by C. G. Cooper
Cal wasn’t looking forward to the last guy getting there. This 2ndLt Andrews had ten more minutes. It was also obvious that the Gunny was saving the best for last. He’d already mentioned how he’d like to mess with the guy for having a stupid first name.
At five minutes before midnight 2ndLt Andrews walked into the duty shack with his orders ready. He looked squared away and fairly at ease. Most new Marines he’d seen checking in to their first unit tended to be more than a little nervous. This young officer didn’t seem to have that problem.
ANDY: Checkin’ in Corporal.
CAL: Roger that, sir. If I can just get your orders. I’ve gotta go get the duty officer to get you logged in.
ANDY: No problem.
Cpl. Stokes got up and walked smartly into the next room that was used for the duty officer and his clerks as a sleeping area.
CAL: Hey, Gunny. That last Lieutenant just walked in.
The Gunny opened his eyes with what looked like a mixture of disdain and excitement. Yep, he was gonna give the new guy some kinda shit.
He waited as the Gunny took his time putting his utility blouse back on and donning his web belt with pistol. Cpl. Stokes was surprised the guy could even fit into any issued gear. The Gunny must’ve been well over his allowed weight limit.
Finally ready, Cal followed the Gunny back into the duty shack. Not two steps through the door the Gunny started.
GUNNY: You Lieutenant Andrews?
ANDY: That’s me, Gunny. Just checkin’ in.
GUNNY: I’d appreciate it if you called me “Gunnery Sergeant”, Sir.
That was one of the Gunny’s favorite lines. Get the young officers off-balance from the get-go.
ANDY: Sorry, Gunnery Sergeant. Didn’t mean any disrespect.
Lt. Andrews responded without the obligatory flush of embarrassment. Cal couldn’t yet put his finger on it, but he didn’t think this baby-faced butter bar was even close to being a candyass.
GUNNY: Says here you were supposed to report in by 2359, Lieutenant. It’s now 0002.
ANDY (nodding towards Cal): As I’m sure Cpl. Stokes will tell you, I stepped in and reported at 2355.
GUNNY (smirking): Well, sir, that’s not really my concern. The point is when I put you in the logbook, you’ll be reporting in late. Helluva way to start your tour with this fine battalion.
Just then Cal caught the look of cold anger flash across the eyes of the young officer. Then just like that, it was gone. Oh shit. This guy was no candyass.
From the look on the Gunny’s face, it was obvious he’d missed the warning sign. Cal decided to step in.
CAL: Hey, Gunny, the Lieutenant’s right. He checked in right at 2355. I wrote it right here in my own log.
GUNNY: You shut your mouth, Corporal. Looks like you’ll have to come back tomorrow morning to meet with the Battalion XO, sir. He likes to come in Saturday morning and check-in with the OOD to see who fucked up the night before.
Surprisingly Lt. Andrews still stood in front of the duty desk with a look of complete calm.
ANDY (conversationally): Ok, Gunnery Sergeant. Why don’t you just pick up that phone and call the XO right now. If I’m gonna get my ass chewed I’d rather not wait until tomorrow.
Visibly confused, the Gunny paused to think about that most unexpected request. Calling the Executive Officer would put HIS ass in a crack and he was all about keeping his ass out of cracks no matter who he had to blame to take the fall for him.
GUNNY (soothingly condescending): Well, Lieutenant, I don’t think it’s appropriate to call the XO at this hour. Why don’t you just come back in the morning and I’m sure everything will be fine.
ANDY: I think I’ll take my chances, Gunnery Sergeant. Why don’t you give me his number and I’ll call him right now on my handy-dandy cell phone.
GUNNY: Now, Sir, that’s really not how things are done around here.
ANDY (suddenly loud): Well then how are they done around here, GUNNERY SERGEANT? It’s obvious you get your rocks off shitting on us new guys. Get the damn XO on the phone and we’ll get this done. Now.
The placid demeanor had evaporated and the look of calm fury now shrouded the young officer’s face. By the look on his face, the shitbird Gunny was finally getting the point that he’d messed with the wrong guy. He could either back down or push forward. Cal hoped he’d pick the first option.
GUNNY: Now look here, Lieutenant (he pronounced Lieutenant as someone would pronounce Asshole) I don’t appreciate…
ANDY: Get on your feet Marine! You stand at attention when you talk to me, Gunnery Sergeant (he intoned Gunnery Sergeant just as the Gunny had pronounced Lieutenant).
It therefore came as a complete surprise to Cal (and apparently to the Gunny as well) when the Gunny jumped out of his seat and popped to attention. Holy shit! What was going on?
