Now what? (The struggle for justice never stops)

[bitsmith]

“Who is this guy? This Captain Dan?” The large man in overly worn out military fatigues asked.



“Some delusional patriot wannabe, sir,” Gibbens replied. “The radio keeps sharing stories about him. They say he was killed in Mexico, a few years ago.”



“I know that, Gibbens. I mean WHO is he? Not just his name. Or his actions. I want to know the MAN. What made him the driven person who did what he did.”



“I don’t understand, sir,” Gibbens answered, shrinking away from the officer.



“No, of course, you don’t Gibbens. You are just a cockroach. You have no personal vision. No desire to be greater than you are. You are a slug who follows along with others. Like a moth to a flame, you are attracted to greatness. This Captain Dan, though. He brought greatness out of himself and then out of others. Gibbens, I want to know how he did that. Why can I not bring out even a spark of greatness from you? Is it something I fail at? Or do you not have even a spark of greatness within you?”



“Sir, I do not know,” Gibbens answered, getting more and more tired of the put-downs. “But I am certain, sir, that he saw something within a person that was a positive trait and then brought that out of them. At least that is what the positive leadership how-to books from the Before used to say.”



“More of that hippie-dippie shit, Gibbens?”



“I’m just trying to find an answer for you, Major.”



“Get out, Gibbens.” The Major ordered. “I can’t deal with your snowflake bull-shit, this early in the day. And find me some damned coffee!”



Gibbens left the office, glad to be away from The Major. He had been serving under the man for 7 hard and cruel months, yet still did not know the man’s real name. Everyone referred to him as ‘The Major’. And tomorrow is a regional day of mourning. Mourning for a hero that did not want to be a hero. At least that is how the radio serials portrayed him. And the Major wanted that kind of recognition and respect.

[jmx4]

Love seeing this story continue. Thank you.

[bitsmith]

Now What – Chapter Two

“Hey, Saul!” Tony called out his friend and master survival vehicle designer and builder.

“Hello, Tony! So glad to see you, again. You have been gone for far too long!” Saul called back, as he wiped his hands on a rag. Saul stopped, mouth agape as he saw the remnants of one of his masterpieces on a flatbed semi-trailer. “What did you do to my masterpiece?”

“Well, first, it was stolen by a bunch of gangbangers. Then it ended up in Mexico, when it was stolen from the gangbangers by a bunch of Mexicans trying to re-initiate a cartel. Then, of course, we had to steal it back, after destroying the cartel, naturally.” Tony answered as Brother Dave tried not to laugh at the waves of different expressions across Saul’s face. “Can you fix it?”

“Can I fix it?” Saul shouts. “There is nothing to ‘fix’! It is just a pile of junk, now.”

“That is what I told them. It was not worth fixing. But Wilson said we had to bring it back home. So here is it.” Tony said. “We need another command vehicle. What have you got that we can use?”

“What about the trailer? What happened to it?”

“A friend of the Captain’s managed to get it put into a storage locker in El Paso. We retrieved it, before going after the truck.” Tony answered. “It was a little tight for the 6 of us in a single pick-up, but that trailer did make things easier on us.”

“Then I am pleased. He wanted it to save lives. Not take them.” Saul said nodding. “I remember he once told my daughter that the two represented the foundation of a human society. The truck was a tool designed to take lives. A weapon to hunt and remove those who refused to live in peace and justice with their neighbors.

“He wanted the trailer to represent that peace and justice. A platform to rebuild a society. A means of serving and feeding those in need. A word of training and help for those willing to help themselves and their neighbors.” Saul explained the story to those who had heard it before. “I will check the local inventory, see what I can find. When do you need it by and what is your budget?”

“The budget is between you and I, Saul.” Dave answered. “We will work it out. You let me know what you find, before you spend any money, alright amigo?”

“Dave, I’m a Brooklyn Jew, not a Hispanic.” Saul said.

“I know, my friend.” Dave said, smiling. “But I also know you are one of the smartest men I know. Let me know what you find for a truck for these guys.”

Dave and Tony turned to walk away as Saul started calling his men to the semi.

“Here, Tony.” Elliot said, as he handed over a sandwich wrapped in paper with a fresh canteen of water. “It’s a pretty good pulled pork sandwich. The café here is really good.”

“Melanie works extra hard to keep her café going. Her food is not cheap, but it is very good and people come to her when they are in town for the market.” Dave answered. “Did you tell her you were a Bastard?”

“No, sir. Too many people give stuff to us, they cannot afford to give, when they know who we are. That is not what the Captain would want from us.” Elliot stated. “But Tony, here. Everyone knows Tony was with the Captain. Same with Oatmeal and HotShot. That is why I’m usually the one to run the errands, sir. Or Jill will. Being a woman she seems to be able to go place we men cannot.”

“Tony, get your team together and meet me in that trailer. I need some answers.” Dave admitted.

“No, Dave. I cannot and will not do that. I cannot give you any answers I am not allowed to share.” Tony stated, flatly. Simply. And in a way was the big answer Dave needed to know. His friend is still giving orders.

“The Bastard’s way, huh?” Dave asked.

“You could say that, sir.” Tony answered.

“Also, sir, we bring a few items from near Camp Freedom to be sold in your consignment shop. Items made by the local blacksmith at the lake.” Elliot stated.
Dave nodded. “do they all need to be sold here, or can I send them to other shops where they may be more valuable?”

“I believe that would be acceptable, Dave.” Tony answered. “They are from the Circled Z Forge, on Broken Bow Lake. Maybe you should speak with the smith, there and work out arrangements for a more regular stream of products?”

“I think that might be a damned fine idea, Tony.” Dave answered, smiling. “A damned fine idea, in deed. Do you know if this smith, by chance, drinks beer? I’ve been trying my hand at brewing and have a few that worth trying.”

“I believe he might, Dave. I know he likes whiskey of different types.” Tony answered. “But I have heard him say that he misses cola to mix with his whiskey.”

“So, where are you soldiers staying, now?” Dave asked.

“For the next night or two, sir, we will be staying in that Semi. With this nice weather, we are able to camp on the trailer bed and still manage a guard. Even just the three of us.”

“Tonight, there will be no need for a guard. And I will arrange for rooms for you, in the motel across the street.”

“No. Thank you, though. We need to stay with the semi, for now.” Tony answered, much to Elliot’s lack of approval. “Once Saul has the new truck ready, we will be leaving in it. Can the semi be left here, with you? Perhaps you can sell it for us? It is rather … special.”

“A smuggler’s rig from that cartel you got the truck pieces from?” Dave asked.

Tony did not answer. He just looked Dave in the eye with a blank face.

“Tony, you would have made a great 2nd in an MC but a terrible poker player.”

[bitsmith]

Now What – Chapter Three



“No, my friend. I am not asking you to sour your faith or beliefs.” The smith said as he continued to turn a blower while moving the metal to a hot place in the forge’s fire. “I am asking you, as my friend, to help me with something very personal. I am asking you to help me create a ritual that will encompass by beliefs, the beliefs of you, Marie, and others who are my friends. My closest confidants.”


“I understand your words, but I cannot hear your heart,” Alexandre admitted. “I love you as a son, Daniel. You saved my daughter’s life. To me, you are a confused young man, walking a pagan path of chosen ignorance. And I wish with all my heart I could bring you into God’s light. I wish to stand at your side, before the Almighty and hear the Son’s proclamation that you are indeed a child of his Father. And yet, you are but a handful of years younger than I. You have lived a life I am terrified to imagine. As you have said, you have the blood of many on your hands. I cannot judge you. I am indebted to you. But this … this I cannot do. I cannot participate in a pagan ritual.”


“Tell me, then dear friend, would you be willing to deliver a eulogy upon my death?” Dan asked, taking the rod from the fire to the anvil.


“You know I already have,” Alexandre admitted, tears coming to his eyes. “And I fear I will be called upon to do so, again.”


Dan nodded, a sorrowful smile on his lips as he picked up the hammer. “And I thank you for that. It was a lovely service, I have been told.”


Alexandre sat and watched as Dan applied focused force from the hammer to a simple steel rod. Flattening the once rounded and blunted end, before returning it to the fire.


“And how is your daughter? Does she still have nightmares?” Dan asked.


“She is well. She is with child, again. Her husband is a good man, though I fear she has not given herself to him, completely. I believe a part of herself she has reserved for a man she may never have or be with.”


“I’m sorry for that, Alexandre,” Dan said, stopping the blower and turning to face his friend. “I had no intention of causing her such confusion. My only focus that day was to save her life and to end the bad men who took her.


“And your idea of sending her to live with my sister was a good and wise idea. Though I miss her, dearly, I know she is safe there.” Alexandre admitted.


“Then you must be certain she never learns I still live,” Dan stated clearly. “Yet another reason for this rite I have asked you to be a part of. To kill and wash away the man she knew and feared and to replace him with just a man. I want to wash away that part of me that has so many people tied to me. I want to be able to drive off, someday, and no one truly misses me. I want me, as so many have known to be gone. Just a memory. A super-hero like in the old comic books. Let to rest and return to his secret identity.


“There are many who would harm those still closest to me if it were known Captain Dan still lived. Others who would come to use me and the legend I became. And others still who would simply flock to the area, to be near and believed they would be safe, because of that proximity.


“But most importantly … I want to be free of the cloud of death that follows me.”


“My son, if it were that easy … “, Alexandre stood. “I really must be getting back to my farm. When should I return for that?”


“I will be done within about 15 minutes. Do you have any other errands around here?” Dan asked, waiving the fire poker to be.


“I will be stopping in at the camp to collect for the butter and honey we have traded with them,” Alexandre stated.


“Then check in with Pete’s office. They will either have it for you or will know when I am arriving with it. There is no need to go home without it.” Dan said as he applied another heat. “And I’m sorry to have disturbed your heart, my friend. It is on your face. The battle between your desire to help a friend and the need to stay true to your beliefs. Please, allow me to put an end to that battle in your heart. Stay true to your beliefs, my friend. You are the friend I have needed in my life. And I thank you for that friendship and I sincerely apologize for the pain I have brought you.”


“It would be foolish of me to run off, just because of a misunderstanding,” Alexandre said as he sat back down. “But please, let’s find something more cheerful to discuss.”


“Well, my friend, that would be easier to do, if you would share a swig or two of this fine moonshine I have,” Dan called over his shoulder with a wink and a grin.


Laughing, Alexandre waived and replied, “You will forever be the challenge to my will and my beliefs. I cannot drink your alcohol. But I would enjoy a glass of ice water if you do not mind.”


Nodding, Dan limped away from the forge to a refrigerator maintained by a natural gas-powered generator. Returning with a recycled plastic water bottle and a canning jar filled with ice cubes.


“Now that brings about a question for you, mighty smith” Alexandre starts laughing, as he accepts both the plastic bottle and pint jar. “Why do you insist on a coal forge, when you have so much natural gas? Coal is expensive here, is it not?”


“I have a gas forge. And I use it for the things I trade and sell to most people. But for family, I use the coal forge and the old ways. For you, I will drift a hole, rather than use that drill press to take away the unwanted metal.” Dan said as he placed a wedge-shaped hardy into his anvil. “Like here, last week I used a band saw to cut the split for 10 fire pokers that have been sent to Brother Dave at the OKC Safe Stop. But for my family. I do not use a power tool. I put my heart into the work. Each carries a piece of me with it.”


“And we all thank you for the work you deliver to us, Dan,” Alexandre said, marveling at the strength it takes to stand on one good leg and another that was badly set after a break. “By God’s grace.” He muttered.


“What was that?” Dan asked as stopped the hammer and the ring of the anvil.


“When I was a young man, on Rumspringa,” Alexandre reminisced. “I went to a museum in New York City. There was showing of statues in marble. Watching your arms flex as you moved the steel and swung the hammer … I was reminded of those statutes. How smooth the surface was on them, yet they still had the raised veins, just as your arms have. It was possible to see the different muscles and even the tendons in the wrist. I remembered how I thought that the artist's hands must truly have been led by God’s touch to create such beauty in marble.”


“I’ve seen such beauty, myself, and also marveled at the skill required to bring life out of marble,” Dan said, as he continued to tap lightly on the hook of the poker, bending it around the horn of the anvil. “But myself … I am no artist. Just a toolmaker.”

[bitsmith]

Now What – Chapter four



“Alright, Tony,” Dave changed the subject, as he passed around more beers. “Give it up. What are you carrying on the trailer that you do not want others to know about.”


“Now, Tony?” Miller asked.


“That is about as direct a question as they come. Don’t you agree, Jones?” Tony asked as Elliot just sat back, grinning.


“Yes, I do, Tony. Give it to him.” Jones agreed.


Tony sighed, heavily. Nodded. Then slowly opened his jacket with one hand, reaching inside with the other.


“WHOA! Now wait just one minute!” Dave shouted, as he fell over backwards, out of his chair. “All I did was ask what you were smuggling! There’s no reason to be drastic. Just tell me it’s none of my business if that is the case.”


The three of them laughed at Dave, as Tony produced a small vial from his pocket.


“What the hell is that?” Dave asked, afraid of the answer. Suddenly thinking these guys had spent too much time in Mexico, first looking for Dan, then finding Dan’s truck.


“It’s nothing, Dave.” Tony said. “Truly, it’s nothing to be worried about.”


“Really, Dave.” Jones said.


