"Weaklings! Faggots! Momma's boys! We'll weed you out fast enough. Get these poofters out of my sight. Man to each side pick up the malingerers, bring them to the medic tent. Then fall back in. Move!"
I bent and seized one arm and lifted. I could see that the recruit on the other side was having difficulty so I shifted my grip to take most of the weight and heaved.
"Get his arm around your shoulder—I'll do the carrying," I whispered.
"My . .. thanks," he said. "I'm not in such great shape." He was right, too. Thin and round-shouldered with dark circles under his eyes. And older than the others I noticed, in his mid-twenties at least. "Morton's the name," he said.
"Jak. You look kind of old for the draft, Mort."
"Believe me, I am!" he said with some warmth. "I almost killed myself getting through university, keeping top of the class to keep out of the army. So what happens? I'm so overworked I get sick, miss the exams, wash out—and end up here anyway. What do we do with this dropout?"
"That tent there, I guess, where they're bringing the others."
The limp form hung between us, toes dragging in the dust.
"He doesn't look too good," Morton said, glancing at the pallid skin and hanging head.
"That's his problem. You have to look out for number one. "
"I'm beginning to get that message. A crude communication but a highly effective one. Here we are."
"Drop him on the ground," a bored corporal said, not deigning to even look up from his illiterate comic book. When he touched the page little voices spoke out and there was a mini scream. I looked at the four other unconscious forms stretched out in the dirt.
"What about some medical treatment, corporal. He looks in a bad way. "
"Tough cagal." He turned a page. "If he comes to—it's back to the drill field. Stays like that the medic will look at him when he gets here tonight."
"You're all heart."
"That's the way the kuketo crumbles. Now get the cagal out of here before I put you on report for cagaling off." We got. "Where do they, get all these sadistic types from?" I muttered.
"That could be you or I," Morton said grimly. "A sick society breeds sickles. People do what they are ordered to do. It is easier that way. Our society lives on militarism,
chauvinism and hatred. When those are the rules there will always be someone eager to do the dirty work." I rolled my eyes in his direction. "They taught you that in school?"
He smiled grimly and shook his head. "The opposite, if anything. I was majoring in history, military history of course, so I was allowed to do research. But I like to read and the university library is a really old one and all the books are there if you know how to look, and how to crack some simple security codes. I looked and cracked and read—and learned."
"I hope you learned to keep your mouth shut as well?"
"Yes—but not always. "
"Make it always or you are in big trouble." Sergeant Klutz was just leading our squad off the field and we fell in behind them. And marched to the supply building to get outfitted at last. I had heard that clothing came in only two sizes in the army and this was true. At least most of mine were too big so I could roll up the cuffs. In addition to clothing there were mess kits, webbing belts, canteens, sewing kits, assassination kits, foxhole diggers, backpacks, VD testers, bayonets, scrokets and more items of dubious or military nature. We staggered back to the barracks, dumped our possessions and hurried to our next assignment.
Which was something called Military Orientation.
"Having possessed our bodies they now seek to take over our minds," Morton whispered. "Dirty minds in military bodies."
He was sure bright this Morton, but not bright enough to keep his mouth shut. I hissed him into silence as Sergeant Klutz glared in our direction.
"Talking is forbidden," he graveled. "You are here to listen, and this here is Corporal Gow who will now tell you what you got to know."
This Gow was a smarmy type, all smooth pink skin, little ponce's moustache and fake grin. "Now sergeant," he said, "this is orientation, not orders. You men will become good soldiers by following orders. But good soldiers also should know the necessity of these orders. So get comfortable, guys. No chairs of course, this is the army. Just sit down on the nice clean concrete floor and give me your attention, if you please. Now—can any of you tell me why you are here?"
"We was drafted," a thick voice said.
"Yes, ha-ha, of course you were. But why is the draft necessary? Your teachers and your parents have let you down if this has not been made completely clear. So let me take this opportunity to remind you of some vital facts. You are here because a dangerous enemy is at our gates, has invaded our precious land, and it is your duty to defend our inalienable freedoms."
"This is the old cagal if I ever heard it," I muttered, and Morton nodded silent agreement.
"Did you say something, soldier?" the corporal said, staring right at me; he had good ears.
"Just a question, sir. How could a broken-down, unindustrialized society like they got over there, how could they ever invade a modern, armed and equipped country like ours."
"That is a good question, soldier, and one that I am happy to answer. Those barbarians across the channel would pose no problem if they were not being armed and equipped by offworlders. Greedy, hungry strangers who see our rich land and want to take it for themselves. That is why you lads must go willingly to the service of your country. "
I was shocked at the magnitude of the lie, angered. But I struggled hard and followed my own advice and kept my mouth shut. But Morton didn't.
"But, sir, the Interplanetary League is a peaceful union of peaceful planets. War has been abolished . , ."
"How do you know that?" he snapped.
"Common knowledge," I said breaking in, hoping that Morton would shut up now. "But you know that is the' truth, don't you, sir?"
"I know nothing of the sort and I wonder just who has been feeding you lies like that. After our orientation ses-
sion I want to talk to you, soldier. You and that recruit next to you. This free country is fighting the interplanetary forces that wish to destroy us. No sacrifice is too great to defend that freedom which is why I know that you will all do your duty, happily. And become good soldiers in a good team. Look to the good Sergeant Klutz as you would to your own father, for he is here to be your mentor and guide to your military life. Do what he says and you will grow strong and prosper and become first-class soldiers in the service of your country. But I know that you will at times find things confusing, even worrying, for this military experience is a new experience for all of you. That is when you must think of me. I am your counselor and guide. You can call upon me for advice and help at any time. I would like to be your friend, your very best friend. Now I am going to pass out these orientation pamphlets and you have ten minutes to read them. We will then have a question and answer session to help acquaint you with the details. While you are doing that I am going to have a nice friendly chat with these recruits who appear to be badly misinformed about the political realities of our land." The finger was pointing at me, then at Morton. "That's right, you two. We will step outside, get a bit of sun, have some good old jaw-jaw."
We rose with great reluctance—but had no choice at all. All eyes were upon us when we went to the door that Gow was holding open. I could feel the heat from Sergeant Klutz's burning glare as I passed him. Corporal Gow closed the door behind us and turned to face us. His smile as insincere as ever.
"Kind of warm now since the sun came out."
"Sure is. Feels nice."
"Where did you get that subversive cagal you were spouting in there? You first." He pointed at me, "I sort of, well, sort of heard it somewhere." He smiled happily and stabbed a stubby finger at Morton.
"I knew it. You have been listening to the illegal radio, haven't you? Both of you. That is the only possible place vnii oniild havf heard such outrageous lies."