by Dale Harsh
"He's a loner." Edgars complained. "You'll never get him to work with a team."
"We're looking for loners Colonel, the men we send in will be working on their own." Major Catron had been through the young mans record's and found it easy to understand why Cadet Garrison found it difficult to blend into a team, trust others to watch out for his welfare. The boy, and at nineteen he was still just a boy, hadn't experienced much that would lead him to believe there was any other way to survive.
"I don't trust him. Have you taken a good look at his background?"
"Yes, sir." He studied the square built officer that sat across the table from him. Colonel Patrick's son was part of the reason they were gathered around the table having this discussion. He and a band of his followers had taken it upon themselves to ferret out and harass cadets they deemed 'unworthy' of being at the military academy. It didn't take a very close look at the list of boys they targeted to know they were after the ones who weren't 'connected', who came from poor or foreign backgrounds. Garrison certainly fit their criteria. He didn't have a penny to his name and no family to speak of, unless someone wanted to count that officer out in the islands and he'd already contacted them and spoken to the wife. The youngster had been dropped in their laps 18 months before entering the academy, she hadn't had much to say about him other than she had arranged tutors for him at her husband's instructions and expense, but she'd given him an earful about having to change her plans to accommodate him while he studied. Apparently she hadn't heard from him since he wrote to tell her the last of their crates were being shipped to them at Hickam...and Catron could certainly understand the young man's reluctance to have much to do with her. He'd only been on the phone with her for twenty minutes and that had been enough, eighteen months must have been a nightmare. But he knew Patrick wasn't worried about that side of the family...
"I still don't see how we can trust him. I didn't want to accept his application in the first place and I haven't changed my opinion about him."
"Oh I don't know, Wooly." General Jackman smiled as Colonel Patrick scowled down at the pen he'd been tapping on the table top... he'd hated that nickname from the time he'd picked it up here as a cadet, and Jackman, having bestowed it upon him, had used it to irritate him ever since then. "I know you have an obsession about the boys who have direct connections to Germany, but Cadet Garrison never tried to hide that. And you'll have to agree that his academic record here has been exemplary." Leaning back in his chair he continued. "It's true he has ties to the country, but I hardly think he'd go back there after living under the draconian conditions his grandfather imposed on him when he was a child. That may actually work to his advantage if we agree to hand him over to Major Catron here. He's certainly proved his ability to survive in difficult circumstances"
"I'm sorry, sir but I have to agree with Colonel Patrick." Arthur Connelly had been the head of the academy for the last five years and didn't think he'd come across a youngster more tightlipped. "Cadet Garrison has been uncooperative and refuses to give us any information about just what happened. The doctors couldn't get anything out of him, and he's even refused a direct order to divulge the circumstances surrounding his injuries."
Catron leaned forward to speak but Jackman cut him off and as he sat back the general made his point. It looked like Garrison had at least one other supporter at the table, he thought, even if he'd never know it. "And Cadet Captain Patrick has Garrison's stubbornness to thank for his continued career in the service. Wolford, what your boy and that crowd of his did to that kid was criminal, and the only thing that has stopped him from being bounced out of here on his ass is your rank and standing, and that goes for the rest of them. But let me put everyone at this table on notice, the time for turning a blind eye to the hazing and abuse that goes on here is at an end. One of these days the public is going to find out about it and shut this fine old institution down and that would be a damn shame. I'd much rather see an end to some of its baser traditions."
General Jackman turned his attention on the head of the academy next. "Just why would you expect him to tell you about what had happened to him and who'd done it Arthur? None of the other boys got any support when they tried it, none of them are still here, are they? And do you really think you want a man who would inform on his own side working undercover over there. I think the fact that you 'couldn't get anything out of him,' as you put it, is the very thing that commends him for this program." Turning he addressed himself directly to Major Catron. "Just what will this extra training consist of Major?"
"It's an intensive course, sir. They will be trained in lethal hand to hand combat with the emphasis on silent kill. The men will also get extra training in languages, advanced recon. Geography and the political conditions in the countries in which they'll be operating. Flight training, diving, free fall parachute techniques, costal navigation, winter survival skills, evasion, resistance..."
Interrupting Catron, the general turned to Colonel Patrick and brought up a warning finger. "Wooly you'd best tell Virgil it's a good thing this program wasn't authorized last year because if that kid had had all this training their little interview under that tree might have had a very different outcome." After a moment an indignant Patrick finally dropped his gaze and the general returned his attention to Major Catron. "I understand this will be in addition to the regular class load and duty assignments."
