This description sounds like everyone in the army I've met above the rank of corporal, but I content myself with noddin' in agreement.
"Well, a lot of us officers who came on board during the current expansion drive originally served under Big Julie back when he led the invasion of Possiltum. In some ways it's nice because it guaranteed us rank in the Possiltum army, but it also means we know there are other ways of doing things than the way General Badaxe wants ... lots better ways. The trouble is, until now we haven't been able to implement any changes or improvements without disobeying orders from the general."
"And now?" I urge, not even botherin' to add a "sir" to it.
"Now, with the general 'indisposed,'" the officer smiles, gettin' a little lost in his own thoughts, "we're left pretty much on our own, Which means we get to do things our way for a change. If Badaxe stays out of our hair for another few weeks, we should have this army whipped into shape so we can really get down to business. I'll tell you, serving under Big Julie might have been a pain from time to time, but that man sure knows how to run an army. I wonder how he's doing now that he's retired?"
"Last time I saw him, he was doin' great."
If I had said God himself was walkin' through the door I couldn't have gotten a bigger reaction from the officer. He sits up straight sudden-like, and his eyes lose their dreamy focus and center on me ... though I notice they are buggin' out a little.
"You know Big Julie?" he sez in kind of a reverent whisper. "When was the last time you talked with him?"
"A couple weeks back," I sez. "Just before Nunzio and me enlisted. We was sippin' some wine with him and some friends over at his villa."
"You were a guest at his villa? Tell me, is it ..."
The officer breaks off and shakes his head like a dog.
"Excuse me, sergeant," he sez, in much more normal tones. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just that ... well, Big Julie is something of a legend around Headquarters. I was a junior officer when I served under him, and never met him personally ... just saw him a couple of times during reviews and inspections."
"That's too bad," I sez, with real sympathy.
"He's really a great guy. You'd like him ... sir." I finally remembers I was talkin' to an officer, and my "sir" seemed to remind him of why I was in his office in the first place.
"Now that I think of it," he sez, pullin' some papers off the top of one of his stacks, "there is something here that I could assign you and your crew to. Would you like to take over running one of our supply depots?"
This sounds like just what we need to do the most damage to the army's attempts to reorganize. I also notice that the officer is now askin' me about which assignment I want.
"That sounds fine, sir."
"Good," he sez, startin' to scribble on the sheets. "We have a whole supply crew in the infirmary right now—got a bad batch of chili or something. Anyway, I'll just put you and your squad in there as replacements, and when they get out, they can take the sanitation engineer slots."
It occurs to me that these other guys are gonna be less than thrilled with their new assignment, but that, of course, is not my problem. Still, it will be a good idea if for a while we keep a lookout for anyone tryin' to sneak up on us from the downwind side.
"Thank you sir," I sez, and mean it.
"Just report to Supply Depot Number Thirteen and you'll be all set."
"Yes sir ... ummm ... is it far? I mean, I got my crew outside and we got all our gear with us ..."
"Just flag down one of the wagons going your way and hitch a ride," he sez. "One of the nicer things about working at Headquarters ... with the supply depots right here is that there are lots of wagons around. You'll rarely have to walk anywhere."
"Yes sir. Thank you again, sir."
"Oh ... Sergeant Guido?"
"Sir?" I sez, turning' back to him.
He is pushin' a stack of papers across his desk toward me that must weigh more than twenty pounds.
"Since you'll be riding, you might as well take this with you instead of waiting for it to be delivered by courier."
"I ... I don't understand, sir," I sez, eyein' this mountain of dead weight suspiciously like it was a distant relative arrivin' unannounced. "Do you want I should store this for you over at the depot?"
"Of course not," the officer sez, givin' a little laugh. "This is for your requisition and inventory forms."
I am likin' this less and less the more I hear.
"You mean we gotta fill all this out just to move somethin' in or out of the depot ... sir?"
"You misunderstand me, sergeant," he sez quick-like. "These aren't the forms themselves."
I experience a quick flood of relief.
"... These are just the instructions for filling out the forms!"
The relief I had been feelin' disappears like a single shot of whiskey in a big bowl of watered-down punch.
"The instructions," I echoes weakly, starin' at the pile.
All of a sudden this assignment is not lookin' as good as it had a few minutes ago.
The officer notices the expression on my face.
"Come, come now, sergeant," he sez, givin' me what I guess is supposed to be a fatherly smile. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"It isn't?"
"No. It's really quite simple once you get the hang of it. Just read these instructions all the way through, then follow everything they say to the letter, and everything will be fine."
"If you say so, sir," I sez, unconvinced.
"Yes, I do say so ... sergeant," he sez, givin' up his sales effort. "I told you we were going to get things under control and to do that, proper documentation is vital. It may look like a lot of needless hassle, but believe me, unless all the paperwork for supplies is filled out correctly, the best of armies will bog down and become ineffective."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."
With that, I salute and get out of his office quick ... takin' the stack of paper with me, of course. All of a sudden, my depression over seein' the massive list of instructions disappears. Instead, I am feelin' a degree of optimism I have not felt since the Boss sent us on this assignment without realizin' what he was doin', the officer has just made our job a lot easier.
"Without proper paperwork," he had said, "the army will bog down and cease to be effective ..." and, as you know, the effectiveness of the army was a matter of no small concern to me and Nunzio.
Chapter Sixteen:
"So what's wrong with following established procedures?"
-M. GORBACHEV
THE WAREHOUSE WHICH was Supply Depot Number Thirteen was truly immense, which is to say it was big. In fact, it was so huge that youse got the feelin' that if the weather turned bad, they could move all the stuff out of here and have the war indoors. The only trouble with that idea was that by the time they got everythin' moved out, odds are they would have forgotten what it was they was fightin' about in the first place ... but even if they could remember, they'd probably be too tired to want to fight about it.
There was racks of stuff everywhere, with aisles big enough to drive a wagon down scattered around so as to carve everythin' into a series of islands, and lots of tunnels and crawlspaces twistin' their way into each of the islands. It occurred to me upon first viewin' this expanse that it was gonna be a perfect base of operation for us, as when and if anythin' went wrong, it would make one whale of a hideout. This thought was amplified when we discovered that the crew what had worked here before us had apparently opted to live on-site, as there were a lot of "nests" and hole-ups around the warehouse furnished with cots and hammocks and pillows and other stuff obliviously filched from the piles of supplies.