by Scott Allen
He thought back to all that Bertha had said about her husband John, and about being a man. Her husband, with no leadership skills, trying to foment a rebellion, simply because he knew that things were wrong and had to be changed. He had put himself in danger of his life, and had been killed. He was a man, according to Bertha, and he did what men of integrity did. Dana recognized, and he suspected Bertha and John had as well, that John’s effort was hopeless and his death foreordained. Dana thought to himself that John should have laid low and waited for a more propitious moment to risk his life for a better world. Well, here was the better moment, Dana thought. He might die, but he might do a part to create a better world. He would at least have a chance to live in that world.
Would he lose Nance? That possibility made him momentarily sad. She had been good to him, and for him. He didn’t know if he would ever find another woman like her. On the other hand, if he stayed home while other men went to war, wouldn’t those other men look more attractive to her and other women?
Death. Soldiers died, sometimes. Or they received horrible wounds. But, most of them didn’t. All the war movies he had seen on Nance’s viewscreen had showed men being killed or badly wounded. But, never the principal character. Dana was the principal character in his own life. Death was something he had no idea how to deal with, so he put it out of his mind. He was going to be the hero, he supposed.
Once again, he was balancing benefits and risks with no instruction book. He supposed that was nothing new to the human race.
Before he fell asleep in the bed, still warm from Nance’s body, he knew what he had to do.
The next two days they went about their chores talking about everything but the two big choices in front of them. They discussed how the farm usually prepared for the coming colder weather, the pigs, what to have for dinner, some repairs around the farm, movies they could watch, and so on. They were avoiding the Choices – they had both come to think of them with a capital “C” – and carefully avoided any topic that might even lead up to them.
On the second day after the visit from the Captain, a man and a woman walked up the drive from a personal vehicle. Nance spoke them in Spanish. Dana listened, and caught the strange word the Spanish language used for “real estate.” After a while, they appeared to agree on something, shook hands, and then the couple began walking around the farm with Nance, getting a tour, as they dictated notes and took pictures with their wristbands. Dana went back to his chores, as the tour continued around the barn, the fields, and into the house. He had a pretty good idea what was going on.
The couple left, and Dana finished chores, and came in for a shower. The day was hot, and he was covered in sweat. Nance was inside. Dana didn’t ask any questions, except for, “Want to take a shower with me?” Nance readily agreed, although she seemed a bit solemn for such a playful activity. She participated enthusiastically in sex in the shower, although she seemed emotionally withdrawn. They dried off and laid down on her bed to cuddle. It was cool in the house, and they threw covers over themselves.
Nance got up on one elbow next to Dana, which gave him a distracting view, took a deep breath, and said, “Listen ... I’d better let you know what that was all about.” Dana nodded. “Those were real estate agents who plan to open up an office in town next week. The Rebellion Army told them about my place. They’re looking for properties to list. I told them I might be interested in either sale or rental, depending on the price. I haven’t made a final decision yet, but you can see which way I’m leaning.”
Dana took his own deep breath, and said, “Yes, and I respect any decision you make. I’ve made mine. I’m joining up. I have to. If the rest of my life is going to mean something, I can’t just be free myself. I have to stand for the freedom of others. I have to sacrifice for it, if necessary. The life we have is good. It’s better than anything I could have imagined, and maybe I can return to it, or something like it. But for now, there’s something I have to do. I’m sorry, Nance.” He stopped. It seemed like he ought to say something more. “I love you,” he said, not sure why he had.
At that point, Nance broke into tears, and sobbed against him. Dana was getting better at handling her crying, and knew how to soothe her. When she could control her breathing, she whispered, “I love you, too. It would … break my heart ... to see you leave. It would break my heart if you were hurt. But, I understand, Dana.”
“Nance, if you do decide to join up, you shouldn’t work on the front lines. You’re an educated person. You’d be wasted carrying a gun. You could be much more useful using your education doing something else. I don’t know what. There’s got to be work for someone like you that isn’t dangerous. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, either,” Dana said.
Nance replied, “We’ll see when the time comes. You may be right. But, if they want me to carry a gun, that’s what I’ll do. I’ve already thought about this. If I get killed, then I want you to have my land, or the value from it. I’ll put that in my will. If we’re both killed, then it will go to the local school district to improve education for local kids.
“But, enough of this morbid talk. The Captain will be back in about twelve days, and I imagine you’ll go with him. Let’s make the next twelve days the best of our lives, Dana.”
Dana saluted and said, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” They both laughed and she tried to tickle him without success.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
They were, indeed, the best few days of their young lives. Dana decided it couldn’t hurt to get ready for what he understood would be basic training, so he started running circuits around the farm in the cooling dusk, about one kilometer to a circuit, with rifle and full pack. Nance kept up with him as long as she could, but he would not slow down for her. He pushed himself. He improved his time a little each day. He found some iron bars behind the barn and started lifting them over his head from the ground until his muscles would do no more. This was on top of his usual chores. Nance would playfully squeeze his bicep and pretend to faint in admiration. He was exhausted and sore, but he felt ever more confident of himself.
