But at the back of his mind he also knew that that was how dictators got started. Jimmy had been one of the worst students in East Belfast High, but he wasn't stupid. If he'd appeared lazy, if he seemed to lack application and seldom paid attention — well, that was all pretty true; but he took things on board, he thought about them when he wasn't forced to think about them. He knew about Hitler's Germany — that when people were down, if you promised them great things and then delivered at least some of them, they would follow you even if, ultimately, what you were doing was wrong. Germans hadn't been bad, but they had been led to badness by bad men. And by the time they realised their mistake, it was too late.
Jimmy might have pointed this out, but part of surviving a dictatorship is knowing when to keep quiet. He was only learning this slowly. As Mohican smoked in the darkness, Jimmy merely asked:
'Who are we fighting?'
'The enemy.'
'In New York?'
'Wherever we tell you.'
Mohican stubbed the remains of his cigarette out on the wooden floor and stood. 'You should get some sleep, Armstrong. You're important to this troop, you show some good leadership qualities, they respect you. Don't let them down.'
He stepped off the surround and walked away.
Jimmy felt pretty good about what Mohican had said. For about ten seconds.
Then he shook himself and muttered: 'What a lot of crap.'
It was raining heavily by morning. Jimmy had slept only fitfully on the surround, and felt stiff and sore. He showered and dressed before the rest of the troop was awake. He decided to make himself useful by taking a plastic bag full of trash out to the garbage disposal unit on the far side of the Fort. On the way back he splashed past the First Aid hut. The girl was sitting outside. Her tray was on the table in front of her as usual — but this time the food had been devoured. She continued to stare ahead. She did not acknowledge him. But there was something definitely softer about her face.
'Starting to get your appetite back, eh?'
He leaned on the wooden fence and smiled at her.
'I'm going for breakfast myself in a minute, anything else I can get you? I can smuggle out most things, although I'm not sure what I'd do with scrambled eggs. No?'
No reaction.
The whistle sounded for breakfast; immediately barracks' doors all around the camp began to open and their hungry occupants spilled out.
Jimmy winked at her. 'See ya later,' he said.
The rain had not let up when Mohican marched them out of the fort an hour later. And they did march. They really were starting to look like a cohesive army unit now. He led them south across the plain until they came to the banks of a river. The grass on both sides had been trampled down, and a series of ropes and pulleys set up. He lined them up in two rows and called them to attention.
'Today, ladies and gentlemen, we will be learning how to cross a river at speed. You will see that the ropes have already been set up. I want you to examine them, work out how it has been done, and then the ropes and apparatus will be removed. It will then be up to you to get the ropes, and then yourselves, across the river. The first time you do this will be in uniform alone. The second time will be carrying a full pack. The third time will be carrying a full pack, under enemy fire. This will show whether you can operate as a team, it will show whether you can remain calm under attack, it will show whether you have what it takes to become a United States Marine. If any of you fall into the water — that is allowed — once. If you fall twice, then you are on a warning. If you fall three times, then you are not a team player and you will be removed from the unit and reassigned. Do you understand?'
'YES, SIR!'
'Very well. But before we start, Private Armstrong — step forward!'
Jimmy gulped. His eyes darted from left to right and all places above and below.
He stepped forward. 'Sir?'
Mohican, marched up to him. His eyes bore into Jimmy's.
'Armstrong, you've been trouble since you arrived.'
'Sir.'
'You have constantly questioned authority and disobeyed commands.'
'Sir.'
Mohican stepped behind him.
'But you have spirit, and you're brave, and you have provided vital information to our President.'
Jimmy said nothing. His eyes remained fixed front.
'Therefore I have decided to promote you to the rank of Corporal.' For the first time Jimmy's eyes flitted to the side. 'This is your troop, it is your responsibility to get them through training, to make sure they work hard.'
Mohican stepped back in front of him. He produced two pointed yellow cloth bars, like two mountain peaks, one behind the other, and pinned them loosely to his arm. He stepped back, and saluted.
Jimmy returned the salute and backed into the ranks.
'Well done,' someone whispered.
'Arse-kisser,' whispered someone else.
There was no let-up in the rain. They were wet and miserable before they started falling into the river.
Jimmy had always thought of himself as being fairly hopeless at logical thinking, but the troop was looking to him for leadership and he surprised himself by remaining calm and organised and coming up with some sensible ideas. In truth, it wasn't rocket science, and soldiers had been fording rivers for thousands of years. It was more the conditions than the task that were providing the biggest challenge; the ground was slippery, the mud seeped into everything, getting a firm grip of the ropes on the riverbank was one thing; maintaining it as you tried to cross the river was something else.
The rope was fitted to a grappling hook and hurled across. It took four attempts to secure it with enough certainty to allow two soldiers to pull themselves across through the water trailing secondary ropes. Once on the other side they established the connection between the two banks and raised the ropes out of the water. Jimmy, trying to instil confidence into some of his doubtful-looking troop, was the first to clip himself on and haul himself across. He waved back across the river to the next trooper to begin her attempt. She nodded, gave him the thumbs-up and, suitably inspired, slipped straight down the bank and into the water.
But she climbed out and tried again.
They all kept at it. Mohican watched without commenting as their confidence grew. Finally they managed to fire the rope across the water and get everyone across without incident. Then they broke for lunch, tired but feeling good. They returned to the fort, ate well, laughed and joked, then emerged to find that the rain had become torrential. When they reached the river the water had risen and was now flowing past exceptionally quickly.
This time they had to cross wearing packs. They had not actually been issued with enough equipment yet to make them particularly heavy, so Mohican thoughtfully weighed them down with rocks. Their grip on the bank and the ropes became even more precarious. Jimmy moved back and forth, shouting encouragement, making sure the team (and the ropes) were secure, leading from the front; crossing the river half a dozen times. Confidence grew again. The only one who didn't seem to respond was Rain Man. When Jimmy offered advice or a helping hand he snapped back or slapped it away. Jimmy could see the pulse in the side of Rain Man's head racing. It was either intense concentration — or fear.
When they came to make their final effort to get everyone across with full packs, Jimmy personally checked that every one of them was clipped securely on to the line across the bulging river. If someone fell, they might hit the water, but they would remain securely fastened to the bridging rope. It would be up to the others to haul him or her back in.