Duty(71)

“Relax, Lieutenant. How's your leg?” he asks. We leave the computer room—I don't want to delay anyone else's morale call home—and make our way toward my 'office'. “The doctors say you were an idiot.”

“Just stupid enough to make me Infantry, sir. How's Captain Stephens?” I ask, and Kierney's smile makes me grin. “He's gonna make it?”

“Got word right before seeing you. He's comfortable in Germany right now, and probably driving the hospital staff nuts already. He's got some long-term stuff that'll mean he's rotating home early, but he's going to be able to return to duty when the battalion rotates back to Drum,” the Colonel says. “Actually, I came because of a few things I've found out.”

“Yeah . . . I figured someone would come to talk to me about Lindsey if they know back at Bragg,” I reply, not backing away at all. “Am I busted?”

“Busted for what?” Kierney asks. “All that happened at Bragg, but you got your new evaluation reports. Now, I’m putting a counseling statement in your file. From what I've heard, she's been barred from re-enlisting, so there are consequences. But, I also have some good news for you as well.”

“What's that, sir? That you're sending me back to the Spartans when I can put a damn boot on again?” I ask, and he laughs. “What?”

“Maybe you don't remember, but after you were put on that chopper, the stories that your company told on you . . . hell, son, you put on just about the greatest show of leadership and fighting since Audie Murphy. I came by to tell you that I submitted the paperwork to brigade. I'm putting you in for the Silver Star. Only downside is, I can't even get the Spartans to go back to their old greeting anymore. It's confusing the shit out of every new person they run into. They're greeting everyone with If. Next time, quote William Wallace or something. It's easier to understand.”

I laugh, touched. We reach my 'office', and I see the pile of mail on the table, ready to be gone through. “Deal, sir. Still, I'd like to get back to the Spartans.”

“With a woman, a son, and a baby on the way? I don't think so,” Kierney says. “Besides, Captain Ortiz from the S-4 shop is going to do just fine in the CO slot, and brigade is sending over an experienced 1LT to be the new company XO. Your First Sergeant has the troops squared away. Which kind of puts me in a bind.”

“How so, sir?” I ask, sitting down. “I've got no problems being XO under Captain Ortiz.”

“Here's what's going to happen. You're going to spend another three weeks here. I talked with your doctors about that already. When you can walk, you're coming onto my staff as the supply officer. It's not a cushy job. It's supposed to be for a Captain, and you'll have a pretty steep learning curve. But it'll limit your movement while you rehab that leg.”

It's a good assignment, and I know that Kierney's also trying to protect my butt too. Supply officers have to make constant runs back to the rear to get stuff for the troops, and most of the time, I'd be riding in an armored Hummer. “Roger, sir. One request, though?”

“What's that?”

“Would you mind if I sometimes happened to come across pogey bait that's tagged for the Air Force and distribute it to the battalion?”

Kierney laughs and nods. “Yeah, I think you'll do fine. Oh, and Simpson?”

“Yes, sir?”

Kierney pats me on the shoulder. “You'll get a chance to ask your question to her. Now heal up, and I'll see you in three weeks. Try to do some pushups in the meantime. Keep yourself fit.”

“Roger that, sir.”





Chapter 24





Lindsey





I feel strange, wearing stretch pants and a slightly oversized t-shirt with a USMA logo—a going away gift from Captain Lemmon . . . or Pete, that I can now call him. Getting used to not wearing ACUs is going to take time. Still, my old uniforms don't fit anymore, and I'm on terminal leave anyway, using my fifty-seven days of leave I've built up over the past two years to maximum effect.

“Mommy, when are they coming?” Lance asks, hopping from side to side. He just had his birthday, but for him, the cake and ice cream he shared with his grandparents isn't anything in comparison to the present he's getting today. He's anxious, and I can understand. I'm feeling anxious too. Six months, one week and three days with a delay to change planes in Germany. I'm more than anxious.

“As soon as the plane gets closer, honey,” I reassure him. “The runway's a little way from this hangar, and they have to taxi still. Just remember, Daddy will be happy, but he's still going to have work to do, so he can't go on leave just yet.”

“I want to show him my hockey skates! They're so cool!” Lance says eagerly. As a birthday gift, my parents gave Lance a set of Bauer skates, and he's itching to show Aaron and go skating after seeing Aaron's old high school hockey photos.

“You'll get a chance, honey,” I reassure him. I hear a polite cough behind me, and I turn, seeing two people in their fifties, both wearing Army t-shirts. The man is tall, with the same hazel eyes that I've dreamed of for six months. “Mr. and Mrs. Simpson?”