“Just try a taste,” Elliot added.


Dave’s face dropped as he heard these phrases. Phrases he had used, back when he pushed drugs for the MC. Back before he went to prison. Long before he became president and got them out of the drug game.


“Seriously, Dave. It’s nothing to be worried about.” Tony started. “While the Captain was recovering, there were no pain meds available. And even today, the pain meds available are questionable at best. If they can even be found. But this. This is an oil. Used to be called CBD oil. We have a three pronged purpose for our smuggling operation. The first is to get some to you. This still has THC in it, so there is a little high to it. But the effects of the oil itself on the body is amazing. It fights inflammation. It is good for headaches. AND it supposedly fights cancer.


“So, we were told to bring some to you, for your migraines. Strict instructions are no more than three drops in a glass of water, just before bed. Another prong is to take some oil, related apparatus and various seeds to that retirement home we raided for Dan’s daughter. We are hoping the people there can cross breed such to make a THC free version of the oil. The rest of the oil, we are taking to the treatment centers in the refugee zones from the nuclear fallout around Chicago. We are hoping it can ease some suffering.” Tony explained.


“Uhm. Wow. Okay. Thanks.” Dave said, a bit embarrassed. “But I’ve already got a treatment for my headaches.”


Tony reached for the vial, but Dave quickly put it in a pocket. “Come with me, and I will explain and maybe save you some travel time.”


Dave led them across the parking lot and up the water tower. “See that field over there. The bright green one? That is NOT pot. That is hemp. We got the seeds from OU agricultural center. One of my guys thought hemp and pot were the same.
We are pressing highly concentrated hemp oil. 30 gallons a day after harvest. Other parts of the plant are being used to make fibers and even a crude paper. All of which we found in a bunch of computer files Dan gave Melanie for recipes. Some are for ‘green brownies’. She wants to try to make some, but we can’t get any cocoa or decent pot for her recipe.”


“WOW! That will make Dan happy to hear!” Elliot exclaimed.


“HA! So he IS alive!” Dave shouted.


“Don’t say that, again, Dave,” Tony stated with a menacing tone. “I may not be allowed to kill you, but I can and WILL hurt you, if that is what it takes to keep him safe and as anonymous as possible.”


“Okay. Okay, I believe you.” Dave said, backing away from Tony and into Jones. “Anyway … we yield about 30 gallons of oil from each field. It takes roughly four months for a field to grow. We harvest a field like that roughly every month from June to September. We send half of every pressing of oil to treatment centers around Chicago, already. Your Captain rubbed off on me. Even have a few Amish folks growing a different strain of hemp. Not for the oils but for the fibers. They have started making cloth out of it. I have a few bolts in the stores. To be honest, though, we need more containers. Vials to sell it in. A local pharmacist tests each batch to make sure it is safe and meets purity requirements.”


“Damn, Dave.” Jones stated. “The Captain WILL be glad to hear this. So will Pryam. She is looking for a non-THC oil to treat various ailments. Though she does agree the oil with THC does help those people dealing with depression, still. Since we brought some back for him, the Smith is much more productive and positive. I think he may be coming to terms with the loss of his wives and that cloud following him may be starting to lighten.”


“Yeah, I can see that. Getting a buzz on will have that affect. But he is such a control freak, it must be driving him nuts to take it.” Dave shared.


“At first, he did not know. Pryam was ‘trying’ a new herbal tea to help him sleep. After a few days, she told him what it was. He takes a few drops each night in a glass of water. He says he sleeps through the high so it’s not affecting his control issues. Though it does give him strange dreams, he says.”


“Him, high on pot. That must have been interesting for him to adapt to.” Dave said, as he led them to the ladder.


“Actually, he was given a THC tea by the woman who pulled him from the building. She did not set his leg right, so he has a permanent limp and lots of pain, now. But the oil is helping.” Tony stated with a glare at Elliot and Jones.


“Tony, there is no need for that. I’ve known him longer than you guys. There is nothing you can tell me about him that would change my opinion of him.” Dave said. “Now let’s get down from here. I hate heights.”

[bitsmith]

Now What – Chapter five



“Pete,” Carrie called as she opened the door to his office. “We have a problem. They know. The world knows he is alive.”


“What? Who? How?” Pete, Captain of Camp Freedom jumped up, asking.


“It was bound to happen. And even he said it was a secret that could not be kept for long. He wanted to know what critical mass was for such a secret. Well, now he knows. About 50 authorized people knew. I can only guess that yesterday, telling Brother Dave about it, someone let it slip.” She explained.


“OK. What do they actually know versus what is just more rumor?”


“The stories are like wildfire. The airwaves are burning up with new rumors and even arguments, only cementing that this will not and cannot blow over in a few days. There is no riding this out.” Carrie stated.


“Then it is time to protect him,” Pete said. “Call him down.”


Pulling a handie-talkie off her belt, Carrie changed a channel and keyed it. “Jill, it happened, already. We need to brief him.”


There was a long pause before a voice came back.


“Yes, I have been listening. Jill will bring me down, shortly. Also, Ruth will be coming with us. Can you have the commissary held open a few extra minutes for her, please? She needs a few things.” Dan replied.


“Ok. I will hold it open for her.” Carrie answered when Pete nodded.


Changing the channel, Carrie again keyed up the HT. “Commissary, this is Smith.”


“This is Hernandez. Go for Commissary.”


“Smith, here. Please stay open late for Ruth. She needs a few things and is just now able to get a ride down from her cabin.”


“No problem. We are glad to stay open for Ruth, any time. Everyone loves when she comes bake for us. Commissary out.”


“Gate One, this is Smith.”


“Sargeant Addams, here. Go for Gate One.”


“Expect Ruth with two adults, shortly. Let them pass. Direct the driver, first to the Commissary then to HQ offices. Over.”


“Roger. Ruth plus 2. Commissary and HQ. Over.”


“Then FULL lockdown. No one leaves without HQ permission. Over.”


“Full lockdown, ma’am?”


“Full lockdown, Addams. Smith, Out.”


“He is going to be pissed about this,” Pete said.


“I don’t know. We need to keep him safe.” Carrie answered.


“Radio Shack for LT Smith.” Her radio chirped.


“Smith, here. Go, Radio Shack.”


“Ma’am. We are getting some high priority questions coming in. I think it best if you deal with them, ma’am.”


She looked at Pete who simply stated: “Go.”


“Radio Shack, Smith. I’m on my way. Prepare for radio silence.”


“No, Carrie. Not that. That will only cause more issues. And do not deny anything, any longer. Just don’t give them the truth. Right now, we don’t know anything more about the stories on the air than what we are hearing.”


She stopped, open door in hand, looking back at him, she nodded acknowledgment of the order.



Once back in the Radio Shack, “This is LT Carrie Baker. Who was asking to speak with me?”


“Carrie? This is Matty at Tinker. Is it true?”


“Is what true?”


“That you have had Captain Dan stashed away there! And you did not tell me? Really?”


“Matty, I have a nothing to say about it. The stories pop up on the air every month or two and are gone in a few days. You know this. “


“Carrie, stop it. This is me. The Colonel asked me to check on the stories.”


“Then the Colonel knows he should be putting in an RFI, via an encrypted channel,” Carrie stated. “The orders were and still ARE, there are to be no open-air communications about Captain Dan or his team or their missions and actions. Anything via an unsecured channel is speculation, only. Now, Clear the Air, Matty.”


“Damn! Well if that is how you want it, the Colonel will be calling, via secured voice and I suggest you answer it.” Matty barked back.


“shit” Smith muttered as she turned to a different radio that was starting to blink as the encryption locked.


“Camp Freedom. Lt Smith.”


“Smith, this is Groendyke. Is it true?”


“Specifically what true, sir?”


“Don’t play games with me, Smith! Is he there?”


“No, sir. He is not here.” Smith answered, let off the push to talk button, “Yet.” The two in the radio rig with her saw what she did. Both chuckled as they understood she had to be honest with people that outranked her but also could not share the full truth.


“I do not believe you, Smith.”


“I understand, sir.” Is all she could answer back.


“I am on my way. Have your Captain ready to meet with me, when I land.”


“Sir, you know as well as I do, it does not work that way.” Carrie radioed back.


“It damned well WILL work that way, Lieutenant!” Groendyke stated. “Now make it happen. I will be there within the hour. Tinker, OUT!”


“oh, shit” she muttered, again.


“Radio silence,” she said as she prepared to leave the shack. “Until further notice. NO outgoing transmissions. Stop them all. Even the automated transmissions.”


“Yes, ma’am.” They replied in unison.



“Pete? Groendyke is on his way. And he is PISSED.” Carrie stated.


“How pissed?”


“Pissed enough to fly in. On short notice. And will be here in an hour, more or less.”


“shit”, Pete muttered.


“Yeah. That is what I said, too.”


Pete just smiled at her. “Well, all we can do, right now, is take what comes. We are in the pincer between following orders and not sharing those orders with Groendyke. Even if he is not in our chain of command, Armstrong should have told him.”


“I don’t think that will be enough, Pete,” Carrie said. “Not this time, anyway.”


“Well, we will just have to do what we can.” He said. “And I’m sure Dan will have something to say about it, as well.”


“Dan and ‘Gronen-dyke’ really don’t see eye to eye, you know?” Carrie reminded.


“No, they don’t. But it should be hilarious to watch them lock horns. Just remember not to laugh at him. Laugh at Dan, but NOT Groendyke.” Pete nearly begged.


Carrie giggled a little, thankful for Pete’s ability to defuse stress amongst his staff. He was still a Marine, but just not as stiff. He had finally relaxed into his position of rank and command. Something he did not want.





“Thanks for the lift, Jill.” Ruth said as she got out of the truck. “I will arrange a ride back.”


“Don’t be silly. You can ride back with us.” Jill said.


“Jill, I don’t think she wants us to give her a ride back,” Dan whispered from the back seat. “I think she has other plans.”


Blushing, Jill waived and called out, “Just have someone call Smith to let us know if you need a ride.”


“Tell me, Captain Jill Woods, Military Psychologist, how is it *I* could pick up on those cues and you did not?”


“Stop it, Dan,” she said. “This is far too serious a situation for your little head games.”


“But little head games is all I have, these days, with which to entertain myself.” He said. “And the biggest head game is about to implode, so … what have I left to lose? Oh, yeah. My life.”


“Dan, there a lot of people who will give their own, to protect yours.” Jill admonished.


“I know, Jill. And that needs to change.”







“Ok. So word got out. It was bound to happen, eventually. Probably just a slip, or multiple slips that all came together to form a picture.” Dan said.


“Yeah, but what do we do about it?” Pete asked.


“Oh, it’s simple. Already have a cover story and everything.” Dan answered. “Do you still have that envelope from Armstrong?”


“Yeah, I got it out, already.”


“Good. Inside is several things. One of which is a sealed letter, written just for this type of circumstance. Get it out and set it aside. Carrie, take the cover story and get it ready to air. I want it sent public and wide BEFORE Groendyke gets here.
There are orders attached, detailing how it is to be sent, modified to fit the circumstances and armors your ass. Only three people have the authority to tell you to execute that order. I’m one. I’m also the only one who can give a halt order on it. Armstrong and POTUS Rios are the other two. So, to make it official, Lieutenant Smith, I am ordering you to execute that written order.”


Carrie read the first few lines, snapped to attention and saluted Dan, before leaving Pete’s office.


Dan sat down, pulled a large flask out of his thigh pocket, propped his feet up on an overturned milk crate. “Well, Pete. We gave it a good try and got away with it longer than I expected us to.” Then offered Pete the flask.


“I can’t Groendyke will be here, shortly,” Pete said.


“Pete, if you don’t want a drink, just say so. But do not EVER hide behind that flimsy excuse. It is insulting.” Dan stated. “Let me put it this way, Pete. He’s a Colonel. You are a Captain. And that is the end of where rank matters. He is commander of a military installation. You are commander of a military installation. On that point you are equals. But that is it. He is NOT in your chain of command. He may have mentored you as you dealt with command issues, but you owe him nothing you do not give him, other simple military courtesy and respect.”


“Besides, it will do your nerves a world of good,” Dan said, again, offering Pete the flask.


“Is it the Apple?” he asked, just before taking a drink.


“Nope. Not tonight. It’s straight up shine.” Dan said as Pete’s eyes watered and tried to pop out from behind tightly closed eyelids at the same time.


“You could have warned me, you bastard.” Pete coughed. “Damn, that is some harsh stuff.”


“Yeap! Pryam uses it to sterilize her surgical equipment.” Dan laughed, as he took a drink for himself. “Well, it seems he will be here in just a few minutes. I can hear the helo, already.”


“Give me that, I think I need another before he gets into the office.”


“Pete. It is YOUR office. Not his. Do not give him your desk, as you have in the past. He does not have command here. You do.” Dan shared supportively. “And I will let you know if that changes. Trust me, Pete. If Groendyke thinks he’s a badass, he is about to get a lesson.”


“Now, turn on the radio so we can hear what Carrie is transmitting. I want to see his face when he loses the wind from under his wings.” Dan asked as he sat back, a creepy little grin on his face as he closed his eyes.



And with that, Pete knew it was all going to work out. He just knew that there might be a little heat from Groendyke and that Groendyke would then have to back it off and even apologize. He then wondered just exactly what type of orders were in the envelope on his desk that would shut down a full-bird air force colonel.


