Called on the Carpet

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Called on the Carpet

Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii

 

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Fred stood at attention. The captain had not told him to do otherwise; in point of fact, the captain had not spoken. His eyes had acknowledged Fred’s arrival; nothing more. The captain lit a cigarette and opened the folder sitting on his desk. Slowly enough that he could have been reading, but steadily enough that it was clear he wasn’t lingering on any specific page, the captain smoked and turned pages. The ash on his cigarette grew steadily longer. Fred sweated, but otherwise, did not move.
 
The captain finished the cigarette before the report. Perhaps, thought Fred as he watched the captain lighting another, he should have made the report more concise.
 
After flipping the last page, the captain neatened the stack of papers, then closed the folder. He sat looking at Fred through the smoke rising between them.
 
“Walk me through this, Staff Sergeant.”
 
“Sir, um…”
 
“Your presence failed to protect the first convoy.”
 
“Yes, sir.”
 
“Your absence failed to protect a second.”
 
“Yes, sir.”
 
“Then you came up with a plan.”
 
“No, sir.”
 
“No, Staff Sergeant?”
 
“That is, sir, the idea wasn’t mine. As I noted in the report, the basic idea came from one of the infantry…”
 
“That would be Private Parviz?”
 
“Frank, sir. Yes. Private Parviz.”
 
“And what qualifies Private Parviz to devise such a strategy?”
 
“He, um… He hunts deer, sir.”
 
The captain inhaled, the cherry glowing red, the ash growing longer. “Continue.”
 
“Sir, we were fairly confident that we were facing a single opponent, and that we had discovered his source of intelligence.”
 
“And you determined that?”
 
“Um, no, sir. As I noted, Chip…”
 
“Is that Sergeant Neufeld?”
 
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Neufeld, that is to say, Chip, put that together.”
 
“The sergeant had access to additional information?”
 
“Um, no, sir.”
 
“The man’s I.Q. is barely normal.”
 
“Sir, he refers to himself as ‘thick as a particularly thick post,’ sir.”
 
“Then how did he see what escaped your attention?”
 
“He, um, well, sir, he has a small notebook. He writes things down. Then he sees things. Um, sir.”
 
Again the captain paused for a drag. Then another. Fred fought the urge to fidget beneath that unwavering stare. Another. “Continue, Staff Sergeant.”
 
“We took a large gamble, sir, that the marauder would lie low for a day or two. We didn’t want to change any of the convoys whose schedules and destinations had already been publicized, and risk tipping him off. We were pretty sure that he was just watching the website for the football field. When we…”
 
“How did you arrive at that conclusion, Staff Sergeant?”
 
“I, um, sir, I didn’t. That was Al, sir, as I said in my report.”
 
“That would be Corporal Jones?”
 
“Yes, sir Corporal Albert Jones. Al. Erm, he, um, observed that the, um, that the scoreboards, well, they were awfully nice, and awfully new. And, um, from that we, um, realized that anyone, sir, anyone with an internet connection could see both footage of the field and the feed from the scoreboards. So we determined to shift the schedules of all convoys not yet posted to, um, well, to keep them from fitting his pattern.”
 
“Pattern, Staff Sergeant?”
 
“To keep them away from places a tank could hide around sunrise or sunset, sir. We didn’t have to change any actual destinations, just shift some times around. Um, sir.”
 
Again the cherry flared. The ash grew. Gods above, did the man ever blink? Fred felt cold sweat dripping down his back, under his arms, his inner thighs.
 
“Continue, Staff Sergeant.”
 
“Sir, well, sir, um, we wanted to really entice him to, um, well, to attack a specific convoy. So we made sure to assemble it in full view of the webcams. We added a few, um, we added, well, what we thought would be high-value targets. There was, um, there was a medical transport loaded with pharmaceuticals, well, not really, they were just crates with pharma stamps on the side, but it looked, well, we hoped…”
 
“You’re babbling, Staff Sergeant.”
 
“Sir! So, um, the medical transport, and a fuel tanker, and a troop transport, all in addition to the regular complement of trucks. Um. Sir. We, um, no, I, sir, I thought that he would, well, that he couldn’t pass up such a target.”
 
“No munitions, Staff Sergeant?”
 
“Um, no, sir. If there had been munitions but no increased security, it, um, it would have really smelled like a trap, sir.”
 
The captain crushed out his cigarette and lit another. The stare never wavered. “Continue.”
 
“Sir, we sent the infantry out to hide in the stretch of woods where we, um, well, where we would have hidden to attack the convoy ourselves. We, um, we knew where the best spot would be, and we had timed the convoy to pass it at sundown. But we couldn’t be sure of, um, of the exact position the enemy would take, or of when he would arrive. So we dropped them off about two days early, and spread them over several kilometers of road. There, um, there is a forest there, a pretty wide patch, so it was a fair bit of ground for each soldier to cover. They, um, they were to patrol and remain unobserved, and to use, um, strict, um, radio silence unless they saw the enemy.
 
