Nathan Jones - Determination

The sergeant nodded. “Yeah, you did.”

Trev gave him a stricken look. He hadn’t exactly expected comforting words, but the guy had just got done talking about not kicking a man when he was down.

Davis sighed again. “You know what a leader is, Smith? Simplest question in the world, and somehow everyone gets it wrong. Or they get it half right with an answer like “It’s the guy in charge.”

Trev did his best to hide his impatience. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

The sergeant seemed to read that in his expression, because his eyes narrowed. “The leader is the person who takes responsibility, plain and simple. That’s pretty much the only definition of the word that means anything. Responsibility for getting things done, responsibility for taking care of the people who depend on them. And responsibility for the consequences of their decisions. Because let’s face it, most people don’t want to take responsibility for anything, especially not themselves. Everyone’s got an opinion, and plenty of criticism for what they think are the wrong choices, but they’re still looking for someone else to make that choice for them so they can duck the consequences.

“And that’s the thing,” Davis continued. “Leading people isn’t just being the one who tells everyone what to do or sees they get it done. Everyone wants to be the leader when they think it’s just bossing other people around, until they actually have to step into that role. Because at that point they realize that a leader also has to be ready for when their decisions don’t turn out so great, or even to be criticized when they do. Believe me, it happens more often than any of us would like. And the hardest time to be a leader is when people can die on the back of your decisions.”

“So what do I do then?” Trev asked, fighting frustration. He’d done his best, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle knowing he’d gotten good people, friends, killed, when maybe he could’ve prevented it.

Davis was still looking at him, but his gaze had gone somewhere else. “You shoulder the burden, because there’s no easy answers or trite comforts anyone can give you. Or you decide you can’t handle that burden and you step away. But if you do that, you have to face the truth that you’ll probably be leaving a mess behind. And when that happens the people you took responsibility for usually end up suffering for it.”

“So I just keep going.”

“You knew that was the answer without me needing to say it.” The sergeant’s attention abruptly focused on him again. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Trev’s shoulder. “I know I just talked about trite comforts, but if I’m any judge you’re a good leader, Smith. You take your responsibility seriously, you’re careful with your decisions, and you’re willing to learn from your mistakes.”

Trev nodded, but Davis was right that the words sounded a bit trite.

The Marine’s expression firmed. “So learn one of the hardest lessons. That no matter how hard you try, how careful you are, sometimes the people who depend on you are going to die. You knew that from the beginning, but knowing and understanding are two different things. And when it finally happens you have to find that balance, between taking responsibility for those deaths but not letting responsibility for them crush you.”

After a short, solemn pause Trev stepped away. “Thanks, Sarge,” he said quietly. He turned to leave.

Davis’s voice followed him up the slopes. “By the by, for now I’m putting your squad with Larson’s guarding the southern slope. Also I’ll get some people to dig graves so you can hold a service for your friends before the meeting.”

Trev nodded. “I’ll go get the others.”

As he started up the slope Davis shouted at his back. “And next time you’re planning something fancy, fill me in first!”

Trev hesitated, then kept going, trying to decide if he felt any better. The answer was no, but at the same time he’d abandoned any idea of stepping down. Unless of course his squad demanded it, which he didn’t think would happen. Even if he wouldn’t blame them for it.

Davis was right, he’d taken on the responsibility. He’d bear up under it and keep going for his people. Although he had to admit it was a bit of a relief that he’d be serving under Matt for now.

There was a generous attendance at the funeral for the five fighters they’d lost last night.

Most of the people in camp showed up at least for the service, and many stayed around afterwards long enough to pay their respects. But with breakfast being served only a handful aside from the Aspen Hill volunteers lingered. Trent was one of those, and twenty or so of the recruits Trev’s squad had trained.

They spent the breakfast hour sharing memories of their fallen friends, picking at the food a handful of cooks thoughtfully brought out for them. Trev appreciated the fact that nobody seemed to be blaming him for what happened. Most of his squad mates went no farther than to lament that nobody’d caught sight of the blockheads who ambushed them.

All too soon Davis was calling for the meeting to begin, and Trev and Matt and a couple of the volunteer leaders who’d stuck around excused themselves to head to the new mess tent.

It was just four tarps hung up between trees and tied together through the loopholes, with another one strung across for a roof. There was no center pole to prop up the sagging plastic, and although it hadn’t rained since being put up nobody expected it to be waterproof.

The morning breeze running down the canyon was enough to make the tarps snap and flap loudly as everyone gathered, the buzz of conversation even louder to compensate. It took about fifteen minutes for all the leaders to arrive, especially the ones in charge of the northernmost sections of the territory Davis’s group was assigned to guard.

Once everyone was assembled a Marine called them all to order. He was a tall, lean, dark-haired man in his late 30s, with close cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. That sort of grooming was unusual in the camp these days. He identified himself as Sergeant Harmon. “I’m going to be in charge of coordinating with the volunteers defending this area, and overseeing our defenses here,” he finished, then stepped back.

There was a low murmur of confusion. Trev looked past Harmon to where Davis and Williams stood. Was Davis being reassigned? Demoted?

Their former leader nodded to Harmon and stepped forward. “All right, listen up, people!” he called, an unnecessary request since the tent had fallen silent the moment he started moving. “As you’ve probably guessed, there’s going to be some changes. This meeting is to fill you in on them. First off, how many of you have heard about Mr. Smith’s decision to attack a blockhead patrol without receiving orders to do so?”

There was an uncertain pause, then about half the hands went up. Trev hunched down slightly as eyes turned towards him, feeling like a student called out in front of the class for misbehaving.

Or not, he realized as Davis continued. “By his squad’s reports and Private Abrams’s best estimate, they managed twenty-three confirmed kills in the attack and lost five people. We mourn the deaths of those we lost, but by any objective standard his attack was a success, and would’ve been a complete success if it hadn’t been a trap.”

The sergeant abruptly scowled, looking around. “You want to know the reason why they were able to set up that trap? Because the enemy has been moving with impunity, knowing we’ll only hit them if they walk right up to us hiding behind our defenses. They spent days patrolling closer and closer to our positions, testing our response. They had all the time in the world to set up on us and dangle some bait practically on our doorstep.”