Gabriel Landowski

CHAPTER IV

At the time it had felt like the right thing to do. Once the rush of the moment wore off however, a fear of disciplinary action grew within Kyle. He had already raised the ire of the Lieutenant, and wondered what this latest episode would bring.

Master Sergeant Holly arrived on the scene and the sergeant wasted no time in venting his anger. Failure to obey a direct order and dereliction of duty was the charge. Holly listened quietly as the sergeant spent his steam and then sent the man on his way.

The entire time Kyle, who was working alongside Doc Roberts, was within ear shot of the tirade. As Holly approached, the two were busy strapping another wounded native to a litter. Having completed the task the casualty was carried off. Taking a deep breath, Kyle looked up to the patiently waiting Master Sergeant, unaware of what was to follow.

"Evans."

"Master Sergeant?"

Holly looked at him for a moment before he proceeded.

"I hear you've been busy."

"Yes, Master Sergeant."

Kyle could tell by Holly's there would be no chewing out at that moment. Roberts strolled over as he dug through his kit bag and said to the senior man,

"We're running low on everything. We've got another forty litter cases and the rest will be able to move with a little assistance."

Roberts glanced at Kyle and then back to Holly. The medic seemed to read the situation having overheard the earlier outburst from the sergeant.

"Evans here saved a bunch of lives. If he hadn't done what he did we definitely would have lost a couple right then and there. Probably more if the situation had escalated."

Holly quieted Roberts with a hand gesture and a nod.

"Relax Doc; I'm not going to skin your protégé just yet."

For a moment the three surveyed the scene around them before Holly wandered off to supervise the other aid and litter teams. Roberts flashed a grin to Kyle and punched him playfully in the arm before the two selected their next patient.

For the remainder of the day they transported the seriously wounded into the perimeter for medical attention. Over the next few hours the medics did what they could with what they had to save the lives of their patients. There were a few miracles performed but a good number of the critical cases did not pull through.

The walking wounded were broken down into smaller groups and led into gullies where they could be guarded. At first security was a chief concern, but as time passed so had the apprehension. It appeared the defeated warriors had accepted their lot and no longer resisted. They were far from friendly with their captors but were no longer openly hostile.

A main chieftain was identified and taken to be questioned by the Lieutenant. Those warriors who appeared to be leaders were separated from the others to prevent an uprising. Native weapons were collected and placed in large piles near the armory. Squad shifts were initiated for guard and hospital details.

To the credit of the troopers most of the injuries were leg wounds. There were a few instances of fatal shots to the head and abdomen, most of which were determined to be accidental. A dozen or so of the fatalities were killed when they attacked the security teams. Out of an enemy force of eight hundred and thirty-two only eighteen had died. If the company had played for keeps it was likely that only eighteen would have survived. That was not to say there were no permanent or life altering injuries, but at least the owners were alive to bear them.

Kyle sensed that he had earned Doc Roberts' respect. Despite this admiration, he knew his gamble could have been deleterious. His corpse could be decomposing in a cold, dark grave at that very moment. This point was made very clear by the Lieutenant that evening.

Kyle had stood with heels locked at the position of attention for the last ten minutes. The Lieutenant looked as if he could go on for another hour. The carefully worded reprimand was delivered with aplomb. The commanding officer made it absolutely clear how he felt about Kyle's exercise in judgment.

"...And another thing: The next time you get a harebrained idea like that, you clear it with your chain of command! The reason you have leadership is so that you don't have to do the thinking! Do I make myself absolutely clear!?"

Kyle fought the urge to explain away his actions. Doc Roberts and Master Sergeant Holly already reported what they had witnessed. If their input failed to placate the officer then there was nothing further Kyle could say or do. He unlocked his clenched jaw to speak.

"Yes, sir!"

Conversations in the military often went that way, especially if one was low on the totem pole. It was not the best way to run an operation, but there was no room on the battle field for quibbling.