“Then we, um, we hid our tanks, Chip’s and mine, about a click diagonally away from that ideal spot, in opposite directions. We, um, we figured that wherever he parked in that stretch of woods, at least one of us would be, um, able to confront him speedily.”
 
Fred was going to pee his pants. He just knew it. And still the captain just sat, and stared, and smoked. Had he blinked, even once? Fred wasn’t sure.
 
“Continue, Staff Sergeant.”
 
“Well, sir, it, um, it worked. Obviously, we had hoped to spot him sooner, but we found him only minutes in advance.”
 
“You found him?”
 
“No, sir, that was Tanya, rather, Master Corporal Saiki. She activated her locator, and Chip and I began converging. Nienna, that is, Sergeant Muñoz, was under orders to slow but continue her direction until the first shot was fired, or until called for, so as not to alert the enemy.”
 
“I see.” The captain remained silent for the space of several drags. Fred could feel his boots filling with cold sweat. “And the cost of this operation, Staff Sergeant?”
 
“Two…” Fred’s voice choked. “Two dead, sir. Nancy, that is, Corporal Colley, the driver of our heavy tank, was killed when a shell penetrated the hull, despite our uparmoring for this mission. The driver of the tanker truck, a private named Tad Wilson, was killed by shrapnel. Nienna, Sergeant Muñoz, was badly wounded in the leg and suffered severe burns. It’s unlikely she’ll be able to return to duty. The gunner, Corporal Nester Coppollo, suffered from smoke inhalation, and is pretty badly traumatized.”
 
“I asked you the cost, Staff Sergeant. One truck. One heavy tank. Hundreds of man hours of logistics to get straightened out after you tampered with the carefully orchestrated convoy schedules. Empty vehicles sent to a meaningless destination. Dollars and cents. Man-hours and fuel. What, Staff Sergeant, was the cost of this operation?”
 
Suddenly Fred wasn’t nervous anymore. He wasn’t scared of a reprimand; he wasn’t sad about the loss of his friends. In the space it had taken the captain to utter those words, Fred had gone cold. He’d been angry before, had lost his temper before, had even gone red-vision, had-to-be-held-down-by-his-friends berserk before, but until that very moment, Fred had never experienced true rage.
 
He took a breath. The captain took a drag. He took another breath. The captain took another drag. Fred took a step closer and leaned forward, placing his fists atop the captain’s desk.
 
“Sir,” he said quietly, his voice the very model of modulated respect, “I believe that I misunderstood the question. Would you please rephrase it for me?”
 
“Step back, Staff Sergeant, and take a seat before you do something that lands you in the stockade and me in the hospital.”
 
Fred slowly took one step back but remained standing at attention. Well, almost. Attention normally had hands alongside the legs, not balled into fists. He felt himself shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his veins.
 
The captain opened his desk drawer and pulled out two glasses and a bottle. Pulling the stopper, he poured two drinks. “Staff Sergeant, I said sit.”
 
The sudden steel that entered the captain’s voice activated involuntary responses Fred hadn’t know existed; he found himself seated with no recollection of having moved.
 
“Staff Sergeant, I like you. You show initiative. You tackle problems in unorthodox yet effective ways. You take good advice, wherever you hear it; you give credit where credit is due; and you take responsibility for your own actions. You value your mission, but not as much as you value your soldiers, and you understand that tools are less important than people. Your head is screwed on straight. Drink that.”
 
Fred obeyed. The whisky tasted familiar. He looked at the bottle on the desk. Hederson Special Reserve!
 
“Yes, Staff Sergeant, I have been watching you.” The captain tossed off his drink and poured two more. “Nienna and Nester will get the best of care, but you are correct. Most likely, both will be discharged. You will select a replacement tank and crew from a list of available units.
 
“And while you are at it, you will select two additional platoons. Team Greenway is now Company Greenway. Staff Sergeant Georgina Olsen is likewise promoted, and will select an additional squad of infantry plus a squad of specialists. Your company will report directly to me.” The captain raised his glass in a toast. “Congratulations, Master Sergeant.”

 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

Edited October 17, 2018 by Hippin_in_Hawaii

[Blackdrakon30 2,943]

- Changed font size and font to TrebMS and 14, for a Newspaper-estique style, and edited title formatting. Just some quick edits to sharpen up the article's appearance. 

 

Approved

 

 

Everything looks really good; well done! It was cool seeing Fred's reactions and thoughts throughout his whole conversation. I think you did a great job capturing his various feelings in an accurate way, which really makes the writing much more engaging. 

[GrandExecutioner 1,403]

Nice! The dialogue is back!

[shafter9 156]

Nice, I like it.