Nick Thomas - Battle Earth VI

Taylor had to laugh.

A grand marquee had been assembled for their evening celebration, and it was lit up as the sun went down. Taylor stepped out of his billet wearing a clean set of BDUs. It was a long way from appropriate for such a function, but the best he could muster. Parker joined him andthey walked towards the festivities.

"Feels good, doesn't it, to be able to enjoy an evening once more? You take it for granted until war comes around again," she said.

"Can't say I'm having much fun yet."

"You will."

He turned to see she was utterly confident of the fact, and that did boost his spirits a little. They walked hand in hand through the darkness until they came into the floodlights of the marquee and quickly let go.

Guards from Gallo’s unit stood at the entrance in their finest uniforms. They looked more like model soldiers than real ones, which he knew they pretty much were. They saluted across their chests with rifles held on the other arms. He was being given an excessive amount of attention and respect that was starting to bore him, but Mitch couldn’t see anyway to stop it.

As he entered the marquee, the music stopped, and the Mayor introduced him. He could tell the man had already drunk a good amount before the food had been served.

“Welcome to the brave Colonel Taylor! It is an honour for him to be with us this evening!”

Taylor waved off the Mayor and continued onwards to more familiar faces. The officers of Inter-Allied shared a table, and that meant leaving Parker at the door to find her own way. It saddened him to leave her on their night of celebrations, but he knew they had to maintain the divide between officers and the rest. It was a fact Jones was all to keen to remind him of.

“Come on, Mitch, join the exclusive club!”

He could already tell Jones had been necking wine for the last hour or more.

Wine? I’d kill for a beer.

As he approached, Charlie held out a glass of red for him. With the heat of the country and thick air, he wanted nothing more than something chilled, but he knew it had all been provided for them. He took the glass and turned to the Mayor, lifting his glass in gratitude.

Taylor knocked back a mouthful of the wine, and despite it being an ambient temperature red, it went down smoother than expected. It was soothing and warm, which was somehow comforting and relaxing despite the heat of the day.

“Just wait till the port comes!” yelled Charlie.

“Port?” asked Eddie. You decadent bastard!” he laughed.

Jones smiled and fully embraced the decadent nature of it.

He took a seat at the table and noticed the smell of the food being brought to the tables. It was fresh and oozing in flavour. They had returned to wartime conditions so quickly, but it had been a stark reminder of what they now had to endure. The prospect of a real meal was an immensely appealing idea even after a few days of MREs.

“Ahh, pasta!”

He knew exactly what Charlie meant and was starting to appreciate the occasion. In just fifteen minutes of good food and drink in a warm friendly environment, he began to see the lighter side of things and indulge a little. Halfway through the evening, the Mayor called for silence and stood up to address the people present.

His face was pinkish red and sweaty from the large volumes of wine and laughter. He wobbled slightly as he stood. That got a few laughs from the troops, which he also seemed to find funny. He started speaking to them in Italian but stopped himself halfway through his second sentence, realising their guests had no clue as to what he was saying.

"On behalf of our city, and our country, I wish to thank Colonel Taylor and the 2nd Inter-Allied. They have fought for many years for our safety and lands. For which ever country they fought in, whichever continent and even in space, they fought for us all."

Gallo was the first on his feet to clap and cheer. But speaking of the previous war was a reminder of how much work was to come, and how much more blood would spill. Many of the other Italians joined in the applause, but Taylor's people managed little more than a lazy clap. Manciolino called for quiet and could barely get any more words out, as he scoffed down half a glass of wine and held the other half up to a toast.

"To our friends and allies!"

It gained a round of applause but most were more interested in knocking back their drinks. He finally slumped back down to his seat.

"We're going to feel this in the morning," said Taylor.

"Yep, we sure are. But it's those poor devils who will be worst off," replied Jones, pointing to Gallo and his troops. "Tomorrow we start to train them."

Taylor smiled, thinking of the drunken Italians having to slog through his training drills the following morning. Drills he would let his own people forgo to rest from their recent duties. He got to his feet and was pleased to find he wasn't as far gone as some of the others. He walked over to Gallo who reached over to hug him. The short Italian struggled to do so, which only made him laugh.

"You said we'll be training you?" Taylor asked.

"Yes, and an honour it will be!"

"I hope you're ready then, 0800 hours we begin."

Gallo stood back with a puzzled expression. He looked as if someone had just cancelled the party.

"Surely not? This is a time for celebration. We have plenty of time to learn!"

"And if the enemy launch an offensive tomorrow? They start making raids against our landing zones, and we need to fight them off, what would you do?"

"But they won't. We have them boxed in."

"You think so? You think the enemy is completely predictable? Then you know nothing. 0800 hours, Major, have your troops formed up on the parade ground."

He turned and walked away, leaving Gallo speechless. Captain Grey had been watching and was clearly as sober as a judge.

"That was harsh," he said as Taylor walked by, causing him to stop.

He studied the Captain for a moment and was curious that he was not partaking in the festivities.

"Yes it was, but they need to be ready ASAP. No wine, Captain?"

"No, I saw a whole platoon in my regiment killed because they got into a liquor shop and went too far. Somebody needs to stay alert round here."

"There are sentries posted."

"Yes, but not ours. Theirs," he said, pointing to the Italians who were leaping around and making jokes with each other.

"Then you understand my position?"

Grey nodded. They both had to concede that the other was right.

"You haven't told any of us about this training tomorrow. I assume that means you were intending to do it yourself?"

"Yes, let our people have some time out."

"I'll join you. You need a task master, and that's just what I have done for my whole life."

"But you are an officer now."

"No excuse to drill them any lighter. I wasn't born an officer. Hell, I never asked to be one."

"But you've done a damn fine job of it."

"It's just the job of a sergeant with snazzier uniforms and better pay."

Taylor laughed and nodded in agreement. He'd always had respect for the senior NCOs of his unit, and most others he had met.

"You can join me, if you like. The help would certainly be appreciated."

"I will join you also."

Taylor recoiled slightly in shock to see Jafar standing behind them."

"Jesus."

"You see what I mean," added Grey. "I bet Jafar he couldn't get to within knife distance without you spotting him."

Taylor nodded humbly. It was a harsh lesson the Captain had played on him, and had it been almost anyone else, he'd have been less kind about it. Jafar still awaited his answer.

"Yeah, you'll be damn useful tomorrow. Can you get access to a Mech suit to use for training?"

"Yes," he replied confidently.