Code Of Conduct. Rich Merritt

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Code Of Conduct - Rich Merritt

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Neville had discovered the error, I would expect and deserve the same reprimand from him that I’m giving you. You damn well should’ve known about it, Sledge, but you didn’t. I can only wonder what else in this squadron is defective. The next time I fly with your squadron, which will be soon, I expect everything to be current with all specifications.”

      “Yes, Colonel,” said the dejected commander.

      “About your direct disobedience of my order—”

      “You can’t fault me for that, Colonel.” Sledge regained some of his earlier confidence. “I was protecting my crew and my airframe. Your order was—”

      “My order was what?” Leonard shouted louder than before and Sledge’s head reared back in surprise. “Do you honestly think I’m so stupid that I’ve either forgotten or never knew the capabilities of heat-seeking missiles? If I believed for a second that flying into the sun was the best way to accomplish our mission, don’t you think I would’ve ordered it?” Sledge stared in wide-eyed disbelief at his commanding officer’s sudden display of anger. “Or perhaps since the first of October—last year—heat-seeking missiles have also had the capability to track a helicopter’s silhouette as well as its heat. When you violated my order and flew toward the sun, you sacrificed yourself, your Cobra, your copilot, and most of all, the mission.”

      While Leonard paused to catch his breath, Sledge stammered, “I—I—how—I don’t know how we were supposed to know about silhouettes.”

      Leonard, fearing he’d reached his cardiovascular breaking point, lowered his voice and recomposed himself. “I routed a classified update about missile systems to you and the other squadron commanders last September.” He removed a red-covered folder from his bag. “It’s now the end of January, Lieutenant Colonel Hammer. By Monday afternoon, you will call to let me know you’ve read this memo and any others from me you may have missed last year.”

      The chagrined lieutenant colonel took the pages and stared meekly at the cover. “Yes, sir.”

      Leonard picked up his equipment and headed out of the room. He paused at the door and turned around. “Sledge, your advice to Captain Pfeiffer was sound.”

      “What advice was that, sir?”

      “‘The most dangerous threats are the ones you don’t see.’ But there’s a more specific way to state the point you were trying to make.”

      “How’s that, Colonel?”

      “‘If you know the enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.’”

      “Sounds like wise advice,” Sledge said. “Is that a ‘Colonel Spencer original’?”

      “Hardly.” Leonard continued out the doorway. “I may be old and wise, but Sun Tzu is a little bit older and a whole lot wiser.”

      “Put your shirt back on,” Don said to Karl after their volleyball team’s short victory celebration in the parking lot. “The air will cool fast as the sun sets. It’s still January.”

      “Yes, Daddy.” Karl thrust his short but thick arms through the sleeves in his tank top. “It’s January? I’m glad you told me because I can’t read a calendar for myself.”

      “Smartass,” said Eddie.

      “Enough outta you, boat driver. You coming with us to WCPC’s tonight?”

      “Probably not.” Eddie’s clothes were drenched with sweat from the afternoon’s matches and he grunted as he leaned over to help his short-legged dog into the car. “I doubt if I could handle a night out dancing with you young boys at the West Coast Production Company. But shower and change at my apartment if you’d like. Beats driving back up to Vista.”

      “Sounds like a plan.” Don scanned the area around his jeep for trash or anything they might’ve dropped. “Karl, what are you doing? Get out of the jeep and come here.”

      “Damn it! I hate when you act like a gunny.” Karl pulled his sweatshirt over his tank top as he slid out of the vehicle. “You’re right about the temperature drop. And I’m showering first.”

      “Earth to Steiger! I am a gunny. It ain’t no act. Now aren’t you glad I told you to bring that sweatshirt? And even if you shower first, you still gotta clean your nasty pubes outta the drain.”

      “Quit your bitchin’, Karl. You the one always leaving shit behind,” Eddie said. “Remember Laguna Beach? You left a bag of condoms and lube under your chair at that restaurant.”

      “Jesus! I forget shit once and you’d think I left top-secret gear with the Iraqi army.”

      “That was a family restaurant. ‘Look at this, Mommy. What’s this, Daddy?’ And it wasn’t just one time! You’d lose your head if it weren’t—if you had a head to lose.”

      Don picked up an object from the grass, holding it high to show the others. “It’s a good thing I made us do a police call of the area but I’m afraid Eddie owes Karl—”

      “Ha, motherfucker, take that!” Karl jumped to grab the item out of Don’s hand. “Look who’s leaving shit behind now, chief.”

      Eddie squinted and said, “What is that? My eyes are going bad.”

      “Rocky’s ball!” Hearing his name, Rocky barked inside the car as Karl ran his ball over.

      “That’s about got it,” Don declared. “Eddie, sure you won’t join us? A night like this—weather’s perfect—guys will be itchin’ to go out. WC’s will be packed.”

      “I don’t—”

      “Come on! Quit being such a pussy and take the skirt off! Or in your case,” Karl said, “put the skirt on! Let’s hit the town—there’s fresh meat out there, ripe and ready to pick.”

      “If Uncle Sam required you Jarheads to graduate high school, you’d know what a ‘mixed metaphor’ is.” Eddie grabbed Karl around the neck and rubbed his knuckles across the younger Marine’s high-n-tight haircut. “Know what, you little runt? I was hitting this town when you were playing with Legos, eating Apple Jacks and watching Saturday morning cartoons.”

      “Runt? Who you callin’ a runt? Check out these huge guns—even through my sweatshirt!” Karl flexed his biceps. “You wouldn’t be able to call me a runt if I wasn’t just five six.”

      “But ’ch are, Blanche, ya’ are!”

      “Who the fuck is Blanche?” Karl asked. “And what’s she got to do with anything?”

      “Oh my God,” Eddie said as he and Don looked at Karl in dismay. “We’re failing our child. Next rainy weekend, I’m hosting a Bette Davis and Joan Crawford marathon at my house.”

      “Sounds like a party that’d be too wild for me.” Karl rolled his eyes.

      “Come on now, princesses, be nice.” Don was glad to see Eddie energized and having fun. Today

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