ANDY: Now as I see it, you have two choices, Gunnery Sergeant. Number One, you log me as reporting in at 23:55. Number Two, you get the Battalion XO on the phone right now and he can resolve the issue. What’s it gonna be, Gunnery Sergeant?
GUNNY: I’m just trying to do things by the book, but I think we can trust your word that you reported in at that time.
ANDY: Sir.
GUNNY: Excuse me?
ANDY: I said you call me Sir. I’m only asking for the same respect you so kindly asked of me.
GUNNY: Yes, Sir.
ANDY: Alright, let’s get this done so Cpl. Stokes can get some rack time.
He’d said this last thing just as the Gunny was bending over to start his entry in the duty logbook. As he did, Lt. Andrews caught Cal’s eye and gave him a quick wink and a mischievous half smile. It was the same smile he’d see years later on the side of some God-forsaken mountain in Afghanistan as he and Lt. Andrews were getting ready to rush an enemy position by themselves.
It was that first meeting and the look in that young officer’s eyes that made Cpl. Stokes think he never wanted to get on the officer’s bad side.
+ + +
The bedside phone rang again a couple minutes later.
CAL: Stokes.
BRIAN: Cal, I’ve got Capt. Andrews on the phone again.
CAL: Put him through.
ANDY: You there Stokes?
CAL: Yes, sir.
ANDY: I got some info on your corpsman.
CAL: What’d you find?
ANDY: Says here that he served with 1/2 during the initial invasion of Iraq. He got to be part of that big mess in An’Nasiriyah. Hold on a minute.
Cal heard mouse clicks as Capt. Andrews found what he was looking for.
ANDY: Well, well. Looks like you’ve got yourself a brother there, Marine.
CAL: What do you mean?
ANDY: This record says that Hospital Corpsman First Class Brian Ramirez is a multiple award winner. Won a Bronze Star in Iraq then a Silver Star in Afghanistan. Hmmm…The first was for dragging some of his Marines out of a burning AAV. Says he got some pretty bad burns himself. The Silver Star citation says that this kid not only saved ten of his Marines’ lives, but that he also took up a couple M-16’s and killed a few bad guys.
CAL: No shit?
ANDY: No shit.
CAL: Well, at least I know now.
ANDY: Need anything else?
CAL: Unless you can get me out of here, I’m good.
ANDY: Wish I could, buddy. I’ll be in touch.
The line went dead. Cal replaced the receiver and laid back in his bed. So Brian was a warrior. Interesting.
+ + +
A few minutes later Doc Ramirez came in to check on Cal.
BRIAN: What do you want for dinner tonight?
CAL: You didn’t tell me about your Bronze and Silver Stars.
BRIAN: You didn’t tell me about your Navy Cross.
CAL: Fair enough. I’d give that thing back just to have my guys alive right now.
BRIAN: Me too. Now, what do you want for dinner? Chicken or mystery meat?
CAL (with a snort): I’ll take the
chicken.
As Brian nodded and left the room Cal thought about the quick conversation. It was rare to find a medal recipient who bragged about their award. Most just wanted to be left alone. He’d seen guys give their medals away as soon as they’d been received rather than once again re-live the memory of their dying comrades. Funny that heroes come in all shapes and sizes, but the true heroes are almost always silent about their accolades.
Brian returned balancing a cafeteria tray with a domed cover. The faint smell of roasted chicken wafted toward Cal.
CAL: Hey, Doc, wondering if you could do me a favor.
BRIAN: What’s that?
CAL: I was wondering if you could swing by my place on your way home and pickup a couple things for me.
BRIAN: You have a place here in Nashville?
CAL: Yeah. I’ve got a little condo down in the Gulch.
BRIAN: Sure, no problem. You got your keys?
CAL: You actually won’t need any. There are two keypads: one at the building entrance and one at my unit. I’ll just give you the codes.
BRIAN (jokingly): Eww fancy. What are you some rich kid?
A brief look of anger passed across Cal’s eyes.
BRIAN: Did I say something wrong?
CAL: Don’t worry about it. Can you run by there tonight?
BRIAN: No problem. I get off at seven. I’ll run by after that. What do you need me to pickup?
CAL: Call me when you get there and I’ll walk you through it. Won’t be easy to find without me telling you.
Brian’s eyebrow rose slightly. What was this Marine having him deliver? He’d find out soon enough. He was pretty sure he could trust Cal.
