it, that last game don’t count cause it was more like three versus one,” Parsons said.
Bena nodded and put the money back in his pocket. “Thanks, man.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. When we get to Bagram, Mosby and me are going to find you another partner and we’re going to stomp your ass. Don’t go making any purchases because I’ll be seeing that five spot again soon,” Parsons said, as if a little trash talk would take Bena’s mind off his wife.
Sergeant McBride demanded that everyone physically touch their rifles to ensure they had them and that the platoon’s NCOs check each individual to ensure all gear was in order. Now was not the time to leave something behind. A missing weapon would hold up their trip, medals or no medals.
“This is it, you ready, Sir?” McBride asked.
“I hate flying,” Jake said, grimacing as he caught a glimpse of the C-130 circling around the field.
“Am I going to have to carry you to the plane, Sir?” McBride asked, putting on his backpack.
“No. I hate flying, but I hate this FOB more.”
Kodiak Platoon was unprepared for the drop in temperature at Bagram, which was a staggering 1,000 feet higher than Salerno. No one was at the terminal to meet the platoon. With only enough seating inside the terminal for outbound personnel, the men sat around in a circle just outside the flight line in the near-freezing temperatures. They didn’t enjoy the cold, but were used to being left in the elements. They waited while Jake made calls to get them a place to stay. He’d been gone for about 20 minutes.
“Do you think the ‘Sir’ will get it done?” Sergeant Olsen asked.
“He always does,” McBride said, burying his hands in his armpits.
“Got any ideas, in case he doesn’t?”
“Nope. Like I said, he’ll figure it out.”
“Well, I was thinking we could try crashing in the library if—”
“Gramps, the captain is going to be back in a minute and we’ll have a tent. No need for homeless plans just yet,” McBride said.
“I’m just thinking out loud,” Olsen said.
“Well, try using your indoor voice when you think out loud,” McBride said. Parsons and Big Joe chuckled and Olsen glared at them. The soldiers immediately fell silent and looked at their boots.
Olsen vented on, “Listen to you talk about loyalty. Captain Roberts could have recommended me for promotion last month and that would have delayed my ETS date beyond 20 years. He could have saved my retirement. You know what he did? Nothing. Talk about loyalty.”
McBride nodded his head thoughtfully, as if mulling over what Olsen had just said. During the course of the deployment, he’d become more and more disgusted with Olsen’s incompetence and overall lack of professionalism. There had been a time when Olsen had been able to conceal his true colors from McBride. That had resulted in more than a few mistakes. McBride himself was getting thrown out of the Army shortly after the conclusion of the deployment, but he still took pride in being a noncommissioned officer. He was a leader and that was what got him out of bed every morning. Olsen, on the other hand, got out of bed because he hadn’t figured out how to make his soldiers serve him breakfast there. McBride held his tongue for the most part, but not now.
“Olsen, do you know what’s wrong with you? You see rank as clout, an entitlement or a way to get out of hard work. You enjoy the power and get a kick out of bossing people around. A leader looks at rank as a responsibility and a privilege. It means taking care of people and not abusing them. For the record, I recommended to Captain Roberts not to put you in for staff sergeant, because, frankly, you’re not staff sergeant material. So if you want to blame someone, blame me,” McBride said, looking at Olsen directly. Olsen glared at the younger, higher-ranking NCO, a contemptuous sneer on his lips. Parsons and Big Joe stared at both McBride and Olsen with mouths agape. Olsen turned
Bena nodded and put the money back in his pocket. “Thanks, man.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. When we get to Bagram, Mosby and me are going to find you another partner and we’re going to stomp your ass. Don’t go making any purchases because I’ll be seeing that five spot again soon,” Parsons said, as if a little trash talk would take Bena’s mind off his wife.
Sergeant McBride demanded that everyone physically touch their rifles to ensure they had them and that the platoon’s NCOs check each individual to ensure all gear was in order. Now was not the time to leave something behind. A missing weapon would hold up their trip, medals or no medals.
“This is it, you ready, Sir?” McBride asked.
“I hate flying,” Jake said, grimacing as he caught a glimpse of the C-130 circling around the field.
“Am I going to have to carry you to the plane, Sir?” McBride asked, putting on his backpack.
“No. I hate flying, but I hate this FOB more.”
Kodiak Platoon was unprepared for the drop in temperature at Bagram, which was a staggering 1,000 feet higher than Salerno. No one was at the terminal to meet the platoon. With only enough seating inside the terminal for outbound personnel, the men sat around in a circle just outside the flight line in the near-freezing temperatures. They didn’t enjoy the cold, but were used to being left in the elements. They waited while Jake made calls to get them a place to stay. He’d been gone for about 20 minutes.
“Do you think the ‘Sir’ will get it done?” Sergeant Olsen asked.
“He always does,” McBride said, burying his hands in his armpits.
“Got any ideas, in case he doesn’t?”
“Nope. Like I said, he’ll figure it out.”
“Well, I was thinking we could try crashing in the library if—”
“Gramps, the captain is going to be back in a minute and we’ll have a tent. No need for homeless plans just yet,” McBride said.
“I’m just thinking out loud,” Olsen said.
“Well, try using your indoor voice when you think out loud,” McBride said. Parsons and Big Joe chuckled and Olsen glared at them. The soldiers immediately fell silent and looked at their boots.
Olsen vented on, “Listen to you talk about loyalty. Captain Roberts could have recommended me for promotion last month and that would have delayed my ETS date beyond 20 years. He could have saved my retirement. You know what he did? Nothing. Talk about loyalty.”
McBride nodded his head thoughtfully, as if mulling over what Olsen had just said. During the course of the deployment, he’d become more and more disgusted with Olsen’s incompetence and overall lack of professionalism. There had been a time when Olsen had been able to conceal his true colors from McBride. That had resulted in more than a few mistakes. McBride himself was getting thrown out of the Army shortly after the conclusion of the deployment, but he still took pride in being a noncommissioned officer. He was a leader and that was what got him out of bed every morning. Olsen, on the other hand, got out of bed because he hadn’t figured out how to make his soldiers serve him breakfast there. McBride held his tongue for the most part, but not now.
“Olsen, do you know what’s wrong with you? You see rank as clout, an entitlement or a way to get out of hard work. You enjoy the power and get a kick out of bossing people around. A leader looks at rank as a responsibility and a privilege. It means taking care of people and not abusing them. For the record, I recommended to Captain Roberts not to put you in for staff sergeant, because, frankly, you’re not staff sergeant material. So if you want to blame someone, blame me,” McBride said, looking at Olsen directly. Olsen glared at the younger, higher-ranking NCO, a contemptuous sneer on his lips. Parsons and Big Joe stared at both McBride and Olsen with mouths agape. Olsen turned
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