“So, Pete. Dating anybody?” Dan asked as he changed the topic.






Despite all of the commotion outside with the landing of a helicopter on the street, rather than on the designated landing pad, 200 meters away, Pete kept his cool. Without prompting from Dan, he was on the radio asking MP’s to get to the helicopter and escort anyone in it to either the medical center or to his office. When he saw the MP’s escorting no one to the medical center, Pete literally went full JarHead mode. He must have been channeling Gunny R. Lee Ermey. Pete marched right out the doors, met Groendyke head on. Demanding to know why he would put the people on HIS installation at risk by NOT observing proper landing areas. In front of the group of men Groendyke brought with him, Pete gave that visiting Colonel a proper dressing down. And there was absolutely nothing Groendyke could do about it. He was in the wrong. And he knew it.



Dan smiled at how Pete was handling the situation. Tit for tat power games are always bad for morale. Someone ended up losing face before his men.


Once in the office and behind closed doors, Groendyke lit into Pete. Demanding he be afforded the respect of his rank and that any issues Pete may have with him, as a subordinate are to be brought up with him, in private.


“Do you understand me, CAPTAIN?” Groendyke shouted.


Pete did not step down. “COLONEL! I will afford you EVERY SINGLE bit of respect afforded by your rank. However, your RANK does NOT give you the authority to land that helicopter in the middle of that road. At dusk. On MY installation. If you expect to be respected, then you damn well must be prepared to GIVE RESPECT when entering someone else’s installation!”


“You had NO RIGHT to dress me down like that in front of my men!” Groendyke shouted, trying to bark down a Marine.


“And you had absolutely no right to endanger my men. I dressed you down before MY men. I showed MY MEN that *I* am in command of this installation. The only reason to risk the lives of *MY* Marines is if you had a critical medical emergency in your helo.” Calming down, Pete added “I showed *MY MEN* that when it comes to taking care of them, I am like them. I am a Marine first. And I will compare dick size with anyone who would risk injury to them. I swear to you this much, COLONEL, you EVER pull such a stunt like that, again, on MY installation and I WILL have you court-martialed. Do I make myself clear?”


“You can not speak to me that way, Captain!”


“Actually, Colonel, he can and did. And he will have the full support all senior officer staff, all the way up to POTUS, if that is where you want to take it. You tried pulling a ‘big dick’ move on him. And he rightfully cut it off and handed it back to you. In public. The same as your move was a public insult in front of his command.” Dan said, not bothering to get up.


“YOU!” Groendyke turned. “YOU put him up to that.”


“Sorry, Colonel, hold that thought. I’m about to be resurrected.” Dan said, holding up a finger. “Pete, would you mind turning up the radio?”



“Attention, please. Attention, please.


“This is Lieutenant Carrie Smith of the US Marine installation Camp Freedom on Broken Bow Lake in Oklahoma.


“It is my sincere pleasure to make this announcement to the world, this evening.


“Former Captain Daniel Curtis, Or Captain Dan as he is so popularly known is alive and well. By order of the President of the United States, the Captain has been in a non-shared location so he might heal and recover from his injuries received during his efforts to put an end to the U.S. – Mexican War.


“In recognition of his efforts to continue the fight, behind enemy lines. His singled handed actions against Cartels, corrupt politicians, and police forces, with a major component of the Mexican Army tracking his every move, it is hereby announced that Captain Daniel Curtis has been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for heroism.


“Signed and recognized this day, by the President of the United States, Luis Rios.”



“Captain Dan commented that he wished his father was still alive to hear this announcement.”


“This announcement will repeat at the top and bottom of the hour with regular news.”



Slowly, carefully, feigning severe pain, Dan stood, slipped his flask into his pocket, came to attention and returned Pete’s salute. Groendyke was left speechless.


“Colonel Groendyke?” Dan asked. “Are you alright?”


“You. How did … How could … ?” Groendyke stammered. “How the hell did you pull this off, Curtis?”


“Colonel, I only did what I had to do at the time,” Dan answered.


“Bull shit! Answer me! Give me the truth!” Groendyke screamed, almost frothing at the mouth. “I order you to give me the truth!”


“Sir? He has been discharged. You can’t order him unless you also order his re-activation.” Pete interjected, holding a piece paper out to Groendyke. “And sir, as a Colonel, you have the authority to return him to active duty. He is not required to answer your questions, as a civilian.”


Groendyke turned to the desk, grabbed the paper, wrote in his name where needed, then signed it.


“Do you remember your oath ‘Captain’?” Groendyke asked.


“Yes, I do, Colonel,” Dan answered, biting his tongue.


“Then answer my question! How the hell did you manage to get a CMH for being an outlaw? A rogue soldier?” Groendyke asked, almost with civility.


“I’m sorry, Colonel, but my orders, from POTUS directly, prior to my being released to convalesce require that I not answer such questions. Pete? I believe there is more paperwork regarding my re-activation?”

Pete handed Groendyke the envelope with the Presidential seal on it.


Groendyke dropped the letter to the floor, turned and left the room. He continued to march straight out to his helicopter. He sat there fuming as the pilot rushed to get the helicopter started and airborne. They took off and Groendyke had not even put his own seatbelt on.


“I love pissing off that kind of officer.” Dan shared with Pete as he sat back down and took another swig from his flask.


“What kind of officer is that?” Pete asked, stepping around his desk to read the orders Groendyke dropped.


“The kind that believes going to the Air Force Academy or West Point or Annapolis makes them a superior person. They are still military officers. Their attendance in those schools may make them a superior officer in certain situations, such as politics. But it does not make them a superior person.”


“HELL!” Pete exclaimed. “No wonder he left without a word!”


“What’s that? A promotion?” Dan asked.


“Yeah. From Captain to General!” Pete laughed as he tossed a single star patch to Dan. “It even cites a 2011 promotion within the Air Force/Air National Guard from Captain to Major General as a precedence.”


Realizing what it meant, Pete jumped up, snapped to attention and saluted Dan, blushing brightly for the oversight.


Dan stood, returned the salute and sat back down. “Enough of that, Pete. I’m not ready for it.” Dan muttered. “And can we get Carrie in here? There is more to be done, now that Groendyke has re-activated me. I sure as hell don’t want what it means.”

[texican]

BS,

Thanks for the chapters....

Captain Dan is back...

No....

General Dan is back....

Texican....

[supermag]

I'm liking this one!

[accountant]

Bit,

it's great to see Dan back in action, although it was nice thinking of him as a ghost as well.

It will be interesting seeing him as a general now and how he deals with all the military brass kowtowing before him. Like Peter's uncle once said, "With great power comes great responsibility."

A.

[bitsmith]

Now What? – Chapter Six







“I thought you were retired?” Ruth asked, as Dan entered the cabin he built but did not live in.



“I thought I was, too.” Dan said as he entered the kitchen, opening the cupboard. “But the world moves on and I have been re-activated.”



“Where are you going?” She asked, as though she were his wife.

“Ruth, please. I'm just here to get a few of my things hidden away. I will be out of your home, shortly.” Dan said, with an exasperated sigh.



“I'm sorry, Dan.” Ruth said. “It's just that .. just that I … I owe you and I don't like being in debt to anyone.”



“Ha! You don't owe me anything, Ruth. You pay rent here, right?” Dan asked. “You have helped with the garden and the goats and chickens and ducks. You brought soup to me, when I was sick. No. You owe me nothing.”



“It's been a long time, Dan.” Ruth almost whined. “You got shot helping me, protecting me. You have given my children and I a home. YOUR home.”



“No, Ruth.” Dan said. “YOU have made it a home. I just provided a roof with a few walls to help you. I will be out of your way in just a few minutes.”



Dan finished clearing a shelf of vegetables sealed in clear glass jars. Once it was clear, he pushed a dark knot in the back panel of the pantry. A loud click and the pantry swung out, away from the wall to reveal a shallow cabinet full of firearms and ammunition. He emptied it, save a shotgun and a small handgun. And ammo for both, before closing the hidden closet.



“Talk with Pete. He will find someone to teach you how and when to use both of those. Don't let the kids know they are there, until you are ready to get trained. Center shelf, left side. Press hard on the dark knot in the wood until you feel the click.” Dan instructed. “Also, I'm going away for a while. I don't know how long. I'm not sure where I'm going. Maybe to the new capital, but not sure after that.”



“Please stay safe. We kind of like having you around.” Ruth said, wishing for more from him than the cold shoulder he had given her since his return from Mexico. “And the kids love you.”



“I know. I will do all I can to return.” Dan said before leaving with a duffle bag full of weapons back to the office trailer he had converted into a small and simple home for himself.



The late spring afternoon made for a comfortable time to clean and prep the weapons that had been in storage for so long. He regretted not telling Ruth about the other caches of weapons in and under the cabin he had built for himself and his now dead wives. As he considered how inquisitive kids could be, he made a mental note to share the details with Pete to have the items retrieved and put into storage for him.



Dan's weapon cleaning was interrupted by the sound of motorcycles coming up the road. He set a loaded .40 calibre pistol on the seat next to him, out of view of whoever his visitors might be.





Tony pulled in, on a large motorcycle, followed by Dave and a large truck with trailer. The trailer looked interesting to Dan as it was a camper with pop outs and a deck between it and the tongue of the trailer. The red Harley Dan had fought one of Dave's outlaw motorcyclists for was strapped down to that deck.



“You son of a bitch!” Dave yelled as he parked his bike.



Dan got up to meet his friend. Feigning a limp and pain. Meeting Dave near the firepit that was his kitchen, he gave his friend a manly hug and a smile.



“Dave, I'm sorry.” Dan admitted. “I just wanted to hide. I needed to heal. The nation needed to think I was gone so it could heal from all the damage that happened to it. Some of which I brought upon it.”



“Tony and the guys explained it to me, brother.” Dave said, laughing. “Sal and I worked up an arrangement for the truck and trailer. I understand Wilson is on his way with your old trailer and a different truck?”



“Yeah, they are.” Dan said.



“Good. Then two trucks. Two trailers. You can Tony's ride and a dirtbike on the deck of this one, with your bike. You CAN still ride, can't you?”



“I've not tried, Dave.” he answered, growing weary of his long time friend and the invasion of his solitude.

“Whats wrong, man?” Dave asked.



“Dave … remember when we would get in trouble in prison? That delay you had to wait through as the Warden decided what to do with you? You knew something bad was coming, but had no real words to describe it, because you did not know what it was?”



“Yeah. I remember those days.” Dave nodded. “Sometimes that was worse than the actual punishment.”



“Exactly. And now that the world knows I'm alive, again, I have that feeling hanging over me.”



“Captain, I mean 'General'” Tony interrupted, “You've had that hanging over you since before your were outed to the world by Dave.”



“Tony, I was outed by my own doing, not by Dave.” Dan admitted. “That is how I ended up with both the CMH and the rank of General being put upon my shoulders as a yoke. I think I need to get to the Capital. I believe I need to chat with POTNUS. Find out what is going on.”



“Really, Dan? General or not, I don't think you can just walk up to the new Capital and ask to see the President of the New United States.” Dave stated.

“Why not, Dave? He's been to my home more than once, this past year.” Dan replied.





“Just keep us on the road, Miller.” Wilson instructed. “I'm going to get on top of the trailer and see what I can do to get rid of these parasites.”



“Yes, sir.” Miller responded. “Be careful, sir.”



“Always, my man. Always.”



Wilson laid his seat back as far as it would go, disconnected his seat belt, then rolled over, so he could crawl to the back window of the SUV. Opening the back hath window, he was able to turn around and stand on the tongue of the trailer, reaching back inside to retrieve his weapon body armor and weapon. He had not liked practicing this move, the day before, but now he was glad that both he and Miller had. Before closing that back window, he pulled out an ammo can then climbed the ladder to the reinforced deck on the top of the trailer.


Laying flat on the trailer deck, Wilson saw the vehicles trying to get on either side of the trailer on the narrow road. He hung tightly as he felt and heard one of the vehicles in pursuit bump the trailer. With care he opened the ammo can, pulled out the two grenades in it. The can shaped one he managed to put in a pocket. The stick shaped one, he set and managed to toss into open back window of the old junker trying to ram the trailer off the road.

He felt no shame for nor remorse for the driver of that car, when the flash bang went off. In that tightly confined space, the loud noise, bright flash and subsequent smoke would be enough to probably deafen the driver as well as leave him disoriented for some time.

Watching the car peel off other other side of the two lane road, Wilson approached the rear of the trailer, taking careful aim with his rifle. A three round burst into the grill of the large Ram truck following them created a cloud of steam that affected the entire road. Other vehicles tried to pass the large, slowing, diesel truck, until Wilson popped a couple of rounds into their engine block, before they backed down. He watched for another minute or two, as they shrank into the distance, before returning to the cab of the truck.



“LT? Why were you shooting for the radiators instead of the drivers?” Miller asked, as Wilson took his seat, again.



“Simple. Larger targets. Center mass. Still effective. All I could see of drivers were heads. Much smaller moving targets. Much more difficult to hit a target so small moving at speed while on a vehicle moving at tactical speed.”



“Oh. That makes sense, LT.” Miller said, nodding.



“Good. Now watch for the on-ramp to the interstate. Should be on your left in about a mile. We need to get to Camp Freedom.”



“We don't have enough fuel to drive through the night, LT.” Miller stated, flatly.

