Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 12

The New Crew

Just as ordered, within one week all of Percy's men arrived in Union. It was a bit of a shock for the townspeople. They knew it was an entire Company, but they didn't realize how many that meant until they all drove in one Sunday morning. With no place for them to stay or specifically go, they milled around town and checked out the minimal sights. Most people just ignored them, so there were no problems throughout the morning.

There were many new faces within the Company that seemed out of place. They were transfers or recent boot camp graduates and weren't really sure how they were supposed to act. Percy's Men had a reputation; it was said that they operated much differently than the regular army, but they didn't know how much of it was rumor and how much was fact.

They found out that afternoon. While a harsh wind pelted their bodies with dirt from the ruined earth, they knelt in front of their new commanding officer. Dressed only in their underwear, the scorching heat burned just half as much as the soil that bombarded them. Behind them stood the veteran members of Percy's Company; after their very brief stint in Texas, there was thirty-eight remaining. Two of those – Warrant Officer Wallace Chevalier and Captain Mackenzie Ross – stood beside the Major.

He was not intimidating, despite the many decorations on his fancy uniform. Absolutely nothing about Percy was imposing. He was alright with that. He had faith the newcomers would respect him soon enough. First, he had to introduce the half-sized platoon to their way of life.

"You probably wonder why you're naked in the middle of a dust storm," he began. He had to yell over the howling wind. "Quite simply it's because I don't know if you deserve to wear our insignia. Congratulations, you've graduated from boot camp; maybe you've had the lucky duck fortune of serving your country in combat. Well I don't give a s**t. The fact that some Drill Sergeant in summer camp thinks your good enough to be a soldier means nothing to me. And I don't care that you got a field promotion in Germany for cleaning toilets.

"Here, in my Company, you need to earn my respect. Right now, I have no reason to respect you – I look down on you. So you can keep your naked butts planted into the dirt until I think you're my equal. If you're lucky enough to become one of us, well, then we will trust you with our lives. Every single person standing behind you has proven to me and each other that they will go to the ends of the earth for another.

"You probably wonder what's so damn special about us. Well I'll clue you in. When the fuckin' NATO needed a rescue carried out in god damn Antarctica, they called us. That's right you pansy, how many of you have been to the Arctic? You think you're special because you raided a town? Well we liberated an entire country. We are the best and will always be the best.

"If our country needs troops to parachute into an enemy stronghold, we are Air Borne – we jump. If pirates commandeer a ship, we're SEALs – we dive. We are chameleons. Whatever needs to be done, we will do it. Wherever they need us, we're there. If we're told to do something, we don't say we can't or don't know how. We get it done. We do not lose, we will never lose, and if we ever do lose you can bet your ass that it's because you failed. My men do not fail and if you want to keep living you'll keep that in mind. They do not fail on the battlefield or off; they do not fail physically or morally. I will not tolerate the abuse of power over your fellows Americans, enemy combatants, or civilians. If you don't believe me, you can march your ass to Istanbul and find the grave of a Private Gray and ask him yourself.

"In our Company, if the entire world turns its back on America, we will stand beside Her. If America turns its back on you, we will all stand beside you. I don't give a damn if you form a coup d'état, as long as it's for a damn good reason I will lead the charge for you. But you must not ever, for any reason, betray me or the brothers and sisters under me.

"Now that you know who I am, I want to know who you are. I want each one of you to stand and tell me your name, rank, religious preference and whatever the f**k else you want me to know. Since you're stupid enough to land your dumbass in my Company, I'll allow a demonstration. Chen!"

From behind the newcomers a soldier jogged to the front. He stood in front of the Major, offered a salute, turned on his heel and faced the near-naked men. He was focused; even though the wind threatened to rip his patrol cap off, he paid it no mind.

He barked, "Chen, Robert L.! Staff Sergeant! Agnostic! Reconnaissance specialist, former Force Recon of the United States Marine Corps, Semper Fi!"

Chen twirled to the Major again, snapped another salute, and disappeared. It was so expertly carried out, the rookies wondered if it was something done regularly. There was little time to guess, as the Major pointed immediately at a familiar face that had found himself back in town: Royal.

"Thanks for volunteering, Taylor," Percy said.

