Futuristic Infantry 3

Breakfast I pick a window seat. Meena joins me, 2 fresh bruises on her face.
"Girlfriend or coffee house?" I drawl.
Proud grin, "fight by consent. Here's hoping 1st Battalion don't need their linguistics expert for the next month. So, now I've chucked the bum, I'm looking for someone who believes in equality. Any ideas?"
"Don't look at me; forbidden to fraternize with your CO."
She laughs easily, "I know. Lt Morelli, that hot bod."
"Go on, you'd never keep up with her."
"Is that a fact now? A challenge? I love a challenge."
"You are almost old enough to be her mother - shame on you!"
"Did I ever tell you what a stick-in-the-mud prude you are?"
"Sure. Almost daily."
We both laugh.
"Just one thing," I drawl, "don't put her in hospital. Motor pool is already in bad enough shape."
She laughs.
I continue, "6 girlfriends in a row you have hospitalized. But then - who's counting?"
She sticks out her tongue, "I'm going after that hot number alla same."
I groan inwardly. Month or two, it will all happen again.
She gets up to fetch a refill. As I see her swagger step, the realization hits. How on earth do we the officers have even one ounce of credibility left? Do we have any moral right to ask enlisteds to behave? Maybe 20 years ago, not now.
I do the math, 5 years to earliest retirement. In that moment, I change, ever so slightly.
She sits, "well now, ain't seen that look on you before."
"What look?"
"Trademark look that says 'had enough, watching the calendar."
"Ah yeah."
"What would it take to change your mind?"
"Field duty. Tired to death with garrison BS."
"Well who knows, we might get the tour the Dragoons didn't."
"Do the math, we'd look like morons, fielding a battalion of 80."
"My friend, you worry too much. A trait you share with anyone who ain't getting. Go and find a girlfriend."

I've barely started my morning paperwork, when Brigadier-General Federenko phones. What's she doing calling at this hour? Rumor has it she never gets up before noon.
"Ah yes, Major Zamani, news for you. It seems Col Pearson is going for a nice long rest in a quiet place. Which makes you Acting Colonel, commanding 1st, 2nd and 3rd Battalions."
"Ma'am, who did you have in mind for my replacement?"
"That Capt in charge of A Co seems capable. She gets the nod."
I groan inwardly.
She continues, "and to command A, Lt Duncan. Come on, it is a Newfy unit. Gotta have at least one Newf commanding a company."
I hang up, stare out the window in surreal disbelief. May God have mercy on us if we get a tour.
An hour later, same courier. I tear it open in trepidation. This one is to the right Maj Z, me.
After she leaves, I groan, loudly, Ulster. Not just Ulster, South Armagh, bandit country down near the Eire border. I am to take 1st and 3rd Battalions of the Torngat Highlanders to XMG, army-speak for Crossmaglen. 2nd Batt will stay home.
With shaking hand, I dial, "Meena, get over here now."
As I wait, I flip pages. Footnote at the back says the Dunvegan Dragoons hafta give me 4 armored cars. Better yet, I choose which 4, so they can't stick me with lemons. Revenge is bittersweet.
Meena flips pages, snorts, "you mean, we gotta give that wet-behind-the-ears Newf my company?"
"Fraid so."
"I sure hope the IRA is as screwed up as us," absolutely wicked grin, "but the upside."
"There is an upside?"
"Of course Zohra. We screw up and Newfies get the blame. Not the East Indians and Afghans and Russians and everyone else pretending to be Newfy."
It is so ridiculous that I laugh.
"There, feel better?"
Surprise, I do.
"Then pick up that phone and dial the Newfy nutbar."
Lt Duncan flips paper, "wow, what an honor. We Newfs have a real reputation for drinking and fighting. Meaning the Ra will want to try us on for size."
I don't wish to dampen her enthusiasm, but I do have a six-pack of Ulster tours.
Grins, "so Col, your take on the Ra?"
"City ones, fully modernized, no inhibitions. Country ones, old style of chivalry. Simply never attack a womens' unit. Still, gotta prepare, never know if younger leadership has taken over."
"That seems very sexist to me."
Meena chimes in, "listen up, what the Col is saying is we are the problem, not the IRA. Girls don't take the tour serious, fall asleep on patrol. Job One is keeping our side awake."
"Gotcha. So, what do we do about troop numbers?"
I could answer that, but prefer not to. Gotta get Lt Duncan used to Meena as her Batt Commander. "I ah I'll hafta check the other 2, Meena, give us your take on the 3rd."
"Let's fire up the computer. Today, strength is 82, not good. But Friday, our barroom brawlers get outa civvy jail after 14 days D&D (Drunk and Disorderly). Pulls us up to 142."
Lt Duncan protests, "isn't there danger of re-offending? It is 3 months to tour start."
Meena smiles gently, "yes and no. Any one person can do any one crazy thing. No as a group."
"Why not?"
"Ten years ago, there was an excess of red-zones. Lotta trouble in the world. Almost back to back tours. Life was profitable, all that triple pay. Peace is not only boring, it's impoverishing. Some 9/10 of the girls have rather parlous finances."
"The other tenth?"
"The tenth that stays outa drugs and booze ain't cheapskates. They mostly do it for religious reasons."
"I'm starting to get your drift. Any one drunk can do any one thing. As a whole, they are afraid to miss the tour. Might be a long time waiting for another."
"Excellent. Now 20 in detox. Pulls us up to 161."
Lt Duncan queries, "ok, the girls in hospital. What's your take?"
Meena laughs ironically, "44 there. I'd say 35 connected with these endless stupid fights." She blushes just a bit, "maybe 10 are real illnesses. Ok, 196 now. Now the brig, 42. Be empty in no time once people start behaving. Brings us to 238. Stockade, ain't gonna see them, longtimers."
Lt Duncan asks, "we gonna shake the trees in 2nd Batt?"
Meena has the proud smile of a prof whose student just got A+. "Formally, 2nd Batt ain't going. Informally, mosta the girls will loan themselves out to 1st and 3rd."