“Last time I saw him, he was doin’ great.”
If I had said God himself was walkin’ through the door I couldn’t have gotten a bigger reaction from the officer. He sits up straight sudden-like, and his eyes lose their dreamy focus and center on me . . . though I notice they are buggin’ out a little.
“You know Big Julie?” he sez in kind of a reverent whisper. “When was the last time you talked with him?”
“A couple weeks back,” I sez. “Just before Nunzio and me enlisted. We was sippin’ some wine with him and some friends over at his villa.”
“You were a guest at his villa? Tell me, is it . . .”
The officer breaks off and shakes his head like a dog.
“Excuse me, sergeant,” he sez, in much more normal tones. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that . . . well, Big Julie is something of a legend around Headquarters. I was a junior officer when I served under him, and never met him personally . . . just saw him a couple of times during reviews and inspections.”
“That’s too bad,” I sez, with real sympathy.
“He’s really a great guy. You’d like him . . . sir.” I finally remembers I was talkin’ to an officer, and my “sir” seemed to remind him of why I was in his office in the first place.
“Now that I think of it,” he sez, pullin’ some papers off the top of one of his stacks, “there is something here that I could assign you and your crew to. Would you like to take over running one of our supply depots?”
This sounds like just what we need to do the most damage to the army’s attempts to reorganize. I also notice that the officer is now askin’ me about which assignment I want.
“That sounds fine, sir.”
“Good,” he sez, startin’ to scribble on the sheets. “We have a whole supply crew in the infirmary right now—got a bad batch of chili or something. Anyway, I’ll just put you and your squad in there as replacements, and when they get out, they can take the sanitation engineer slots.”
It occurs to me that these other guys are gonna be less than thrilled with their new assignment, but that, of course, is not my problem. Still, it will be a good idea if for a while we keep a lookout for anyone tryin’ to sneak up on us from the downwind side.
“Thank you sir,” I sez, and mean it.
“Just report to Supply Depot Number Thirteen and you’ll be all set.”
“Yes sir ... ummm ... is it far? I mean, I got my crew outside and we got all our gear with us . . .”
“Just flag down one of the wagons going your way and hitch a ride,” he sez. “One of the nicer things about working at Headquarters . . . with the supply depots right here is that there are lots of wagons around. You’ll rarely have to walk anywhere.”
“Yes sir. Thank you again, sir.”
“Oh . . . Sergeant Guido?”
“Sir?” I sez, turning’ back to him.
He is pushin’ a stack of papers across his desk toward me that must weigh more than twenty pounds.
“Since you’ll be riding, you might as well take this with you instead of waiting for it to be delivered by courier.”
“I ... I don’t understand, sir,” I sez, eyein’ this mountain of dead weight suspiciously like it was a distant relative arrivin’ unannounced. “Do you want I should store this for you over at the depot?”
“Of course not,” the officer sez, givin’ a little laugh. “This is for your requisition and inventory forms.”
I am likin’ this less and less the more I hear.
“You mean we gotta fill all this out just to move somethin’ in or out of the depot . . . sir?”
“You misunderstand me, sergeant,” he sez quick-like. “These aren’t the forms themselves.”
I experience a quick flood of relief.
“. . . These are just the instructions for filling out the forms!”
The relief I had been feelin’ disappears like a single shot of whiskey in a big bowl of watered-down punch.
“The instructions,” I echoes weakly, starin’ at the pile.
All of a sudden this assignment is not lookin’ as good as it had a few minutes ago.
The officer notices the expression on my face.
“Come, come now, sergeant,” he sez, givin’ me what I guess is supposed to be a fatherly smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. It’s really quite simple once you get the hang of it. Just read these instructions all the way through, then follow everything they say to the letter, and everything will be fine.”
“If you say so, sir,” I sez, unconvinced.
