The Grantville Gazette - Volume 4 Part 20

Duke opened the last drawer and stared at its contents for a second. Then, with raised eyebrows, he slammed it shut. A perplexed Lulu could only ask. "What?"

Duke gave her an uncomfortable smile. "I think I just found your brother's stash of girlie magazines."

Lulu snorted. Then she continued speaking in a very matter-of-fact way. "Don't throw them away, Duke.

I hear there are folks who pay good money for them."

Duke looked like he was expecting a joke. But when he saw her looking back without any hesitation, he decided to drop the subject and answer her question.

"When I originally talked to the admiral his plans were no females at all. I told him that if he wanted me,

he'd better want you, too. I told him that because I'm not going to do everything by myself. He had to agree to that if he wanted me, so he did. And, of course, if we let you join, we can't refuse any other women who want to try."

Lulu smiled. "I'm the camel nose under the tent, I see."

"Sort of," Duke said as he leaned back in the chair. "The truth is that I'm not going to handicap myself

by being forced to choose poor candidates just because they're men. I don't plan to waste my time like Jackson did at the beginning."

Lulu smirked in disgust at the mention of Jackson's name. There was bad blood between her and

Jackson. After the Ring of Fire, she had offered her services to the new army. After Jackson told her he didn't needed either women or fat jarheads, Lulu was furious. In front of his staff, she had invited him to step outside so she could sweep the street with his bony doughboy a.s.s. Luckily for Jackson's ego and health, someone had the presence of mind to get Dan Frost and Duke, who put a stop to the confrontation. Later, when Jackson had been forced to let women into his Army, Lulu had felt vindicated. But she had never tried to join up again.

Duke didn't need to be mind reader to know what his friend was thinking, so he continued talking. "Like the up-time Corps, women are going to be excluded from direct combat roles, like infantry, artillery and cavalry. I know that this is very restrictive compared with what the army allows. But they don't have to think about operating in cramped shipboard conditions or opposed beach landings. However, I don't plan to send them to the rear, either. If there is anything that the Croat raid demonstrated to everyone, it was that we don't have a rear. So, I expect every Marine, regardless of gender or duty, to remember that we are all riflemen first. I plan to train everyone under that standard. Can you live with that, Lu?"

Lulu thought for a second before nodding her approval. "Yes, I can live with that. I suppose I'd better

brush off my combat skills then, eh?"

Duke smiled. "Yes. But you aren't the only one. I have to get in shape again, too. And we need to do it before we start boot camp. So, we can work up together." He started rummaging through the desk again.

"Say, Lu, can you find us some pens and paper? I want to write down what we discussed so far and start working in the basic plan."

Lulu stood up and brushed her pants. "Sure, Duke. Meanwhile, can you clean the desk and the chairs?

I'm going to get some of my boys to clean the place, later. You know, I remember seeing two manual

typewriters in my dad's junk. I bet we can use them in Magdeburg."

"You bet we can," Duke grinned. "But I'm not sure if future generations of Marines are going to be happy with us. You know we're going to have to reinvent paperwork."

Lulu, a former administration and supply specialist, laughed hard as she exited the small office.

GRANTVILLE FREE PRESS.

May 11, 1633

First Marines Complete Training by Jason Waters

The early sun was not completely over the horizon when this reporter observed the last Marine "boot" pa.s.sing the marker that completed the final force march of their training at the Hudson farm. Recruit Kimberly Ann Chaffin, 19, of Grantville, crossed the final line five seconds after the last man on her platoon at 0715 today, completing . . .

Outskirts, City of Grantville Road to Magdeburg Sat.u.r.day, 21 May 1633 AD 0900 hours local Claire Hudson wiped the tears out of her eyes as the last troops disappeared around the bend of the road. With a flourish, the high school band ended their rendition of "The Girl I Left Behind Me." As a sudden silence settled over the crowd, most started walking back into the direction of town. Claire felt rooted to the spot, a feeling shared by many of the women around her. All of them, with the exception of naval spouse Susan Dorrman, were Marine wives or sweethearts. She also felt a sense of deja vu, as the memory of her partic.i.p.ation in many departures ceremonies like this in the twentieth century mixed with the reality of 1633 Grantville.

After a deep breath, Claire took stock of the situation. She was now the defacto senior spouse, or the senior dragon lady in her husband's words. One of the last things that he had asked her to do while they were saying their goodbye was to watch out for all of them. As she looked at the mostly young women, she knew that she had a great task ahead. Gathering her flock around her, she stood by her neighbor and now duty translator, Ilse Hoffman and addressed the women.

"Ladies, tomorrow we will meet at my house for coffee at 1400 hours. That's two in the afternoon. Don't look so surprised; you married Marines and that's how they talk. Learn it. Bring your problems and we can discuss them and find solutions. The wives of Captain Lennox's unit are going to provide us with child care support like they did today at Ilse's house. You all have my phone number. If you need help or want to talk; I'm here for you. Thank you and I'll see you all tomorrow."

As the group broke up, Claire found herself walking with Susan and Ilse. Nancy Hobbs and Bill Musgrove's fiancee, Connie Miller, joined them. Nancy had her arm around Connie as she sobbed quietly. Her on and off relationship with Wild Bill seemed to be on at the moment. To the whole detachment's amus.e.m.e.nt, her overnight goodbye almost made her warrior late for the initial formation.

Looking at Claire, Susan told her, "Well this went well. At least we were not left at the pier watching the

ships as they became smaller and smaller towards the horizon."

"Yes but watching a horse's rear end doing the same thing lacks some of the romance," a saddened Nancy shot back.

