor.
“Alex…” Maggie started.
“You never know…” Griffin interrupted.
Stern waved his hand. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Ronnie and I will soon part company. Lawyers and all that.” He took another drink, a gulp this time, of his cocktail. “It’s been coming for a long time. Overdue, in fact.” He paused to drain the glass. “I’m okay, really. I have my work.” He looked both of them in the eyes. “And my friends.”
There was nothing else to say. They finished their drinks and tottered out into the damp German evening. The first cab took Griffin and Maggie away, leaving Stern a few moments to puff on his pipe before the second came for him and then dropped him in front of his quarters. He managed to get his shoes and jacket off before he fell into bed in a deep, well-earned sleep.
Over the next few days Baumflecken Kaseme bustled with the comings and goings of dignitaries, general officers, government officials, and replacements.
The soldiers spent their time attending to their equipment, repairing buildings, putting new posters on the walls of their rooms, and practicing for two ceremonies. The first was a solemn one, the “missing man” formation, held by each battalion in its own area, but at the same time. The routine on Baumflecken Kaserne came to a halt for an hour as its soldiers stood in formations and adjutants read off the names of those killed in action. Rows of empty combat boots topped with Kevlar helmets stood mutely before each formation, representing those who had died. Ralph McKay would never forget how his thirty surviving cavalry troopers had worked silently through the night, spit-shining eighty pairs of boots, or how those boots gleamed in the morning sun.
Standing on the sidelines of the brigade headquarters formation, June Middletown wore black.
The second ceremony was, for Stern, much more pleasant. The entire brigade, the replacements taking their places alongside the veterans, arrayed itself on the parade ground. There were awards for bravery to be given and battlefield promotions to be made permanent. Afterward, Maj. Dexter Cooper asked to be excused; he was expecting the delivery of some high-tech piece of computer hardware that he’d ordered his first day back at the kaseme. Griffin took off to meet his wife and start their honeymoon. Captain Walker had to inventory his company’s equipment. Newly commissioned 2d Lt. Roosevelt Lawson, however, lingered to give Stern his personal thanks. As Lawson saluted and turned to leave, an unanswered question struck Stern. “Lieutenant Lawson.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Do you remember when we first met — down in the motor pool?” “Yes, Sir. You were having some trouble with your pipe.”
Stern grinned. “Roger that. But when we first met, you had a distinct accent, one which you lost in about ten minutes. What’s the deal?” It was Lawson’s turn to grin. “I’m a big man, Sir. Sometimes I use it so, well, so white folks won’t be scared.”
Stern grinned and shook his head. “I cannot believe…”
Lawson shrugged. “Hey, Sir. Whatever works.”
That’s right, thought Stern. Whatever works.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all.”
There were other promotions, too, as enlisted soldiers gained the stripes their positions required. Then it was back to business.
The two NCOs stood leaning against the barracks wall, watching their soldiers clean Ml6s. Every few minutes a soldier would bring them a rifle to inspect before he turned it in. Almost always they sent him back to clean the weapon again. As the NCOs waited, they talked. “What do you think of this new guy?”
“He’s all right, I guess. First time ever in country. A little green, but he’ll learn the ropes around this place soon enough. Hey, here he comes now.”
“How’s it going?” the newcomer asked as he walked up to the pair.
“They might be done in a week or two,” said the first NCO.