John Ringo - Islands of Rage and Hope

“But you have to let up enough to slide down,” Roosevelt said. “Ma’am? You have to unclench, ma’am….”

“I can and will do it,” Faith said, picking at her mashed potatoes. “I am a Marine officer. I will not let fear keep me from performing my duty. That does not mean I like it.”

“That’s sort of the definition of courage, ma’am,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said. “It’s not about being fearless, it’s about overcoming your fears, ma’am. But you’re going to need to get to the point you can do it without screaming the whole way down. It’s unsettling to the troops.”

“I’ll be all right on the night,” Faith said. “And we get to rescue a prince. That’s cool.”

She looked around the mess hall and then at the cups hanging from racks in the corner.

“Is it just me, or are we bouncing more…?”

“What do you want to do, Colonel?” Gilbert asked.

The weather map was one giant red swirl off the coast of Carolina.

“We can weather it, Captain.” Colonel Hamilton asked. “Correct?”

“Oh, we can plow right through,” Gilbert said. “Wouldn’t want to be in a small boat but we can do it. Assuming I go out enough from the Outer Banks. Going to get a bit nautical, but we’ll be fine. You can’t train , though. No flying, none of the planned actual air-assault training. And there’s another one right behind that one. Basically, looks to me like we’re going to be hitting one squall after another from here to England except maybe mid-Atlantic and you don’t want to do your training in those conditions. And whatever the Marines may think about fast-roping off my bridge in a storm, I’m not going to allow it in this weather. It’s flat out unsafe. I could duck into the Chesapeake and take a few days there between squalls…”

“No,” Hamilton said, shaking his head. “We’re just going to have to go with what we’ve got. We don’t have time to turn aside. Plow on, Mr. Gilbert, plow on. But do, please, try to miss the Outer Banks. Grounding would be decidedly unpleasant to report.”

“This is why I loooove being a Marine,” Faith said as the ship nosed up and then crashed down again. She was looking fairly green.

“Bah,” Sophia said, taking another bite of eggs. “Big boat sailors! This is nothing! Why this one time off of Spain…”

“You’ve never been to Spain,” Faith said, glowering.

“Ma’am,” Sergeant Januscheitis said, grinning. “Don’t never get in the way of a good sea story, with due respect. Were there mermaids?”

“Let me tell you about mermaids, Staff Sergeant,” Sophia said in a gravelly voice, waving her coffee cup.

“We sure she’s not bucking for chief?” Derek asked.

“I think I just spent too much time around Chief Schmidt,” Sophia said, laughing. “You okay, Sister dear?”

“I hate you…”

“HOLY FUCK!” Faith screamed as she stepped out of the hatch.

The storm that had kept them belowdecks for two days had finally passed and she could step outside and breathe free air. Which was UNBELIEVABLY FUCKING COLD!

“AAAAAHHHH,” she said, thinking her breath would appear as smoke. But, no, it was simply wrenched away by the wind. Or, and this was a distinct possibility, instantly turned to ice. There was ice accumulating on the ammo containers.

“They did not cover this in the recruiting video,” she muttered.

She slammed the hatch shut and went below.

“Gunny,” she said, sticking her head in his compartment.

“Ma’am?” Gunny Sands replied.

“Tell me we remembered cold weather gear,” she said.

“None available, ma’am,” the gunny replied. “Not short of going back to the Iwo to find it and break it out. We’ve got wooly pully’s for most personnel including yourself. We’ll need to start acclimatization training as soon as possible. Other than that, ma’am, it’s exigencies of service.”

“Roger,” Faith said, closing the hatch. “This mission just keeps getting better and better. Five days ago we were sweating like a river on a volcano, now we’re going to turn into corpse-sicles.” She walked down the corridor and thought about that. “Heh, heh. Corps -sicles…”

“FEELING LIKE A CORPS-SICLE, PRIVATE?” Faith screamed at the Marine PFC standing at attention on the quarter deck.

Acclimatization training comes down to being put into whatever the climate may be for a period of time and then allowed to “recover” for a short time, lather, rinse, repeat with increasing periods “in climate” until the body is adjusted. In this case, it was standing at attention, with occasional bouts of exercise, in the freezing wind of the North Atlantic in winter. Ice-spray added to the misery. Which was par for the course for any acclimatization training.

Fortunately for Faith, she got to walk around and shout at people. She wasn’t sure if she could just stand there. It was much easier to walk around and be shouty.

“NO, MA’AM!”

“WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TUCK YOU IN FOR THE NIGHT? ARE YOU SNIVELING , PRIVATE? IS THAT A SNIVEL I HEAR…?”

“Okay, I’m getting impressed again, sir,” Gunny Sands said, watching the current evolution from the bridge windows. “That’s the third iteration and she’s still out there.”

“Agreed,” Colonel Hamilton said. “I’m wondering if we should check for frost bite. It’s like she just doesn’t feel the cold.”

“ Oh , that was a bad idea,” Faith said, shivering under a half dozen blankets and anything else in her room that was insulated. Fortunately, she had a compartment to herself and nobody could see what a boneheaded move it had been to stand outside in the freezing cold for hours . “I am such an idiot …”

“ARE YOU COLD , PRIVATE?”

“I AM FROM THE NETHERLANDS , MA’AM!” Marine First Class Vincent Schurink shouted against the wind. “IS THAT A JOKE, MA’AM?”

“Never mind,” Faith said after a moment. “Forget I asked…”

“There’s no critical need for your involvement, Sis,” Faith said, shrugging. “You’re just here to pick up some vaccine stuff. Do a little light shopping. I’m here to do all the derring-do. Face it, you’re screwed…”

There was no “officers’ mess” or wardroom on the Grace Tan . So the occasional sisterly wrangle tended to be played out in public.

“What are they arguing about this time?” Januscheitis asked, sitting down next to Olga. Usually Marines and Navy don’t mix but Januscheitis was ready to mix with Olga any time.

“Who gets the prince,” Olga said, leaning back with her arms folded. “They figure who ever meets him first has a shot…”

“Ten bucks, scrip, on Faith,” Januscheitis said.

“Yer on.”

“He’s a pilot,” Sophia said archly.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Faith asked.

“You really think he’s going to be interested in someone who’s afraid of heights ?” Sophia replied primly.

“Oh…” Faith said, waggling a finger in front of her nose. “If you tell him…”

“Like I’ll have to,” Sophia said, her arms crossed. “Everybody on board knows. Aaaaah!” she said in a high falsetto, clutching her arms to her chest like she was gripping a rope. “It’s so HIGH! WAH! WAH! I’M A MARINE AND I’M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!”