=/\=
“Pick up your goddamn feet you goddamn son of a bitch!”
Standing on the main parade ground of Camp Bradley, home base of the MEF’s 2nd Regiment, the “Fighting Second”, as they were called, was as far as Harper was concerned, the same as standing on any marine base in any part of the Federation. The officers wanted to make a show for the visiting high command buffs, so they had the sergeants sweating the men. It was pathetic, as far as Harper was concerned. Mind you, he’d become used to Richard’s somewhat lazzie-faire method of command, known between them as “not giving a shit”.
Oh sure, he’d parade the men, as he was expected to do. But he’d never make the men suffer just so that the brass thought he was doing his job properly. He let his combat record and the men’s do it for him. Some officers simply wanted to please – to be noticed for when that next plush assignment or promotion came up. Major Alexander Horton was one such brown-nose, doing his best to show Brigadier Stirling that he had the best Battalion in the Regiment.
Normally, General Sharpe would be doing these inspections, but since he was on Earth, presumably falling asleep in those high command meetings he’d been press-ganged into – the thought of Richard snoring through the President’s address actually brought a small smile to the grim Irishman’s craggy face. Harper didn’t know
As far as Patrick was concerned, that’s all Max Stirling was, an elaborate clerk. However, over the past few days, he’d seen a whole lot more of the man. What he saw, he had to say, impressed him considerably. He was a no-nonsense officer with a flair for administration, but he was not just a bit of brass, as his enlisted friends would say. He cared for his men, and expected the best from them – because he could inspire the best out of them. He was nothing on Richard, as far as Harper was concerned, but he came a damn close second.
“Horton.”
“Sir!” Horton said, snapping to attention.
“Would you be so kind as to stop parading your men like they’re at a cattle market. I’ve seen marines run before, I know these men can run around a parade ground carrying a rifle above their head. They did it at Bragg, so I’m quite sure they can do it in this hell-hole.” Max said, never raising his voice or breaking his even mannerisms.
“Yes sir.” Horton said, clearly crestfallen that his display hadn’t had the desired effect of wooing the man upstairs. Clearly this wasn’t going to get him his silver oak-leaves.
At this point, Colonel McBride, otherwise known as ‘Mad-Jack McBride’ by his men, came across the parade ground. He saluted Brigadier Stirling and fell at ease. McBride was a combat veteran who was renowned for his gallantry in the field. As a young officer, he’d lead his wounded platoon out of hostile territory, under heavy fire, wounded himself, carrying his severely wounded platoon sergeant in his arms as he ran behind his men, to make sure they’d make it back.
He was, naturally, one of Richard’s favourite Regiment commanders, and had been appointed personally by Richard. He’d had several other moments of selfless heroism to save the lives of his troopers, and was known to put their lives above all other considerations. He’d not risk lives for medals or rank. He was a proper officer. Harper liked him very much, and felt his nickname of ‘Mad-Jack’, was well earned due to his lunacy of running into dangerous situations to save lives.
“Well Colonel, you’ve got a first class outfit here.”
“Yes sir.” McBride said. “You give us the go-order, and the Fighting Second will be there.”
“Good to know.” Max said, nodding thoughtfully. The Second Regiment was the only regiment that was pure marine, not special forces capable. They’d been assigned to the MEF for pure firepower reasons. To this point, they’d merely been doing peace-keeping duties or defence of key planets along the border. “I suspect General Sharpe will have work for you soon enough.”
“I hope so sir, the men are getting a bit fed up of the restlessness.” Philip McBride said.
“Well, I’ve seen all I want to see here. Shall we have a spot of lunch before I return to Unity?”
Harper remained on the parade ground, and decided he’d go off and talk to the enlisted people. If you ever wanted to know what was going on – talk to the Sergeants.
=/\= End Log =/\=
Sergeant Major Patrick Harper
Command Sergeant Major
1st MEF
As played by Frankie