"Yes, sir. With close to another year's concentrated instruction after they leave the academy."
"How will you explain the extra work while they're here?"
"It's been suggested that the instructors and cadets not directly involved in this be told that the participants are doing 'remedial' work with the instructors and drawing extra duty as punishment." Catron hadn't been pleased with that idea and his opinion was clearly evident in his voice.
Jackman rocked back in his chair, he didn't like the sound of that either. "That's not going to improve this particular young man's situation here at all."
Catron sat silently waiting. The suggestion had been a bad one, made by a man with the power to push it through, but the officer sitting across the table from him now could put an end to that, if he was perceptive enough... and from the look in his eye, the Major had no doubt about the conclusion the general would reach.
"Major, I suggest you let each cadet decide how they will explain the extra work they are doing... might be a good way to see how well they'll be able to cover themselves once they're on the job. As to the specialized training... the summer duty assignments should cover them. The boys will be ground into dust by the time they get back to the academy in the fall, but at least they won't have to deal with the stigma of being labeled 'underachievers'."
"Yes, sir." Satisfaction with that edict was evident when Major Catron looked up from his files. "Thank you, sir."
"Have you seen the medical reports? Are you sure he'll recover sufficiently to participate in this extra training of yours?"
Sorting through the reports Catron had in front of him he moved the medical department record on Cadet Garrison to the top of his stack and opened it. "Yes, sir. The doctors have approved him for this program, baring any unforeseen set backs of course. He should be ready when the new term begins."
"How many other cadets to you propose for this program, Major?" Colonel Patrick sat forward, a subtle air of eagerness about him.
The Major placed his hand on the stack of folders in front of him "We have our eye on several young men here at the academy, Colonel." Catron could see what was going on in the Colonel's mind... If this was a project the General was in favor of it wouldn't do the participant's careers any harm to be involved in it. He knew what the next thing out of that man's mouth was going to be.
"Sir, I might suggest that.."
"Forget it Wooly. I don't think Virgil has the right qualifications for something like this."
"But, sir..."
Turning on the head of the academy Jackman asked. "Arthur, can you tell us a little about Cadet Captain Patrick's standing at the academy?"
Connelly hesitated a moment before he answered. "Virgil Patrick is ranked in the middle of his class, sir. His work is,,, adequate."
"And has he had any particular trouble with any work assigned to him?" Jackman continued as he watched the father of the boy in question redden with anger and embarrassment.
"Languages, sir. And, ah,,," Connelly threw a look at Colonel Patrick. "I'm sorry Wolford... Sir, Cadet Patrick has been counseled on three separate occasions for his command methods."
"I think we'll just leave Virg out of this one Wooly." And after a moment Jackman softened, he had sons of his own. "Besides, I don't think the life expectancy of anyone of these young men is exactly what you are looking for, for your own boy."
ggg
"Garrison, you up for a visitor?" Major Catron waited patiently at the foot of the cadet's hospital bed for permission to move up and sit down. The eyes that considered him were wary but the face had quickly been schooled into a mask of neutrality.
'Here it comes,' he thought, 'This is where they tell me I'm no longer felt to be officer material and they kick me out of here.' Shoving himself up against the metal frame at the top of the bed he did his best to appear at attention while still remaining on his backsides. "Yes, sir."
Catron had gone over the medical reports with the doctor and knew that the 'mock interrogation' carried out by Patrick's group had stopped short of breaking anything, but he was certain every bone the young man possessed probably was loudly protesting his movement. He gave fleeting thought to ordering the boy to lie at ease but rejected it in favor of allowing him the dignity of his action. He settled on the chair and laid the file on his knees where it could easily be seen. "I understand you spent quite a bit of time over in Germany."
"Yes, sir. I would assume you'd understand that if you've read the file you're holding."
The Major smiled to himself and looked down at the folder in his lap. 'Very politely stated,' he thought. "Actually I've gone over this quite carefully. It's why I'm here."
There wasn't any point to explaining his family again to this man. He'd done it when he'd applied, he'd done it when he'd been accepted for testing, and again when he'd won the scholarship. He'd explained over and over again to every senior officer he'd come across at the academy, all of his instructors, and then found that there was a high percentage of the other cadets that constantly required an explanation of his background... He hadn't felt obligated to provide them with that information and had paid a price for it over the last almost two years. If they were going to kick him out they'd just have to do it without further explanation from him.
