Semper Fi by Keira Andrews Page A

was unremarkable, but carried an unmistakable air of quiet authority. “This is a machine gun and heavy mortar company.”
    They all listened intently as Brown explained their new training regimen. Jim had been assigned to be a mortarman, and Cal had quickly offered to be his partner. It was a relief having Cal there, and Jim thanked God they’d been lucky enough to be assigned the same company. It was silly, but he’d come to think of his friend as a sort of guardian angel.
    “This is not boot camp. You are United States Marines, and you should be damn proud of that.”
    Jim stood a little straighter, and could sense his fellow men doing the same.
    “You are going to learn your new weapons inside and out. Before long, you’ll be able to assemble your mortars and machine guns with your eyes closed. So let’s get to work.”
    The days at New River began to blend together in a haze of firing drills and lessons on weapon parts and names. Jim and Cal worked with 60mm mortars. Over and over, they hauled the forty-five pound tube, bipod and base plate and set up their weapon.
    As Cal unfolded the bipod and snapped its legs into the base plate, he grumbled good-naturedly. “At least we can call this one a gun.”
    When the sight was snapped into place and the tube of the mortar pointed at a high angle, they mimed dropping the shell into the muzzle. Lining up the sight was an intricate business, and they learned how to use a compass to get a reading on their target area and line up their aiming stake in front of the gun.
    With a young recruit named Greg Sullivan, whom everyone already called Sully, they rotated as number one and two gunners and ammo carrier, competing with other teams to be the fastest. When they moved on to using live ammo, Jim couldn’t help but feel nervous. Cal was acting as number one gunner, and at his command of “Hanging!” Jim dropped the shell into the tube.
    Cal shouted, “Fire!” and they all ducked their heads.
    The shell soared right toward its target, exploding in a black cloud of smoke as deadly metal shrapnel scattered the area. They cheered loudly at their success. But as they walked back from the drilling grounds that evening in casual route march, Jim couldn’t help but wonder what the shrapnel would do to a man.
    Cal nudged him. “What’s eating you?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Uh-huh. Come on. There’s something on your mind.”
    Jim relented. “I was thinking about that mortar. Wondering what kind of weapons the Japs will be lobbing back at us.”
    Cal frowned, silent for a few moments. “I haven’t really thought about it. It’s strange—most of the time the war still feels so far away. Doesn’t it?”
    “Yeah. It does.”
    “I mean, I know that’s what we’re doing all this training for. We wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a war. You’d be on the apple farm and I’d be a useless bastard with a Princeton degree and a fancy car. But…” He shrugged. “It doesn’t seem real.”
    Jim slapped Cal’s arm lightly. “Except you could never be useless.”
    “Oh, I think my father would disagree. Quite vehemently, in fact.”
    Captain Brown shouted, “Company! Atten-shun!”
    This meant they were nearing the base, and they always entered looking sharp. As one, their slouches disappeared and the men marched in time, rifles straight and heads high.
    A few hours later they were out on the local road, slouching once more. “Come on, give some fighting men a lift!” Cal stuck his thumb out as he shouted, but the car sped by them into the night. “Traitor!”
    Jim and the others laughed as they walked along the side of the road. They’d been given free time, which after boot camp felt utterly foreign. A few other men in their company had decided the only thing to do was hitchhike to New Bern.
    As another car zoomed by, Jim asked, “Why don’t we just have a drink around here? There’s a bar right down the street.” Granted, it was little more than a shack, but