The Lieutenant appeared to smolder as he searched himself for any remaining fury. Kyle was sure the officer was nearing the end of his rage. Then again, it was an opportune time to unload any residual stress. Instead, the officer picked up a data pad and scanned the contents before he spoke.

"Master Sergeant Holly seems to think that you're not a lost cause. Your progress in remedial instruction is 'exemplary' - his words not mine."

Kyle was surprised by the admission. The Lieutenant continued,

"Your squad leader reports no disciplinary problems, you have no outstanding deficiencies in your readiness report, and short of this stunt you seem to be a qualified and competent trooper."

"Thank you, sir!"

The Lieutenant glared up at him and Kyle wished he could suck the words back into his mouth. He grimaced slightly and blurted,

"I mean....yes, sir!"

The Lieutenant continued to glare at him for a long minute while mulling something over in his head. Satisfied, he straightened and nodded to Holly.

"Very well, Master Sergeant. If you still wish to continue you may proceed."

Holly stepped forward and produced a piece of paper.

"Attention to orders!"

At that, the others present in the office stopped what they were doing and stood at attention. The Lieutenant stepped out from behind his desk as he fumbled with something in his hands.

"The Magistrate of System has reposed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, and fidelity of Private Kyle Edward Evans."

The Lieutenant stood directly in front of Kyle and waited as Holly continued to read. For a second the young trooper was hit with a wave of confusion.

What the hell is this?

"In view of these qualities and his demonstrated potential for increased responsibility, he is, therefore, promoted to the rank of Corporal, with all the responsibilities that it entails, effective immediately."

The Lieutenant secured something to collar of Kyle's uniform.

"By Order of the Commander, for the Secretary of the Army. Signed Michael C. Taylor, First Lieutenant, Echo Company, Fourth of the Twenty-Seventh Infantry Brigade (Light), Commanding."

The Lieutenant then shook Kyle's hand and took a step back.

He doesn't look like a Michael. Wait, what the hell am I thinking about that for?

Kyle instinctively rendered a salute as he had witnessed previously on numerous occasions. The Lieutenant returned the salute and grumbled,

"You do something like this again and I'll shoot you myself."

With that he dismissed the stunned trooper. Kyle turned to go and was congratulated by Holly and the other sergeants. On his way out they each shook his hand, and Kyle found himself standing outside of the office in a state of confusion. He felt the Corporal rank clipped to his collar and assured himself that he had indeed been promoted.

All this time I was afraid of how they were going to punish me.

Kyle started to grin, but was startled by the sergeant on duty.

"Problem, Corporal?"

Kyle blinked and stared at the man.

"No, Sergeant."

The sergeant gestured with his hand toward the door.

"Then you best run along home and check on your men."

Kyle nodded his head absently and quickly exited the room.

* * *

When Kyle arrived back at the squad bay, he found most of the guys stripped to the waist and cleaning their equipment. Some were joking about something and the laughter died as they all turned to regard him. A moment later their eyes fell onto the Corporal rank.

"GET HIM!"

In unison the squad lurched forward overturning the makeshift chairs and table. Kyle managed a single step backward before the tidal wave of bodies crushed him to the ground. His fellows grabbed him by the arms and legs, then hoisted him into the air with a chorus of jeering voices.

Scrub brushes chafed his skin and someone dumped a glop of pine sap onto his chest and head. Others rubbed the sticky mess into his hair and spread it around while the rest painfully pinched and slapped his arms and legs. Kyle tried to wriggle loose but he was pinned tight. He dared not open his mouth against the pain as it was likely someone would smear something unpleasant in it.

With a sudden heave he was dropped unceremoniously onto the planks of the shower stall floor and doused with cold water which was followed by a coating of fine dust. Kyle sputtered and coughed up some liquid which had made its way up his nose while holding his arms protectively over his head.

He was left on the shower room floor with his eyes and skin burning from the scrubbing and tree sap. Kyle propped himself up against the stall and spat a foul taste from his mouth. His arms and legs ached from the rough handling and he was wiped out. Someone stood backlit in the doorway to the shower.