Catron waited to see if the young man had anything to say for himself, when he didn't take advantage of the opportunity he continued. "Garrison, I have a proposition for you."
g
Major Catron waited while the young man thought it over. Of all the cadets he'd offered this to Garrison seemed to be the only one who needed time to consider his answer, the others had either said yes, or no, on the spot. His immediate response to the delay had been to doubt his decision to make the position available to this youngster, but as he watched the possibilities light the hazel eyes, and then the smile that finally spread across the young man's face, he put aside his doubts and was ready when he got his answer.
"Yes, sir! When do I start?"
ggg
It was the hardest work he'd ever done, and the most satisfying. At least he was finally working towards something he was sure would make a difference. The last regular term of the year was busy with standard class work and the extra assignments the new project demanded. His time in hospital easily explained the need for tutors to 'help him catch up'. And no one questioned his requests for additional time in the gym or on the obstacle courses as he improved his physical condition that had 'deteriorated' during his enforced time in bed. As he stood at attention he breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Patrick's name was called during the graduation ceremony. He wouldn't always have to be looking over his shoulder now.
As soon as the ceremony ended Garrison headed for his quarters to pick up his gear. Summer duty assignment had him taking eight weeks basic flight training first. Catron told him that would continue through the rest of his time at the academy, during the free weekends, time the other cadets were allowed to visit with friends or family, or just relax off the academy grounds. He'd continue flying during the several months they'd be in Georgia and they'd get him qualified in as many planes as they could. They'd ship him up to Alaska for the last few weeks of summer and start the more intensive mountaineering and winter survival training. When he got back to the Point in the fall he'd work diving into his schedule as an 'extracurricular' activity. He wouldn't have any need of German language classes so they were going to set him up as a tutor for another cadet in the program. Collin Jamieson was fluent in Italian but spoke no German, they'd trade knowledge and support on this, and the advanced hand to hand combat training they'd be getting from Captain Bowles, one of the few instructors who were participants in the program. Catron would be there at the beginning of every term to review their progress and decide on the next assignment, his presence explained as a career advisor.
ggg
Jackman had been right. The cadets attached to the program were ground to dust when they returned from their summer duty assignments. All of them were thinner, more intense and Garrison was, if possible, quieter. He'd spent the last two weeks in Alaska making his way back to base from where they'd dropped him in the wilderness, alone. Connelly still wasn't sure about having this cadet in the program. He had him brought to his office so they could discuss his future together. The young man didn't seem disturbed by the length of time he'd been kept standing at attention in front of the academy director's desk.
"You do realize that you can take yourself out of this program whenever you wish?"
"Yes, sir. Major Catron explained that." He held his gaze straight ahead, his voice level.
"Are you still determined to do this?"
"Sir, may I ask a question?"
Connelly leaned back in his chair and studied the cadet in front of him a moment before he answered. "Go ahead, Cadet Garrison, you have my permission."
"Why don't you want me in this project?"
"I'm not sure your background...."
"Sir, my 'background' is what makes me perfect for it. I've been there. I can tell you what's coming." The eyes that lowered to meet his own held him by their intensity as the quiet voice continued. "Sir, I can get in and out and get what they need done. And, as has been explained to me in the past, I'm not connected. I'm not going to be missed when I go undercover. No one's going to have to come up with any story to explain why I don't show up at 'mom's' Christmas table, or stop sending 'sis' birthday cards."
"Major Catron prep you with that argument, Cadet Garrison?"
"No, sir. I came up with it all by myself. Is that all, sir?"
Connelly raised an eyebrow at the dismissal he'd just received from the underclassman. He supposed he deserved that, but he kept the cadet at attention several more minutes before waving him out of the office. Stubborn son of bitch, he thought with a laugh, it was going to be interesting to keep an eye on his progress.
ggg
"Garrison we're going to lose people. Men are going to get killed, I thought you understood that when you signed on to this project."
"I accept that Colonel, and so did Lieutenant Jamieson." Garrison stopped his pacing and came to rest in front of the Colonel's desk. "What I don't accept is that it could have been prevented with a little more ground work and no one took the time to do it. Collin was a good man, Colonel Catron, he shouldn't have been wasted."
"And he was a friend of yours." The colonel understood and he knew it was eating at the young man that he wouldn't even be allowed to contact his friend's family to explain what had happened to him.
