Killed in Action - A Spy School Story

Chapter 10: Awards

Camp Lejeune, NC

April 13th , 2018

1800R

Why the entirety of 1/8 was present, I didn't know. It was definitely weird, considering that battalion formations are usually a monthly affair, but I supposed that the battalion commander needed to address us for some reason. I stood alongside the men of Weapons Platoon, Charlie Company as the company commanders reported that all personnel were present and/or accounted for. After Weapons Company sounded off, we were told to stand at ease. The battalion commander—flanked by his executive officer, sergeant major, and staff—then began to speak into his microphone.

"Good evening, Marines."

"GOOD EVENING, SIR," we replied.

"I'll be as brief as I can so that you all can go and enjoy your forty-eight. There are a few battalion-level issues that have arisen: firstly, while you're on liberty, you have the right to drink and the right to drive... just not at the same time, as a few of your peers have. I am not pleased at all. And if you could utilize protection in the event that you decide to participate in intercourse, that would be great."

Oh boy, you've gotta be kiddin' me... this nonsense aside, why do officers have to use big ole words all the dern time?

"Like the commander said, this is gettin' fuckin' ridiculous!" the sergeant major scolded, sounding even more ticked off than the battalion commander. "Doggone it, you're Marines, not some dumbass teenagers! You need to uphold the dignity of yourselves, this battalion, and the Corps! It would behoove you to unfuck yourselves and act with some maturity!"

Hoo boy... glad I'm not the idiot that decided to drink and drive. Sarn't Major does not sound like the feller you wanna get angry.

"Side note: leadership, leave your men alone after hours. Don't fuckin' call 'em during their forty-eight—or hell, during any sort of off hours—unless it's a goddamn emergency. They earned their time off just like you. Sweet Jesus, let 'em recharge! Last thing we need are people goin' crazy 'cause their command is callin' 'em at weird-ass times. Crazy leads to reduced motivation, reduced motivation leads to reduced combat effectiveness, and reduced combat effectiveness leads to death! And sometimes, it goes straight from crazy to death! I do not need that happening to this battalion!" Sergeant Major added. "And reduce usage of your cell phones! That ain't a substitute for good planning and communication!"

That's... okay then, Sarn't Major. Good idea, though I'm curious how you came up with the other stuff.

"That's all for battalion issues," the commander said as a Humvee pulled up to our battalion area, with two Marines stepping out of the shotgun and rear seats. "Ah, he's here."

"ATTEN-SHUN!" Sergeant Major bellowed, prompting us to snap to attention as the unknown Marines walked up to the battalion commander, standing out among the men in cammies due to their green-and-khaki service uniforms. I could catch a silvery glint on one man's collar, though it was hard to tell what it was from a distance. However, given its relatively small size and the fact that the battalion commander—a lieutenant colonel—was standing ramrod at attention, the unknown Marine had to be a general officer of some sort. The commander rendered a crisp salute that the general officer returned, before taking the microphone and turning to face us.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he commanded. "I'm Brigadier General Turner. I was the CG (commanding general) of Task Force Southwest Rotation 1, whose mission was to train, advise, and assist the Afghan National Army 215th Corps and the 505th Zone National Police in Helmand Province, Afghanistan as part of NATO's Resolute Support mission."