Corpsman (4 page)

TARAWA

Chapter 3

“You coming, Doc?” Jessie Wythe asked, poking his head through the hatch.

Liege looked up from the small field desk where she was entering bio-stats into her M-PA.  It was a mindless, time-consuming task, one that Liege thought was ridiculous.  In today’s age of data integration, she didn’t understand why her “Private Doc” couldn’t simply take the data from the log net.  But instead of making it simple and easy, she had to download each Marine’s bio-stats onto a stylus and then upload them—after converting the data—into her M-PA.

“Sorry, Jessie.  Chief wants this done before COB.”

“It
is
COB, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Your COB, maybe, but I guess not mine.  You guys go ahead.  I’ll meet you there.”

“How late you going to be, you think?”

Liege scrolled down the log repeater for a moment and then told him, “At least an hour.”

“An hour?” Wythe asked.  “No big deal.  I’ll tell the rest to warm up at the E-Club.  You come and get us, then we’ll head to the Down ’N Out together.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

“Bullshit, Doc.  We’re going to get the two newbies drunk, and you got to be there, too.  ’Sides, I’m feeling peckish, and you know what that means.  Iffen anyone gives me some lip, I’m gonna lay ’em out, and I’ll need you to doc them up.”

“Peckish?”

“Yeah, peckish.  It means. . .hell, I’m not sure what it means.  Killer said it, so I’ll ask him.”

“OK, Lance Corporal Peckish, you go ask Corporal Wheng what it means.  But for now, let me get back and finish this.  I’ll meet you all at the E-Club.”

She had to smile at Wythe’s retreating back.  He was a character, for sure.  And he’d been very protective of her since the
Imperial Stabiae
—all the more so since the chief officially assigned her to Golf Company for the upcoming deployment.  Like most of the battalion corpsmen, she was a member of H&S Company, but she was now attached to First Squad, Second Platoon, Golf Company, for the duration of the deployment.

She also knew that Wythe fancied her.  Oh, he’d never said as much, but it wasn’t hard to read him.  Given other circumstances, she might even give him a rodeo to see how he bucked, but as a squad, he was family, and you didn’t mess around with family.  She knew enough not to give him an opening, and she knew he wouldn’t press.

Gangrats back home usually didn’t know how to accept a “no,” which was a major reason she had blooded with the
Commando Meninas.
  Liege was grateful to know that in the Marines, which was in many ways just a bigger, more powerful gang, “no” was understood. 

She also liked the fact that so many Marines were prime beef on the hoof, and Liege was not a blushing schoolgirl.  She had and would continue to socialize, but as far as romance, it wasn’t going to happen within the squad—heck, not even within the battalion.

She shook off that train of thought and buckled down to get the biostats on her M-PA.  Forty-five minutes later, she was able to log off.  Closing the hatch to the tiny platoon office behind her, she took the ladder two steps at a time to the third deck, then ran down to her room.  Fanny had already left, as she’d expected, so she stripped off her utilities, jumped into the shower, and scrubbed off the day’s grime.  Within a minute, she was out and dried and opening her locker.

Her turquoise camisole top and bright yellow snake-pants were on a hanger on the backside of the locker door.  A piece of paper with “Wear this!” written on it was pinned to the hanger.

Leave it to Fanny
, she thought, taking the outfit and holding it up to the mirror-screen. 

With her red hair, which was finally reaching almost to her collar after being shaved at boot camp, and light skin, she wasn’t sure the colors really complimented her, but she’d take her roomie’s advice.  Another minute—which had to be a record for her—and she was out the hatch and taking three steps at a time back down the ladder.

The Area 5 E-Club was only about 200 meters from the barracks, so she still beat the hour she’d told Wythe.

“Liege!” Fanny called out, standing up from a crowded table as Liege entered the club bar.

As her bunkie, Fanny was the only person to call her by name.  To everyone else, she was “Doc.”  It had taken Liege awhile to get used to it, but “Doc” was a badge of honor, one she now wore proudly.

“Pull up a seat, Doc,” Corporal Wheng said.  “We’ve got two pitchers to finish off before we hit the ville.”

Normally, the three corporals and the sergeant would be at the NCO Club, which was why they’d planned the welcome for the two newbies out in town.  But with Liege late, they’d been fine with starting the drinking on base.  Pitchers were much cheaper on base, too, so there was that benny.

Liege liked Wolfshead Red or Guinness.  Neither of which was sold at the club, though, but, she wasn’t going to turn down free beer, even if it was the Munchen piss-water most everyone else seemed to love.

She took the proffered stein and wormed her butt in between Fanny’s and Victor’s. 

“Welcome, boots,” she said, lifting the stein to the two newbies.

“Boots!” Wythe said, laughing.  “You heard that!”

One of the two, PFC Korf, really was a boot.  He looked like a gangly baby, and he smiled stupidly, holding his stein as if he’d never had a beer before.  He had the puppy-dog attitude, just happy to be playing with the big kids.

The other newbie wasn’t technically a boot.  Lance Corporal Tamara Veal was a huge girl, maybe bigger than any other Marine at the table.  She hunched uncomfortably at one end of the table, her stein clutched in her hands.  She looked out-of-place and not too happy to be there.

Liege hadn’t really had much contact with Veal since she’d arrived the day before, but she knew the lance corporal had been on the Marine track team before getting banished back to the grunts.  Liege had expected to see some slender runner, but it was obvious that this girl hadn’t been tearing up the marathon circuit. 