"Yes, sir. He was." All of them were, Garrison thought, and he'd lost too many of them already.
gggggggggggg
As they made their way through the additional training the program required the cadets involved in the project found each other. Catron told them at the outset that he had no intension of creating a special group out of them. He didn't want them marked out to the other cadets by any means. He'd elected not to even introduce them to one another, knowing the attrition rate would be high and peer pressure would make it harder for a cadet to withdraw. This was strictly a volunteer operation. But there had been pairings, like Garrison and Jamieson, and the men were assigned the same advanced class work, and found themselves at the same summer duty posts. By the time graduation had come the twenty young men that comprised the first year of the project were well known to one another, as were the sixteen who'd withdrawn.
As soon as the ceremony ended Garrison headed to his quarters to pick up his gear. The last phase of training was due to start in twenty four hours, he had to be at the airfield by twenty-one hundred and he figured he'd use the time and clean out his room and leave it ready for the next 'firstie' to move in. He was intent on going through his papers and didn't hear Collin come in three hours later.
"Top of the class! Garrison, you're going to end up a general." he got a snorted laugh as his response. "I've got tradition on my side, boy. You just go look at the roster of previous graduates and see what happened to them. Mark my words, there's stars in your future."
Garrison moved the stack he'd been going through to the basket he was going to take down to the incinerator. The books he'd managed to purchase over the years were already boxed up, director Collins would see that they were contributed to the next, 'dirt poor' cadet that came in to the academy. "Knock it off, Collin. Where we're going, we'll be lucky if we make it past first Lieutenant."
Collin laughed, that was the big draw back. With no one allowed to know what they were doing, none of them would get credit for their work when they dropped them in Europe and their advancement through the ranks would suffer.
"I thought you'd spend the last evening with your parents."
"We had dinner together. I decided it was easier to leave them at the restaurant than go home with them." Collin stretched out on the bed and watched Garrison work through another stack of papers. "Emily asked about you, Craig. She expected you." Jamieson watched as his friend stopped what he was doing and sat staring at his own reflection in the darkened glass of the window. "All you have to do is ask Craig, you know that."
Garrison turned his back on Jamieson for a moment and took a deep breath before he swung back around to face him. "I can't Collin. Seventy percent?! Catron said if we're lucky only seventy percent will... It's not fair. I can't do that to her."
Jamieson rolled to his feet and stood with his hand on Garrison's shoulder. "I know. But she still doesn't understand why you're going without a word." He gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze and left to attend to his own packing. When he'd introduced Craig to his younger sister on one of their scarce free weekends he'd had no idea they'd hit it off. At first he'd watched the growing relationship with brotherly amusement, but, as their training continued he came to the same conclusion Garrison had. It wasn't fair to any young woman to tie her to a relationship almost guaranteed to end in disaster. As much as he'd come to like Craig, as much as he knew he and Emily would be good together, he had listened to Catron's estimates of their survival rates too. Thirty percent survival rate.... he had no desire to see his sister a widow. He knew leaving was going to be as hard on Craig as it was on Emily and he'd come to trust Garrison enough to let him make his own decision about what to do about letting his sister know.
g
If they thought the extra training at the academy had been hard they'd decided it was only because none of them possessed a clear understanding, or had a concise definition of the word. The last phase of training built on what they'd experienced at the academy and during their summer duty assignments, but it was much more intense, and seemed directed at driving the men into the ground. The only advantage now was they didn't have to expend any energy on keeping what they were doing secret. And it was a good thing, as not one of them had one ounce of extra energy to spare.
"I do believe Sergeant Holke is deriving too much enjoyment from this latest round of training exercises." Collin took the ice pack he'd just created and laid it gently across Craig's throat where the swelling seemed to be the most severe. Unless it was down right life threatening they were expected to treat their own, good practice in first aid Catron told them, and Garrison had done as much for him. "Why didn't you take the bastard down when you had the chance?"
Garrison glared at him for a moment before he tried to answer and then his words came in a forced whisper. "I tried damn it! Didn't you notice all the padding he's got protecting him?"
Jamieson sat back and laughed. "Just goes to prove how afraid he really is." If looks could kill, he thought, I'd be dead right now. "I just wish I could master that move."
Craig held the ice pack to his throat as he rolled up to sit on the edge of the cot and eyed the other young man. "I know you're not going to expect to attempt it on me."
Collin snorted, "Well, you could use some practice countering it."
"I know how to counter it, but pistols are only allowed on the firing range, and they lock the knives up after we finish practicing, remember?"
Garrison swayed a moment as he stood, Jamieson reached out to steady him. "Come on, friend, let's get over there before all that delicious soup is gone and you have to starve again today." Collin laughed at the look that earned him. All of them had questioned the vast amount of soup provided by the camp cooks when they first arrived. That was before they'd started getting the crap beaten out of them, before they'd been unable to chew and swallow, or digest much of anything else.... Now those three big pots of soup made perfect sense.
