Susan 9

As Col Cohen stands to speak, I surreptiously look at expressions. Most convey that he is a respected officer and they are prepared to listen with an open mind.
Smile, "today each and every one of you gets the chance to grab history by the horns, change its direction. It goes without saying that everything said today is secret. Discuss it among yourselves after if you like, but not anywhere you'd be overhead.
"Joining us today is Lt Nachtenstein of the Canadian Army. Don't let the rank fool you, she answers directly to a Gen sympathetic to NATO causes. There's a reason she's here, not someone higher ranking. Above all else, they need secrecy. We're now talking about the first Canadian deployment abroad in over a century."
Oohs and ahs.
"Before we proceed, cultural background. First, they have only 1/10 of our population. Second, their economy has stagnated for a lot of years while ours grew. At present, Canadian Gross National Product per person is roughly 1/4 of ours. So, multiply 1/10 by 1/4 and that gives 1/40. For these people to spend a dollar pinches them as much as for Uncle Sam to spend forty.
"You are of course free to view this how you may. Consider it a totally inadequate contribution if you choose. Bottom line though, it's all they can afford, financially and politically. A more mature attitude would be, how can be get the maximum bang for the buck? Without further ado, Lt Nachtenstein."
They applaud.
I rise, "for the last dozen years, US garrisons in Germany have been short. Short enough an important role has never been addressed in that time. I refer to gendarme style patrols of rural and village areas during wartime.
"Front line duty for the Canadian contingent has been considered and rejected on technical grounds. Sad to say, everything we own is decades out of date, not inter-operable with you.
"However I can offer you one cheerful thought. When Ivan comes calling, fuel will be at a premium. Everyone competing with everyone else to get enough. Now if you look in the attached table, you'll see we can do it for 1/4 the fuel costs of yourselves."
Oohs and ahs.
Drily I continue, "open jeeps and trucks use a lot less than armored cars and armored Humvees."
Roars of laughter.
"I now open to questions."
The men, very polite, chivalrous. Some offer ideas for minor changes; others suggest different roles.
The women, mostly rude, denigrate the platoon and company, but stop short of shooting the messenger.
As questions cease, Col Cohen says, "Lt Nachtenstein and I will now withdraw. Carry out a free discussion among yourselves, then a secret ballot vote. Of course you have the right to reject this idea. But if you do, it forces these people into roles of less usefulness. Now if this idea is a success, it's really only a matter of time before their government ups the ante. On the other hand, if these people end up guarding some supply depot, you can rest assured you won't be seeing any increases in future."
We wait for half an hour; are informed the vote is 90% yes.
And so it goes, base after base.
When the job is complete, I send the results to Gen Strasser.
Two days later, the Canadian Defence Minister holds a press conference, announcing the big event.
And that is the end of the need for me. A real officer, a Col, arrives to sort out the details. After several days briefing this person, it's back home for me.
Somehow I just can't seem to readjust. It's like I've gone into the gym, built up so much that now I don't fit into my previous body armor.
My job seems the living end of triviality. My friends (?) Indira, Elke and Francesca seem the height of inanity. I feel itchy and bored and it just won't go away, month after grinding month.