He found that he was strong enough to pick her up and throw her onto the bed, at which she squealed in delight. She would cook his favorite meals, and snuggle against him watching movies. One evening, when he was very tired, head beginning to nod, she put a racy film on the viewscreen, got him excited despite himself, completely drained him with a bout of lovemaking on the living room floor, and then took the entire night watch while he slept on the floor wrapped in a blanket with a couch pillow under his head.
The day came when the Captain returned, this time in a grey-green transport vehicle. Dana had already packed a small roll of toiletries and a small rolled viewscreen with videos of he and Nance and some of the times they had enjoyed together. She had showed him her wristband, using the viewscreen for interpersonal communication, how to operate it, and how to reach her wristband from a wristband or viewscreen.
The Captain respectfully enquired about their decisions. Dana showed that he was ready to go. Nance said she would go as soon as her property was rented, which might take several weeks. The Captain told her where to report in town when she was ready, and said that the Mexican Army was only a few kilometers behind him. “You’ll be safe, Ma’am. They’ve cleaned out the bandits, and there will be government census-takers, internal revenue agents, and law enforcement not far behind them. I’m afraid you’ll be paying taxes again,” he said with a smile. “I’ll leave you two to say goodbye. Don’t be long, Dana.”
Dana didn’t want to linger and make parting worse. He squeezed Nance tightly, and kissed her passionately, to which she yielded as if her muscles had turned to jelly. He lowered her gently down on the couch, and walked out, hearing her start to cry as he did. He felt no sadness himself. He needed to prove himself, and she couldn’t be a part of it.
In the transport vehicle, he saw fourteen seats, half occupied, besides the two at the front occupied by the Captain and a sergeant who drov
e. Two of the men he recognized as friends from the farm to the west, so he sat near them and caught up with them. The other three men had been told by Captain Evan that they probably would not pass the physical exam, so they had resolved to keep the farm running against the other two’s return.
As they picked men up from other households along the dusty roads, Dana had time to think to himself. He reflected that he was about to enter an environment that he never had known before: almost entirely male, mostly concerned with relentless destruction and killing. He wondered if perhaps part of what the radical feminist textbooks from which he had been taught wasn’t at least partially true. Viewed from the point of view of women, men throughout history must have appeared to inhabit two extremes of protectiveness and fearsome danger, requiring women to ally themselves with protectors at whatever price they had to pay, or potentially be prey to the dangerous ones. But, he considered, radical feminists had assigned both roles to women and had stripped men of any power to either protect or harm. He could see why that might have been attractive to them. On the other hand, the society that they had created was both weak and bleak for almost everyone, and had required the murder of almost half of the population. There had to be a better way.
They arrived at a small airport where a jet was waiting. Dana, of course, had never flown on an airplane, and had no idea what was involved. He wondered if there were parachutes in case of a problem, and if there were bathrooms and food. He was beginning to need both. The Captain ushered the men onto the plane, which was nearly full, gave them his good wishes, and took a seat up front. A female flight attendant in a smart uniform began bringing them all bottled water. He decided to ask her for a bathroom, and said, “Uh … Donde esta … el … casa baño, por favor?”
She smiled and said, “I speak English, sir, and the restroom is at the back of the plane. Please be quick, because we’re about to take off.”
It was a thrill for Dana to be high in the sky, looking down on the territory flashing by. Some of the men ate their sandwiches and fruit and then slept, but Dana watched the flat land of north Texas change into the flat land of the Oklahoma panhandle and southern Colorado, not knowing where one state ended and another began. He was on the left side of the plane, and saw the snow-topped Rocky Mountains come into view. They were magnificent. He felt an urge to test himself against them, and an urge to visit the large metropolis he saw at their feet. But, the plane began to descend, and landed at a small airport with dry and mostly flat land all around.
The men walked down a stairway into the bright afternoon sun. It was noticeably cooler here than in north Texas. They were told to line up on a stripe in the concrete, and then they were marched into a fenced compound full of barracks and other buildings, to a particular barracks with a “C” on it, and told to find a bunk and stand next to it. Dana thought he knew what came next, because he had seen two old movies that involved basic training. A tough, angry sergeant was going to march in and scream that they were all maggots, and tell them he was going to turn their worthless, rotten bodies and brains into soldiers. Then, they would have all their hair shaved off, and be forced to crawl through mud under barbed wire with bullets flying over them.
That wasn’t what happened.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
A man with three chevrons on his black sleeve did arrive, but only told them to follow him, in single file. They were marched from their barracks building towards a large building near the center of the complex. Each one of the other barracks was emptying out as well, files of men all heading towards the large building doors. They took their seats in a large auditorium. Dana looked around and estimated there were about 600 men and a sprinkling of women in the seats, many of them chattering excitedly. Several men in black uniforms, obviously officers, strode onto the stage and sat down behind the podium. Dana recognized Captain Evan. One of the officers with a complexion almost as dark as his uniform stepped up and began to speak, with his deep voice amplified. The room went quiet.
