For the most part, the XO reverted back to being his usual, good natured self. That façade, however, quickly gave way to a very different demeanor, for he was now unable to tolerate even the slightest error or any action that was not up to his standard, whether it concerned training or carrying out routine maintenance on the Team’s vehicles. When drilling his crew, he would turn on them with a vengeance if their times or actions were not to his liking. When Bannon made mention of this to him, Uleski simply shrugged it off as nerves. Bannon, of course, knew there was more to his XO’s behavior than nerves. Everyone who had started out with the Team and had made it this far had changed, including him. The problem was, in Bannon’s opinion, Uleski’s had not been for the better. With that in mind, he made a point of watching his XO more closely.
One of the duties that Bannon had dreaded most began the first night in the assembly area. After the Team had stood down for the night, and only those personnel required for minimal security were posted, he sat alone at a table in the gasthaus. In the quiet of the night, with no noise but the hiss of the Coleman lantern to distract him, he began to write letters to the families of those who had died.
“Dear Mrs. McAlister, I was your son’s company commander. You have been informed, I am sure, by this time, of the death of your son John. While this is small consolation for the grief that you must feel, I want you to know that your son died performing his duties in a manner befitting the fine officer he was. His absence…”
“Dear Mrs. Ortelli, as you know, I was your husband’s company commander and tank commander. You have been informed, I am sure, by this time, of Joseph’s death. While this is…”
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lorriet, I was…”
As he wrote the letters, the images of those who had been lost came back. In his mind’s eye he could see 21 hanging on the edge of the ditch, burning and shaking as onboard ammo cooked off and detonated. The sight of Ortelli, wrapped in his sleeping bag as if he were sleeping were as clear to him as he sat there as they had been that day. Lorriet’s eyes, eyes that stared up at him but did not see caused him to shutter every time he thought of him. His memories of the severed arm belonging to a soldier Bannon didn’t even know that he stepped on was just as repulsive now as they had been when he had looked down and saw it. Those images, and so many more came flooding back to him as he wrote each and every letter to parents, wives, and loved ones who had yet to learn what had happened to the men he had been responsible for. In all his readings, in all the classes he had attended, nothing had prepared him for this. Each commander was left to deal with the images of the dead in his own way.
“Dear Mr. and Mrs.…”
On the afternoon of the second day the first sergeant returned to the Team’s assembly area from a scavenging foray with 2nd Lt. Randall Avery in tow. As he was hauling his gear out of the first sergeant’s vehicle, Avery noticed Garger going through a sand table exercise with his tank commanders. As the two lieutenants had both been in the same officer basic course at Fort Knox, Avery was thrilled to see a familiar face in the sea of strangers he been swept up in. Eager to let him know he was there, he called out to Garger.
To Avery’s surprise, instead of setting aside what he was doing and coming over to greet him, Garger merely acknowledged the new lieutenant’s presence with an expressionless nod before turning his full attention back to what he had been doing. Taken aback by this cold reception, Avery wondered if the stories he’d often read about concerning the way veterans treated replacements were true. The reception he got from Bannon further reinforced his apprehensions on this matter.
Bannon and Uleski sitting at a table on the terrace in front of the gasthaus going over the next day’s schedule of training and maintenance when Harrert brought Avery over. “Captain Bannon, this is Lieutenant Avery,” Harrert declared matter-of-factly as he waved his hands at the young officer next to him. “He’s straight out of Knox and has been assigned to take over the 2nd Platoon.”
With that introduction, Avery came to attention, saluted, and reported as he had taught to do during his four years as an ROTC cadet and at Fort Knox. “Sir, Second Lieutenant Avery reporting for duty.”
Before responding in any way, Bannon and Uleski glanced at each other, then over at the first sergeant before Bannon took to eyeing Avery from head to toe. With nothing more than a nod, he acknowledged the lieutenant’s salute, leaving Avery standing there and unsure what to do.
Realizing the young officer was flummoxed, Bannon sighed. “At ease, Lieutenant. We don’t do much saluting in the company area, or anywhere else for that matter. Where is it you said you were coming from?”
“Fort Knox, sir. I was attending the motor officers’ course after AOB when things started to get serious over here.”
Unable to help himself, Uleski glanced over at Bannon. “Serious?”
“I think he’s talking about the war, U,” Bannon replied with a straight face.
“Oh yeah, that. I guess you could say that was serious. What do you think, First Sergeant?”
“It’s serious enough for me, sir,” Harrert replied in an off handed manner.
Ignoring Uleski’s attempt to have some fun at his expense, and eager to get on with the task of reporting in, Avery latched onto to the first thing that popped in his head. “I was in the same AOB class as Gerry, I mean Lieutenant Garger. We were friends, sir.”
Again Bannon and Uleski exchanged glances. “That’s nice. What college did you graduate from?”
“Texas A and M, sir.”
Uleski couldn’t help himself as he let out three loud whoops. Neither First Sergeant Harrert nor Bannon could keep from breaking out in laughter. Though he didn’t much like being the butt of the XO’s joke, Avery appreciated he wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.
Seeing the lieutenant’s discomfort, Bannon put his official, no bullshit company commander’s face back on. “You’re going to the 2nd Platoon,” he informed Avery in an even tone of voice. “The man you are replacing was a damned good platoon leader who was killed four days ago. I hope you have better luck.”
After allowing this grim thought to linger in the young officer’s mind a moment, Bannon continued. “Your platoon sergeant is Sergeant First Class Hebrock. He’s been running the platoon since Lieutenant McAlister was killed. Your only hope of surviving this folderol is to listen to what that man says and tells you what you need to do. Since I haven’t a clue as to how much time we’ll have before we move out and head off back into the meat grinder, my advice to you, lieutenant, is not to waste a second of it. Is that clear?”
Taken aback by this cheerless how-do-you-do, Avery simply replied, “Yes, sir,” and waited for the next shock.
Closing his notebook, Bannon turned to the XO. “Bob, we’ll finish this up later during the evening meal. In the meantime, take the lieutenant down to 2nd Platoon and turn him over to Sergeant Hebrock. Then you best get down to battalion CP and check on the replacement for our FIST track. I damned sure don’t want to let battalion let that one slip.”
“OK. You need anything else from battalion while I’m there?”