Glen Tate - 299 Days - The 17th Irregulars

“So,” Hammond said, raising his right finger for emphasis, “we will call our code talkers a ‘Quadra.’ Think of ‘Quad’ as in Latin for ‘four’ with a ‘rah’ added at the end. ‘Quad-rah’. Say it with me, ‘Quah-rah’.”

The room said “Quadra.”

Ashur grinned. He was very proud. “That is our word for ‘honor,’” Ashur said. He could feel his father smiling from far away.

Grant always made up nicknames for people. It was a way to bond with them. He whispered to Jim, “Dude, your new nickname is ‘Jim Q’.”

Jim smiled. He was fine with that.

Grant realized a minute later that he, a lieutenant, probably shouldn’t refer to his troops as “dude.” He was learning, though. Old habits are hard to break.

Hammond motioned to the captain, and then the captain said, “Please be seated.” The new lieutenants and their Quadras sat down back in the chairs for the audience.

Grant went out of his way to signal Jim Q. to sit down with him instead of sitting with his family. He wanted to emphasize to Jim Q. that the 17th was his new home.

Hammond noticed that Grant and a few other new lieutenants sat with their Quadras. That was a sign of leadership and fostering unit morale. Hammond was even more impressed with Grant than in their meeting a few minutes ago.

Hammond collected his thoughts. What he was about to say next was important. It could have a big impact on how things turned out.

“Why are you doing this?” Hammond asked the audience. Everyone was silent.

“Why?” He let that question sink in for a few seconds.

“Why not just sit back and let the government take care of you?” he asked without any sarcasm. It was a sincere question.

“Seriously,” he said. “Each of you is smarter than average. You all have very valuable skills. Quite a few of you are military and could be in command of some hollowed-out FUSA unit and livin’ large on some base where you have plenty of everything you want. People calling you ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ all day long and kissing your ass,” he said.

“Why are you here, starting the mission that you’re starting?” Hammond asked. “I want every one of you to think about that question. Why are you here?”

It was silent.

“What did you come up with?” Hammond asked the audience. “I bet I know.”

Hammond started to get animated. He had been like a very controlled CEO running a meeting up until this point. Now it was time to get fired up.

“You’re doing this to make things right,” Hammond said emphatically. “You’re doing this to protect the innocent. To save your families from what’s ahead, if these bastards keep screwing things up.”

Hammond looked into the audience. He seemed to make eye contact with every single person in the room. “You know you’re supposed to do this. You know it. You are supposed to do this. Consider me standing here saying this to be your official sign. You are supposed to do this.”

Grant wondered if his statement to Hammond a few minutes earlier about how they were both supposed to do this had made its way into Hammond’s speech.

“You have skills,” Hammond said. “Every single one of you,” he said holding up a file. “Each and every one of you has some skill that got our attention. We looked into each one of you. We chose you…you,” he said looking at the whole audience. It felt like Hammond was speaking to each person personally. Grant certainly felt like Hammond was speaking directly to him.

“But, us choosing you is only half of it,” Hammond said. “The other half is that you chose us. You agreed to do this. Again, I ask: why?”

Hammond looked at Ashur. “You want to restore the ‘land of the free.’ You want to avenge an injustice to your family that never should have happened.”

Hammond looked at one of the new lieutenants in the front row. “Or, like Tadman here, those bastards killed your family. Trying to get you. But they settled for your family.”

“They are animals wasting our oxygen!” Hammond yelled out of the blue. For the first time, he was showing his real emotions.

“Animals,” Hammond thundered. “Animals that need to be put down. Animals that need to no longer hurt us. Animals that need to be dealt with, so they’re just a memory. So you can tell your kids and grandkids about how, way back when, there were some animals that hurt people, but you and a group of very decent people made the animals go away. Now they’re gone and everyone can live their lives. In peace.”

“Peace,” Hammond said nodding his head. “Peace is what a soldier wants. Trust me, with what I’ve seen and done, and what many of you have seen and done, too, no one wants peace more than us.”

“You know what I want?” Hammond asked in a very conversational, not military commander, tone. “I want to retire. I want to get an RV and travel around with my wife and kids. I barely know my kids.” Saying that hurt Hammond. He had sacrificed a lot to do all those deployments.

“And my lovely wife,” Hammond said. “Who I really haven’t seen for several years. Who I wonder sometimes if she really still is my wife. I mean, is someone your wife when you’ve seen them two weeks in two years? I want my wife back. I want to get her and the kids in that RV and go sit under the stars talking about nothing in particular. I want that.” Hammond was bearing his soul.

“But guess what?” Hammond said, back in his military commander tone. “Life ain’t sunshine and lollipops. I am supposed to be here, doing this. I know I am supposed to be doing this—just like each of you know you’re supposed to be doing this. Each of you has made similar sacrifices, and,” he said looking at Tadman, “some of you have made bigger ones. Much bigger than the RV.”

Hammond let that sink in. Tadman looked eerily forward without any emotion.

“So,” Hammond said, “I asked why you’re doing this and you probably said to yourself that you’re supposed to do this. That’s a good enough reason, but…,” he paused for effect. “I have one more reason for you.”

“Because we’ll win!” Hammond yelled.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Hammond said emphatically, “we’re all brave, but this isn’t some suicide club. Remember: I want some RV time. I got somethin’ to live for.”

Hammond motioned to the whole crowd, “Most of us will be back together for a hell of a party when we beat these bastards. They’re running on fumes. You know it. You’ve seen it. They’re running out of other people’s money to steal and hand out to their buddies. The people are figuring this out. Their military units are a joke. Hollowed out paper tigers, manned by the paper-pusher boot lickers who want to boss people around and still think they’re getting some fat military retirement. The real warriors got out and joined up with us. We have the real warriors. We have you.”

“Name one thing they’re doing right that will lead to long-term success for them?” Hammond asked the crowd. “Name one. Is it treating the population fairly and getting their support? Ask Lt. Tadman about that. Ask Ashur that.”

Hammond started walking from the podium to the first row as if he were quizzing each one of them. “Are they feeding the people?” he asked the first person, who shook his head.

“Well, kind of,” Hammond said to the next person. “But not for long. Those FCards—which are easily counterfeited by us, I might add—are drawn on seized bank accounts. Those accounts are running dry, friends. The foreign countries those funds are going to are about to cut us off. Besides, they want their investments back. You know, the trillions of dollars we borrowed from them to pay for all the pre-Collapse crap we voted for ourselves. The Chinese are just softening the blow of a total collapse. They want their collateral, which is what America is to them, to stay as intact as possible, so it will be more valuable when they repo it.”