“I am Colonel Anson Okoro. Yes, that’s right, I have a last name I gave myself. You are now recruits into the Third Battalion of the First Brigade of the Second Commando Division of the Rebellion Army. What does that mean to you? You should already know. You have been chosen because you have been shown to be capable of stealth and carefully controlled and effective violence. There are other commando brigade training bases in the new Mexican territories. All commandos are being trained to operate behind enemy lines. Over the next eleven weeks, you will toughen your bodies, and you will learn how to accomplish all the tasks you will need to prepare the way for the regular army to advance quickly. I wish we could take a year for your training, but we haven’t the time. Most of you already have been in combat, so the training will be compressed and intense.
“Some of you will wash out of training. That’s better than failing in the field and getting yourself and your comrades killed. Some of you will show yourselves to be leaders. We will promote you to leadership positions – non-commissioned and junior commissioned officers - as long as the soldiers serving under you are willing to follow you.
“Some of you will show yourselves to be motivated by hatred and a desire for revenge. We will part ways with you. The ones who will finish training at 11 weeks will be soldiers of character who are willing to risk their lives to create a better world for all Americans, and to stand by their comrades.
“Some of you will die in the field. We will try to make sure you don’t. You will have the best equipment, the best support, and the best leadership we can provide. But, do not underestimate our enemy. The officer class of the U.S. military is properly trained and will be as vicious as they can be in defense of their privileges.
“We will prevail. We will win. You will be the keys to victory.” He paused and looked out, as if seeing every soldier in the room individually. Dana felt a small thrill run through him. He was going to be part of something historic. “Regimental Sergeant Major Ellis will now give you orders for the day.”
The officers rose and left the stage, and the RSM, the sleeves of his black uniform covered with chevrons and curved stripes, came to the podium. “You will now leave in single file as I call your barracks designation, following your captain, and line up on the parade ground as he will instruct. Barracks A, B, C, D, and E will now leave by the door to my left behind Captain Evan.”
Dana and about 150 other men rose and lined up behind the Captain and the sergeant who was with him. When they were lined up on the parade ground, the Captain spoke. “Welcome to company A of the Third Battalion. I have already spoken with each one of you personally, and I know I have chosen well. I am turning you over to Sergeant Carroll, who will be your company sergeant.”
Sergeant Carroll gave them instructions to report to the quartermaster for uniforms and equipment, and told them that he expected them to be properly dressed in their uniforms for inspection in their barracks at 1600 hours. At that hour, Dana and the other 29 men in his barracks, designated Third Platoon, were lined up, dressed as well as they could manage, when Sergeant Carroll inspected them, found faults here and there and in an unemotional voice told each man how to fix his errors. Then, he released them to the chow hall, but not before saying, “I can see that a man is proud of himself when he keeps himself and his surroundings in order. Be proud of yourselves. Now, go eat.”
The food was definitely better than nutrition bars. Across the table, he got to know some of the men his platoon. At his table, there was Blaine, Hudson, and Jules, the fellow from down the west road who spoke Spanish well.
Dana looked down at his plate and pointed to a small pile of some sort of whitish-yellow tubes covered in cheese sauce. “This is really good. Anybody know what it is?”
Blaine said, “I think I heard a cook say it was macaroni and cheese. Anybody know what these are?” he said, pointing to three crispy yellow pockets filled with brown, green, and yellow stuff. “They sure smell good.”
“Those are tacos, amigo,�
� replied Jules. “They’re Mexican. Well, at least Tex-Mex. Ground meat, cheese, lettuce, sour cream, and chili powder, all in a fried corn tortilla. When I was a boy, my mother made them for me. She said they were a tradition in her family.” Dana was looking at Jules’ face as he spoke, and saw his lower lip tremble, before he regained control.
Dana asked them what they thought of the Colonel’s speech. Blaine and Jules said it seemed reasonable, and it was what they expected. Hudson was skeptical, saying, “If he thinks we’re not in this for revenge, he’s fooling himself. Every man here was treated like dirt. We were confined to dorms, poorly educated, fed … crap, and imprisoned by hardware. We were given trivial work to do, forced to make donations, and painfully shocked any damn time a damn woman felt like it. We were going to be killed at the age of fifty or before, and many of us knew that. And we don’t want revenge for all that? Huh? He’s fooling himself. I’ve already killed two women, and I intend to kill as many as possible.” Despite the other three of them maintaining that they had bigger fish to fry than getting revenge on anonymous women, Hudson maintained they were just fooling themselves, too, and they would see when they got within rifle range of an enemy soldier. Dana marked Hudson down as a man to keep an eye on. Dana could already see how the kind of combat they would engage in could go badly very quickly if they didn’t stay on task.