"A buddy of mine said that your name was on a promotion list he saw at headquarters. Figured it would be the least I could do to swing by and save the ass of a new corporal."

Rey tossed a canteen and Kyle, in his utter exhaustion, nearly missed it.

"Drink some of that. It's hooch that the cooks have been brewing out behind the D-Fac. It goes down okay, but afterward burns like hell."

Kyle unscrewed the cap and took a careful swallow. The mixture was sweet like a dessert, but as he took a breath a wave of fire seared down his throat to his stomach. In offering a hand, Rey managed to get smeared with some of the tree sap. This he wiped off on Kyle's sleeve with a grimace.

"Now there's some creative fun. You're lucky though, when I made Corporal they dragged me down to the motor pool and dropped me into each of the catch pits under the vehicle servicing racks."

Rey took the canteen back from Kyle and had another hit, exhaling through clenched teeth. Rey shook his head at the pitiful sight before him.

"You're a real mess, man. Let's go over to the NCO Bunker and see if they have any good suggestions for getting that stuff off you."

Rey then glanced down at the floor of the shower.

"I don't think this place is going to pass morning inspection, do you?"

Kyle stopped and turned to survey the wreckage from his ordeal. He slid past Rey and stood just inside the squad bay and stared at the others. The guys were silent as they worked on equipment, but all grinned impishly. Kyle focused for a moment as he felt the warmth of the alcohol in his blood.

"Calhoun and Buster. Get in here and clean that mess up."

The two troopers jump to their feet and replied in unison.

"Roger that... Corporal!"

The rest continued to work in silence. Rey gestured to Reeves and tossed him the canteen.

"You're in charge until we get back. I'm going to take Evans here down to get a once-over by Doc. Looks like he fell down or something."

Reeves punched the air in a display of success as the others let out a groan of annoyance. The two corporals exited the squad bay into the night. Rey reevaluated the sticky sap that clung to his fingers.

"I think you're going to have to shave that stuff off of you."

As they trudged wearily alongside each other, Kyle gently touched the hardening goop all over his head and let out a half hearted sigh of defeat.

* * *

The hardest part of training a soldier was to communicate what it was that you wanted him to do. Harder still was instructing someone in the art of warfare without the benefit of a common language.

To his surprise Kyle was transferred to an auxiliary unit composed entirely of natives who had volunteered. The Lieutenant and the Chieftain had come to terms with their differences and formed an alliance. The next logical step was to incorporate the warriors into a sister unit which would support future operations. This comingled organization would help to cement mutual trust and dependency.

As the weeks passed more of the warriors were back on their feet and returned to their duties. Those who did not have the responsibility to family or friends elected to stay and serve alongside the new arrivals. As the recruits were assigned to their respective squads, Kyle and the other squad leaders were forced to use a mix of language and hand gestures in order to communicate the most basic of instructions. At first there were a lot of hand movements and sound effects, but the two groups soon learned common key words, and the training began despite a rocky start.

That said, it was far from easy to become responsible for the welfare and performance of a bunch of strangers. Kyle was assigned an area in the nearby pines which was designated as the site of the new squad bay. Several days of non-stop labor and harvested timber yielded a relatively nice home in the ground. In fact, his natives convinced Kyle to modify the build plan in such a way that the end result was a dwelling much larger and stronger than anticipated.

The other area in which the warriors excelled was melee combat and scouting. Kyle led the squad to the nearby grassy field where he indicated he wanted to see their fighting style. The men quickly got into the spirit of the demonstration and several received bleeding cuts and multiple bruises. During the sessions Kyle tried to absorb every detail of their fighting technique so that he could use them on Holly. The natives seemed eager and willing to share what they knew.

The discussion as to whether or not the natives should be trained in the use of the carbines and machineguns was long and heated. The pros and cons were debated for several nights until the Lieutenant decided it was not the right time to teach their new allies how to use the weapons.

