Chapter 17: Reinforcements

“Good evening, ladies! Tonight’s movie ties in quite well with our movie from last night. Just with a show of hands, how many of you have heard of President John F. Kennedy? Nearly all of you, good. Thank you, go ahead and put them down. Now, how many of you knew that he was a war hero? McDaniel, you don’t count, you’re a teacher. Nicholson, you’re the only other woman that knew about him?”

“Sir, I went to JFK Elementary School in Kansas City. We had to do reports on him every November.”

“I’m impressed. Then you’re aware of his military service,” Anderson said.

“I knew he was on a small boat, but not what that was all about. We didn’t take those things that seriously, Sir.”

“Thank you for your honesty. Tonight’s movie had very few liberties taken with the actual historical facts. This is pretty much what happened to the PT-109.” The movie started then.

Leaning over, el-Azizi whispered, “You’re getting quite good with your speeches and dramatic introductions.”

“I try,” he replied with a quiet chuckle, taking a sip of water.

“One would almost think you’re a cunning linguist,” she said.

His choking, followed by her laughter, made Corporal Brooks pause and then rewind the opening scene of the movie so the women closest to them could hear it.

The next morning, they were leaving their quarters after exercise when a van pulled up at the gate. Corporal Wilson checked the paperwork, then used his radio to call Sergeant Jackson. Jackson ran over, which bothered Anderson to see Jackson running. He changed course for the front gate. He could see Jackson arguing with the driver through the wire.

“All right! What’s going on here?”

“SNAFU, Sir,” Jackson replied. “Our reinforcements are in the van. There’s just one problem.” Jackson handed over the personnel manifest he’d been given. “The last names match what you forwarded to us. The first names don’t, except for the medic.”

Anderson scanned the list. “Zuhra, do you have my ... thank you,” he said, as she handed him his iPad. He pulled things up. “Service numbers match. Why do I feel like fatso is playing games with me now? Goddammit! Zuhra, stay on this side of the wire.”

He walked to the smaller, man gate that was built into the vehicle gate. Wiley opened it and let him out. Anderson noticed the Staff Sergeant sitting up front, looking bemused. He started walking around to the passenger side, where the front seat passenger opened the door and got out, assuming the position of attention and saluting.

“Sir! Staff Sergeant Watson, with a party of four, reporting for duty, Sir!”

Anderson returned the salute. “That remains to be seen, Staff Sergeant. Oh, not about you. I specifically requested someone with your skills. I also requested four additional privates that were combat veterans. I suspect someone is fucking with me.” He pointed at the driver. “Shut it off, you’re not going anywhere for a bit. You four, get out here.”

The sliding door opened, with the four privates dismounting and putting their covers on as they got out, before they lined up next to Sergeant Watson.

“Sergeant Watson, what were you told your duties would be here?”

“Sir! To provide whatever medical services I can to the staff and inhabitants of facility OK Zero Four, consistent with orders given to me by the commanding officer of that facility. Due to various actions taken by the current administration in Washington, DC, some of those orders may be in violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice of the Armed Forces of the United States of America. As we are currently considered to be in rebellion against that current administration, the exigencies of service provide for such an occurrence, so those actions are not be prosecutable under UCMJ Article 134, Sir!”

“That’s correct, Sergeant.” Anderson moved his head. “Did you resign from the Alabama National Guard? You’re wearing an Oklahoma State Guard patch.”

A wry smile crossing his face, Watson replied, “Yes and no, Sir. My twenty was up in January, but things are pending because we can’t process things one way or the other. I wasn’t going to leave my unit in the lurch when they deployed to Oklahoma to help train some Oklahoma State Guard on protecting pipelines and on more modern weapons that’ve come out since those warfighters were in, and we’ve been doing that since February. We’re not planning on leaving the state any time soon, so when someone from your headquarters called my company commander. I ‘volunteered’ for the Oklahoma State Guard, since it’s like the Alabama State Defense Force. I’m sort of out of the AANG, so no blood, no foul, Sir. Just consider me a very current Eighteen Delta, instead of someone who may be a little rusty.”

“Very good. Now, that brings up the question of you four. Obviously, you’ve all done your time in the sandbox, or you couldn’t wear those patches. But I’m not sure what the hell fatso was thinking, or if he even was, which of course is entirely possible.”

The first soldier, whose name badge read, ‘Hunter,’ frowned. “Sir? I’m not exactly sure what you mean. Yes, we’re all combat veterans, but we’re just like you and your troops. We volunteered to help with whatever we could, to help free up younger or more physically capable troops. We’d go to the front lines if we could, same as you would. Someone decided to send us here.”

“PFC Booker, I noticed you flinched when I said ‘fatso’ a moment ago.”