When they reached the mess tent Collin left him at one of the tables while he went about gathering their food. The tray he brought back fulfilled two distinctly different dietary requirements. Bowls of everything soft or liquid were placed on the table in front of him... the plates heaped with steak and onions, potatoes and vegetables landed in front of his good friend. Jamieson adopted an innocent look to counter his black gaze. "Hey, don't look at me like that. That's just what you brought me last week, isn't it?" Nudging Garrison's shoulder he urged. "Come on, eat up. Speaking from personal experience it'll help if you swallow it down while it's still warm."
Collin was right and Craig had managed to get a version of his voice back by the end of the meal. They were just finishing up when a deep voice sounded behind them, causing them both to stiffen. "Enjoying our dinner, are we?" and two more bowls were lowered into view by two very large hands. "Don't forget dessert, you two need a little fattening up." The two young men at the table shared a long look before twisting around to look up at their training sergeant. The Sergeant had explained it to them when they'd first arrived, his express purpose in life was to weed out of the program anyone not strong enough to make it through to completion. Sergeant Holke, Hulk as he was known to his victims, at 6'7" and 260 pounds of pure muscle and evil intent, seemed more than adequate to the task, and they could understand the need, they just didn't appreciate the delight he seemed to take from his work...
"Thank you, Sergeant Holke." The two young men spoke as one, if the quality of their voices hadn't been so different a blind man listening would have thought there was only one there speaking. It was no wonder they'd mastered the art of synchronized speaking, especially of that particular line. They'd certainly had enough chance to practice it over the months. Every time he gave them a new bit of information, every time he taught them a new move, every time he laid them flat on their backs or stopped short of tearing some important body part off during training they'd been required to thank him for his consideration.... It was tradition, and Major Catron assured them they'd come to actually mean it before they left here... if they didn't wash out, and if the Sergeant allowed them to live.
g
"What are you doing?" Collin was dead tired and knew Craig had to be too. He'd tried to go to sleep but the incessant grating noise from the other side of their small tent bored into his brain and wouldn't let him rest.
"Improvising. Go back to sleep."
"I can't, you're making too much noise." Collin didn't see the pillow arc across the room in the darkness but immediately knew its intent when he snatched it off his face. Turning on his side he clamped it over his ear and went blissfully to sleep. If Craig wanted to dig an escape tunnel in his spare time that was his business.
g
Training at the camp was set up in blocks. The length of the block was determined by the complexity of the training. The current block was set at five days. The men were given five days to learn and counter the moves the sergeants were teaching them and then they'd move on. Those who couldn't master the skills would be given another opportunity and they weren't actually expected to master all of them, but an account was being kept, anyone with too many misses would be dropped from the program. Garrison was in his last day of his current five day block with Sergeant Holke. He was fast on his feet and quick to learn, but Holke's longer reach and greater weight seemed to work against him as the sergeant took him down time and again.
He was laid out on his back again, bruised and bleeding from the exercise, eyes closed, gasping for breath as Holke stood over him and finally decided to take pity on him and call a halt. He reached down to help the young officer to his feet and the next thing he knew he was being turned every which way but loose. After the initial shock wore off the sergeant fought in earnest to control the situation and was surprised to find himself on the loosing end of that deal too. He managed to spin out of the other man's hold and get away, and had just turned to launch his next attack when he felt a blow to his chest. Surprised again, as Garrison was standing at least a dozen feet away from him, Holke took a moment to glance down and stood transfixed as he considered the thing projecting from the padding that encased him.
The sergeant pulled the object free from where it still vibrated and eyed the modifications that had been made to one of the camp spoons. Careful consideration had been given to the thickness of the safety gear that protected him, the weapon had been ground down to fall a quarter inch short of finding his flesh. Holke rested the shiv on his finger where it balanced nicely... 'Good job,' he thought, 'and we haven't even started on creation of weapons.' He raised his head to look at the young man who stood balanced on the balls of his feet across from him...Garrison had gone from exhausted wreck, to fresh as a daisy, and smiled a challenge back at him while he waited.
Sergeant Holke shook his head, there wasn't any point, the lesson had been learned, and then some. Though at this moment he wasn't quiet sure who the teacher had been. He tossed the weapon carefully back to its maker and stood silent a moment before calling across to him... "Thank you, Lieutenant Garrison." and turned to leave.
