Free The War for Profit Series Omnibus by Gideon Fleisher Page B

vehicle.
    “Fall in,” he ordered.
    Galen, Tad and Spike walked over and stood behind the formation. There were four ranks of nine each.
    “You three in the back. You all deaf or something? I said fall in.”
    “We’re Sergeants, you’re a Corporal,” said Tad.
    “At ease, men. Rest in place,” ordered the Corporal. He then walked to the rear of the formation to have a talk with the three Sergeants. He was in his late twenties, dressed in field coveralls and combat gear, and looked like a competent veteran. He also looked upset. Restrained anger dominated his dark brown face. His fists were knotted in frustration.
    “Does the term ‘in charge’ mean anything to you Sergeants?” He spoke into Galen’s chest, standing only ten centimeters from him. The Corporal was nearly a half meter shorter than Galen but refused to look up.
    “Maybe you better explain things,” said Galen, giving the unruly Corporal one last chance to redeem himself.
    The Corporal stepped back, relaxed his posture and said, “You snapper Sergeants need to understand, I’m in charge of this convoy. It’s my job. If you don’t like the way I do it, you’ll have to take the matter up with my Chief. Now I ain’t just making this up as I go along, I have certain things I have to accomplish, guidelines to follow and objectives to meet. So if you can’t handle being treated like a troop, fine. Just suck it up and do what I tell you until you’re released from my command. That’s right, command. I’m running this show and have the full authority of a commander.”
    “Oh, we didn’t know all that,” said Spike, breaking the tension between Galen and the Corporal.
    “Then fall in on the right. I’m making you Sergeants my track commanders. You take second, you take third and you take fourth track.” He pointed at each Sergeant as he made the assignments. Galen moved to the right end of the second rank of troops. He looked to his left and saw nine young troops, all dressed in field uniform and ready for battle. None of them had side arms, only rifles. Corporals and Sergeants had pistols and the choice between rifle or submachine gun. The Corporal moved down the first rank, performing a pre-combat inspection on each troop. Finally he came to the second rank and started its inspection with Galen.
    “Canteen’s empty, rifle ammo is on the wrong side, your pistol isn’t loaded, rifle sling’s too tight, and chin strap of your helmet’s not fastened.”
    “What?”
    “You’re all fouled up, snapper Sergeant, but I guess you don’t know better. Are you left-handed?”
    “No.”
    “Well I am. So I’m the mirror image of how you should look. Pistol on your right hip, with your rifle ammo pouches behind it going on around to your butt pack. You can reach them while lying on your stomach that way. Pistol ammo pouches on you left hip, your canteen right behind them, and snug up against your butt pack. Everything is reversed for left handed troops. Lock and load and put the safety on both of your weapons, fasten your chin strap and fill up that canteen and we’ll be squared away. Oh, and that bayonet goes on your left, in front of your pistol ammo, to make sure you can get to it from the prone position.”
    “Fine. I’ll break ranks and square that away now.”
    “Pushups first. Not my idea, it is unit SOP. Ten pushups for each gig. Knock ‘em out then go square yourself away.”
    Galen did sixty pushups and then dashed off to fill his canteen with water. He stood with Tad and Spike, the three men helping each other reassemble their gear in accordance with the Corporal’s demands.
    “Is this for real?” asked Spike.
    “If he’s bluffing I’ll mess him up good,” said Tad.
    Galen said, “I’ll talk to his boss about this whole incident. They knew three Sergeants were coming. They should have a Chief in charge. Also, all the troops were squared away. No gigs on them.”
    “That Corporal in the welcome center set us up, forgot