Free Jethro Goes to War (Wandering Engineer Jethro's tale) by Chris Hechtl

need to see where the stress points are.”
    “ That is if we
don't lose him and some of the others permanently to those stress
points Major.”
    “ We'll see,”
the Major shook his head. “He's tough. Now he's got to perform
under pressure.”
    “ Just like the
recruits.”
    “ Exactly.”
     ...*...*...*...*...
    The Major walked
through the sickbay, cover under one arm a duty shift later. He
stopped at a bed to nod and speak softly with a recruit, then moved
on. The gunny stood near the door.
    “ So maybe this
wasn't such a smart idea,” he said as the Major returned to
him.
    “ You think?”
the Major sighed shaking his head. He went out into the hallway
hopefully out of earshot of the recruits or anyone nearby. “We've
lost about nine of F troop. Most of the Veraxin went catatonic when
the sim hit the half way point. Damn lucky med techs were on hand or
we would have lost them.”
    The sim had been a
disaster. Even though all the recruits knew it was just a virtual
fantasy the direct feeds into the brains, not to mention the force
emitters in the pods subjecting them to gravitational forces and
playing merry games with their inner ears had messed them all up.
    The DI's had had it
worse, their implants made it incredibly realistic. Agoraphobia had
kicked in, something none had planned on. When the DI's had broken
down the command chain had fallen apart and chaos had reigned. Less
than five percent of the platoon had been functional when the sim had
been cut off before they'd even hit virtual dirt.
    The gunny looked
over to Jefferson, who was still looking pale. “Not just them
sir,” he said grimacing and trying to get the sour smell of
vomit out of his nostrils. He was wearing his last meal on his front
still. He'd done his best to wash it out, but the smell was still
clinging to the fabric. “If you want my resignation you can
have it.”
    “ There is no
stress card in war son. You of all people should realize that by now.
And hell, war means casualties. In training as well. But you damn
well better learn something from this. Don't expect professionalism
from rookies,” the Major huffed out. He shook his head as he
blew his cheeks in and out a few times. “That goes double for
me. What was I thinking allowing this?” he sighed. “I
grew up on a ranch. I know damn well you don't try to ride a horse
just after it's been foaled,” he said shaking his head. He
slapped his thigh angrily.
    “ My fault
sir.”
    “ Yes it is.
You damaged a lot of good marines. Their faith in your leadership has
been broken. Rebuilding that is going to take time,” he shook
his head. “Damn.”
    “ The
interesting thing is that most of F platoons leaders got through it
sir. Some better than others,” Brenet said behind them. He
stank of sweat and urine but at least he was on his feet. He'd had
practice using his implants to hold his lunch down.
    “ You’re
talking about Valenko, Jethro, Hurranna, Sergei, and the other four?
Lance corporal?” the Major asked turning to him.
    “ Yes sir,”
he said glancing at a med team who was sucking bile and vomit out of
a recruit's lungs.
    “ They did
outstanding. For recruits. Which technically is what you are. We all
are. But Valenko kept it together and even talked Corporal Jefferson
down when he went into hysterics.”
    Both noncoms winced
at that. They had been too busy handling the chaos and collapsing
Veraxin to do much about it. “Yes sir,” they both
mumbled. Jefferson nodded rubbing his temples.
    “ Think he's
officer material?”
    “ Yes sir. Or
noncom at least. Squad leader. He's doing well in that slot right
now.”
    “ Does he show
any preferences for specialty?”
    “ No sir. Bears
and large cats usually take heavy weapons slots though by tradition.
A few of the russian ones like he is make it to general and are deep
thinkers. He's as much a thinker as he is a brawler sir.”
    “ Good to
know,” the Major nodded. “Give him a commendation for
working under