It wasn't until he'd gotten back in the locker room to change that he'd realized the extent of the danger he'd been in. The padded armor he wore was slashed in half a dozen different places. The one that caused him the most concern ran right across his throat, but a thorough investigation of the damaged showed all of the gashes missed penetrating by that same quarter inch. Holke took a rather longer than average shower, and when he arrived in his quarters he found a selection of seven deftly manufactured weapons tied neatly with a ribbon resting on his pillow. It took him a moment before he recognized the decoration as coming from the only box of cigars the camp commander possessed.
g
The joke as the group completed their training was that they would be the first thing shipped over under the new Lend Lease Act. They weren't far from wrong. A month later they had their orders and were preparing to leave under a cloak of secrecy. The twenty men that had arrived for training had been paired down to fifteen. Three had washed out, one had requested transfer and one had been injured too badly during training to continue. They were leaving a larger camp behind them, the place was full of regular Army troops now, receiving specialized training along the lines of the British commando forces. Their group might be the first on the ground in Europe, and there was one more group coming along behind them, but these would be the men who'd lead the troops in when war was declared and the assault on Europe began.
Jamieson checked the gear for the last time before he tossed it onto the truck. They were due at the field in half an hour, where in the hell was he? Showing Garrison that letter had been a mistake, he'd known it when he did it last night and he'd done it anyway. He was just beginning to realized why he hadn't kept it to himself, he was hoping Craig would pull out, request a transfer to a regular unit so he could go back home. Collin gave a derisive snort, he should've known Garrison'd never change once he set his sights on something, but he had to try for Emily's sake. They hadn't been barred from contact with their families, the mail had just been sent through a series of drops and dead ends so that no one would be able to figure out where they were. The mail out was censored, and the men were careful not to include anything about their location or the specialized training they were receiving, but incoming mail came through untouched. He'd let Craig read the letters from his folks, and read parts of Emily's letters to him. But that last one from her, he just dropped that one on the bunk and walked out to let him see for himself how much she still missed him, how she still struggled to understand what she'd done to drive him away. Collin squinted against the sun as he scanned the area. Maybe he'd read him wrong. He'd left it too long, Garrison couldn't put in a request now. As the shout for them to load onto the truck that would take them out to the air field came he hoped Craig hadn't gone AWOL.
Collin was the last to board. He couldn't understand why there hadn't been uproar over the missing man. 'Maybe he did get to the base commander,' he thought as he climbed the stairs into the plane, 'maybe he got himself out of this.' It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the subdued light of the plane's interior, shaking his head he shouldered his way to the back and dropped into a seat. "Where in the Hell have you been?!"
Garrison continued to stare out the window. "You have to ask for an outside line to get a call off the base."
Jamieson nearly choked and he leaned in close and dropped his voice. "So you left the base without permission! Are you nuts? What if you'd been caught?!"
Craig turned and looked at the man who sat next to him for a moment before he raised an eyebrow and answered. "After what we've just been through do you actually think any one of them is capable of catching any one of us?"
Collin reached out and snatched Garrison's cap from his head so he'd get the full benefit of the thunk he gave him when he flicked the side of his head with his finger. "Don't get cocky!" He considered the back of his friend's head as he turned away from him to continue his study of the airfield outside the window. He knew where he'd gone and why, and he knew his part in it. "What'd you tell her?"
"That she was a very nice kid, and I'd enjoyed paling around with her and Jeremy." Collin could imagine how Emily would take to being lumped together with their twelve year old sibling. Craig turned back, and he waited for him to finish. "I told her I'd found a girl she'd really like, Collin. I told her I couldn't wait to introduce her, that I thought they'd be good friends..."
"What'd she say?"
Garrison shrugged as he turned back to his window. "Don't know,.. She hung up on me."
"There he is!" The shout went up just as the door to the plane was pulled to and locked closed. Faces filled the windows. He wouldn't be able to hear them over the roar of the engines but they all shouted it any way... in perfect unison. "THANK YOU, SERGEANT HOLKE!"
Jamieson grabbed the back of Craig's collar and pulled him out of the way as he scrambled over him to get in position. They'd all talked about this, planned it, threaten it, but he'd bet his last dollar he was the only one who'd taken steps to see it through. He could still hear the others swearing and fumbling with their belts and zippers as he dropped his trousers and pirouetted neatly to present his final salute to Sergeant Hulk by mooning him just as the plane pulled out.
"Shit! That's not something I ever want to see again!" Garrison laughed as he struggled to make his way up from the floor between the seats. "I think you've caused me to go blind!"