However, this did not prevent the men in his squad from asking Kyle questions. He often found that he had to feign confusion when pressed by some of the more observant warriors about the carbines. He could see their frustration trying to learn about the weapons that so easily defeated them during the battle. All of the natives had healed wounds, reminders of the projectiles that had pierced their skin. The 'bite' of the 'slings' that the troopers wielded were respected by those who had experienced it.

The natives were especially proud of their expertise in hunting and foraging. A steady supply of fowl, fish, and mountain goat supplemented the usual venison ration. Wild tubers, onions, and even hearty nuts appeared and the diets of the troopers turned for the better. Kyle forgot how good fresh cheese tasted until one of the natives handed him a small wheel of it during a chow break.

Since the vast majority of the roles the native unit would fulfill were scouting and light fighting, the auxiliaries were often referred to as rangers. In addition, the ranger cadre was now authorized to wear a native fighting knife as part of their official uniform, a gesture meant to further ties between the different peoples.

Most rangers sported several types of hand weapons from small axes to savage fighting blades. Kyle was particularly proud of a bone handled dagger given to him by the Chieftain as a gift for his selfless act after the fight. He felt good to have the warmth and acceptance of the people he led.

Initially it was difficult for Kyle to remember the names of the men in his charge, as they were difficult to pronounce. Each had an assigned roster number but it, too, was cumbersome. Instead Kyle had them merely count off.

The ranger company was made up of two platoons with fifty men broken down into squads of ten. It took the natives a while to figure out what Kyle was trying to do, but soon all had mastered counting to ten in Universal. He lined them up and gave them the order to 'count off'. The rangers counted together in their rough accents as Kyle pointed to each man in turn.

"#Won, Tew, Tree, For, Fife, Seeks, Savan, Ate, Neyen, Ten!#"

The natives grinned like idiots once they finished the count to the last man in line. Kyle then called each number out of sequence and the desired man was trained to step out and bark his assigned number. At first all was well, but later it became apparent that order of precedence for marching had something to do with their numbering.

The ugly moment occurred as the squad was forming to move off for noon chow, when some low grumbling turned into a shoving match. The whole squad was soon at each other's throats and Kyle panicked as a slug fest ensued.

At that precise moment, Master Sergeant Holly appeared and stood silently next to Kyle, who only stared helplessly at his new platoon leader. Holly seemed to take the whole scene in and muttered under his breath,

"Looking good, Evans, looking good. Keep up the good work."

Kyle watched him wander off as the rangers continued to battle for supremacy. They soon picked themselves up from the ground and stumbled into the new marching order.

"#Seeks..., For..., Tew..., Tree..., Fife..., Won..., S'van..., Ten..., Ate..., Neyenh!#"

Kyle stood dumbfounded for a second time in as many moments. The new leader turned and looked at him from the first position. He had a swelled left eye and bloody scrape on his shoulder. Kyle shook himself in to action and quickly marched them off before they had a second chance to revisit the current pecking order.

And I thought it was tough earning my stripes!

The rangers were actually good at marching and had a habit of emitting a deep guttural hum each time their left foot hit the ground. It must have been a necessary part of their training as warriors, and after a while Kyle found that he also started to mimic the technique.

As the weeks continued, a current of warm weather increased the amount of time the squad spent off in the surrounding countryside. Kyle was able to live off the land with a great deal of comfort and minimal use of his issued field equipment. The rangers often snuck a feel of the thermal blanket or tapped their fingernails against his helmet when they thought he would not notice.

Soon Kyle could move nearly as fast and as quietly as his men and the squad began a series of mock raids on an 'enemy' installation. During one particular night mission against a machinegun position, his warriors managed to hang a pair of deer testicles on the barrel of the gun, much to the dismay of the crew who found it there the next morning. Had these warriors been allowed to melt back into the countryside, Kyle could only imagine a guerilla war against such a silent and crafty foe.