“Yes, I do say so ... sergeant,” he sez, givin’ up his sales effort. “I told you we were going to get things under control and to do that, proper documentation is vital. It may look like a lot of needless hassle, but believe me, unless all the paperwork for supplies is filled out correctly, the best of armies will bog down and become ineffective.”
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”
With that, I salute and get out of his office quick . . . takin’ the stack of paper with me, of course. All of a sudden, my depression over seein’ the massive list of instructions disappears. Instead, I am feelin’ a degree of optimism I have not felt since the Boss sent us on this assignment without realizin’ what he was doin’, the officer has just made our job a lot easier.
“Without proper paperwork,” he had said, “the army will bog down and cease to be effective . . .” and, as you know, the effectiveness of the army was a matter of no small concern to me and Nunzio.
Chapter Sixteen
“So what’s wrong with following established procedures?”
M. Gorbachev
THE WAREHOUSE WHICH was Supply Depot Number Thirteen was truly immense, which is to say it was big. In fact, it was so huge that youse got the feelin’ that if the weather turned bad, they could move all the stuff out of here and have the war indoors. The only trouble with that idea was that by the time they got everythin’ moved out, odds are they would have forgotten what it was they was fightin’ about in the first place . . . but even if they could remember, they’d probably be too tired to want to fight about it.
There was racks of stuff everywhere, with aisles big enough to drive a wagon down scattered around so as to carve everythin’ into a series of islands, and lots of tunnels and crawlspaces twistin’ their way into each of the islands. It occurred to me upon first viewin’ this expanse that it was gonna be a perfect base of operation for us, as when and if anythin’ went wrong, it would make one whale of a hideout. This thought was amplified when we discovered that the crew what had worked here before us had apparently opted to live on-site, as there were a lot of “nests” and hole-ups around the warehouse furnished with cots and hammocks and pillows and other stuff obliviously filched from the piles of supplies.
In short, it was a sweet setup, and the crew loses no time settlin’ in, after some of them scattered and went explorin’ to find out just what sort of stuff we have inherited to ride herd on while a couple of us tried to make sense out of the paperwork and charts heaped up on the desks.
“Hoo-ey!” Shu Flie sez, emergin’ from the stacks with his brother at his side. “I’ve never seen so much stuff in one place! They got everything here!”
“A lot of it’s pretty old, though,” Hy Flie sez. “We had newer stuff than some of this junk back on the farm . . . and most of that stuff is still around from Pop Flie.”
“Pop Flie?” I sez before I has a chance to think about whether or not I really wants to hear the answer.
“That’s our grandpa,” Shu explains. “Course, sometimes we call him . . .”
“I get the picture,” I sez, interruptin’ before he can explain any more.
It occurs to me to make a point of not ever visitin’ the Flie residence.
“What I can’t figure,” Junebug sez, joinin’ our discussion, “is how they keep track of all this stuff. I mean, there doesn’t seem to be any order or scheme to how thin
gs are stored. It’s like they just keep pushing the old pile further back and stack the new stuff in front as it comes in without any effort to group things by category.”
This sounds uncomfortably like the beginnin’ of an idea which could improve our efficiency . . . which is, of course, the last thing my cousin and me want to see happen. Sneakin’ a glance at Nunzio, I can see he’s thinkin’ the same thing, and catchin’ my eye he gives a little shake of his head to confirm that observational.
“Ummm ... I don’t guess it is such a bad system, Junebug,” I sez, thinkin’ fast. “I mean, would you want to rearrange all this stuff to make room for each new shipment as it comes in?”
“You could get around that by leaving extra room in each storage category,” he sez, not backin’ off from his idea. “We gotta do something to organize this mess. Otherwise, we’ll be spending all our time just trying to locate each item when we have to fill an order. I can’t see how they’ve been operating around here without some kind of system.”
“They’ve got a system all right,” Spellin’ Bee sez, lookin’ up from the Forms Instruction Manual he was readin’. “The problem is, they’ve got so much duplicate paperwork to fill out they probably never had any time left over to try to organize the warehouse itself! I can’t believe they expect us to fill out all these forms for every item in and out of inventory.”
