Captain Bradley nods, then passes over the paperwork. “The Major had to go to the hospital from the ass kicking. Now from what the MPs said, the Major had it coming to him. He was drunk too and a total jerk. But you know we can't just overlook it. So, the commander told me that Hardy's going to be spending the rest of the weekend in the cooler, and then, depending on what happens between him and the Major's commander, Hardy may stand tall before the Lieutenant Colonel, or he might be standing tall before a court martial. What's your point of view on this?”
I don't even need Pillman to give me any advice on this one. I know Hardy. “He's dumb, sir, but he's a good trooper. If we can hammer him with non-judicial punishment, let's do that. He's got two years left on his contract. He doesn't need a Big Chicken Dinner on his discharge form.”
A Bad Conduct Discharge, or Big Chicken Dinner, is just about one of the worst discharges you can get. It's not quite dishonorable, but it's damn close. Pillman nods, speaking up. “Sir, Lieutenant Simpson's right. Hardy doesn't need time in custody. He needs to be allowed to ride out his contract. I'll watch him myself if we need to, me and his squad leader. That boy won't be able to fart without someone in the platoon knowing about it and offering him a wad of toilet paper to make sure he's clean as a whistle.”
“Okay. We'll get the details hammered out Monday. At least it gets us out of the motor pool for the morning. All right, Sergeant Pillman, thanks for coming in on a Saturday.”
“No problem, sir. If you don't mind, Hardy's squad leader lives in the barracks. I'm going to go have a talk with him before I go home.”
“Fill me in Monday, Sarge.”
Pillman leaves, and the commander turns to me, sitting back. “Bad luck, Lieutenant.”
I nod, rubbing at my temples. “Yeah. I knew Hardy is a country boy, likes his Budweiser and his MGD, but he's never had problems before. Worst we've had is him messing up the bathroom in the barracks when he tosses his cookies. But then when he sobers up, he always cleans it down spotless and makes it up to the guys who helped him out the night before.”
“That's what Top said too. Still, bad timing for you. It was in my email when I came in. Your pin date for First Lieutenant is set. Congrats, you pin next month.”
“Thanks, sir.” I nod, wondering if it’s as important to me as I thought just a few weeks ago. Going above the zone to Captain, being a hot shot, and looking good for promotion or for cool jobs in the Army just don’t seem as important as teaching Lance how to pass a soccer ball or figuring out who the hell the Velocifighters are. “Anything else?”
“Nope. See you Monday morning for PT.” I stand and give him a quick salute, which he returns. “Carry on, Lieutenant. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
Yeah, right.
Chapter 14
Lindsey
“Hey, Sergeant Morgan?”
Wednesdays are probably the easiest day. It's a good day to just chug away and clear my desk. I like Wednesdays.
I look up from my desk to see Beanie there, a mixed expression on his face. “Hey, Sergeant Beanie, what can I do for you?”
“You got some time? CO wants to have a chat.”
I check my desk. It's not too bad. “Sure, Beanie. Hey, Reilly, hold it down. I'll be back.”
I go next door, Beanie looking tense as we walk. “What's up, Beanie?”
“Two things, actually. First, I talked with the post re-enlistment office. I've got some options for you. Then, CO said he'd like to ask you about something he heard. He didn't say what, but by the look on his face, he didn't look like he was all that happy. But who knows?”
We get to Beanie's office, and I have a seat when he points to a chair. “So, what's the bargain, Beanie?”
“According to the Army, they've got a few options for you. The first is a two-year hitch, with a guaranteed slot in the Squad Leader Development Course. But, the signing bonus is low. No offense, Morgan, but you know that Admin Specialists just don't get the sexy re-ups. So, a two-year contract, and you get a five-grand signing bonus.”
Five grand? I mean, it’s better than nothing, but still. “What's behind door number two?”
“Longer terms, but bigger bonuses. Basically, a three-year term gets you an eight-grand bonus, and with a five-year hitch, they get really generous—fifteen grand, and you have your choice of duty assignments, based on what the Army has available at the time. Pretty sweet deal, but seeing your record, I can see why. Hell, Morgan, if they gave me that, I'd be sitting on some General's staff and making coffee for the rest of my career.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Beanie, I know you well enough to know that there's no way that you'd be happy on a General's staff. That takes someone who knows how to stay buttoned up, stay in the background, and be Johnny on the spot.”
“So what's looking good to you right now?” Beanie asks, and I know he's shifting into pitch mode. “You know what the Army would like. You sign the five-year, and that gets you halfway to a twenty-year retirement. Halfway to retirement at thirty years old. That's pretty sweet.”