“I know. I just hope we find one of Dave's networked SafeStops before then.”

“It would be nice to let them pull guard duty and get a decent night's sleep.” Miller admitted.



“Yes, it would be. But that may not happen until we are back in Oklahoma. How much fuel do we have?”

“Less than a quarter on the first tank. But the second tank is full.”



“OK. Between three and four hours.” Wilson agreed. “It will be dark, before then. How do you feel about driving by night?”



“I'm OK, with it.”

“Good. Then I'm going to relax and nap while you drive. Let me know if anyone shows up or you need a break.”



“Yes, sir, LT. I see the on ramp. Would you mind staying awake, until we get on the interstate?”



“Sure. If you can, fall in with those semi's. That will be more secure. I'm going to check in, with Camp Freedom, though.”

Wilson turned up the radio and shifted to the news frequency. Both men were surprised by the transmission they heard.

“Attention, please. Attention, please.


“This is Lieutenant Carrie Smith of the US Marine installation Camp Freedom on Broken Bow Lake in Oklahoma.


“It is my sincere pleasure to make this announcement to the world, this evening.


“Former Captain Daniel Curtis, Or Captain Dan as he is so popularly known is alive and well. By order of the President of the United States, the Captain has been in a non-shared location so he might heal and recover from his injuries received during his efforts to put an end to the U.S. – Mexican War.



...”

“Well, that will piss off the Captain, won't it?” Miller asked, surprised by the news.

“I'm not sure. He has probably been expecting it.” Wilson answered. Both men listened as Carrie Smith's voice continued with the rest of the news. He pulled out a small notebook computer, typed up a message, connected it to the radio and sent a transcribed and encrypted message to Camp Freedom.

He nodded off as the drone of the road made him more tired than he wanted to admit being. Miller kept his silence until he heard the familiar noise of a reply on the radio.

“LT? They are responding.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. OK. Thanks.” Wilson blubbered as he came to. “They want to know where we are.”



“We are on I-20. East bound. We just got on at Big Spring. Will be in Abilene with in two hours, I think.”



“OK. Great. I will let them know.” Wilson said. “Huh. It looks like Captain Townsend is asking.”



After a minute of radio silence, the reply came back. “Good news. We are to proceed to Dyess AFB, in Abilene. They will be expecting us. He says we can rest there, refuel the truck and ourselves. And start out in the morning. We need to listen for the pass phrase of the day, which he will send us, shortly.” Wilson acknowledged the change in orders.



A short time later, Miller woke him, again. “Sir? They are responding.”



“The challenge is 'Privates to Generals'. And the reply is 'They all answer to the dead Captain.' It seems that everyone knows the Captain is alive, again.”



Wilson replied and signed out, shutting down the little laptop computer, wondering, briefly as the power of the little machine that so many people had ignored. Leave it to Dan to find a way to recycle these little machines that so many found useless.

[texican]

BS,

Thanks for the chapter....

Now, just how interesting will it get?.?.?.?

Texican....

[bitsmith]

Chapter 6



‘Now what?’, Dan thinks to himself. ‘Before I knew who and what I was. Now, I’m even worse. I’ve killed, again. And occasionally I liked it. I took joy in the doing of it. And what did it cost? The girls? My father, even? There is no justice for what I have done. I can not die often enough to make amends for what I have done. Armstrong and Rios say I won the war, almost singlehandedly. If that is the case, then I also killed everyone who died on both sides. ‘

“I’ve got to stop this thinking shit.” Dan muttered to himself.

“Sir?” a young marine asked.

“Sorry, son. Just thinking to myself.” Dan answered. “By the way, have we met, before? You look familiar.”

“Sort of, sir.” The Marine answered. “You changed my life, General. I was in Cape Girardeau when you came through. I was in the crowd when … When she fell, sir.”

“And how did that change your life, Marine?”

“I understood both honor and purpose, sir.”

“How so?”

“You killed the man who killed her. That was honor. And then, rather than mourning, you drove on. You carried on with the mission, sir. You had purpose. Up to that point, sir, I had neither. Her sacrifice. Your pain and loss. I learned much about what it means to be a man, sir. A real man. One with a spine. A purpose and honor.”

Dan just nodded as he listened to the young man. Lost in thought, again, until the door opened and a matronly woman stepped out. “General? … General! He is ready for you, now.”

Dan snapped out of his reverie to stand and walk to the office entrance. Stopping, he looked the young man in the eye. “Marine. It is a good title. A good name. A good family of honor and purpose. Wear it well. Earn it. Never think you deserve the title. Stay humble and be a good Marine. Not because I asked you to. But to honor her. She was a Marine.”

“I know, sir. That is why I joined the Marines. They were down a man, so stepped in. I will never fill her boots, sir. But I am here, to continue her service.”

Again, Dan nodded and moved to enter the office.

Walking past the ‘gatekeeper’s desk’ Dan marched into the office of the President of the New United State.

“Luis, what is going on? Why do I feel like I’m being eaten alive by fire ants? Why are the short hairs on my neck standing out?” Dan barked.

“General!” came a bark from behind the door.

“Relax, Armstrong.” POTNUS answered, smiling at the abruptness. He knew there was no disrespect in Dan’s demeanor. They had shared far too many shots of Kentucky White Whiskey. “He is no politician. What was you called him? A bulldog? He does not let go, until the task is done? Well, it makes sense he gets to the task, just as abruptly.”

Dan surveyed the room. As a one start General, he was still the lowest ranking person in the room. Air Force, Navy, Marines and Army were all represented. And two men in suits. Eyeing them, critically, Dan sized them up. One just shrank away the other stood his ground under Dan’s stare.

“Spook?” Dan asked, directly.

“No, Captai … I mean General. I’m not with the CIA. I’m with NASA.” The man said, smiling, stepping forward and offering a hand. “I’m Richard Nicholas. Pretty much the head of NASA. This is Robert Murphy. One of our scientists. He has pretty much kept the satellites from falling on us, or dropping them into safe ocean shallows to help with retrieval.”

Dan nodded, turning to Armstrong. “Armstrong. I bet you wished I was still dead.”

“I do. But not for the reasons you may think.” Armstrong said, with a smile and an open hand. “This is Admiral Nakashima of the Navy. Brigadier General Hanson of the Marine Corps. And Major General Halstead. And we are all here to help you. If you need anything, you just ask. We are all dedicated to helping you achieve success on this mission.”

“What mission? I have accepted no mission.” Dan questioned.

“The one that has your nerves up, Dan.” Rios answered.

“Then how about some details, Mr. President?” Dan asked as politely as he could, given how his nerves were shot and the pain of his losses an failures was made fresh again, by well intended Marine.

“For the details, we need to go to the Situation Room. And we will get there, soon enough.” Rios stated.

“Captain, er, uhm. Apologies, General. I’m still accustomed to the title Captain from the radio serials.” Halstead stated. “The mission itself is simple. Locate and recover the EMP device that was lost a couple of years ago. We THINK we know roughly where to find it, but we are uncertain. That is where you come in.”

“The EMP is still out there? What happened to it?”

“We got news of the situation and managed to shoot down the plane. We did not have anything that would actually reach it, specific for surface to air combat.” Halstead stopped.

“So we fired a Tomahawk at it. Put in GPS coordinates to get it close, then remote detonated, in the air.” Hanson interrupted. “We believe that the explosion was enough to either cripple or kill the pilot and the plane crashed. Given all that was going on, at the time, we did not immediately search for the plane or wreckage. When we did go looking for it, there was no device.”

“So … we have a shot down plane, with no device. Was there a body in the plane, when it was located?” Dan asked.

The other Generals looked at each other, obviously caught off guard with the question.

“So, working worst case scenario … we have an EMP device, lose and in the wild in who only knows who’s hands and for what purpose. We also do not know what happened to the pilot, who may or may not be alive and able to help the device holders with repairs, activation or use. Does that pretty much wrap it up, Generals? Admiral?” Dan asked, testily.

Halstead nodded.

“And you want me to find it, based upon a two plus year old cold trail?” Dan asked.

“Yes, Dan.” Rios stated from behind the Resolute desk. “I need you to find it. WE need you to find it.”

“Aww, shit!” Dan muttered. “I was trying to retire from this shit!”

[texican]

BS,

Dan's back in it again....

Thanks for the chapter....

Texican....

[arkansascob]

Sounds like this one is going to be good.


COB

[bitsmith]

Chapter 6



‘Now what?’, Dan thinks to himself. ‘Before I knew who and what I was. Now, I’m even worse. I’ve killed, again. And occasionally I liked it. I took joy in the doing of it. And what did it cost? The girls? My father, even? There is no justice for what I have done. I can not die often enough to make amends for what I have done. Armstrong and Rios say I won the war, almost singlehandedly. If that is the case, then I also killed everyone who died on both sides. ‘

“I’ve got to stop this thinking shit.” Dan muttered to himself.

“Sir?” a young marine asked.

“Sorry, son. Just thinking to myself.” Dan answered. “By the way, have we met, before? You look familiar.”

“Sort of, sir.” The Marine answered. “You changed my life, General. I was in Cape Girardeau when you came through. I was in the crowd when … When she fell, sir.”

“And how did that change your life, Marine?”

“I understood both honor and purpose, sir.”

“How so?”

“You killed the man who killed her. That was honor. And then, rather than mourning, you drove on. You carried on with the mission, sir. You had purpose. Up to that point, sir, I had neither. Her sacrifice. Your pain and loss. I learned much about what it means to be a man, sir. A real man. One with a spine. A purpose and honor.”

Dan just nodded as he listened to the young man. Lost in thought, again, until the door opened and a matronly woman stepped out. “General? … General! He is ready for you, now.”

Dan snapped out of his reverie to stand and walk to the office entrance. Stopping, he looked the young man in the eye. “Marine. It is a good title. A good name. A good family of honor and purpose. Wear it well. Earn it. Never think you deserve the title. Stay humble and be a good Marine. Not because I asked you to. But to honor her. She was a Marine.”

“I know, sir. That is why I joined the Marines. They were down a man, so stepped in. I will never fill her boots, sir. But I am here, to continue her service.”

Again, Dan nodded and moved to enter the office.

Walking past the ‘gatekeeper’s desk’ Dan marched into the office of the President of the New United State.

“Luis, what is going on? Why do I feel like I’m being eaten alive by fire ants? Why are the short hairs on my neck standing out?” Dan barked.

“General!” came a bark from behind the door.

“Relax, Armstrong.” POTNUS answered, smiling at the abruptness. He knew there was no disrespect in Dan’s demeanor. They had shared far too many shots of Kentucky White Whiskey. “He is no politician. What was you called him? A bulldog? He does not let go, until the task is done? Well, it makes sense he gets to the task, just as abruptly.”

Dan surveyed the room. As a one start General, he was still the lowest ranking person in the room. Air Force, Navy, Marines and Army were all represented. And two men in suits. Eyeing them, critically, Dan sized them up. One just shrank away the other stood his ground under Dan’s stare.

“Spook?” Dan asked, directly.

“No, Captai … I mean General. I’m not with the CIA. I’m with NASA.” The man said, smiling, stepping forward and offering a hand. “I’m Richard Nicholas. Pretty much the head of NASA. This is Robert Murphy. One of our scientists. He has pretty much kept the satellites from falling on us, or dropping them into safe ocean shallows to help with retrieval.”

Dan nodded, turning to Armstrong. “Armstrong. I bet you wished I was still dead.”

“I do. But not for the reasons you may think.” Armstrong said, with a smile and an open hand. “This is Admiral Nakashima of the Navy. Brigadier General Hanson of the Marine Corps. And Major General Halstead. And we are all here to help you. If you need anything, you just ask. We are all dedicated to helping you achieve success on this mission.”

“What mission? I have accepted no mission.” Dan questioned.

“The one that has your nerves up, Dan.” Rios answered.

“Then how about some details, Mr. President?” Dan asked as politely as he could, given how his nerves were shot and the pain of his losses an failures was made fresh again, by well intended Marine.

“For the details, we need to go to the Situation Room. And we will get there, soon enough.” Rios stated.

“Captain, er, uhm. Apologies, General. I’m still accustomed to the title Captain from the radio serials.” Halstead stated. “The mission itself is simple. Locate and recover the EMP device that was lost a couple of years ago. We THINK we know roughly where to find it, but we are uncertain. That is where you come in.”

“The EMP is still out there? What happened to it?”

“We got news of the situation and managed to shoot down the plane. We did not have anything that would actually reach it, specific for surface to air combat.” Halstead stopped.

“So we fired a Tomahawk at it. Put in GPS coordinates to get it close, then remote detonated, in the air.” Hanson interrupted. “We believe that the explosion was enough to either cripple or kill the pilot and the plane crashed. Given all that was going on, at the time, we did not immediately search for the plane or wreckage. When we did go looking for it, there was no device.”

“So … we have a shot down plane, with no device. Was there a body in the plane, when it was located?” Dan asked.

The other Generals looked at each other, obviously caught off guard with the question.

“So, working worst case scenario … we have an EMP device, lose and in the wild in who only knows who’s hands and for what purpose. We also do not know what happened to the pilot, who may or may not be alive and able to help the device holders with repairs, activation or use. Does that pretty much wrap it up, Generals? Admiral?” Dan asked, testily.

Halstead nodded.

“And you want me to find it, based upon a two plus year old cold trail?” Dan asked.

