Corps 02 - Call To Arms by W. E. B. Griffin

Author:W. E. B. Griffin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: War & Military, Fiction
ISBN: 9781440630330
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 1987-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

"When I came home from China, I applied for officer school and they sent me," McCoy said.

"You like being an officer?"

"It pays better," McCoy said.

Carlson chuckled.

"Most second lieutenants, faced with a malfunctioning Browning, would get an armorer to fix it," Carlson said. "Not dirty their hands on it themselves."

"Most second lieutenants wouldn't have known what was wrong with it," McCoy said.

"I was hoping you would say you don't mind getting your hands dirty if mat's the quickest solution to a problem."

"Yes, sir," McCoy said. "That, too."

"I've been given command of a special battalion, McCoy," Carlson said. "What we'll be doing is something like the British Commandos. Amphibious raids on Japanese-held islands; probably, later, working behind Japanese lines. I'm recruiting officers for it."

"I heard something about that, sir," McCoy said.

"What did you hear?"

"I heard suicide troops, Colonel," McCoy said. "That you didn't want married men."

"Well, let me correct that," Carlson said. "Not suicide troops. Only a fool would volunteer to commit suicide, and the one thing I don't want is fools. I don't want married then because I don't want people thinking about wives and children . . . because that would raise their chances of getting killed. I want them to think of nothing but the mission. If they do that, they stand a much better chance of staying alive. You follow the reasoning?"

"Yes, sir," McCoy said.

"And the training is going to be tough, and there's going to be a lot if it, and a married man would get trouble from his wife because he didn't come home at night and on weekends. My philosophy is that well-trained then stand a better chance of staying alive. You follow me?"

"Yes, sir."

McCoy had seen enough of Lieutenant Colonel Evans F. Carlson to make a fast judgment, but one he was sure of. He judged that Carlson was a good officer. McCoy had noticed, for instance, that the officers and noncoms were now doing what they were supposed to be doing, instead of standing around bullshitting in the shade of the range building; and he was sure that Carlson had straightened them out. And McCoy was impressed with Carlson, the man. There was a quiet authority about him. He didn't have to wave his silver lieutenant colonel's leaf in somebody's face to command respect.

His eyes were soft, but intelligent. He certainly didn't look crazy. Or even like he'd gone Chink. McCoy had no idea what a Communist looked like.

McCoy was worried about the intelligent eyes. They made him think that there was very little that got by Lieutenant Colonel Carlson. He wondered how long it would be before Carlson began to suspect-if he didn't already suspect-that the big brass would send somebody to keep an eye on him, to see if he was crazy, or a Communist, or whatever. And once he figured that out, it wouldn't be a hell of a jump for him to figure out that the spy was Second Lieutenant McCoy.

Shit! Why didn't they send somebody else? I like this guy.

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