Chapter 10
“Meyers, would it be okay if I go talk to those men?” I ask him.
“Of course, you can, sir. My sergeant has the list. I’ll go get it now,” he says as he gets up and leaves.
“What are you thinking, Jim?” Josh says, turning to me. This is why he asked for me to accompany him here.
“A crazy thought came to me, Josh,” I say. “Let me follow up on it and see if it’s true, before I tell you.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “If you need anything, while you are out there, just text me.”
“Will do,” I say, as Meyers comes in. He hands me the list. “What time are you heading back to regimental?”
“A couple hours,” Josh says, as Meyers sits back down.
“See you then,” I say as I head out of the office. I head over to a bench and sit down to look it over. Hmmm. Three staff sergeants, seven corporals, four specialists and three private first class. The ones with the most influence would be the staff sergeants. At the same time, the ones with nothing to lose would be the private first classes.
If I was going to try and destabilize morale, I’d start at both the top of the list and the bottom of the list. The reason being those at the top are looked up to by those below them. Their rank and experience mean something, after all. Got a question, ask the staff sergeant. They’ve got the answers. The men below them will follow.
Those at the bottom of the list would be the rabble rousers. They can bitch and moan all they want to, no one will pay any attention to them because of who they are: kids with no real world experience. But, because no one pays attention to them, they actually have power. Bitch and moan enough, and it starts to have a life of its own. It’s like flotsam and jetsam, crap that’s in the water, that everyone knows about, but doesn’t do anything about it.
Looking over the list, I decide to start with the first staff sergeant on the list, SSgt Ritter. I head over to his barracks. That pall I noticed earlier is still in the air. It feels like really bad smog. Yet, the day is beautiful. I don’t get it. But I certainly wouldn’t want to live in it. Yet this company has been. If this is because of Karl’s doing, this should have left when Karl did. Yet it didn’t.
But it makes perfect sense, if this was an orchestrated maneuver.
I come up to a work crew in front of the barracks. Each company uses their own men for the basics: making sure the ground doesn’t have litter, the sidewalks are taken care of, that, upon first looking at the area, it doesn’t look like a homeless encampment.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I say, as I approach. Fear. Recoil. Apprehension. Holy shit. Meyers wasn’t kidding.
“Yes sir,” one says, as the all come to attention and salute me.
“Relax, gentlemen,” I say, returning the salute with a smile. Fear. Apprehension. Recoil. “I’m looking for Staff Sergeant Ritter.”
“Third door on the left, sir,” the one of the left says, pointing down the hallway. Trepidation. Caution. Fear.
“Thank you,” I say, saluting them as they return it. Then I head down the sidewalk to Ritter’s room.
The men in the hospital took to him right away but were wary of me. After the same thing happened twice, we decided to let Meyers go in first, explain who he is and who he is replacing, then I would come in. That worked out much better.
Josh had mentioned that the men were wary of him. Because he was a captain. They took to Meyers because he was a first lieutenant. If those three are any indication, Ritter will be the same.
Only one way to find out, as I knock on the door.
“Hold on,” comes a voice from the other side of the door. Surprise. Astonishment. Why would someone be surprised or astonished that someone knocked on their door? A few moments later, Ritter opens the door. He looks at me. Surprise open on his face. “Yes, sir?”
“Staff Sergeant Ritter?” I ask, just to confirm.
“Yes, sir,” he nods in confirmation.
“Hey,” Paul says, “would you mind if we just walked and talked? I suddenly don’t really feel like eating.”
“I’m Captain Clinton from Regiment. I’m sorry to intrude on you unexpectedly, but I need some assistance, please. Can you please accompany me?” I ask. He’s clearly surprised but now wary. Very wary of me.
“Yes, sir,” he says as he steps out and locks his door. “I’m not sure what Regiment needs with me, though.” Wariness. Caution. Distrust.
“I just need to talk please,” I say as we start to walk down the sidewalk.
“About what, sir?” he asks as he moves to my right side and we start to walk in unison.
“I’d like to keep this informal, if that’s alright with you,” I say. “No rank. No sir. Please call me Jim.”
“Yes, Jim,” he says. Relief. Confusion. “I still don’t know what you need me for, though.”
“It’s both personal and situational,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“About what?” he says after a few moments.
“No one at Regiment knew what was going on here, while Captain Schmidt was in charge,” I tell him. I stop and turn to look directly at him. “We had no idea how low moral had gotten. We certainly didn’t know anything about any of the charges that were being levied against you and your men. It wasn’t until Captain Schmidt took your company on that hump last week, and the fallout from that, that we had any clue. And for that I am sorry. So very sorry that you and your men had to suffer.”
Shock. Distrust. Apprehension. Anger. Rage. Resentment!
“So you’re here to what? Be my friend? Aleve your conscious because of your neglect?” he scoffs at me. Anger rising. “Where were you, when all these bogus charges were brought against us? Where were you, when the chaplain was sent away? Where were you when the XO was stripped of his powers and made a shell of a man? You think I’m supposed to believe that now, after the damage was done, you’re here out of the goodness of your heart? Spare me.”