There was no complaint. Not even the slightest hint of attitude emitted from the youngster. Percy could pick up the smallest facial and posture changes with most soldiers. To see Royal's mind so dedicated and trusting of his orders made a smile appear on Percy's lips.

With only his underwear as comfort, Royal stood, saluted the Major and yelled, "Taylor, Royal Patrick! Private First Class! Presbyterian! Former All-American football player, sir!"

The Major offered two quick claps in approval. "Good job, Private!" he said. "Now pick who will be next!"

It was a test and Royal passed. Without thinking or showing fear, he pointed to a soldier from his on unit and said, "Corporal Wellborn!"

The man clad in tattoos grumbled as he slowly made his way to his feet. By the time he was moving forward, Royal was already back into his knees. The Corporal shuffled to Percy slumped over, offered a half-assed salute, and introduced himself.

"Corporal Roo, sir. Nice to meet you," was his greeting.

"Try again," Percy said calmly.

"Look," he said, "everyone calls me Roo. You're not my commander; I only take orders from Skipper."

"Captain," Percy said to Mackenzie. "Apprehend him."

"Yes, Major."

Roo realized Percy was talking to the female officer and seemed surprised. He let out an amused laugh and said, "A pretty pencil pusher?"

Mackenzie socked him once in the nose before she grabbed his shoulders and forced his rib cage against her knee. Without a fight he collapsed; she grabbed the nape of his neck and forced him to face Percy. "Apologize and try it again," he ordered. When Roo made no attempt, Percy continued, "I expect each man in my Company to own up to himself. I allow no facades. So I respect your attempt at remaining true to yourself and your Sergeant. However, I also expect them to own up to their poor choices. Want to try again?"

Roo nodded, the blood from his swollen nose falling like rain drops. "Sorry Major – "

"Don't say sorry," Percy interrupted. "Sorry is a cheap word, used far too often with little regard for its true meaning. I asked for an apology – there's a difference."

It took a moment for Roo to understand. When he did, he said, "I apologize, Major. Allow me another chance."

"Always," was all Percy said. "But first, I want your platoon leader to prove he can do it. Platoon leader!"

Mouse-like in appearance, the platoon leader leapt to his feet and scurried to the Major. He was a good three or four inches shorter than Percy but appeared so determined. Before he recognized the raw West Point graduate, the greenhorn saluted and shouted, "Goldwin, James! Second Lieutenant! Baptist!"

"Lieutenant, your shoes are untied," Wallace mentioned. Gullible like a fool, James checked his bare feet. He ended up staring at the sky next, after Wallace tripped the inattentive officer. Of course, Wallace offered to help James up. As he pulled James to his feet, Wallace said, "It is important that we are aware of our surroundings at all times. This includes ourselves."

"I thank you for the invaluable advice, Mister Chevalier," James said with a small bow. The gesture seemed odd to Wallace.

"Major!" Roo shouted. With everyone's eyes on him, he saluted and said, "Wellborn, Otto Jr.! Corporal! No Preference! Former Neo-Nazi and proud member of the Southeast Asia Special Assignment Company!"

His proclamation took everyone off guard. "That's an interesting bit of information to share, Corporal," Percy said.

Roo nodded, "Yes, Major! But you said we must own up to ourselves. If I can't admit my past mistakes, I can't be proud of my current accomplishments!"

Percy reached out and rubbed Roo's near-bald head. He pushed the Corporal back towards his comrades. Then he ordered, "Squad leaders! Upfront!"

Within seconds they had assembled; in unison they saluted, twisted and presented themselves to their men. With the deaths of Fleetwood and Matthews, as well as the maiming of Randall, there was only five including Wallace. Chen stepped back from the others while another moved forward. One by one they introduced themselves.

"Chevalier, Wallace Allan! Warrant Officer! Atheist! Nothing to add, sir!"

"Barton, Richard! Staff Sergeant! Christian! Proud father of three!"

"Patterson, James! Sergeant First Class! Objectivist! Also a father, been married for six years!"

"McGill! Jennifer Rae! Corporal! Baptist!"

"You're still a Corporal?" Percy interjected. His eyes were widened with a strange mixture of surprise and frustration; even his head was tilted back, just like he had been deeply offended.

In return, she was taken aback by his apparent shock. "Am I supposed to be something else?" she timidly asked.