For several steps the group walked in silence until Claire started giggling. Then the whole group, including Ilse who had only understood part of the observation, part in hysteria and part in relief, broke into loud laughs.

Wiping her eyes, Claire spoke to her friends. "Well, it's obvious that except for Connie, we all have gone through similar experiences. At least Magdeburg is not at the other end of the world and hopefully we will be able to see the guys soon."

"They might be at the other end of the world as far as we are concerned, Claire," Nancy Hobbs replied as she kept walking with Connie. "I was hoping that after Calvin left the Corps, I would be able to keep him around but look at us now; back to square one. And this time, we have no phone or e-mail and we're back to the old-fashioned snail mail if we are lucky."

"She's right, Claire. Becoming a geographical widow again sucks. There's got to be a way to remain

together," Susan added.

Claire kept walking as she thought about it. The other women waited for her insights. Finally, her mind made up, she addressed her friends. "Ladies, I have an idea but up to this moment it needed to be fleshed out. However, as I see that you all share my concerns, I feel that I can talk briefly about it. Obviously, we are going to have to refine it before we present it to the group at large. Let me talk to you about something that I'm calling Operation Exodus."

Three Miles outside the City of Magdeburg Main road from Thuringia Monday, 6 June 1633 AD 1333 hours local Gunnery Sergeant Hudson halted the Marine horse and wagon column with a sharp raised right arm sign. His "Detachment, Halt" command was relayed down the line by his junior leaders with loud shouts. He twisted on his saddle and gave the hand signal for leaders forward. As was usual whenever he did this, he couldn't stop feeling like an extra in a John Wayne movie. Loud commands once again relayed the order down the column. After weeks of training with Lennox and his cavalrymen (it was going to take Duke a long time before he felt comfortable calling them Marines) together with the practice gained during the journey, he knew mounted commands were now second nature for everyone.

Duke easily controlled his spirited mount, Henderson, with his knees. The horse tended to be easily spooked. Of course, Duke couldn't fail to appreciate the irony that a Marine infantryman who trained for most of his adult life to ride into combat in amtracks, helos and LCACs was now going into the breach on horseback.

Duke felt more than saw when the first of his gathering subordinates, Staff Sergeant O'Keefe approached him. The spires of Magdeburg Cathedral beyond the tree line beckoned him. Those spires marked the end of their two-week trip and the long months of preparation and training. The cathedral was the tallest structure on the horizon but there were other buildings, possibly new construction, that were starting to give it a run for its money.

"So, that's Magdeburg Cathedral," Lulu commented after stopping her mare, Lejeune, beside his horse.

"Yes, it is, Lu," Duke responded, looking at her intently. She looked tired, but as usual remained stoic about her discomfort. Lulu wasn't one to let her fatigue keep her from getting the job done. Once again,

Duke gave thanks to the Lord for her and the remarkable group of men and women who had chosen to follow him to help in the formation of the new Marine Corps.

"Don't look like much from here," Lulu said, leaning forward on her saddle to rest her backside. Duke

smiled, Lu was not a born horsewoman and he felt sympathy for her soreness.

"Wait until we get into town. The place is a G.o.dd.a.m.n phoenix. The admiral told me that for a city that

was practically razed to the ground, its rebuilding is way ahead and starting to look a lot better that you could expect." Duke's eagerness for their new home and the tasks ahead started to color his voice.

Lulu smiled at her friend's enthusiasm but her reply was preempted by the arrival of the rest of their up-

time cadre of former veterans. The first squad leader, Sergeant Hobbs, and the second squad leader, Corporal Musgrove were followed by their chief medic, Petty Officer Dorrman. Dorrman, or as he was now known, the "Chief", walked from his combination horse-drawn ambulance and first-aid wagon at the rear of the wagon formation.

"Magdeburg, I presume?" Dorrman asked as he wiped his brow with his soft "bonnie style" hat.

"Oh yes. We finally made it," Lulu replied, looking down at him. "After two weeks of invigorating

horseback travel. Forget trucks, Humvees or helos, only horses for me from now on." There was more than a heavy hint of sarcasm in her tired voice. "Ouch, I can't feel my b.u.t.t any longer."

"Gee, Staff Sergeant O'Keefe, did you forget already? The Corps never promised you a rose garden,"

Wild Bill, the youngest of the senior NCOs, joked to the chuckles of the tired group. Musgrove had definitely enjoyed the trip, occasionally commenting that he would have paid money for an adventure outing like this back up in the twenty-first century. The consensus of the older NCOs was that Wild Bill had been in the sun without a cover for way too long.

"Yeah, right, Musgrove. Tell that to my b.u.t.t," Lulu shot back. Her humorous comeback was typical of the rapport that the cadre shared. Humor was a good way to ease the stress of daily life under wartime conditions. Her horsemanship had improved during the trip but everyone knew the relationship between her and her mare was, at best, an armed truce.

Duke, knowing that the conversation was only going to go downhill from there, stopped their usual mock insult humor fest cold with his instructions. "Can the chit-chat, guys. This place looks as good as any to stop for lunch. Get your people dismounted and let them take a break under the trees while we wait for the scouts' return," he ordered. "Also tell them to try to clean up a bit and secure all the loose ends. I want them to look like Marines and not like a band of unemployed carnival people when we arrive in town. Got it?"

"Or worse, like the army. No problem, boss." Hobbs, a quiet, middle-sized man with unexpected depths, replied. The NCOs quietly returned to the column and a series of barked commands got the troops dismounted, under the trees and away from the main road. The men went with an eagerness that indicated that they, too, welcomed the rest stop.