What the officer told me flashes across my mind, and it gives me an idea.
“Do you think you can come up with a better trackin’ system. Bee?” I sez.
“Probably,” he sez, shuttin’ the instruction manual. “Let’s see . . . we’d need some sort of floor map . . . two of them actually, one so we know what’s already here and where it is, and a second to establish the redefined areas . . . and then a simple In/Out Log so we could track the movement of items ...”
“Okay,” I interrupts, “get started on it. Figure out what we’re gonna have to do and what you’ll need in the way of information.”
This, of course, earns me a hard look from Nunzio.
“I ... If you say so, Guido,” Bee sez, hesitantly, glancin’ at the instruction manual. “But shouldn’t we be following the established procedures?”
“Just go ahead and work up your plan,” I sez. “We’ll worry about fillin’ out the army paperwork after we get this place functionin’ the way we think it should.”
“Okay,” Bee shrugs. “Come here a second, guys, and I’ll show you what I need. If you can start mapping out what’s already here, I can start roughing out an In/Out Log, and ...”
“Excuse me, Sergeant Guido,” Nunzio sez. “Can I have a word with you ... in private?”
“Why certainly, Sergeant Nunzio,” I smile, givin’ it right back to him, and follow him as he moves a little ways away from where the crew is huddlin’.
“What are you trying to do?” he hisses, as soon as we are alone. “Maybe I missed a loop, but I was under the impression that improving efficiency was the last thing we wanted to do here!”
“It is,” I sez, “except everyone on the crew is thinkin’ just the opposite. I’m just stallin’ for a little time by insistin’ that Bee come up with a complete plan before we actually have to implement any changes.”
“Okay,” Nunzio nods, “but what happens after he finishes comin’ up with a new setup?”
“Then we either stall some more ... or see if things will actually get fouled up more if we go ahead and try to go against army procedures. The officer what was briefin’ me seemed pretty certain that the whole army will grind to a halt if all that paperwork Bee is talkin’ about doesn’t get filled out. At the very least we should have a chance to find out whether or not he is right.”
“I dunno,” my cousin frowns. “It seems to me that . . .”
“Guido! Nunzio!!”
We turn to find an apparition bearin’ down on us. At first, I think it is one of those new armored wagons the army has been experimentin’ with . . . only done up as a parade float. Then I look again, and see that it’s . . .
“Massha!”
By the time I get this out, our associate has reached us, wrappin’ one meaty arm around each of us in a humongous hug.
“I heard you guys were here and just had to come by and say ‘Hi’!”
Because I am sorta to one side of her instead of directly in front of her, I can see past her to where our crew has stopped what they are doin’ to gape at us ... which is the normal reaction of folks what is seein’ Massha for the first time.
“H . . . Hi, Massha,” Nunzio sez, managin’ to squirm loose. “How are things going? Any word from the Boss?”
“Not a peep,” Massha sez, lettin’ go of me. “There were some funny signs coming through a while back on the monitor ring I gave him, but they settled down and since then everything seems to be normal.”
“Do you think he’s okay?” I sez. “He’s been gone nearly three weeks now.”
“Maybe . . . maybe not,” she shrugs. “Remember that time doesn’t flow at the same speeds on all dimensions. It may only have been a few days where he is.”
“I get it,” Nunzio nods solemn-like. “Like in Moorcock’s Eternal Champion books.”
“That’s right,” Massha beams. “As to your other question, things couldn’t be going better, Hugh and I are hitting it off like a house afire. I’ll tell you boys, I don’t like to brag, but I’ve got him so lovesick, I don’t think he remembers that he’s in the army . . . much less that he’s supposed to be running it.”
Now, I haven’t read the book they was chattin’ about a second ago, but this is somethin’ I can comment on.
