Toy Soldier » Band of Brothers

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟸

𝙹𝚄𝙻𝚈 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟸

It was stiflingly hot the next morning when Tommy's CO - First Lieutenant Herbert Sobel, called for inspection. All the men lined up, just off the road out in front of the barracks, with their uniforms on and their webbing draped over them. The air hung heavily around them as flies buzzed by their faces, the men tracing their languid trail with their eyes.

Tommy stood in the front row with the other privates, methodically fiddling with the trigger of his M1. His webbing hung heavily off his skinny shoulders, almost seventy pounds of kit plus the heavy steel helmet that sat, slightly skewed to the right, atop his striking, almost silver, blonde hair.

"You people are at the position of attention!" Sobel screamed, suddenly rounding up from behind the company with his hands clenched tightly behind his back. Immediately everyone straightened up, standing at attention as the red faced officer stalked down the front line of recruits.

Tommy would quickly learn that standing in the front row of during inspections was the worst place to be. He watched from his periphery as Sobel paced in front of the first row, casting his eyes to look at them as he sped passed.

He came to a stop in front of a short man, who immediately presented his weapon for inspection, keeping his dead eyes focused forwards.

"Private Perconte, did you blouse your trousers like a paratrooper?" Sobel screamed, his high pitched, raspy voice cutting through the sweltering air.

"No, sir."

"Then explain the creases."

"No excuse, sir."

First Lieutenant Sobel looked up from Perconte, casting his gaze among the rest of the company before he looked back down to the private, "Volunteering for the parachute infantry is one thing, Perconte, but you've got a long way to prove you belong here. Your weekend pass is revoked."

He quickly moved down the line, coming up to another, poor victim. This time is was another short, brunet man, with a paler complexion than Perconte, who didn't even have the opportunity to present his weapon for inspection before Sobel snatched it out of his hands.

"Name?"

"Luz, George."

Tommy watched from the corner of his eye as Sobel scoffed non comically, inspecting the but end of the rifle, "Dirt in the rear sight aperture. Pass revoked."

Not even the officers were safe from Sobels eagle eyes. As soon as he came to the end of the first row, measuring a tall, bull-like man with a strong look of disgust, he rounded back, zeroing in on the chevrons sewn onto Sergeant Liptons right sleeve.

"When did you sew on these chevrons, Sergeant Lipton?"

"Yesterday, Sir."

"Long enough to notice this." Sobel said holding up what Tommy couldn't make out, but presumed to be a piece of lint, "Revoked."

"Sir."

"Name?"

"Malarkey, Donald G. Sir." Private Malarkey answered, holding his gun out for inspection.

"Malarkey? Malarkey slang for bullshit, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."

Sobel held up the uncovered end of the M-1 right up to Malarkey's face, "Rust on the butt plate hinge spring, Private Bullshit. Revoked."

Tommy had hoped he'd get by until Sobel's insufferable face entered his periphery, coming to stand right before him, "Name?"

"Reller, Thomas I. Sir." He answered, holding up his rifle for inspection with a straight face. Sobel looked down at the diminutive man with a scowl.