Anger radiates out of him. He’s breathing hard. He’s had that inside of him for a long time. Which makes sense. At his rank, he’s been in the Army for years. He’s seen a crap ton of shit. His experience makes him who he is. He’s seen the good the Army does. He’s also been a victim of the Army when it goes bad.
“You’re right, Ritter,” I say. “You’re absolutely right. We did drop the ball. We weren’t there for you. For the other men that had charges against them. The score of other men whose charges stuck. We can only fix and hope to improve what’s been done. The pending charges were dropped against you and the others. That was one step.”
“What are the other steps?” he says, looking at me. We didn’t get very far in our walk. We are still close to his barracks, and we’ve drawn a small crowd. It’s not very often you see an officer being yelled at in public. It’s ever rarer when it’s an enlisted man doing it. Ritter, as a staff sergeant, actually is at the rank where he can talk back to an officer, but that’s usually not done in such a…verbal manner. Anger. Resentment. Distrust. Shame. Caution. Hope. But there is a small kernel of hope in there.
“Everyone, come closer, please,” I say, raising my voice to be heard. There’s eight men that were drawn by us and Ritter’s yelling. None of them move any closer to us. I look at Ritter, “Please ask them to come closer. I want them to hear what I say.”
Anger, dying out. Hope. Caution. Trepidation. Hope.
“Come closer, guys,” Ritter says. “The Captain from Regiment wants to say something.” The men start to slowly move forward. Instead of standing in a circle around us, they move closer to Ritter.
Bitterness. Caution. Fear. Hatred. I can see why Meyers likened this to PTSD.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I say, once they are settled. “Yes, I am from Regiment. I’m Captain James Clinton. But I am not here in an official capacity. So please, if you have questions, call me Jim. I am sure you heard, actually, I am sure the whole neighborhood heard (that gets me one slight smile) if I am here out of the goodness of my heart. The answer is no, I am not. (Frowns. Distrust. Anger.) I am here out of the goodness of your heart, Ritter. (Surprise). Your heart, Jones. (Thank God everyone has their last name on their utility tops). Your heart, Campos. (surprise) And yours. And yours. And yours. (I say pointing to each and every one of them). I am here to help. (Thank you, Josh). Ritter asked me what steps we are taking. So far, what I know, is this: All the pending charges against seventeen of you, have been dropped. Yours has been dropped, correct, Ritter? (He nods his head yes). Forgive me for this next question but I don’t know all of you. Did anyone else here have charges against them? (heads nodding). I’m sure you know of those that did. (Head nods). Did you hear or did they tell you the charges were dropped? (A couple nodding their heads). Good. Because they were dropped.”
“Yeah, that helps them out,” another man sneers, “what about those of us that were already convicted?”
“Thank you, for that question, Cates,” I say, acknowledging him. “Your new CO, First Lieutenant David Meyers, has already initiated paperwork to get those convictions vacated.
And, if you lost rank, he is working to backdate it so your previous rank will be reinstated along with the correct backpay, too.”
Hope. Eagerness. Anger. Excitement. Extra money always gets any military man excited. At least they seem to be listening and it’s no longer all anger.
“Yeah,” says another that I can’t read his name, “what’s this bullshit about a first lieutenant being our commanding officer? All he is, is a place holder until you guys find someone even worse that our previous CO.”
Anger. Resentment. Hostility. Depression.
That was quick.
“What? No. No! Is that what you’ve heard?” I ask bewildered. All of them nod their heads yes. “No. First Lieutenant Meyers is your new CO. Yes, it’s a bit unorthodox, but there has been precedent for it before. He is close to his time in grade for his captain’s board. But he is now, and will be, your CO. And think of this, too. Because he’s who he is, you, all of you (I say using my hands and arms to indicate them) will have a chance to help shape his command over this company. You know what went wrong before, right? (Head nods). You know what signs to look for, right? (Head nods). All of you here, hell, your entire company, has an opportunity to make this company the best, not only in the regiment, but in all of the Army. Do you want to pass on that opportunity? (Heads shaking)”
“That’s a lot to take on faith, Captain,” Ritter says. “Once burned, twice shy.” He’s cynical, but that’s natural. But, more importantly, hope radiates out from Ritter. Like a drowning man holding only to a life buoy, but it’s there.
“First of all, it’s Jim,” I say, pointing my index finger at him. “Second of all, it’s not faith. It’s fact. What I’ve told you is what he and the Regimental XO have told me personally. I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, let’s head over to the clearing and have a bitch session. You up for that?” There’s some smiles (finally!) and head nodding. There is some simmering resentment, though.
“We’ve got our work assignments to do,” someone in the back says. Anger. Resentment. Hatred. That’s understandable given what I have been told about Karl and his policies.
“I am the ranking officer here,” I say with a smile. “The Regimental XO brought me along and your CO knows I am here. Let someone try to tell me no.” That’s met with some barks of laughter. “C’mon, let’s go.”
And we do.
YouTube
The Spotlight Network