"Hell yeah! A Warrant Officer!"

The exchange that took place was viewed curiously by the newcomers. Based on everyone's introductions, they had figured: Wallace was a boring man, Barton was a simple man, Patterson was unoriginal, and McGill was Percy's favorite. Wakeman hadn't even received the chance to speak, so they figured he was Percy's least favorite. Of course, none of this was true.

Something new caught their attention when a civilian proudly sporting military-issued tactical glasses against the sandstorm appeared. His face was covered by a cheap scarf that the wind threatened to take. Despite his features being covered, it was evident he held a big grin. Percy did not return any sense of enjoyment when he spotted Jordan hidden beneath a veil of fabric.

"This here is Mr. Attaway from the New York Times," Percy said. He clenched Jordan's shoulder as he introduced him. Jordan attempted to return the physical contact by throwing an arm around Percy. The move was rejected by Percy with a large shrug.

"Is the New York Times even still relevant?" a newcomer asked. A few of his comrades laughed.

Jordan was unfazed; Lieutenant Goldwin, however, leapt to his feet. "Shut up!" he ordered. Everyone was shocked by the outburst. "How dare you disrespect a correspondent like that?! He puts his life on the line just like the rest of us, so I demand you show him the utmost respect!"

Despite the wind, Goldwin's voice carried heavily through the air. In fact, it was heard by Warren, who had just stepped out of the church. He hadn't realized Percy's Men had arrived. None of them were in church that day, which is where Warren had spent all of his time. Even though he was almost a football field away, he could easily spot Royal.

However he failed to spot Freddie, who rested on the bench beside the church, until he spoke. "Quite a lively bunch, wouldn't you agree?" he asked. Warren ignored him. He had no reason to feign friendliness to the accused terrorist. On the other hand, Freddie genuinely wanted to know more about Warren. So, he forced the conversation to continue. "Your son looks good in uniform… but even better without it."

Warren was offended by the comment and the sly smirk that followed. He asked, "Are you… gay?"

Freddie laughed at how awkward the question sounded. He shook his head and answered, "No, no. I prefer women." He saw Warren relax a bit and asked his own question. "Does it make you uneasy that I find your son attractive?"

Warren sent Freddie a suspicious glare. "You just said you were straight," he said.

"I never said I was straight, I just said I prefer women," Freddie corrected. "Unlike most people, I do not see things as morally right or wrong. There is no such thing; there is only what I do and what I don't do. If I want something, I get it."

"Well, please don't 'get' my son."

Again, Freddie laughed. "Don't worry Minister. I never pursue individuals who are taken. Your son has a fine girlfriend. I would never sabotage them."

Warren sensed the sincerity. How bold this man is to have admitted his lifestyle to a Minister, Warren thought. There was not an ounce of nervousness in how he presented himself. This was something that Warren could respect. In order to show this, he took a seat next to Freddie.

"Have you ever been married?" Warren asked.

Freddie nodded, "A long time ago." He cracked his knuckles, the first time he had shown weakness in front of anyone in Union. He quoted, "'I regret not a single action in my life, save that I was foolish enough to fall in love.' A good friend of mine wrote that to me the night before he was executed. No one knows his name and I refuse to share it as per his request. But that single line haunts me, as I feel it sums up my life fairly well. Not that I regret the time I spent with my wife, but I sure as hell would rather never feel such sorrow again."

The Minister wanted to offer words of comfort – his specialty – but never had the chance to open his mouth. Barton had wandered away from the rest of the soldiers while Percy ranted about McGill's rank and Jordan made a complete ass of himself. As he gawked at the town he had been sent to, he noticed a familiar face by the church. The moment he recognized Warren he sprinted and shouted in his excitement.

"Chaplain!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Like a child he hurried to Warren and leapt in the air once he was near him. "Is that really you, sir? Sergeant Taylor? It's me, Private Barton! Remember the Baron Barton?"

Warren forced a smile; he loved all the men he fought with but couldn't stomach their intensity. "Of course I remember. How are you, Richard?"

