Free Looking Glass 4 - Claws That Catch by John Ringo Page B

from this side of the desk, things are different. Priorities, especially. So you're going to have to learn. Much of this I'm going to throw on Gunnery Sergeant Juda.”
    “He's back?” Eric interjected. The Gunny had been hit even worse than the CO during the battle. “Sorry, sir.”
    “He is, indeed, back,” Captain Zanella said. “However, since his right leg is still missing a goodly chunk of muscle, he's somewhat grouchy. Hopefully he won't oh-so-subtly take it out on his new lieutenant. But part of any gunny's job is to teach the newbie lieutenant, that being you. In fact, given your position I'm sure that all the senior NCOs will tend to be helpful. Perhaps too helpful. Do you get my meaning?”
    “Eventually, I have to learn to do this myself,” Eric said. “Is that what you mean, sir?”
    “More or less,” Zanella said. “Just one of many traps, Lieutenant. There's one last trap I need to point out. I suspect it's the one you've probably already thought about. That trap is the trap of courage. You know where I'm going?”
    “I don't take the door, anymore, sir,” Eric said, if anything sadly. “I'm supposed to send others to take it.”
    “Not supposed to,” the CO corrected. “Must. You must send others to take point. You don't lead from a bunker or from the ship, usually, but by the same token you have to place your Marines in the position of greatest risk. Their job is to kill stuff and blow things up. You lead from behind, to convey my orders and expand on them. I don't mind an officer who's willing to get his hands dirty, in fact I demand it. But the point on anything, be it loading the ship or fighting Dreen, are your Marines, not 'Two-Gun Berg the One-Man-Killing-Machine.' If you can get through an engagement without firing your weapon you're doing things correctly. And if I see you toting gear instead of figuring out what's supposed to be toted, next, I will damned well bust you back to sergeant. Are we absolutely, positively clear on this?”
    “Clear, sir.”
    “I said the job of an officer is to do paperwork,” the CO said, leaning back. “But that only covers part of the spectrum. The real job of an officer is to consider not 'what now' but 'what's next?' Your NCOs handle 'what now.' You tell them 'Take that room' and they take the room. You don't have to tell them how to take a room. They know that. Your job, while they're taking it, is to consider what's next. After that room, what needs to get done that's not an automatic trained reaction. Do you need to prepare defenses? Or is this a raid and you need to consider the problems of exfil? The job of the officer is to look ahead in time and be prepared for what time is going to throw at him. Leadership and all the rest comes quickly enough. If your troops realize that you know what you're doing as an officer. The first time that one of your NCOs says 'What now, sir?' and you have the answer they don't . . . that's when you start being an officer. Clear?”
    “Clear, sir,” Berg said. He'd had much the same speech in OCS, but he had to admit that Captain Zanella hit the high points better.
    “On the ride out, I'm going to devote two hours a day to professional development,” the CO said, sighing. “However, I seem to recall a Marine sergeant who had his head fairly firmly on his shoulders instead of up his ass. Try to keep it there.”
    “I'll try, sir,” Eric promised.
    “Now, you need to complete your training with Monsieur Ross then decide if you actually have time to go home tonight to do more than change clothes. See ya tomorrow morning.”
     
    “Most girls like you want to be waitresses,” the restaurant manager said, looking Brooke up and down. “You could make way more money as a waitress.”
    “I know,” Brooke admitted. “But I want to learn to cook. I'm hoping I can do some of that working in the kitchen.”
    “All I got is busser,” the Italian said. “You're mostly going to be washing dishes, maybe