“Yes, Sir. I presume you’re referencing Colonel Wellington with that nickname.” Anderson nodded. “Then it’s a case of the Colonel not knowing what to do with us, so he decided to send us to you. It annoys him greatly that we saw more combat than he did. Certainly he served in theater, but we all also knew him to be a REMF. Sir!”

“The old term for that is garret trooper, Booker, in case you didn’t know. What do the four of you know about this place? Madden?”

“Remote facility for protection of vital oil field assets is the official word, Sir. But we all know it’s a camp like the three between Lawton and Altus, Sir.”

“Not exactly. Bailey?”

“Sir, does it tell you on our records what we all did in civilian life?”

“Actually, no, it doesn’t,” Anderson admitted.

“We’re all licensed psychiatric councilors, Sir. Sidney and Jessie worked for the VA in Oklahoma City, I worked for Baptist Hospital on the northwest side, Victoria worked for

Brookhaven Hospital in Tulsa.”

“Shit! I may have to apologize to fatso, then. Where’s your gear?”

“I doubt any apology will be needed. Rucksacks are in the back of the van, Sir,” Sergeant Watson said. “We were told your supply run today would bring in the rest of our gear, plus my medical supplies.”

“Weapons?”

“In the back, Sir,” Watson said.

“Load back up. Watson, you’re in back with the privates.” Anderson opened the front passenger door and climbed in, while the others loaded back into the van. He rolled the window down and made a circular motion with his hand. The driver started the van, Wiley opened the vehicle gate, and Anderson pointed the way for the driver.

“For you to be this early, I’m guessing you didn’t have chow,” Anderson said.

“We had McDonald’s on the way out, but that was three hours ago. We stopped at the gas station to use the bathroom half hour ago, Sir,” Watson answered.

“Well, it sounds like it’s time for everyone to eat, then. I know I’m hungry. Pull it up here and go to the left. Yes, in behind this building. Shut it down. You five, grab all your gear and your weapons, you can drop them off in my office. Private Hicks! Please escort the driver to the chow hall on staff side, so he can get some breakfast before he has to return.”

The driver said, “Sir, thank you, but once I drop them off, I’m supposed to return to OKC immediately.”

“With these roads, that’s four hours. Why?”

“Colonel Wellington said he needed me back for something important.”

“Tough shit. Go get some breakfast, take your time. Just for the information of you five, we don’t tell anyone that’s a ‘guest’ what day of the week it is. I know! This means fatso is going to miss his Sundaytee time. Nothing against you, Corporal. He and I go back a long time,” Anderson said with a chuckle.

“Yes, Sir, I’m quite aware of that. Sarah’s my cousin. You sure I can’t stay for lunch, too?”

Anderson laughed and waved him off, leading the way to the command center. Corporal Lincoln was at the monitors, talking to el-Azizi.

“Ah, good. Are you ready for breakfast?” she asked.

“Yes, they need to temporarily stow their gear in my office. We’ll have a senior NCO meeting after we eat, so everyone can introduce themselves,” Anderson answered, then looked at the five. “Even though this is a secure area, we never leave weapons not under lock and key, even during relief sessions.”

He opened the door to his office, then said, “You can pile your duffle bags there, make sure you’ve got your web belts with batons on, and of course, any personal sidearms. Just put your long guns by your bags.”

“Um, Sir? I noticed several prisoners...”

“Guests, Private Hunter. Involuntary, but still our guests. Very good. Those are all in 5.56 NATO, right?” Anderson asked.

“Of course, and nine mil, too,” Sergeant Watson said. “I’ve also got a twelve gauge pump in my duffle, just because sometimes hajji needs buckshot.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Two members of each platoon carry them at times, although we haven’t had to use force for quite some time. The threat, of course, is always there. So, this way.” He led them into the chow hall. “Pearlina, sorry I’m late this morning. This is Staff Sergeant Watson, and these are Privates Hunter, Booker, Madden, and Bailey. We’re going to get some new guests tomorrow, and they’ve been sent here to help with our manning.”

“We knew they had to be somethin’ up, since we had to move around again. None of us thought the war was ovuh yet, so you’d be lettin’ us go home.”

“Grab a cup of coffee and come on out and join us,” Anderson invited.

“Yes, Suh! Rickilee! You’s make sure you get lunch prep goin’, ya heah?”

“Yes, Miss Pearlina! We’ll take care of it!”

Anderson sat down, el-Azizi sitting next to him like normal. He was chuckling inside at the looks the new people gave her. He stopped Watson from reaching for the salt. “Don’t insult our chef without tasting her food before you season it.”

Pearlina came out. “Scootch over there, so I’s can sit ‘cross from the Cap’n and we can talk all neighborly.”