Marsh Silas IIS: Squad Stories

Chapter 4

A haze of lho-stick smoke hung above the heads of the Kasrkin gathered in the soldier's hall. The conversation was soft but constant. Knives and forks scraped against pewter plates as men cut into thick Grox cutlets. They bit into butter-slathered cornmeal biscuits and scooped up spoonful's of diced carrots mixed with peas. Empty glasses accumulated next to their plates which were swiftly taken away by the menial staff or topped off with beautiful, brown amasec. Others sipped from crisp white mugs filled with strong aromatic recaf. Some drank sweet brews, but most of them indulged in a mix that had more bite; Cadians always enjoyed a kick.

"You actually gonna eat that, brother, or shall I?"

Walmsley Minor looked across the table at his twin, who was just dabbing his lips with a napkin. Even when they weren't on duty, Walmsley Major looked every inch the platoon sergeant. Tall, muscular, grizzled—it was as natural as when Marsh Silas was promoted all those years ago. His twin had picked up some scars since the days in the 1333rd, having received a large bullet graze across his left cheek. A year later, the horizontal mark had faded into a thin, brown smear. Another scar, left by errant flying shrapnel, left a cut that curved from his chin to the right side of his mouth. It was quite visible even though he'd grown a full beard, like so many did in the Kasrkin; the hair did not grow where the metal had sliced.

With a teasing smile, Walmsley Major reached across and pinched the edge of the plate. Walmsley Minor turned his knife around in his hand as if he were about to engage in hand-to-hand combat and feigned a thrust. His brother laughed and pulled his hands back. "Alright, alright. So serious, isn't he, fellas?"

Sitting beside him in the booth was Cobb, the handler, and on the floor next to him was his canid, Freya. Cobb had cropped black hair, lush purple eyes, and a dark complexion. Freya had a black snout and equally ebony ears as well as a shadowy tail and midsection. Her chest, legs, and face were a golden brown color. Beside Walmsley Minor was Staff Sergeant Werner, in command of 5th Squad. Werner was tall and stocky, like most Cadians, and had a hard face but an amiable smile.

"Squad leaders ought to be serious," he said as he took a slug of amasec. "Lose your edge and you lose your men's respect."

"Maybe for you," Walmsley Major said, "but this here platoon has had some different examples, you see. Marsh Silas, well, that man has a different fire in his heart. He don't have to yell or bluster or whatever at you. He acts. He earned our respect a long time ago because he believes you earn everything. That's the kinda man you want in charge. He wants to become a better man, and when you see how he strives, you strive yourself."

"But banning corporal punishment? Writing and letters courses?"

"Literary competency courses," Walmsley Minor corrected smugly. "Marsh and good ol' Hyram came up with that one. They think all soldiers ought to be able to read an' write, and anybody who wishes to can learn."

"Wish to?" a bemused Werner asked. "I thought it was mandatory."

"You'd be a fool not to attend," Walmsley Major said. "Made all the difference when I went to the NCO Schola. They're pushing to make it mandatory. I have no doubts von Bracken will accept."

"Seems like the Lieutenant will do anything to enfranchise a man," sighed Cobb. "But he still doesn't like Freya" He pulled a piece of the Grox cutlet off and held it up. "Atten-hut!" Freya licked her chops, sat back on her hind legs, and straightened her back so her front paws were up. "Salute!" The canid lifted her right paw near her face. Cobb grinned. "Good girl, Freya," he said and tossed the piece of meat onto the ground. She eagerly lapped it up, chewed, and quickly sat back down.

Cobb did the same trick again, much to Walmsley Minor's and the others' amusement. But Cobb's smile swiftly faded. "He always calls her names and we always seem to be left out of missions. That was the first time this whole month he called us up for a task. What's the point of even having a canid handler in the platoon if an officer won't use him and his dog?"