Friday morning, and I'm looking forward to the weekend. Sure, it's not a training holiday, but at least Captain Bradley has backed off my ass. In fact, for the past week, he's barely said anything to me outside of duty needs, which to be honest, I'm fine with. I'm allowed to train with my platoon, and everyone, including Nadar, with his screwed-up ankle for another two weeks, is going along well. Even Hardy, whose Article 15 is next week, is doing well, the stress of possibly being court-martialed off his back. He's still a little stir crazy, but he's doing okay with it.
“Hey, Sarge!” I call across the area, waving to Pillman. “Got a minute?”
“What's up, sir?” he asks, relaxing. We're not doing too much today. Mostly, the platoon's working on some maintenance tasks in our equipment, nothing too rough. Even Nadar is able to contribute, sitting down on a chair and running radio check, making sure their batteries and cases are sealed properly and that the scrambler codes are staying locked in after being programmed. After a hard training week, the platoon can use the light day, and nobody's complaining about being a little bored.
Pillman comes over close and salutes, which I return casually. “Relax, Sarge. I just wanted to know if you've heard anything about your new slot.”
“Actually, the word on the wire is that I might be getting an ROTC slot, University of Oklahoma or something like that,” he replies, shaking his head. “Going from the Regulators to riding herd on a bunch of wet behind the ears cadets. You know they're worse than privates, right?”
The little jab makes me laugh, and I nod. “Hey, you could have been assigned to my alma mater. Then you'd have a bunch of cooped up, socially incapable cadets to deal with instead.”
Pillman groans melodramatically, then laughs. “Well, my wife was happy when she heard that I'm coming off the deployment line for a while. Nothing official yet, of course, but with my daughter getting ready for high school, it'll be nice to be able to actually stay home and see her go through school for a few years.”
“I hope so,” I tell him, thinking of Lance. “You know, Sarge, they may be just a bunch of cadets, but they'll benefit having a damn good NCO teaching them. I know I learned a lot from you.”
“Just take it on to your next slot too, sir. And remember rule number one.”
“That your NCOs are always right?” I ask, and Pillman laughs. “Yeah, I remember you telling me that some time. But first, I have to—”
“Yo, Simpson!” the XO, Robbie Lisker, calls from across the quad. He's new to the company, and I haven't really gotten to know him too much. Just part of the rotation, really. He's going to be the core officer for the company when they rotate overseas next year. “CO wants to see you!”
“Thanks!” I call back, waving. It's nice to be able to talk without the constant rank issues, and Robbie is one of only four people in the company I can do that with, with the other platoon leaders being the other three. You get used to it, but it's nice to not have to deal with rank at least a little bit. “I'll be right there.”
I turn back to Pillman, who shakes his head. “Seems you've got work to do today, sir. I'll make sure everyone's squared away here.”
“Good deal. See you at end of day formation,” I tell him, tossing off a quick salute and walking quickly toward the company offices. Inside, I see Robbie and wave. “CO's free now?”
“Yeah,” Robbie says. “He's smiling, so take that for what it's worth.”
“Really? Thanks for the heads up.”
I knock on the CO's door, and he calls from inside. “Enter!”
“You wanted to see me, Captain?” I ask, coming in. It's perhaps the one and only way that I've publicly changed my behavior toward the CO. Before he chewed my ass and put me on shit details about Lindsey, I almost always called him 'sir.' Now, he's 'Captain,' fully acceptable within military customs and courtesies, but the fact is that I don't respect the man any longer. Not after that bullshit.
“Sit down, Lieutenant. And close the door,” he says, pointing. I close his door and take a seat, crossing my right leg over my left and stretching out my hips a little bit. I've been on my feet for most of the day, and the ability to stretch a little helps. “I've got reassignment orders for you. Congratulations.”
I blink, stunned. “E–excuse me, Captain?”
He hands over the papers, and I read it silently before looking up at him, anger seeping into my voice. This is total bullshit. “You're transferring me.”