Chapter 7
Gulch District, Nashville, Tennessee
Brian pulled up to the high-rise condo building. Jeez. I wonder what Cal does for a living now that he’s out of the Corps, he thought. The building looked brand new. Compared to Brian’s tiny apartment, Cal’s building was the Taj Majal.
He got out of his car and walked to the building’s entrance. A collection of mixed citizenry walked the sidewalks on each side of the street. Brian could see at least two high-end restaurants within a block of Cal’s building. Looked like the area was really taking off. He’d heard that there’d been a lot of redevelopment in the Gulch in recent years. Not a bad place to live.
The passcode Cal gave him got him in the glassed front door. A few steps inside he could see what appeared to be a receptionist glancing over at him. As he got closer, she perked up.
IRENE: Can I help you, sir?
BRIAN: I’m good. Just picking up some things for my buddy in the hospital.
She looked startled and came out of her seat.
IRENE: Is that Cal you’re talking about?
BRIAN: It is.
IRENE: Oh my God, is he ok? We heard all about it on the news! He’s such a nice guy. When is he coming home?
BRIAN: He’s doing a lot better. I’ll tell him you asked about him…
IRENE: Irene.
BRIAN: I’ll tell him you asked about him, Irene.
Brian waved and quickened his step to the elevator lobby. He couldn’t put his finger on it but Irene seemed a little too anxious to know Cal’s business. Almost like she wanted to know all the gossip. Not Brian’s cup of tea.
What Brian didn’t see was once he was safely on his way up to the 23rd floor, Irene pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
IRENE (whispering): Hey it’s me.
ANONYMOUS VOICE: What are you whispering for, girl?
IRENE: I just wanted to let you know that some guy just came in and is going up to Cal’s condo.
ANONYMOUS VOICE (perking up): What?! Who was it?
IRENE: He said he was a friend of Cal’s. Said he needed to pick up a couple things.
ANONYMOUS VOICE: Did you make sure you didn’t mess with anything when you went in there?
IRENE: I did.
ANONYMOUS VOICE: Ok. Good job. Now be sure you keep an eye out and tell me when Stokes gets out of the hospital.
Brian reached the 23rd floor and exited the elevator. There were only two doors visible along the hallway. Cal’s was almost directly across from the elevator.
He quickly punched in Cal’s code and entered the condo. The door opened smoothly but Brian could feel the weight of the door. Standard issue or an upgrade Cal had installed? Curious. This thing felt almost armored. Reminded him of some of the armored vehicles in the Corps.
By habit he turned around swiftly to lock the door and deadbolt it. No deadbolt. There were, however, two buttons; one about two feet above the door handle and one two feet below. He pressed the button above the handle and heard a mechanical scrape as the deadbolt engaged. Interesting.
Brian did the same with the lower button then turned to get his bearings.
Wow. Even the lobby downstairs hadn’t prepared him for this. What was visible of the unit was almost completely open. You could see the living and dining area from the kitchen. It looked like there was another hallway leading to the bedroom.
The furniture looked new and modern in a Spartan way. Color accents here and there but mostly clean lines and polished stainless steel. I haven’t met many enlisted guys with a place like this. I wonder what Cal’s whole story is, Brian pondered.
What really took Brian’s breath away was the view. One whole wall was windows that faced the Nashville skyline. At this time of night he could see the city clearly. Impressive.
He pulled out his phone and dialed the hospital switchboard. Seconds later he was connected to Cal’s room.
CAL: You get in ok?
BRIAN: Yeah. You said you had a little condo in the Gulch. I wasn’t expecting this place.
CAL (ignoring the comment): Where are you standing right now?
BRIAN: I’m in your living room.
CAL: Ok. Head down the hallway toward my bedroom in the back.
BRIAN: Got it.
Brian made his way toward the hallway. Walking into the bedroom he noticed the pictures on the wall. Cal and his fiancée in every shot. Poor bastard.
BRIAN: All right. I’m in your bedroom.
CAL: Ok. Go over to my closet and open the doors.
Brian did as instructed. He pulled open the two doors, peered inside the huge walk-in and switched on the light. This closet felt as big as his apartment.
CAL: Go to the back of the closet and open the panels of the built-in armoire.
BRIAN: Done. You want me to get some of these socks and boxers?
CAL: In a minute. Now take out the bottom right drawer.
BRIAN: You mean open it?
CAL: No. Take the whole thing out and put it on the floor.
What was Cal doing? Brian had the nagging sense that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. Did Cal have some kind of secret stash? Drugs?
CAL: Now feel along the right side of where you took the drawer out. You should feel a button about the size of a dime. Press it and step back.
