Susan 5

I know nothing of hotels, apartment or otherwise, feel it wisest to approach the desk clerk a week before grad, "I just wanted to check. How do you people do checkout time on monthly bills? Wouldn't wanna overstay on my last day."
An amused look comes over his face, "Lt Nachtenstein, I can assure you, you need not worry."
"But it'll be the last day of the month. Should I take my suitcases in the morning? Go straight from class to the train?"
He laughs, "you need not worry about packing."
"Why?"
Grin, "they've extended your stay by a month. Ah I see by the surprised look they never got around to informing you. Let's just keep it our secret; wouldn't want trouble with the Crystal Palace (slang for National Defence HQ)."
"Does stuff like this happen all the time?"
Rolls his eyes, "gotta be a rookie to ask something so crazy. Of course, to paraphrase the Bible, the left hand doesn't know what the right is doing."
We both laugh.
Next day, I discover I've been exempted PT, scheduled for a meeting in the Gen's office.
Affable smile, "the forms people fill out on joining have questions that are vague, some open to interpretation. Still, there's a fairly serious error on yours. Under other languages, you list Hebrew and Yiddish, correct?"
"Yes, Gen."
"So imagine my consternation upon discovering you actually know German? And further, chose not to tell us?"
I groan, "Gen, I recall that question as alluding to some level of competence."
"So how competent are you in German?"
"You could arrange a test if you like Gen, but not very. Learned it as a byproduct."
"Byproduct??"
"If you know Yiddish anyway, Gen, some parents like you to get a smattering of German. Very similar spoken, but different alphabet."
"So, how much did you get?"
"Equivalent to one academic year, Gen, at 3 hours per week."
"Ah I see, one step up from a tourist."
"That's about it, Gen."
Grin, "that's all we need. Long as you can navigate by train, find meetings, buy food and so forth."
To my knowledge, there are no Canadian soldiers in Germany; that's mostly US, British and French facing off against the neoSoviets.
"Consider yourself sworn to secrecy, what I tell you. Things are starting to pinch up in the Cabinet. That pulpwood agreement with the US, up for renewal. Not going well, in fact the Americans have dug in their heels. Making it contingent upon some short of Canadian military showing over in Germany."
"Gen, isn't that like cutting off their noses to spite their faces? How do they get sufficient for their newspapers?"
Roar of laughter, "very good Lt, you've come a long way during your sojourn here. But they are that stubborn. They'd ration newsprint before they back off. So, here's the scoop, if anyone high ranking goes over to Germany to take a look, the Canadian newspapers catch wind. Endless speculation and of course time to rally anti-military sentiment.
"But an invisible person, a junior officer, could be there for months and no one would notice or care. We even have a cover story ready, just in case it becomes an issue. You have been sent as liaison officer, to study American communication networks, for when we have sufficient funds to upgrade."
"Are we likely to get such funds, Gen?"
Laugh, "not likely this decade, perhaps next. We aren't just going to dump you. Very thorough briefing, a month in HQ. Then, you're assigned to a US base near Ulm for two reasons; one company keeps kosher and the base CO, Jewish, is willing to aid our cause along. You need someone who can help open doors, help dig out info. And yes, the US of course wishes to keep this all quiet til it's a done deal."
"What size of contingent Gen?"
"One standard infantry company, with trucks and jeeps; one separate motorized platoon, with 3 APC's (armored personnel carriers)."
"Would not the Americans consider that rather small, Gen?"
"It's the symbolism that counts. Once you can show Canadian soldiers getting a function with a measure of dignity, it becomes much more politically palatable. After all, if all they do is change lightbulbs, it's a non-starter."
"In my view, Gen, it sounds foolhardy to send a Lt. Gotta be at least a Maj."
Indulgent smile, "oh but I agree with you, 100%. Now you tell me, is the absence of a Maj for a period of 6 months to a year likely to make waves?"
"I would assume so, Gen."
Chuckle, "I can assure you, the absence of a mere Captain for that long would get them sniffing around. That's how small we are."
"Gen, how exactly much respect is the mighty US Army gonna show a Lt?"
"You're my aide. Our ally Col Cohen has a dozen decorations. What more do you want for credibility than that?"
Renee looks exceptionally grim. At coffee time, she says quietly, "merde merde merde merde merde."
I know enough to understand that, raise an eyebrow.
"****ing called up. Can you ****ing believe they found a platoon for me?"
"How?"
"They say those lottery drawings are supervised by the Auditor General himself, to keep it totally fair and honest. Anyhow, there's this little town on the North Shore, La Tabatiere. Men fish, when they can. Women work in the fish plant, when they can. All the Social Insurance Numbers happen to be in a sequence, applied for through the fish plant. You guess."
"The random generator burped, became undone and now the town is emptied of women. Bad luck for you, my friend."
Loud groan, "you don't understand, it's not just my bad luck; but the very death of the town."
"Once they see TV and movies and espresso, there's no going home?"
"You got it, any idea how grim and primitive it is there? You seem different, something happened, right?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, but yes I too have been extended."
"They found you a contingent?"
"No, something else, paperwork."
Groan, "the Army has an endless appetite for that. Bad luck for you too, my friend."