After repeated attempts it became obvious that his combat armor prevented Kyle from mastering the skills of his natives, and he soon stowed it whenever the squad went out on exercise. He was forced to bring his helmet however, as it contained his radio as well as other essential features and the inconvenience was worth the added benefit.

Lieutenant Taylor appeared one day on a surprise inspection and discovered Kyle sans armor. The last thing the commander wanted to do was to lose a trooper to a wound that the simple protection would have prevented. Kyle could appreciate the concern, but it was virtually impossible to move silently with the bulky plates and padding. If the squad was well outside the possibility of crossing the Lieutenant, Kyle often went native, much to the approval of his rangers.

As the squad patrols pushed further and further from the shelter of the valley, Kyle began to take more liberty with how he conducted training. The men taught him everything they knew about survival and warfare. Kyle learned everything from locating wild tubers to implementing several techniques with a dagger that would be effective in silencing a sentry. After training with his rangers as a cohort for almost two months Kyle finally resolved what he considered to be a gross error.

On the next long range patrol, Kyle halted the squad in a sheltered valley filled with a thick growth of dense pine. He carefully placed the rangers in a tight perimeter and made it absolutely clear that they were to warn him if anyone approached.

After the disaster of attempting to number his men, Kyle had learned all of his rangers by name. The winner of the contest for seniority was a good natured brute named Taulk. It was him that Kyle led back through the dense pines to a steep embankment of mud and clay. There Kyle halted and un-slung his carbine and to the great surprise of the ranger offered Taulk the weapon.

The native stared at the carbine for a long moment and then looked at Kyle.

"#Rangers no touch slinger.#"

Kyle nodded his head in understanding.

"Yes, I know this is the order of the commander. I don't agree with the commander. I believe that you rangers should be able to know how the weapon works."

Taulk looked at the carbine but made no effort to reach for it. Kyle again offered it to the native but the man backed away slightly.

"Why won't you take it?"

Taulk simply stared at the weapon.

"#Ranger oath no touch slinger.#"

Frigging leadership. They always know better, but it's my ass out here in the wind if things go sour.

Kyle had done his best to put down his irritation. He knew there had to be a loophole in the way a native thought about the situation. Being the only trooper in the squad, it would be of great advantage if his rangers could pick up the carbine and continue the fight. Kyle relaxed his arm and cradled the weapon with his right hand.

"Taulk, do you agree that your life is in my hands when we go to fight?"

Taulk looked at Kyle and tilted his head to the right once. Natives nodded their head to the right for a positive and left for a negative.

"#Yes. Ranger life is in ranger hand.#"

Okay, that's a good angle to exploit.

"So you agree that my life is in your hands when we fight?"

Again Taulk nodded firmly to the right. Thinking carefully Kyle continued.

"If I were to fall in combat don't you think it would be a good idea if you were able to use the carbine to save the rest of the squad - including me?"

Taulk thought on this for a while.

"#But Lieutenant us swear oath.#"

Kyle waved him off.

"The commander had you swear an oath that you would not touch a weapon without our permission. The point he was trying to make is that he did not want you touching our gear without our supervision. I am telling you that it is okay for you to take the weapon."

Again Taulk stared at the carbine but made no move to take it.

"Taulk, I'm giving you a direct order to take the carbine."

Taulk looked at Kyle. He carefully reached out and took the weapon. Holding it, the ranger carefully appraised the item of unspoken value as if he might damage it. Kyle smiled, remembering the first time he held one himself.

It is only a few years ago but feels like an eternity.

"It feels very light but it is stronger than any steel you may know of. Do not be afraid of hurting it as you will not be able to do so."

Kyle showed Taulk how to chamber a projectile and even ejected one so that the native could inspect it more closely. Taulk squeezed and turned the object over in his hand as if memorizing every last detail with his finger tips. It truly seemed a mystery to the ranger how the weapon could force the projectile through a man at such a distance. Kyle had often noted the scar on Taulk's calf where someone had shot him during the brief clash at the pines.