"You do remember! I love you, Chaplain! I still have the pocket bible you gave me when we were in Europe! Do you remember? It's red, with gold lettering." He slowed down, his voice lowering as he brought to the surface a memory he had buried years ago. For the first time in a while, Barton let his shoulders slump, his eyes casted down to his feet. "And inside of it, we wrote everyone's name down. We wrote down everyone who died. And there was a picture…"

He was unable to continue. His voice failed him, something that did not happen to the cheerful Barton. If he continued, everyone would have heard how upset he was. He opted to keep his mouth shut in order to prevent his emotions from showing.

Warren saw Barton shut his eyes tight. Warren finished for him, "There was a picture Jordan had taken that was tucked inside. Our squad posed as the sun set over the Rila Range."

"It's the only one of them alive," Barton managed to squeak out. Warren rose from his seat and gracefully grabbed his friend. It took Freddie off guard; he could not understand why the thought of a simple photograph would upset someone so much.

"I miss you guys," Warren said to him.

"I love you, Chaplain," Barton repeated.

Freddie felt like an intruder, so he quietly stood and left. Without a thought he moved towards the construction site. He popped the collar on his shirt in order to provide some sort of protection against the wind and shoved his hands into his pockets. His eyes were barely open, afraid of the sting of sand.

"What are you doing here?" a female voice asked him. He opened his eyes fully to find himself not even a foot from Mackenzie.

He smiled and answered, "I'm not really sure. Do you know why you're here?"

"Because I was ordered to be here by the Major," she said without hesitation.

He closed his eyes again and snorted, "Such a simplistic response. I don't believe it to be the real reason. Perhaps if you think back further, you will find the real root of your destiny."

"I'm not amused by fancy sayings," she said.

Again he opened his eyes. This time, he bore them into Mackenzie's with an intensity she wasn't used to seeing from civilians. He said, "A pity. You seemed like such a wise woman. I was impressed, even from a distance, at your potential. Yet you refuse to muse over the causes of your own mistakes. I have no use for those who cannot think."

"Then things have worked out in my favor," she said.

"Oh, I never said I didn't want you," Freddie smirked. "I would love to see that ricochet scar for myself someday."

Her guard fell for a moment when she glared. "How did you find out about that?" she asked.

"Suddenly you want to question things?" he sighed. "Such a typical American response. Only when it is convenient do you wonder why or how. Though I must say I heard about the report you wrote about me and my friend. Impressive amount of information when you consider how little exists. Yet you still cannot figure out how I know about that scar."

She frowned, "I don't understand why you can't just tell me."

"Well that wouldn't be any fun, would it?" he said.

Wallace had seen Freddie approach Mackenzie and wasn't too worried about. However, when he saw Mackenzie's body language shift abruptly, he intervened. With a strong arm he grabbed Freddie's shoulder and asked, "Can I help you with something, sir?"

"You and the Major are so quick to defend the women of your little scout group," Freddie commented. "Miss Ross and I were just having a discussion, there's no need to rush in like that."

"I'm gonna be honest here, buddy," Wallace said, finally letting go of Freddie's shoulder. "It's a little bit hard to assume you're just here to hold a conversation – "

"Miss Ross, in any of the reports you complied, was there ever any mention of me assaulting a woman or being responsible for the assault of a female?" Freddie interrupted.

"None," she answered honestly.

Freddie continued, "So then, Mister Chevalier, what exactly have I done that would make you think I was here to hold anything other than a conversation?"

Wallace was unable to answer with a logical statement. He opted for saying, "I just have a feeling, that's all."

"If you are really the most trusted of Percy's men, he is in a lot of trouble," Freddie said.

Mackenzie saw Wallace open his mouth to retort. Not wanting him to make himself look anymore stupid, she quickly said, "I can handle myself just fine, Mister Chevalier."

"Ah, you can handle yourself. But can you handle me?" Freddie questioned.

"That's the kind of s**t I'm worried about," Wallace muttered.

"It's just a form of psychological warfare," Mackenzie assured him.

"We'll see about that," Freddie said. He turned to walk away, but stopped before he could create any real distance. "You should write a report on General Ellis. I'm sure your Major would find it interesting. I suggest getting it done before the Ceto emerges from the sea."

"What the hell is the Ceto?" Wallace whispered to Mackenzie.

"A submarine," she answered. "I don't understand how that's relevant to General Ellis, though."

She didn't have time to ask; Freddie had long left the two soldiers standing alone.