“Ummm . . . Massha?” I sez. “That may not be such a good thing.”
“What do you mean?” she sez, her smile fadin’ as she looks back and forth between Nunzio and me. “That was my assignment, wasn’t it?”
“Tell her, Guido,” Nunzio sez, dumpin’ the job of givin’ Massha the bad news in my lap.
“Well, the way I’m hearin’ it,” I sez, wishin’ I was dead or otherwise preoccupied, “the army is functionin’ better without him.”
“But that doesn’t make sense!”
“It does when you consider that the layer of officers directly under him trained and served under Big Julie,” Nunzio sez, redeemin’ himself by comin’ to my rescue. “The more you keep him away from his troops, the more those officers get to run things their way . . . and it seems they’re better at this soldierin’ than General Badaxe is.”
“So you’re saying that the best thing I could do to louse up things is to let Hugh go back to commanding the army?” Massha sez, chewin’ her lower lip thoughtful-like. “Is that it?”
“So it would seem,” I sez, relieved at not havin’ to be the first to voice this logical conclusion. “I’m really sorry, Massha.”
She heaves a huge sigh, which on her is really somethin’, then manages a wry grin.
“Oh well,” she sez. “It was fun while it lasted. Nice to know I can still distract a man when I set my mind to it, though.”
Politeness and self-preservation convince me to refrain from makin’ any editorial additions to this comment.
“I guess I’ll just say my goodbyes and head back to Big Julie’s,” she continues. “Any word from the other team?”
“They’ve called it quits, too,” Nunzio sez. “You’ll probably see them when you get to Big Julie’s and they can fill you in on the details.”
“So it’s all riding on the two of you, huh?” she sez, cocking an eyebrow at us. “Well, good luck to you. I’d better get moving and let you get back to work. It looks like your friends are waiting for you.”
I glance over where she is lookin’ and sure enough, the whole crew is standin’ there, alternately glancin’ at us and mutterin’ together.
Wavin’ goodbye to Massha, we ambles over to join them.
“Who was that?” Spyder sez, kinda suspicious like.
“Who, that?” I sez, tryin’ to make it casual. “Oh, j
ust an old friend of ours.”
“Scuttlebutt has it that she’s the general’s girlfriend,” Junebug sez in a flat voice.
“Where’d you hear that?” Nunzio sez, innocentlike.
“Here and there,” Junebug shrugs. “Face it, there can’t be many people around Headquarters who would fit her description.”
He had us there.
“Isn’t it about time you guys told us exactly what is going on?” Spellin’ Bee sez.
I realize, far too late, that we have been seriously underestimatin’ the intelligence of our crew.
“What do you mean by that?” Nunzio sez, still tryin’ to bluff his way out of it.
“Come on, Nunzio,” Junebug sighs, “it’s been pretty obvious since Basic that you and Guido here don’t really belong in the army. You’ve got too much going for you to pass yourselves off as average recruits.”
“You fight too good and shoot too good for someone who’s supposed to be learnin’ all this for the first time,” Shu Flie sez.
“. , . And you’ve got too many connections in high places,” Spyder adds, “like with the Mob.”
“. . . And with devils,” Bee supplies.
“. . . And now with the general’s girlfriend,” Junebug finishes. “All we want to know is, what are you guys really doing in the army? I mean, I suppose it’s none of our business, but as long as we’re servin’ together, what affects you affects us.”
“Bee here thinks you’re part of some secret investigation team,” Hy Flie sez, “and if that’s what’s going on we’ll try to help . . . unless it’s us you’re supposed to be investigating.”
“Well, guys,” Nunzio sez, shakin’ his head, “I guess you found us out. Bee’s right. You see, the army wants us to . . .”
“No,” I sez, quiet-like.
Nunzio shoots me a look, but keeps goin’.
“What Guido means is we aren’t supposed to talk about it, but since you’ve already ...”
M.Y.T.H. Inc in Action Page 14
