Futuristic Infantry 4

Anyone with mil experience knows there aren't lotsa well-kept secrets. It comes as no surprise my phone rings off the hook for the next 3 days. Only one surprise - the sheer magnitude of it compared to previous tours.
I'm guessing all our neighbors (every unit within 100 miles) are more bankrupt than in the past. Yep, everyone wants to invite herself along on our XMG tour.
I go from shortage to cornucopia. In all cases, I tell people to send email or fax resume.
I'm not choosing. I believe in decentralizing authority. Let every Capt and Lt choose for herself. First, better odds of a good personality match. Second, why take the blame myself for the few lemons?
I declare an officer staffing day. We all gather, look at the package of available people, make outgoing calls. Fairest, everyone sees it at the same time.
Late in the afternoon, we send for pizza to celebrate. Just today's calls, we have now passed 110% strength - can cover surprise absences.
Even then, there are no rules against going on tour a few % over, long as you aren't ridiculous about it.
Lt Duncan waxes enthusiastic, "actually found another Newf out there. Electronics tech, ours is missing."
"Good," I reply, "now you'll have a friend. Tell me, how is your literature project going?"
"Funniest thing, Col, only people who are interested, the old-fashioned religious sort. Hey, didn't mean any offence, just stating a fact."
I laugh easily, "no offence taken. Rest are just too busy to read."
She continues earnestly, "why is it the army is so bad?"
"Go centuries back in history, back when men did it. Same stuff happened. So, you could say women are simply carrying on the tradition. Other thing, outcast factor. When one outcast is in a corner by herself, just quietly depressed. Small group, it becomes a depressed coffee circle. Gather a large group of outcasts - well you guess what happens."
"Forms a critical mass. Immense reference group. Lotta chance to take that quiet depression and do something active about it. And usually not something good. So Col, you seem way more sensible than mosta this crowd. Would it be too offensive if I asked why you hang around?"
"I'm a double outcast. First, women in general, not doing well. Second, well Afghans are doing less well than women in general. Army is a home, place to hide from the cold cruel world. And yes, sometimes even to be useful and respected." I wipe an eye.
"Sorry Col, should not have asked."
"That's ok, better you know. You hafta make the same choices. If it isn't too offensive, could I ask why you left Newfoundland?"
"Col, there is something obscene about oil. Brings out the absolute worst in people. You think army is bad? Go see how your rigpig lives. Makes ours look like a girls church choir."
"Oh well, now I know."

Meena receives her notification making her Acting/Major; Lt Duncan, A/Capt.
I must admit, gentle reader, Meena had me scared. Too long of being too crazy. This vanishes like the mist. Now she has a real job to do, she's all business. My relief is immense.
Likewise, Capt Duncan; in her case, my fear was her inexperience. Once I see that old-style Newfy work ethic and that careful triple-checking of everything, I know she's ok.
The whole place battens down for tour preparations. Sgt's who haven't drawn a sober breath in months, night or day, suddenly become eagle-eyes pros again. Corporals and privates, bored to death, are wildly enthusiastic.
As Meena is very technically knowledgable, I send her and Lt Morelli to make the selection of armored cars. They come complete with crews. (None of ours are armored car trained.) These crews are impressive. 9 shots outa 10, can hit a 2 foot diameter target with cannon shells. Their machine gunners, sweet rhythm, 2 or 3 at a time, not long bursts which will overheat a barrel.
As I watch training, I have conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to bring everyone back alive and well. Yet part of me feels cheated. One tour in Belfast and one in Londonderry, saw action for real. My 4 rural tours, nada. I find myself hoping the Ra will come out and play.
To me, it seems wildly paradoxical. When you consider the men's attitudes at home; how do people of such poverty (most on the dole) have such a sense of chivalry? I admire them, bigtime, but still I'd like to meet them for real. Just to see who is better, them or us.
I regularly tour all the training, not to nitpick, to encourage the girls, show they aren't forgotten. Of course I use every opportunity to tell people of my Belfast tour. We didn't know it was Belfast until we were airborne, changed at the last moment. Moral of the story, expect surprises, don't be lulled.
As I dismount from my jeep at the rifle range, I hear, "Col, over here," in the on-deck line.
I shudder inwardly, it's the 2 domestic disputers. To my surprise, each gives me a warm hug, thanks me for my kindness and advice.
News to me. "I don't really recall what I said."
Hugging her partner warmly, the larger one smiles, "more like what you didn't say."
"Oh?"
"We came outa there, went for coffee before booking with the counsellor. Realized we'd spent 3 hours playing prize horses' asses. Realized you were a lot more patient, kinder than the counsellor."
The smaller one smiles, "what else? Made a deal, then and there. Anything to avoid seeing those morons."
We all laugh at the rich irony of it.
As I drive away, I feel warmed. Every now and again, you get evidence that it's not totally futile.
I will not bore the gentle reader with chronicling people problems during this time.
Yes we had the odd drunk go crazy. But we boarded the giant transports at 109% strength. It's a mega-achievement. First time in ages a unit has had over 80% turnout.