“Yes, Dan.” Rios stated from behind the Resolute desk. “I need you to find it. WE need you to find it.”

“Aww, shit!” Dan muttered. “I was trying to retire from this crap!”

“GENERAL!” Armstrong barked at Dan’s choice of words.

“Blow it our your ear, Armstrong.” Dan answered to a wide grinning Luis Rios. “I’ve heard you use worse words than that, around the man. And he IS just a man, like the rest of us.”

“General, I believe he was correcting your behavior because of the room we are in.”

“Admiral … We are in a hotel. This is one of the hotel offices. The other side of the hall are large meeting rooms. This is NOT the Oval Office of the White House. Do you really think this office has never been repurposed to other uses? Perhaps late at night, by hotel staff looking to hide from security cameras? If not, then you never worked hospitality for minimum wage.” Dan argued back. “And for Odin’s sake, if you are going to have a marine on the door, at least give the man live ammunition for his side arm!”



“He’s adequately armed, for the post.” Hanson, the Marine Corps General.

“Who is he protecting, then, General? You or Luis?” Dan snapped back.

Turning to face POTNUS, Dan locked eyes with him. “I’m sorry Mr. President, but I can not accept this mission. The trail is too old, too cold and quite frankly, sir, I do not believe it will be possible successfully recover the device.”

“Captain? I mean General. Sir. I believe I can track the EMP. Or at least it’s power signature.” NASA scientist Robert Murphy spoke up, before shrinking back into his shell, again, as all eyes turned to him.

“Dan, at least listen to Murphy.” Armstrong suggested, almost politely.

“Murphy? Tell me what you have.”

“We know it was a nuclear device.” Murphy stated, looking nervously to each of the high ranking men in the room. “I, uhm. Uh. I … I can, I mean we uhm. We ..”

Dan approached Murphy, slipping between him and the not as supportive NASA supervisor. Leaning in closely, Dan turned Murphy to look away from the others. Whispering gently in the man’s ear. “Are you alright?’

“I get nervous around people, sometimes, sir.” He whispers back, shaking under Dan’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t let them bother you, Murphy. They are just men. The only man you have any need to keep happy is my friend Luis. And maybe your boss from NASA.” Dan whispered.

“uhm, uh. They are not why I’m nervous, sir.”

Dan immediately jumped away from the man, very suddenly concerned, reaching for his sidearm, which was not on his hip, he started making sure he was between the small man and the rest of the room.

“Then who, Murphy? Who is intimidating you?” Dan asked, visibly on full alert, ready to take action. Prepared to kill, if necessarily.

Murphy looked Dan in the eye, with his left hand sliding into a breast pocket of his suit jacket, Dan shoved Nicholas away, as he turned, starting to sprint for Luis. Armstrong charged across his path, recognizing the situation. Throwing himself across the other two Generals and the Admiral they all fell onto a couch that tipped over backwards. Another step and Dan was sliding across the desk, grabbing the front edge, as he went by, pulling it up, as he used his legs to grab Luis, knocking him down. As Dan grabbed Luis a blinding light and thundering noise rocked the room.

[crice118]

Outstanding

[texican]

Jun 10, 2018 13:04:11 GMT -6 crice118 said:

Outstanding

^^^^Likewise^^^^

Texican....

[bitsmith]

Chapter 7
Dan could not hear anything but an all-consuming, ringing buzz in his ears. His eyesight was a white field with changing shapes of slightly less white as something moved about him. The shapes were moving towards him. Feeling behind and under him, he lifted Luis by his shirt, moving him back away. Together they both stood, stumbling back. Dan kept himself between the moving shapes and POTNUS. Once against the wall, Dan continued to try to clear his head. The shapes were slowly coming into more definition and there was a mumble in the ringing of his ears. Suddenly, Dan felt something hit his chest ... just before lightning went loose inside his body. The last thought Dan had was about his heart bursting from the stress …

-----

“I’m sure he will be pleased that the young marine was sufficiently armed, sir,” Armstrong said, quietly and with sarcasm.

“How are the others?” Luis asked.

“They are fine, sir. A bit banged up, like us all. Nicholas is gone. He was too close and Dan shoved him against the wall. He had nowhere to go. The chair that Murphy tripped over is what killed him. And probably what got Dan, too.” Armstrong commented. “Everywhere he goes, shit follows.”

“And he saved my life. Armstrong, never forget that he put his life at risk, again. He recognized the threat and acted.”

“I wish there was a way to bottle his intuition. Or at least teach it.”

“I’m sure he learned it from some very harsh lessons,” Luis said. “Let’s go. We are probably keeping him from sleeping.”

As the men left the room, Luis stopped, looking back. Just as the door closed, he noticed the heart monitor drop a couple of beats slower.

“Doctor?” he asked. “Is he still unconscious?”

“Yes, sir. The sedative we gave him for the pain will keep him down, probably overnight, sir.”

“I see,” Luis said as he turned to Armstrong and started walking away.

“What’s wrong, sir?”

“I’m not sure he was asleep,” Luis said, with a grin.

“What do you mean?” Armstrong asked as he started trying to understand the meaning.

“I think he’s awake, already,” Luis said. “Or maybe just half awake. As we closed the door, I saw his heart monitor slide down a couple of beats.”

“Hahaha. Sir, as high strung as he is, his body probably just relaxed a little bit, recognizing the room was empty.” Armstrong said. “But I will have someone brought in to be there when he wakes up.”

“Good. He should not be alone when he wakes up.” Luis said. “He’s been through a lot for this country. Have you read his official jacket?”

“No, sir, I have not. I would be more interested in reading the black jackets the CIA and NSA had on him. Probably better than a Bond movie.”

-----


“Sir!” A uniformed woman announced herself as POTNUS and a handful of street clothed men advanced up the hall.

“Hello, Abigail.” POTNUS acknowledged her. “What did you find out about Mr. Murphy?”

“Not as much as we had hoped, sir. He was a long time employee of NASA. No wife. No family. Not close to anyone. As far as we can tell, sir, the bomb was very simple. A high phosphate laundry detergent, high octane gasoline and a model rocket ignitor.”

“That sounds like something General Curtis would mix up in the field,” POTNUS commented.

“Yes, sir. Directly out of the Anarchists’ Cookbook.” The uniformed Abigail answered. “What is most interesting, sir is what we found in his briefcase. It survived, not well, but it did survive the blast.”

She handed him a sheaf of papers. He raised his hand to signal a stop for his security escort. Reading the papers he turned to her, asking “Really?”

“Yes, sir. Murphy was not after you, sir. He was after the General.”

POTNUS turned to the leader of his security team, “Get guards on the General, over in the hospital, right this second. I don’t care if you must go yourself, but you put guards on that man, right now. I want them there before we return to his side. Let’s go.”

As one, they turned back the way they had come.

“Abigail, please come along.” POTNUS asked.

“In my official capacity, sir? Or as your daughter?” She asked.

“Whichever you are most comfortable in, Abby.” He replied. “But I’m leaving, now.”

“Yes, sir.” She said as she hustled to catch up. Neither said anything more until they were in the car and had a bit of privacy.

“Dad? What is he like, really?” she asked.

“You feel you are going to meet a big-time hero?” he asked.

“Yes. Of course. He has done so much for us all.” She said. “He is a hero. You said it, yourself, a national treasure and hero.”

“Close your eyes and tell me what he looks like. How do you imagine him.”

“Tall. 6 foot. Maybe 6 foot 2. Broad shoulders. Lean but muscled. Short hair, very close but longer that General Armstrong’s. Rough hands from all he has done.”

“Well, let me help you down from that cloud you are on. He’s at least 50 years old. Bald and more salt than pepper. Eyes that are happy and blue, one moment. And a piercing, driller grey the next. He let’s his eyebrows grow so the outer ends of them have wild long hairs. Almost white moustache and goatee. Maybe 5 foot 9. And small. Probably less than 150 pounds. Not muscled, but sinewed, looks gaunt, almost like undernourished. He moves fast, very fast, especially for an ‘old man’. Has a limp form the building falling on him, in Mexico. Can drink most men under the table and still shoot straight. Has a love for the IDEA of this country like none I have ever seen. Has skills for survival not just as a solo soldier behind enemy lines but for entire communities after a world-changing event. In fact, Abby, I when he is no longer able to do the crazy crap we ask of him, I want him to start developing education and support for people to be more self sustaining. We lost far too many people that first year. Losses that did not need to happen. I told him I wanted him to do that for us, once, about 6 shots into a bottle of his homemade moonshine. He laughed and went inside his trailer. He came out with a book and just threw it at me.

“ ‘Luis, man to man, and when you are on my land, my home, you are just a man, like any other. POTNUS or not.” He starts telling me. “That book, written by Rawles, is really all you need, in the way of education.’ I read it, over the next few days, when I could. It was pretty much just a list of lists. But how it was put together. Each list is a sublist to a higher list. It all made sense. We talked about it for months, after on the radio, but mostly via e-mail. He added stuff he had in other files for me. I really do need to create a department of some kind to help people understand being self-sufficient.”

“A Department, Dad? She asked, “Like the State Department? Calling it what? The Department of Self Reliance? Maybe the Department of Crazy?”

“Maybe the Department of Sustainability?” POTNUS said. “We went far abroad from what a Government is supposed to do. I mean, how is it in the People’s best interest to have decades of oil reserves and then buy it from foreign nations. Being dependent upon them? And all the while, stifling new technologies that would break that dependence. No. The Consitution states the Federal Government is responsible for the General Welfare of the People. How can we do that, while being held hostage to the prices and demands of other nations?”

“So, you are going to take us back to an isolationist footing, Dad?”

“No. But we also are not going to be as freewheeling as we were, with giving money away, either, Abby. “ He said. “We will be good neighbors in the international community. But we will no longer be the country that gives everything away to others in need. I like how Dan suggested it, once: ‘We should put any foreign aide into boots on the ground. Small military support forces for security attached to non-profit organizations actually on the ground. Distributing food to those who need it, rather than giving it to warlords who sell it for weapons.’ He went on, later, to suggest that the Peace Corps was the right idea. Doing WITH people, rather than FOR them. Encourage them to find their own answers. Help them with those answers becoming reality. He also stated we needed to make it abundantly clear, again with military force in an overwhelming manner anyone of our volunteers is hurt through violence by an oppositional government or warlord and they have declared war on the US. We could only do such, morally, if we are truly there for humanitarian purposes. Not there to help some multi-national business interest.”

“I don’t know which is worse, Dad. You are setting policy based upon a hero or a lunatic.” She said.

“Spend a day or two as his guest, in a tiny one-room cabin overlooking a beautiful lake and just talk with the man. He has a wisdom and a logic that is surprisingly deep for such a hardened killer.” POTNUS said, with a bit of loss in his voice.

“Maybe it is because of his losses and his experiences that he has that wisdom. Or maybe it is because he shared his opinion and let it go. He would and DID debate a few points that I was against. Some I will never do. Others, I’m considering.”

“Or maybe YOU are idolizing the hero and want to please him?” Abby asked.

“You always have been good at playing Devil’s Advocate.” He said, smiling. “Just like your mother.”

“Would she have liked him?” Abigail asked, quietly.

“Not at first. But I think he would have grown on her. And he would have been welcome in her house.” He said.

“So long as he took his dirty boots off at the door.” She said as they both smiled. “Okay, Dad. I will take him down from the Hero Tower. I will not be disappointed that he is no movie star. And I will be respectful to him. If you think Mom would
have liked him, then I will give him a chance.”

“Yes, I think she would have.” Luis agreed. “But he does not know that she died when he was leaving that hotel. He does not know that she was one of his nurses. And it needs to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Dad. State Secret. Mom died during his rescue.”

“Now that I know the man, Abby, I am certain it was not him or any of his unit that hurt her. She would not have been hurting him. So he would have had no reason to harm her.”

“OK, Dad.” She answered. “Can we change the subject, please?”

“No need. We are at the hospital.”

[bitsmith]

Chapter eight

“Oh, shit!” LT Wilson bemoaned, as he left the base commander’s office.

“I know that look, LT,” Miller said as he fell in beside Wilson. “What has the Captain done, now, sir?”

“He’s done got himself blown up, saving POTNUS. We are to catch up with the rest of the team in St. Louis. Dan is in the hospital, evidently, he got hurt.”

“Dammit! Doesn’t he know that is OUR job?” Miller asked with a joke.

“Oh, and he’s no longer ‘Captain Dan’,” Wilson stated. “From what I learned, there was some kind of pissing match between him and Groendyke. Groendyke, as a Colonel had the authority to reactivate Dan. Upon doing so, Pete opened sealed orders that POTNUS had given him. And on the spot, informed Dan AND Groendyke that Dan was being promoted to Brigadier General.”

“That had to piss off the fly-boy Colonel.”

“Careful how loudly you say that, Oatmeal. We ARE on an airbase, after all.”

“Yes, sir.” Miller smiled, remembering how he got that name. “But, really, sir? A one-star General?”

“Yeap. Evidently, the orders even included a precedent of an Air Force Major being bumped up to a two star General.”

“THAT must have been for the benefit of Groendyke,” Miller said with an ornery grin.

“Must have been.” Wilson, agreed, with an equal retribution based grin. “Groendyke did not like it that he was busted for keeping up his flight hours but would not send a medivac for an injured woman.”

“And he did threaten let people know that Dan was still alive and where to find him,” Miller recalled.