Hell, for all I know it could have been me who did it.

After the initial inspection, Kyle showed Taulk how to load the projectile into the ammo brick before sliding it into the carbine. Then he demonstrated proper position for standing, sitting, and prone firing. Kyle reinforced the penetration and range of the projectile to help the ranger think about when and how to take a shot.

Finally he demonstrated proper sight picture, breathing, and trigger squeeze. After cautioning Taulk about keeping the butt stock tight into the crook of the shoulder, Kyle showed the man how to take the weapon off of safe and what the other settings on the carbine were for. Kyle handed him the carbine again and stepped back, pointing to a large clump of clay.

"Alright Taulk, let's see if you can hit that piece of dirt."

Taulk placed the carbine into his shoulder and wrapped the sling around his forearm as he had been instructed. Kyle watched him take up a sight picture. The native began a deep cleansing breath and held half of it in.

Now we'll see how good of a shot they are!

For several seconds Kyle waited for Taulk to fire but nothing happened. He glanced over at the native and noticed that the man had become so rigid that the carbine trembled in his grasp. Taulk just kept aiming at the large clod of dirt with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Holy shit, he's petrified!

After a long, tense moment Kyle spoke.

"Taulk."

The man seemed to relax visibly.

"#Yes, Corporal.#"

"Squeeze the trigger, Taulk."

Nothing.

"#I not, Corporal.#"

What the hell did they threaten to do to these guys?

Kyle slowly stepped toward the ranger. He remained quiet for a long moment, allowing Taulk the opportunity to work up the nerve to pull the trigger. The silence seemed like an eternity.

"Taulk."

The native slumped slightly but the muzzle was still pointed toward the bank of mud.

"Taulk, if you are worried about punishment it is already too late. According to you the oath you took was to never touch one of our weapons and you are already holding one. You're already busted."

Alarmed, Taulk glanced sideways at Kyle, who feigned condolence.

"Your only chance at redemption is that you were obeying my order. If you don't pull the trigger then you are not following my instructions and you're screwed. So you might as well pull the trigger."

The ranger regained his stance and took a sight picture. Once again he blew out half of a deep breath.

And just stood there.

"God damn it Taulk! Pull the fucking trigger!"

*CRACK!*

The two of them stood for a moment as the sound of the carbine faded from their ears. Taulk was still pointed at the bank of clay; his eyes were wide open. Kyle looked to the target and found the chunk of clay had a large piece blown out of the upper right corner. The real test was not whether Taulk could get an initial bulls-eye but rather if he could keep a tight shot group.

"Alright, that's good, that's good! See? It's wasn't so bad! Now aim for the exact same spot you first fired at and shoot again."

*CRACK!*

The second shot barely cleaved another small nick out of the clod but it was exactly where it should have been.

"One more time - fire!"

*CRACK!*

For a long moment they both just stood there. Taulk lowered the carbine and Kyle reminded him to put the weapon back on safe.

"That's real good Taulk, that's real good."

The native had not seemed convinced.

"#I not good slinger.#"

Kyle understood. Even though Taulk had the sights pointed dead center all three projectiles he fired went high and to the right.

"Actually it's really good. The thing that is important is that all three shots hit in the same location. That means you are doing everything correctly, otherwise the shots would be all over the place."

Kyle took the carbine from Taulk and showed him how to adjust the sights. With a few easy clicks he handed the weapon back to the native.

"Okay, shoot at the same exact spot you did last time."

Taulk smoothly took up his stance, aimed, breathed and fired.

*CRACK!*

The clod of earth exploded with a direct hit. Kyle grinned and glanced at Taulk. The man lowered the weapon while switching it on safe. He stared at the shattered earth then he looked at Kyle.

A huge smile appeared on his face.

"Alright! Send me Neel and check on the others. We've got some rangers to train!"

* * *