“I say we get rid of most of this garbage,” said Lotus.
“No way! We’ll get spotted, picked off for sure!” someone in the back.
“Okay: Galen, Sparks. You fall out into the woods twenty meters and conceal yourselves,” said the Chief.
They did.
“Now can anybody see either of them?”
“Yeah, I see Sparks. His camouflage is too dark.”
“Exactly. Our basic uniform matches the summer undergrowth. Strip that junk off. And don’t anybody accuse me of making you a naked target. Now we’ll put on a little face paint and use a little cloth on the weapons, but use it sparingly.”
Galen and Sparks came back in. The camouflaged troops stripped off most of their camouflage and the fresh guys tied some of the discarded cloth to their pistol belts and weapons. They also put on some face paint offered by the other guys and put pieces of synthetic leaves in the elastic bands of their helmets. Now no one could tell by just looking who the new arrivals were.
“Sergeants, meeting. Everybody else dismissed. Sleep plan.”
The troops wandered back to their places in the forest. The Chief sat down and leaned against a tree and the squad leaders followed suit. Spike joined them.
“What do you all want to be called? By me, I mean.”
“Anything but ‘dumbass,’” said the first squad leader.
“Not you, dumbass. You already know I can’t help it. I just say it without thinking. I’ve tried to kick the habit, even talked to a psychologist about it. That dumbass said I had some kind of battle fatigue post stress syndrome. So just bear with me. It ain’t much to ask.”
“I’m Haas,” said the first squad leader, for the benefit of the newly arrived Sergeants.
“Spike.”
“Galen.”
“Tad.”
The Chief closed his eyes tightly for a second, opened them wide, looked at the Sergeants in turn and then said, “Got it.”
“Are we going to keep the same structure, or do like you mentioned the other day?” said Haas.
“Oh, whatever you guys think. The way we are now, each squad has everything: one suppression team, one rocket team and one machine gun team. It might be better to have all the suppression in one squad, all the rockets in one squad, and all the machine guns in one squad.”
“Well,” said Tad, “I like it the way it is now. Each squad can lay an ambush to take out one tank.”
“But what if there’s more than one? Then you die,” said Haas.
“Then we go out together,” said Tad.
“Okay, what my real question is, do you want to work directly under me with the whole platoon functioning as a single group, or do you want me to delegate authority. In the tactical argument, we can deploy to suit the situation when it comes up.”
“A compromise,” said Galen. “Keep the platoon together. I like to have a higher-up right where I can talk to him. Also I’m new at this infantry thing and want plenty of examples to learn from. However, we should keep the squads the way they are, to make it easier for us to disperse our deployment if the situation calls for it.”
“All in favor?” said Mortinson.
The four Sergeants raised their hands.
“Good. I like you, dumbass. I mean, Galen. Now go to your squads and get some sleep. We won’t move until day after tomorrow, zero three hundred. I’ll brief you then.”
They left. Galen found his squad sitting in their entrenched fighting positions. Each foxhole held a team, two troops asleep and one awake. Lotus met Galen when he entered the area.
“You been outvoted, Sergeant. Me and Corporal Dees agreed on Clay for the new fire team leader. He was in the Norguard for six years as a rocket gunner and was a Sergeant for two years. The other two are good troops but just haven’t been in the military before.”
“Good choice. Have him wake me up at zero two hundred. I want to get to know him before we move out.”
“When are we supposed to move next?”
“Zero three, but that could change,” Galen added the last part to sound more like a veteran.
“I know what you mean.”
The bluff worked, that time. Galen found a flat spot on the forest floor and lay on his back. As an afterthought he put a small log between himself and the most likely angle of enemy attack and then dozed off into natural sleep for the first time in almost a week. Galen slept all the rest of that day and through the night until he was awakened by Clay in the wee hours of the morning.
“Yes?” said Galen.
“You wanted to see me?”
Galen could see nothing. It was absolute darkness in the forest. “Yes. Tell me about yourself and why I should promote you to Corporal.”
“I’m good. Well seasoned and experienced. I’ve been part of a team knocking out real tanks in real combat, and I’ve also trashed a Mosh in full battle armor, with my bare hands.”
“Tell me why you left the Norguard.”
“They suck. One faction lies on its back to please the monarchial state and the other faction is a bunch of superstitious fanatics. I had all I could take. The battle on Lux, that was a joke. The beating they took there cost them dearly. They’ll never have the resources to defeat the Mosh after that fight.”
“But they won on Lux.”
“Ha! They got a truce. The Mosh can rebuild quickly, the Norguard can’t.”
“Okay, so why are you here?”
“To make some money for myself.”
“Fine. You’re now a Corporal and you’re in charge of the rocket team. The other two guys who came with us, they’re your troops.”
“Sergeant, yes Sergeant,” said Corporal Clay. Then he was gone, moving without a sound into the darkness.
Galen sat up and checked his communicator. He shielded its dim light with a cupped hand as he read the display. Zero two twenty in the morning. He tapped another button. Fifteen thirty six in the afternoon back on Ostreich. He stood and looked around, peering into the darkness. Finally he noticed a faint glow and started walking toward it. Soon he came upon the medics’ environmental bubble, its location marked by a pile of rotten tree bark glowing with a luminous fungus.
“Who’s there?” a whisper came from inside.
“Sergeant Raper. Which way to the Chief?”
“Stand with your back to the foxfire, make a half left, and go straight ahead twenty paces.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, thank your agent.”
Galen stifled a laugh as he walked toward his intended destination.
“Halt, snapper scum!” Spike’s voice.
“Okay, assistant platoon daddy. Where are you?”
“Right by you.” The voice was only a meter away now, “Check out these goggles.”
Galen felt a set of night vision goggles thrust into his hands. He held them up to his face. Night was turned into monochrome day. Depth perception was demolished and tunnel vision was all he had, but it was a zillion times better than being blind.
“Put the lens cap on,” said Spike.
Galen did. His peripheral vision spread by about fifty mils each way, and nearby objects became clear. He could see every line and crinkle on the palm of his hand, “Cool, I can see right through the lens cap with these. What’s the spectrum and energy output?”
“Well, there’s a pinhole in the lens cap. You use it to see better in confined spaces and read stuff like maps or reports. Take the cap off.”
Galen did.
“Now, find the knob on the left side. Push it in and turn it one click.”
The field of vision became shaded with red. The troops in the distance glowed brighter than their surroundings. Galen said, “Infrared.”