“Yeah, I remember. I wonder which stopped him? The direct order from POTNUS or the threat from Dan, while he was still oozing infection puss through stitches and using a crutch.”

“Alright. So, we need to get to St. Louis. That’s easy. We were already going to OKC. It’s a straight shot up I-44 from there.” Miller said. “And there is that one Safe Stop, near Rolla, I think, that the Amish sell their stuff. I hope we need gas when we are near it. Father Alexandre’s sister makes us the very best lunches. Especially when she knows we are coming through. I wonder how they are getting along. It has been more than a year since we saw them, last.”

“OK, OK. IF we can spare the time, we will stop in AT THE SAFE STOP and ask about them.” Wilson agreed. ‘Dan would kill me if he knew I agreed to be late just for a free lunch.’

“Do you think she will have any of those turnover fruit pies? If so, we should get a couple for the Captain. I mean the General. He would forgive us for being late if we brought him a couple of her pies.”

Wilson smiled, remembering how Dan tried to dance a gig after a bite of one of her pies. In her living room, no less. The Amish were great people and Dan loved them, dearly. Even though they don’t dance, they held no disappointment with Dan for sharing his pleasure on the pie.


“Do you have enough men here to protect him?” Luis asked the leader of his Secret Service team.

“Sir, the General has more protection on him than you do, sir.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” POTNUS agreed. “I want him to die a tired old man telling stories that people have heard before. He dies too soon, and the people will collapse. He is like Washington, right now. Or maybe Thomas Paine. And he is needed as such.”

“We will protect him, sir.” The agent assured him.

“Can you vouch for these men? To a man, I want to know that each will protect him.”

“Sir, I can assure you … “

“GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!” came the yell from Dan’s room.

“Sir, I believe he is awake, now.” The Agent said, with a touch of glib.

“One of him is enough, thankyouverymuch.” Abigail stated to the agent as a bed pan came flying out the open door to bounce off a post at the nurse’s station. “Dad? Are you sure he’s the right person?”

“GENERAL!” Luis shouted through the door, before taking cover along the wall.

“Luis? Is that you?” Dan asked. “Get in here, man. Where are my wives? Janie? Jen? Ari? Izzy? Tell me they aren’t hurt. I swear I will kill any one who hurt them.”

“Dan? Relax, Okay? Can I come in or are you still throwing stuff out the door?”

“Yeah, Luis, just bring my wives in with you?”

“Dan, I can’t do that. And you know it, already. You know why I can’t. They are gone, my friend.” Luis said loudly. “Put that damned thing away! He’s not trying to hurt anyone! He took a hell of a blow to the head, has a serious concussion and probably is suffering from some form of amnesia.”

“Sir, he is violent and threatening people.” The agent countered.

“Mike, imagine you just woke up, probably from dreams of time with the four most important people in your life, only to remember they have all been dead at least two years, now.” Abigail said, kindly. “Which would you want to do? Go back to them, dead, if necessary? Or get out of that bed and do what other people need of you?”

“What the hell?” Luis asked as he spotted four men in street clothes marching down the hall. Then a muttered ‘OH, shit,’ as he recognized Tony and Jones.
“Hey! Captain!” Tony shouted, filling the doorway. “Is this the way a Bastard does penance? Or are you just lazy and on your ass, again?”

“Tony!” Dan cried. “Tony! Izzy is gone, man! They are all gone! I can’t get to them, anymore.”

Tony motioned the others to stay as he entered the room and closed the door. Those with him took up guard posts at the door. Turning away even medical staff. The low conversation could be heard through the glass, but not understood. Shadows could be seen moving about in the room, but there was no apparent struggle. More than an hour after he went in, Tony came out, with red and swollen eyes.

“Sir? The General is now receiving guests.” Tony said as he looked Luis in the eye. With a hand, he restrained the Secret Service Agent. “Mister, I strongly suggest you wait out here with us.”

“We are good, Mike. And with the door open you will hear if we need you.” Luis said, putting both men at ease.

Luis entered the room. Tony closed the door. Jones and the other two locked eyes with the Secret Service man. “He said he will be fine, mister. I strongly suggest you and the lady will be far more comfortable in those chairs.” Jones stated with an emptiness that carried the sincerity of a threat that was neither hollow nor uncertain. Elliot and Pemberton did not move. Tony only watched as the agent ran the math. He knew, instinctively, that every one of these men was dedicated to their charge and there was no way they were going to stand down. And they each carried an ability about them that was palpable. Danger hung about them like a cloud. Yet, so did respect and honor. Mike, the agent decided that he would not stand a chance against 4 of them, and doubted he could take one, alone. And Ms. Abigail was present, as well.

Once Abby and the agent sat, all four men relaxed. It was not just visible, it was like the very air was an allied force for them. The atmosphere lightened its weight on him. Elliot offered to chase down beverages and included the Agent and Abby in his offer. The Agent declined, though Abby did accept the generosity. He wanted to tell her she should not, as he was uncertain if these men could be trusted.

“I know what you are thinking,” Pemberton stated. “You want to tell her she should not drink whatever Elliot returns with. And under normal circumstances, you would be correct. And with normal men, that threat would be worth sharing with her. You do not know us. So, allow me to introduce you. We are a part of Baker’s Bastards. I’m Pemberton, Medic. The guy who just left is Elliot. This is HotShot, aka Jones. The big guy is probably the Captain’s closest friend. Close enough, that while his leg was healing, Dan road on the back of his own bike while Tony drove it for him. It takes a lot, A LOT of trust for a control freak like the Captain to ride shotgun or worse, bitch on his own motorcycle. Tony, Jones and I were there every time someone was taken from him, since The Crash. We have had drinks with Mr. Rios on his secret getaways to Broken Bow Lake. We are the closest he has to family.”

“We are also his most valued weapon,” Jones stated.

“Weapons,” Abby stated. “If you are going to try to intimidate us, at least speak correctly.”

“I did, ma’am,” Jones stated. “I did speak correctly. As individuals, we would be considered dangerous. As a unit, ma’am, we are his Bastard Sword. There is no weapon in the world like us. And with us in his hand, there is no stopping us. Mr. Rios knows this. And that is why they called Dan in to find the missing item and to stop whoever may have it.“

“What missing item?” she asked, suddenly very interested.

“Honestly, ma’am, we don’t know. The Captain went a bit sidewise on us before we could find out. It seems that he had to save your pa before he made sure of his own safety,” Elliot added as he came back carrying a tray with several cold soda bottles on it. Offering the first choice to the lady and agent, he then offered drinks to the two in the nurse's station. Returning, Pemberton and Jones each chose one without looking. “Come ON, Tony! You have got to be kidding me! That was over a year ago. And each of these is still sealed. I’ve NOT messed with them, in any way. Take whichever one you want, man. I swear, I’ve not done anything to them.”

Pemberton and Jones both grinned at the inside joke, before popping a top and taking a drink. Abby looked and saw the nurses had already been enjoying theirs during this spectacle. She popped her, too and took a sip. Agent Mike just set his on the floor, unopened.

Just as Tony was reaching for one, the door opened and Dan came out, before the President. “Oh, Thanks, Elliot! I could use a little sugar rush, right about now.” Taking one, he opened it, sipped it and handed it to Tony. Then grabbing the remaining one, he did the same, handing it to Luis. “Here, you probably need this more than I do, boss.”

“Boss? So we are taking the mission, Sir?” Pemberton asked.

“Mission? Yeap! We are taking the mission, “ Dan said. Reaching over, blindly, he snagged Agent Mike’s mirrored sunglasses and put them on. “There's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark out, and we're wearing sunglasses.”

Stopping in the middle of the hall, his ass hanging out of this hospital gown, Dan turned about, rather suddenly. “Seriously, anybody got a cigarette? I could use a cigarette.”

Abby looked at him, confused.
Agent Mike was pissed that his favorite sun glasses were now on the face of an apparent lunatic.
Luis was simply uncertain.

Tony, Pemberton, Elliot, and Jones were smiling ear to ear.

[bitsmith]

Chapter Nine

Outside Elliot was pulling up the new truck and trailer behind the POTNUS motorcade.
Dan was still being quite goofy, Introducing himself to both Abby and Agent Mike. Surprisingly, he even gave the Agent a hug, called him brother and was going on and on about owing his a debt. And it got worse, down to the point of removing the hospital gown, wearing nothing but a tape bandage on his head, his privates and hospital issue flipflops. That is when Agent Mike noticed his sunglasses were missing. Dan did not have them on him. Anywhere. As other agents approached Agent Mike had had enough. Picking up the gown, he tried to wrap it around Dan, while also demanding the return of his sunglasses.
He was quite frustrated when he pointed out that the sunglasses were already on his face.
That is when Dan kissed him.
And the Agent ended face-down upon the ground, with his own pistol at the back of his head. “Agent, you allowed yourself to be distracted. You have POTNUS and his DAUGHTER as your charges. And you allowed yourself to be distracted. If you ever endanger the life of my friend or his daughter, I will, personally, eradicate you from this earth. If either of them come to harm, before you, I will harm you. Now, get up and be the Agent you are supposed to be.” Dan said, putting the weapon just out of reach of the agent on the ground, in front of him, before standing and taking his weight off the man’s upper spine.
Now Luis was smiling. “You just HAD to go all Murdock on my protection detail, General? You threw me off with that quote from the Blues Brothers movie.” now that he understood what was going on. “OJT might be fine for some situations, Dan, but here, now, like this? Your own antics put me at risk.”
Tony let out a short two-tone whistle. Six men who had been watching like everyone else transformed into being an armed ring. Another whistle and those six traded places with another six who never saw what happening behind them. They were watching outward for any threats.
“Mr. President, please advise the rest of your detail that we are friendly before they get hurt,” Tony stated, simply and with a smile.
Abby muttered ‘Smug bastards’ as Luis was waiving the rest of the detail down.
“And yes, Ms. Abigail. Bastards are correct. But they are not smug. They are proud. And there is not one of them whom I would not lay my life down for if my death was what it would take to keep them alive.”
“You are the hand, sir, we are the sword.” One of the men said, without looking back from his post.
“Tony! Clear ‘em out. We have work to do.” Dan shouted raising hand spinning it in a circle. “Mr. President, time for you and yours to go, sir. Agent Mike, take good care of them. If your team fails that. You fail that. And can trust me, I will deliver those consequences.”
Mike looked Dan in the eye for just a half second. That is when he realized Dan was not a crazy lunatic. He was sincere and probably the most lethal man he had ever met. And now he was on Dan’s shit list. He gave Dan a singular nod, then started corraling the President and the First Daughter into the waiting car.


“Well, Mike? Now, what do you think? Still, believe him to be a raving lunatic?” Luis asked once in the car.
“Sir, I would not trust him with my life. But oddly enough I do and will trust him with yours and your daughter’s lives.” Agent Mike stated. “He is unorthodox, unpredictable, hard-headed, lethal at any distance and quite scary, even to myself, sir. I believe, however, I will rotate a few off of your detail, sir. Replacing them with others who are, hopefully, more flexible of mind. And sir, with your permission, I would like to speak with my superiors about changing up our training protocols.”
“If changing them out will prolong your life, and therefore that of my daughter, you rotate out anyone you need,” Luis said, fully understanding the man. “I would like for him to train your trainers. But I have not convinced him to do that, yet. I believe in a day or two, he could change up your entire organization to a previously unknown level of elite and effective.”

“I can only imagine what a platoon of him could do,” Mike muttered as he checked his comms, only to find it missing. “How the? Where the? That son of a … Excuse me, sir. But it seems that he managed to put my own sunglasses BACK on my head while also stealing my comms gear. Without my realizing it. I need to report this and get everyone onto alternate frequencies and encryption.”
“It’s OK, Mike. Relax. If Dan has that, I’m not worried. Additionally, he can be a bit of a prankster. You will find, as you get to know him that his pranks usually have a purpose.” Luis said. Turning to his daughter who was lost in thought, “Honey, hand me that pad, please?”
Luis was reaching in his jacket pocket for a pen when he realized there was more in his pocket than just his pen. It was Agent Mike’s radio gear.
“Mike, I think this is yours,” Luis said as he straight-faced handed it over.
“Sir? How the hell did he do THAT? He did not get within 3 feet of you once we were outside.”
Luis just shrugged, then tapped his daughter on the shoulder. “Abby? Are you alright?”
“Dad, that man is insane. Absolutely insane. He was in an inconsolable mess in that room.” She stated. “At the very least he is bi-polar. At the worst … I don’t want to imagine.”
“Be thankful he is on OUR side. May I have that pad, please?” he said with a knowing smile.


