“It’d be helpful if they took the time to do it right the first time,” said the second, loud enough so his soldiers could hear, “rather than having to take the time to do it over.”
“So you guys want to go downtown after we get off?”
“Nah, I’m just gonna watch TV.”
“Count me out too, Sergeant Doyle. I’m going to have a beer and call it a day.”
“You guys got no sense of adventure. I wanna go out and meet some of these people. You never know, maybe some of the women from the support units will be down there.”
“You want to meet some of the locals? The ’rads?” asked the first NCO, one eyebrow raised.
“And you want to pick up army women?” asked the second, his mouth twisted.
“Yeah. Might be fun. What about it?”
“Fuck you, man,” said Sergeant Baldwin.
“Like he said, fuck you,” confirmed Sergeant Macintosh.
Stern had been in the office since 6:00 and had barely made a dent in all the work.
“Sir, your 10:00 appointment is here.” The civilian secretary’s voice on the intercom brought him out of his daze. It would be another week, headquarters told him, before they could reassign a one-star to command the brigade and, with Griffin off on his honeymoon, Stern once again found his in-box stacked eighteen inches high. Behind an office door closed to the noise of the outside world, he had been immersed in reading the tasking document from Supreme Allied Headquarters that outlined the responsibilities of American forces in general and his forces in particular in assisting the new German government.
No, he was really thinking about what his attorney had said when they spoke the day before, about how negotiations with his soon-to-be ex-wife were progressing satisfactorily and how the settlement would be fair to all concerned. It should all be legal and finalized in a few weeks, the lawyer had said. Stern wished he could get it off his mind. Work, he thought, I must concentrate on my work. He hit the intercom.
“I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”
He checked his calendar and learned that his 10:00 appointment was the brigade’s new sergeant major. But who was it? He rifled through the file folders on his desk. He found the folder too late, for there came a knock on his door. He saw the knob twist, and then the door opened. Stern had planned to review the sergeant major’s file thirty minutes before their meeting, but time had gotten away from him. He put the folder down as the sergeant major stood in front of him.
“Sir, Sergeant Major Austen reports as ordered.”
“Sergeant Major.” Stern returned the salute and sized up the brigade’s new senior enlisted soldier. The sergeant major was about Stern’s size— solid, not fat — and with a face that had seen some trials. This sergeant major could command respect, Stern thought. You can always tell in the first few minutes, in the first few words. “Sergeant Major, this brigade is understrength, overtaxed, and underdisciplined. The soldiers need both a strong hand and someone who’ll tell the boss — when he gets here — and me, straight up, what’s going on. They also need a motivator. These are tough times for all soldiers, but especially for these. They thought they’d be going home, but didn’t know to what, and now they’ll be staying here, not fighting but… but doing something else. What they need is a crusty old sergeant major to kick their asses and make them feel good about having them kicked. I’ll do the planning. You do the kicking.”
The sergeant major grinned. “Yes, Sir. I’ve already visited three of the five battalions. I have some work to do. I’d like to talk to you at length about several items,” the sergeant major pulled out a small green notebook, “but I’ll reserve that until after I’ve visited the remaining units.” The notebook went back into a starched pocket.
They talked for twenty minutes more about the brigade, its officers, and its noncommissioned officers. The sergeant major thought Stern was tough, sincere, honest, and that he called them as he saw them. Stern thought the sergeant major was thoroughly professional, intelligent, and a fine NCO. Might even be a decent human being.
Their talk wound down.
“… So that’s about it, Sergeant Major. Any questions?”
“No, Sir, I’ve found out what I need to know.” The sergeant major rose to leave. “There is one small thing, Sir.”
“What’s that?” Stern grew suspicious.
“Sir, in about three weeks I’ll need about four days for myself. Personal business back in the States. The lawyers say I need to be there personally to make a court appearance, sign some papers, all that shit. You know how it goes.”
Stern felt the pain in his chest. Don’t let them ever tell you heartbreak isn’t physical. He remembered lying on his couch, beating his chest so that the pain outside would cancel out the pain inside. Even now there was a strong pang. He winced silently.
“Yeah, Sergeant Major, I know how it goes. I may be on the same plane, same time. I’m doing the same drill.”
“Your first?”
Stern nodded. “It shows, huh?”
The sergeant major nodded knowingly. “Army life sure as hell is tough. Sometimes, too damn often, the ‘other half’ doesn’t understand or can’t understand or just goddamned won’t understand. Sometimes they just chicken out. Sometimes they just take you for what you’re worth and split.”
“Yeah,” Stern said, “really.”
There was a pause. “My third,” the sergeant major said. “It doesn’t get any easier.”
They looked each other in the eye, across a gulf of rank and sex, and both sets of eyes softened.
“Colonel Stern?” she said formally.
“Yes, Sergeant Major?”
“I bet you want to buy me a drink.”
Stern hesitated, but only for a second.
“You’re goddamned right I do.”
“Well, Colonel,” Cmd. Sgt. Maj. Valerie Austen shook her head slightly up and down, her lips pursed in judgment, “I think we’d better go to the enlisted club. You officers seem to have made a mess of yours. I’ll buy.”
“I’ll see you here at 6:00, Sergeant Major. We’ll go over together.”
“Yes, Sir, here at eighteen hundred.” She saluted, awaited his, then about-faced and walked to his door.
“Close this, Sir?” she asked.
“No, Sergeant Major, leave it open.”
“Good idea, Sir. Open doors and all that.” She walked away down the hall.
Stern reflected for a moment. Naw, he thought, too many differences. Still, he was smarter than a few weeks before; smarter in ways that both pleased him and that stung bitterly. He picked up his coffee cup, one he’d brought with him from the desert, and stared into the coffee’s blackness. The cold liquid reached precisely to the cup’s midline.
Is your glass half empty or half full, Colonel?
No answer, thought Stern, but Valerie, er, the sergeant major, was right.
Open doors and all that.