Time Corps 9
A battered electrojeep, small enough it seems a child's toy, screeches to a halt. A 6'8" Sgt, probably Afghan, bounds out. She picks me up, hugs me, "so you're Indira, bit smaller than I was expecting. Forget all that stuffy HQ formality, Reserves are first name. You call me Nilofar."
"Ok Nilofar."
"Girls are dying to meet you, a celebrity."
"Me? A celebrity? News to me Nilofar."
She grins, "those training travelogues y'all wrote, they posted on the website. Most just dead boring. Yours was good, alive, lotta detail, wrote with empathy about the Irish people. There were thousands of emails to the website, congratulating your write-up. Let's go, meet the gang."
I arrive to a heroine's welcome, my entire platoon hugging me.
Our convoy of mini-jeeps rolls out to our station. We're providing mock security to a mock airport, really just a few wooden stakes showing where the boundaries are.
We do endless driver training (brand new to me), endless shooting practice (also new to me) and practise things like hand and flag signals, since there is only one radio within the platoon.
I always end up the mock casualty when the girls practise bandaging.
Forget boring, it is one magical time. Every single night we sit up around a campfire, tell stories. My Guyana/Canada stories. One of the girls is a waitress in the Parliamentary restaurant and does she have a ton of wicked stories! Another, a court reporter, keeps us in stitches. A cop. Another, a well-travelled, famous soccer player, but unpaid, so don't quit your day job.
As we pack to leave, Nilofar quietly says, "girls signed a petition, want you as their officer again next year. Beat Hades outa them stuffy HQ types."
I do the mental math, "yeah my next year Reserve tour will be just before I finish at the Academy, so I'm available. After that, ops."
She hugs me, "whenever they all sign like that, it's always honored. Don't wanna mess with good group chemistry."
I notice a funny thing in common room conversations. The Reserve experience neatly split the class in 2. One faction, including Betty Lou, wildly enthusiastic, tell stories they heard from their respective platoons. Other, including Heidi, consider the Reserves a pestilent boil upon the rump of humanity.
As I hear, I understand. Col Khan is observing all this, knows us all a lot better.
"Ok Nilofar."
"Girls are dying to meet you, a celebrity."
"Me? A celebrity? News to me Nilofar."
She grins, "those training travelogues y'all wrote, they posted on the website. Most just dead boring. Yours was good, alive, lotta detail, wrote with empathy about the Irish people. There were thousands of emails to the website, congratulating your write-up. Let's go, meet the gang."
I arrive to a heroine's welcome, my entire platoon hugging me.
Our convoy of mini-jeeps rolls out to our station. We're providing mock security to a mock airport, really just a few wooden stakes showing where the boundaries are.
We do endless driver training (brand new to me), endless shooting practice (also new to me) and practise things like hand and flag signals, since there is only one radio within the platoon.
I always end up the mock casualty when the girls practise bandaging.
Forget boring, it is one magical time. Every single night we sit up around a campfire, tell stories. My Guyana/Canada stories. One of the girls is a waitress in the Parliamentary restaurant and does she have a ton of wicked stories! Another, a court reporter, keeps us in stitches. A cop. Another, a well-travelled, famous soccer player, but unpaid, so don't quit your day job.
As we pack to leave, Nilofar quietly says, "girls signed a petition, want you as their officer again next year. Beat Hades outa them stuffy HQ types."
I do the mental math, "yeah my next year Reserve tour will be just before I finish at the Academy, so I'm available. After that, ops."
She hugs me, "whenever they all sign like that, it's always honored. Don't wanna mess with good group chemistry."
I notice a funny thing in common room conversations. The Reserve experience neatly split the class in 2. One faction, including Betty Lou, wildly enthusiastic, tell stories they heard from their respective platoons. Other, including Heidi, consider the Reserves a pestilent boil upon the rump of humanity.
As I hear, I understand. Col Khan is observing all this, knows us all a lot better.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:04 AM
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