“Murdock, Cap?” Jones asked. “Really, sir?”
“Hey. It worked.” Dan said. “So, if I was Murdock?”
“Then Tony had to be B.A,” Jones said. “Elliot is Face. But who was Hannibal?”
Elliot jumped in, “All I know is that we need to get Tony here, some chains and some bling!”
“You all are a bunch of fools. The Captain was Hannibal, acting like Murdock.” Tony added. “So, Jones, as Murdock tell us how he did, you foo’.”
The four of them laughed, heartily until Dan asked. “By the way, who’s got my clothes?”
Tony, slammed his palm on the steering wheel of the truck. “Dammit, Pemberton! I told him we were forgetting something. I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault. We were so worried about you … And I just forget to let Pemberton remind me about your clothes.”
Without an inflection in his voice, Dan turned in his seat to face Tony, “You forgot my clothes, Tony? Really?”
“Well, yes, sir, I did. They are in the back. I just forgot to grab them when we loaded up.”
Elliot handed a bundle of clothes to Dan as Tony started laughing and Jones was trying not to.
Jones passed forward a pair of boots. “Sir, Are these really yours?”
“Yeah, Jones, they are.”
“But, sir. I never noticed you have such small feet.”
“My mom often told my daughter to never marry a man with small feet,” Elliot added as he was looking out the window.
“Why would she say that, E?” Jones asked.
“Because that is not enough tape on the Captain if he had regular sized feet,” Tony stated. It took Jones a moment before what Tony meant.
Just as the joke registered with Jones, Dan spoke up “Guys, that’s enough, please.”
“Sorry, sir,” Tony stated.
“Don’t be, Tony. I started to jump right in with a comment about never seeing any of you married to four women at the same time. But that brought back a few memories that are best left with the dead.”
“Roger that, sir,” Jones stated.
“Understood, sir,” Elliot added. “And sir? I’m glad to have you back.”
“It’s all good, men. All good.”
“So, Sir?” Elliot asked from the back seat, as Dan was pulling on his pants. “What are we supposed to call you, now? General Dan just does not roll the same, you know?”
“Elliot, you know you can call me anything you want,” Dan started.
“But late for dinner!” the other three completed in unison to much laughter.
“So, Tony? Where are you driving us to?”
“The Colonel, sir,” Tony answered.
“Oh.” Dan sighed. “I probably need to address that, too.”
“Might be a good idea, sir,” Elliot added. “He has been a good friend, for a long time. He took it hard when he thought you were KIA, sir. And to hear you are alive, from Smith, over the radio? That has got to bother the man. I know it would have bothered me. Hell, sir, he’s probably even more angry with US for not sharing what we knew.”


“Sir? I have three vehicles at the gate, demanding access to the base. I was ordered by this alleged General, sir, to tell you to, and I quote, sir ‘Replace that man you just put on KP, corporal.’, sir.”
“Soldier, that is Brigadier General Curtis. But you may remember hearing about him on the radio a couple of years back, when he was referred to as ‘Captain Dan’.” Baker replied. “Let them enter and send them to my office.”
“Yes, sir!”
The PFC waived the vehicles through then added their entry to the log book. When he was relieved by the next guards, the Sargeant read the log book per protocol. “Really? Simpson? General ‘Captain Dan’ Curtis?”
“Yes, Sargeant Kinsworth. That is who the Old Man said it was and to let them enter.”
“I don’t believe you, Simpson,” Kinsworth stated. “I’m putting you on report and I WILL take that rocker.”
“Aww, come on, Sargeant! I just got it back from the last time you took it!” Simpson whined. “And even the Major said your reasons were thin! Why do you have it out for me, Sarge?”
“Because, Simpson, you are a weak soldier and do not belong as an MP,” Kinsworth stated. “You are relieved and confined to quarters, the gym and chow hall, until further notice. Now get out of here!”
Simpson marched away, holding his head up until he was out of sight of the guard station. Then his shoulders sagged and he let his head hang low, walking more than marching.


Tony stopped the short convoy in front of the Command building. Everyone dismounted and waited for Dan to lead the way inside. Finally, Baker came out of the building and down the stairs. He stopped at each of them, shaking their hands, greeting each by name.
“HotShot.” He said, shaking Jones’ hand.
“Colonel. It’s good to see you, again.”
“Tony. I think we need a few words, later.” He said.
“Sorry, sir, Orders direct from the mouth of POTNUS.” Tony explained.
He stopped in front of Dan. The two looked at each other for a moment. Uncertain and still not able to read some emotions, Dan offered his hand.
Baker smacked it aside and pulled Dan into a hug that Dan returned wholeheartedly.
Stepping back, Baker held Dan by the shoulders. “I can’t believe it. Spec-4 to Captain to General! What the hell is my Army coming to?”
Dan laughed, “Well, Colonel, there is Air Force Colonel … “
“Not Colonel, anymore. This place requires a no less than a 2-star. POTNUS himself pinned them on me, right there on that parade field.” Baker shared.
“2-star, huh?” Dan asked. “Always have to be at least one step up, right?”
Both men laughed as they lead the way across the parade field. The rest of the men followed paying attention to their situation, particularly the people setting up what appeared to be boxing rings.
“General?” Miller asked, “What’s the deal with the boxing rings?”
“Oh, those. They are for PT in the morning. Say, you guys feel like doing some demonstrations, in the morning?” Baker asked, with a glint in his eyes. “Dan, I could really use a ringer with my command staff. Last month, I lost bets on three fights. That was three pairs of boots I had to shine, each evening, for a week.”
“That depends, Mike,” Dan said, looking his old friend carefully in the eyes. “What do you want?”
“Oh, no, Dan! Nothing that severe. Just a lesson, or maybe three? With their winner.”
“Let me sleep on it, Mike,” Dan said. “I will let you know, in the morning.”
“Great! Now, I’ve gotten the mess hall opened for us, I thought my Bastards would appreciate some chow.” Baker stated. “And my staff has explicit orders that I’m off the rest of the day.”
Everyone laughed and agreed. Spirits were high and they went higher when they got to the hall to find the LT and Miller along with a few others who did not continue with the Bastards, after El Paso. It was a great reunion that lasted late into the evening as everyone got a chance to catch up.
Walking Dan to the guest barracks, Baker asked, “So, what’s really going on with you, Dan?”
“Not so much, Mike. The same. Someone needs me to do something. And evidently, I’m the only one who can, etc, etc. You know the routine. You lived it with me for what? 6 months? As I drug you half-way across the country and back, again?”
“Yeah. But I thought those days were over, my friend? Are you not retired?”
“I thought I was. That was until POTNUS summoned me,” Dan said. “Then there was that bomb in his office, yesterday? No, the day before yesterday.”
“What bomb? There have been no reports of an attempt on the President’s life.” Mike stated.
“That’s because other than the bomber and his supervisor from NASA, I’m the only one that was injured.”
“Oh, shit!. Man, I’m sorry. If I had known, I would not have asked you to …”
“It’s all good, Mike,” Dan said, smiling. just some shallow wood shrapnel and a rung bell. Oh, and a taser after the bomb.”
“Wait, you were blown up AND tased?”
“Yeah. I was rocked a bit after the bomb exploded. Ears ringing, could not see. You know what it’s like to be too near a grenade.” Dan said. “Well, anyway, while I was trying to recover, I was also trying to cover POTNUS. Could not hear any commands. Just seeing shadowed shaped in the fog. And the over-eager Marine standing guard at the door tased my ass because I was not letting him get to Luis.”
Baker just laughs at it, shaking his head.
“The kid felt so bad. He came to see me in the hospital. Funny thing is, he was at Cape Girardeau. He enlisted the next day. The day after we lost … Said the Corps was down a man and he wanted to step up and serve in her stead.” Dan choked the last bit out.
“Damn, Dan,” Baker said. “No wonder you were so confused when you were coming out of sedation.”
Dan looked at him sharply.
“Tony told me not to let you think about your girls, too much. He said you spoke with them?”
“Yeah. I did. Just as clear as I am speaking with you, now. I know I was stoned out of my head with the sedatives, but we were sitting around a fire at the cabin. We talked. We laughed. We prayed. And we talked some more. The three of them told me to make the time to come see you and to thank you for them. Izzy told me to kiss you. Something about you needed to be kissed by someone so you might make the time to find your self a ‘lady friend’.”
They walked on, slowly in silence for a few minutes more. “Mike they jumped off the cliff at the cabin Just jumped right off. I ran up to the cliff edge, ready to join them, and there they hung, in the air, telling me I could not jump. I could not join them. Then they floated away to a boat on the water and it floated away until a fire burnt it to the water line.”
“After El Paso, I went to visit Izzy’s family. I figured it was the least I could do for you and her, Dan.” Mike shared. “They were very happy to know what happened to her. They had been worried. All except her Grandmother. Her Grandmother had been telling them that she had died while protecting others, even betrayed by a friend, she still died a hero.”
“Evidently they did not believe her Grandmother. They said she had been developing Alzheimer’s.” Mike continued. “But Grandma knew facts that I did not share. She even told me that you and I would meet, again.”
“Well, here we are.” Dan said, “And thank you for going to see them.”
“Dan, I thought she meant we would see each other, you know, later, after we both …” Mike continued. “She told me, ‘No. My Izzy will not be with you, then. But she will be, later.’ I have to tell you, Dan. That freaked me out a bit, cause I thought you were dead. And then to hear about you on the radio …”
“Mike there are things that just can not be explained by science,” Dan said. “And there are other things that some religions don’t want to admit are possible or exist because it takes their power away.”
“I get that, Dan, but still. It just freaked me out.” Mike said. “A lot!”
“Welcome to my faith, my friend,” Dan said.

[bitsmith]

Chapter ten

“Cover up!” Mike shouted from Dan’s corner.
“Damn, he was not ready for this,” Tony shared quietly with Jones. “Better go get Pemberton. Dan’s going to need him.”
“Roger that,” Jones said.
And the bell rang. Dan stumbled back to the corner where Mike was.
“Hang on a second, Jones,” Tony called, looking Dan in the eyes. “Look at his eyes. He’s fine, but he’s pissed. He’s loosing and he knows it.”
“Mike! Take off these worthless things! I can’t see. I can’t hear. I can’t even smell!” Dan’s growl muffled.
“Really, Dan? You want to take off the gear?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, Mike! I can’t grapple with these gloves. And all I can smell is old spit and dried blood. I have no peripheral vision as I can’t set him up for something unexpected.” Dan complained. “This is NOT a fight. Not even a contest.”
“Alright. Let me see what I can do.” Mike said as he slapped Dan on the shoulder.
Taking the middle of the ring, Mike called out. “Men, and ladies! Good job, Megan! Winning outside your weight class like that. It was a pleasure to watch. As you all know, last month I had a bet going with a few of the senior officers. And I lost. I lost so bad, I was polishing their boots each night for a week. And this morning, I have a guest trying to win back my honor. Unfortunately, he can not continue.”
The crowd started booing and catcalling him.
“To be honest, he says he can’t win wearing all of the protective gear. So … Sargeant? What say you? Are you willing to go one to one, without the pads?”
Everyone around the ring started cheering and chanting the sergeant's name until he gave a single nod and turned back to his corner so the officers could help him out of the protective gear.
“OK, Dan. Can you take a beating for another round, then finish it?”
“Hey, General!” one of the officers called out. “No pads, double the stakes!”
Mike waved a thumbs up at them.
“Seriously, Dan, can you do it?”
“Hehe. Mike watch this.” Dan said. As he turned around to face the middle of the ring.
“Tony, now,” Dan called out.
Tony whistled and every Bastard took off their sweatshirts, to reveal the Army Gray T-shirt with their name and Blood Red Bastard Sword on it.
Dan removed his sweatshirt, as well.
All it said above his sword was ‘Dan’. The crowd was silent as they realized WHO was in the ring.
The bell rang and Dan was standing out in the middle of the ring, by himself.
The Sergeant was stunned for a moment, sized Dan up, again and stepped away from his corner.
“Dan, don’t break him,” Mike called from the corner.
“LT? I know the Captain can take him. But … if that guy gets in a lucky shot … If he can get the Captain in some kind of hold …” Oatmeal started, worried about the situation and the health of his mentor.
“Oatmeal, It’s a friendly bout. Dan WILL tap out if that is what is needed.” Wilson shared. “But watch what Dan does. This guy is a pretty good fighter, but he’s not used to fighting someone so small and he has not had to fight for his life. He’s always been a match fighter. Share that down the line. I want everyone to be learning from this.”
“Roger that,” Miller agreed and shared it with the man to his right, then moved to Wilson’s other side to tell the men, there.
Both men circled around the ring. Dan gauging the larger man’s reach and watching for the opportunities that would let him take a beating, this round without actually getting beaten.
The big man just smiled, already imagining the fame of beating THE Captain Dan.
Dan shrugged and started throwing a few fists at the man. Intentionally missing his mark, impacting his large chest muscles. Even changing his fist angle to drive a knuckle into the big biceps and shoulder muscles. He took a few hits, as well. A couple that sent him spinning and against the ropes where he used his smaller size and speed to get out of danger, after allowing a little punishment. Realizing the round was almost over, Dan allowed a punch to his face. Just enough to give him a bloody nose that he stumbled away from, just as the bell was rung to end the round.
“Dan?” Mike asked. “Are you good to go? No. You are not. You are bleeding. I’m ending this.”
“No, Mike. You are not.” Dan said, smiling in a clutch so others could not see. “Trust me, my friend, I DO have this under control.”
“No!” Dan shouted. As he pushed Mike away. “I can beat him. I know I can.”
The opponents just laughed as the big guy drank water and wiped the sweat off his face.
The bell rang, again, as Dan was wiping blood and sweat off his face, with his shirt. So he pulled it off, over his head. He still looked too thin. Malnourished. Pastie white with a farmer’s tan. And all of those scars. Tossing the shirt aside, he went back to the center of the ring.he just stood there, relaxed, arms hanging down.
“Old man, now I end this. And I end you.”
“Stop talking and just do it, already.”
The large sergeant gave a great growl as he spread his arms, flexing them. Until the growl suddenly ended, as Dan punched him in the solar plexus. And that is where he started.
Next Dan punched hard into the front of the shoulder, deep into the muscle that holds the arm onto the body, but in reality, he was punching deep into the nerves of the socket. As the goliath of a man tried to lift his arms, he found they would not rise as far as they had.
And even as he was catching his breath, fear was starting to set in. The crowd was chanting his name and he was afraid. But he still tried to swing on Dan. A slow, lumbering swing that Dan failed to trap correctly, allowing himself to be thrown across the ring and against the ropes. As he rebounded Dam landed several middle body blows that pushed the man back into a corner as he tried hard to dodge or block them but could not get his arms to work at their normal speed.

Dan got in too close, was pulled up into a back breaking hug. He head butted the man, hard enough to for him to throw Dan away, against the ropes. As Dan came back from that, he was up high, his fist back …
“NO!” came a shout from Mike. Dan shifted his weight in the air, he felt like he had all the time in the world as he flew at the man. Opening his hand and adjusting to the side, Dan just slapped the man, hard across the face.
Realizing what had just happened, the sergeant took the stinging slap and went to one knee. Three times he slapped the mat, before standing, again.
Dan walked over to him.
“Sergeant? Are you alright?” Dan asked as the crowd was quiet.
“Yes, sir. I am. How did you do it? I’m half your age, twice your size.”
“Two things to keep in mind, Sergeant,” Dan said, loudly for all to hear. “You fight within a defined set of rules. You fight for fitness and exercise. Some glory, too. And in that, you are pretty good.”
“But you could have taken me at any time. Why didn’t you?”
“The second point, Sergeant, is that I don’t fight within rules of a contest. I fight for life and death. I trained Baker’s Bastards, that when they fight, they dance with death as a mistress who wants to be dominated but will kill you if you are not enough for her.”
“And yes, I could have taken you in the first minute of the first round. But I wanted some exercise, too. And I expect the people here wanted a little entertainment, too. Keep up the good work. Help training others to keep them fit and ready to fight. I will talk with the General about getting some teachers in here to help take you to the next level.”
“Sir? When can YOU come back and teach us?”
“I don’t know, Sergeant, but I would like that, very much.” Dan said.
The surrounding men and women started chanting ‘Teach us’ until Dan nodded. Pointing at his men. “Warm them up. Loosen them up. Keep them far apart. They are still charged on the excitement and WILL hurt either you or each other. All of you, divide yourselves amongst them. Meghan, please join me up here? And you stay, too, big guy. Officers? You are welcome to join your soldiers. Mike, I taught you, too, so go teach them. Lead them. Learn something.”
“Ok, you two. Big guy, did you learn what I was doing to you?”
“Yes, sir, I got it,” he said, “but how do I get my shoulders back?”
“Ok. We will fix that in a minute. But would you mind if Meghan used you as a target? And Meghan, no power, no speed, just motion and focus. Got it?”
Both nodded.
“OK. Here is what I did to you, and Meghan it will help you. Your size, you need to be fast and precise. If he was closer to our size, we would not have the advantage we do. So, look here at this rope of muscle on his shoulder …”

[texican]

BS,

Thanks for the chapters....

Now just how screwed up is General Captain Dan?

Texican....

[bitsmith]

"BS"

That's interesting. I was sharing with an acquaintance, yesterday that I had written a few novels. She looked at me and said, "I have to call BS on that."

I just shrugged and took another taste of my beer. She stormed off. Oh well. One more removed from the pool of potentially dateable women in this town.

Back to writing. See you later.

[biggkidd]

Man a town with dateable women and a place to drink. Must be a lot bigger than my town.

Story is going good as always.

Thanks Again

[bitsmith]

Chapter Eleven

“Well, Mike,” Dan opened, “You look like crap my friend. Did you teach anything to those other officers?”
“Oh, yeah. And I learned a few things about them, individually, as well. Like Hamilton. He does not like being touched. It freaks him out, badly. And Laramie, he does not like me, at all. He has little to no control, so that’s how I got this nice bruise on my cheek.”
“You will be fine. It looks like it will go away in a few days. But in the meantime, your command will see that you actively participate. That you spend a part of your day being a human being. That will go a long way in their loyalty to you. As you know, already.”
“Yeah. I just have to make sure I keep that line between personal and professional.”
“That is why you train them. Not WITH them, but train them.” Dan answered. “You told me you wanted a new kind of soldier. A mix between a regular soldier and an operator. Maybe you need to add into that, a few more skill sets, such as ambassador, salesman and even ‘survivalist’. It is upon us to look to what those we come in contact with need. Leadership is a skill one learns, sometimes on the spot, when the need to lead falls upon you. And these men and women need to be ready for that.”
“OK, Dan. How about telling me something I don’t already know?” Mike laughed.
“Something you don’t already know?” Dan asked. “How about your command is falling apart?”
“How so?”
“You don’t have enough senior NCO’s to teach and train the men in the skills they need.” Dan pointed out. “You need good reliable men and women who can and ARE GOOD people. With a spine. Self-respect and respect for others. Do you remember old Sergeant Lewis? Used to say ‘Why should I care? I’m 1 year, 2 months, 1 week, 3 days and a wake up from retiring.’ He is NOT the kind of NCO you need. But I’m willing to bet you have several around here. This is not your entire compliment, obviously. The NCO’s are there, doing the jobs the lower ranks are doing. How is that mess sergeant since you spoke with him? Is the food still just as good? Is the service any better?”
“It took him a little while, but he got his staff working together better. The food quality is higher. Service is faster. And his men know what they need to do and do it.” Mike described.
“He empowered his people? They know their space and their tasks. They can probably do the work of every other man they work with, as well, right? Cross trained to fill in?” Dan asked.
“I have not asked, but probably.”
“Every soldier is trained, in Basic to be the basics of 11B MOS, right?” Dan suggested. “But then they receive individual training for advanced skills. To be a cook or and MP or a clerk or even a lowly radio operator. And then, once in duty station, they learn to be more than even that. Additional skills, exposure to different jobs.
“Google. They were a very successful company. One of the things they did that contributed to their great success was their own ‘80/20 rule’. Their people did their job, basically 4 days a week. The 5th, the employee was working on a personal idea or project that would benefit the business. That is part of how Google expanded and grew so rapidly and maintained stability. Their people took on projects they were passionate about. Many failed. But those few that succeeded went vertical. Give your people some vertical opportunity, Mike. Encourage them to learn more. Master their own job, first. Which is why you need the experienced NCO’s. Train them on the job they are supposed to be doing. Then let them train with another NCO on a different job. One that rings with a passion. If there is no passion for another job, the NCO should be finding out what is that person’s passion.”
“Dan, we just don’t have the resources to do that. And you are right, we do have far too many NCO’s who were just waiting for retirement. Now they don’t know what they are waiting for. I need to speak with them. Find out what their passions are. Get them re-engaged in being soldiers.” Mike agreed, forming a plan.
“Come on, let’s talk with that one, over there.” Dan nodded. “He looks surly enough to be unhappy with being a soldier.”
Mike nodded agreement and the two men changed direction. Their target recognized he was being approached and that he had no where to go to avoid them. He stood his ground. Obviously preparing for an ass-chewing. But on what he did not know. As they got close enough, he came to attention and saluted.
“Good morning!” Mike started cheerily. “I’m Major General Michael Baker, commander of the base. This is Brigadier General Daniel Curtis, a good friend of mine. Do you have a few minutes for a few questions?”
“Sir?” the man asked, stumped and confused. “You two are Generals, sir. I have all the time to do what ever you order me to do.”
“What’s your name, rank and job?” Dan asked.
“Sergeant First Class Henry Rawlins, sir.” He responded. “My job? I was a training sergeant for the new ‘cruits that used to come to this base. Today? I’m just a sergeant making myself look busy, every day.”
“OK, Sergeant, relax,” Dan directed. “Mike, I think we found our man.
“Henry, you don’t mind if I call you Henry do you?” Dan did not wait for permission, he just pushed on. “You have been in the Army for many years, I presume. What was the best job you ever had? The one you actually enjoyed doing the most?”
“Training, sir. I was very good at training those civilian kids we brought in to be soldiers. To find inside themselves what they did not know they had.” Henry stated with pride. “And if I might say so, sir, I was pretty damned good at it.”
“And because there are not many new recruits coming in, every day, you have no one left to train?” Mike asked.
“Uh, yes, sir.” Henry replied, suddenly worried.
“Do you know many others with the same issues, Sergeant?” Dan asked, smiling.
“There are about a dozen of us who have hung around, because we really had no where else to go, when the collapse came. People scattered to get home to families. Or they did not want to be a part of the previous nastiness that General Baker cleaned up, sir. Well him and that Captain Dan, fella.”
Baker smiled. “Sergeant, Did you know Captain Dan envisioned a new kind of soldier? A soldier where each was trained to be a higher skilled soldier, with some ‘SF like skills’ mixed in as well as their daily work duties?”
“No, sir. But I think that would be an interesting challenge, sir,” Henry thought aloud. “Special Ops soldiers are a bit different, sir. Their minds and hearts are different and as such, they need to be trained and pushed differently.”
“Henry, would you like that challenge? Take existing soldiers and refresh their training? Get them up to speed with what Captain Dan envisioned? And maybe start the training needed for new soldier to be less grunt and more elite, each and every one?” Mike asked.
“Sergeant, can you and the other cadre start developing two training programs? One for the existing soldier and one for raw recruits?” Dan asked. “We want to raise the bar on what the skills of a grunt are to include some of the fortitude of the Special Forces and Operators. Those who can not be upgraded to the new soldier will be … washouts. They will be encouraged to get out, with general discharges, over the next several years. We want the best of the best of best. And the very top few percent of that will go on to become even more.”
“We also have a new program for Officer training that we are trying to get off the ground. More study, more training, less politics. Leadership development is a critical part of it. We would expect the Cadre to help identify those who are potential officers.” Mike concluded.
“I’m certain you and the other instructors have talked about how to ‘do it better’?” Dan suggested. “Here is your chance to maybe do just that.”
“How can I help with this, sir?” Henry asked.
“Get your current ‘unassigned instructors’ together. Build up a training program for this new breed of soldier.” Mike said. “All of you be prepared to bring it to me … Next Tuesday afternoon. 1400 hours.”
Henry smiled, proudly. “Yes, Sir!” he saluted. “We will be there!”
“Oh, and Sergeant?” Dan interjected. “I expect you and the other Cadre to have respect for the uniform and be in complete uniform at all times. As Cadre, I expect the ‘Round Brown’ on your head. A part of the new training program needs to be you instructors are already like the new soldiers we want you to train these other men and women to be. And also for you to be identifiable and approachable. Yes, you need to be a hard ass trainer. But you also need to be a helpful instructor. Someone approaches with a legitimate question or need, temper the Drill Sergeant with being a teacher. Don’t be soft. Don’t be a pillow when a hammer is needed. New type of soldiers need a new type of instructor, too. Where will you and your fellows be meeting to work out the new training programs? I will send over some examples. Who still need some polish to be the kind of soldiers we are looking to create.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mike asked.
“Yes. A handful of them have gotten lax, these last two years. They have not kept up their physical or mental training to maintain their readiness.” Dan stated. “And if we are going on this mission, then I need them sharp.
“Sergeant. Do you think you and your team can sharpen the Baker’s Bastards? Can you sharpen my sword?”
“Your sword, sir?” Henry asked. “But … YOU are Captain Dan?”
“Yes, he is.” Mike laughed. “And he hates to be recognized as such. After all, he IS a General, now.”
“Sir! I’m sorry, sir. I was just taken by surprise.” Henry stuttered. “It would be an honor to work with your men, sir!”
“Henry, drop that crap. I put on my pants, one leg at a time, same as you.” Dan said. “Honestly, I’m no hero. I just did what I could, when I was needed.”
“Sir?” Henry stated. “You need to learn to put on your pants both legs at the same time. That is what you are asking me to make of soldiers, in general, sir.”
“Mike, I like this guy. I think he gets it,” Dan said, before turning back to Henry. “So, when and where should I send you half a platoon of men?”
“Noon, this field. With the General’s permission. After all, it IS his base.” Henry stated. “That would let you both, in the admin buildings, keep an eye on and engage with the training process.”
“How do you feel about sharpening officers, Henry?” Mike asked, with a devious glint in his eye and equally devious grin on his face.”
“For sharpening, sir?” Henry asked. “I think that for sharpening and to maintain the work that needs to be done, every day … a few hours, each morning or afternoon, without rank would be the way to do it, sir. After all, who would prepare dinner, if all the cooks were on this field, all day?”
“I agree, Dan.” Mike said. “I think he gets it.”
“Henry, see you on this field at noon. In full uniform. All of your Cadre.” Dan smiled. “And be sure you pick up any other soldiers you know of who are without job or direction. Bring them to the party, as well.”
“Yes, sir!” Henry stated. “I know exactly where to find them.” Henry saluted, standing taller, prouder and ready to eat tiger.
“Oh, and Drill Sergeant?” Dan called out, after the men had started going their own separate ways. “Also add to your training daily recommended exercises to help those who HAVE gone soft to get back into shape.”
“Sir, with what we have discussed, that won’t be a problem.” Henry stated. “I assure you, if they WANT to be a soldier, this new training will do the trick.”