With Veal and Korf, the squad was now T/O.
[3]

The party was supposed to leave the E-Club and head out of town, but pitchers kept being bought, and they each had to be drained.  After an hour-and-a-half, it became evident that the night out in the ville had been abandoned.  Sergeant Vinter made her excuses right about then, and Corporal Acosta left soon thereafter.  Both Corporals Wheng and Sativaa hung around, though, closing the club at 0100 with the non-rates.

Liege had a good conversation with Korf, and her initial impressions were confirmed.  He was an eager puppy, wanting to please.  Although the party was for both of the newbies, he must have bought at least a third of the pitchers.

Veal was a tougher nut to crack, but Liege pulled up a chair beside the big woman and shared a stein or two with her.  She thought Veal somewhat reserved, but not in a snooty way.  One-on-one with Liege, the lance corporal opened up about her career to date, which was entirely on the track team.  By closing time, Liege had decided that she liked Veal—which wasn’t surprising; Liege liked almost everyone.

Wythe and Williams wanted to take the party out in town as the E-Club closed, but with a 0600 PT
[4]
session in the morning, cooler heads prevailed.

More than slightly tipsy, Liege and Fanny started to leave together to go back to the barracks.  As they stepped off, Liege looked back to the table and saw Veal standing in the awkward manner of someone not quite knowing what to do.

She pulled Fanny to a halt and asked Veal, “Well, girl, you coming?  We sisters have to stick together, you know?”

The lance corporal smiled with a hint of relief and joined them.  With one arm linked in Fanny’s, Liege hooked her other in Veal’s, and the three squadmates stepped through the club’s front hatch and into the night.

Chapter 4

“You have what?”

“I’ve got the Brick.”

Liege stared at the lance corporal standing in front of her.  Golf Company had been out in the field for the last two weeks on their work-ups, and this was her first day back assisting in the battalion sick call since then.

“Uh, according to your records, Lance Corporal Weisman, you’ve never been in regen, so how could you have BRC?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “I just know I have it.”

“OK, wait a second while I talk to the chief.”

Liege left the Marine standing there as she searched out Chief Sou—Chief Hospital Corpsman Soukianssian and the senior corpsman in the battalion.

“Uh, Chief?” she said when she tracked him down.  “I’ve got a lance corporal who’s telling me he has the Brick.”

“Have you taken his vitals?”

“No, Chief.  I mean why?  He’s never had regen, and he’s 19 years old.  He doesn’t have the Brick.”

“You know that and I know that, but does he?”

“We’re eight days from our shake-down cruise, Chief.  He’s trying to scam out of that.”

“Who is he?”

“Lance Corporal Weisman, from Fox.”

“Bigeye, what can you tell me about Weisman, lance corporal, one each,” the chief asked HM2 Fiorelli, one of the Fox Company corpsman who was going over some sort of list at an adjacent desk.

“Weisman?  Good kid, bad story.  He brought his honey-wa from Kunter or Dysktra 3 or someplace like that and set her up in the ville.  Only this fine young lady is rather fond of the many strapping young Marines here.  Rumor has it that she’s had more than a few boyfriends since she’s been here and she’s only waiting until we deploy so she can shack up with some guy from 3/4.  Weisman’s been pretty stressed out, from what I hear.”

“She’s shacking up with other Marines?  And they know she’s with Weisman?” Liege asked, surprised at what Fiorelli had just said.

“That’s the scuttlebutt.”

“But they know Weisman’s a Marine?”

“Geez, Neves, come on back down to reality,” Doc Fiorelli said.

“But that’s a Jody,” Liege protested.

“And the military doesn’t Jody each other, yeah, we know,” Bigeye said, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the chief.  “Most won’t, but there will always be some assholes.  You should see what happens after a fleet deployment from Station One.  All those Quadrant widows and widowers go crazy looking for hook-ups.”

Liege was shocked and more than a little embarrassed about her naiveté.  She was single, and she’d been enjoying the attention and company of men outside of the battalion, but she’d also assumed that no Marine or sailor would Jody another.  To hear that some would was a major let-down.  She’d heard the term “Quadrant” or “Quad widow” of course, for women or men whose Navy spouses were off on deployment, but somehow she thought the Marines, at least, didn’t play that game.

“So now we know what’s up, don’t we?  Weisman’s afraid his doe will find another stag, and he wants to be here to keep it from happening,” the chief said.  “It happened with your sergeant on the last deployment,” he added to Liege.

“Sergeant Vinter?  She’s married?”

“Was married,” the chief corrected.

“And her ex ran off with another Marine?”

“No, a civilian.  Lots of civilians, including a Marine wife.  Vinter came back and found out, and we thought she was going to kill him.  But no, she just went to Div-Legal and filed for an immediate divorce.”

Liege tried to imagine coming back from a deployment and finding out a husband or wife had gone wild.  Sergeant Vinter was one tough SOB, but it still had to hurt.

“So what do I do with Weisman?” she asked the chief.

“Work him up.”

“But he doesn’t have the Brick.”

“Probably not.  But you’re not the MO,
[5]
and neither am I.  While you’re keeping him busy, I’m going to give the chaplain a call and see what we can do.

“You say Wiesman’s a good kid, Bigeye?” he asked Doc Fiorelli.

“Yeah, a good Marine.  Just young and in a hard place.”

“Doctor X‘anto might want to get him to psyche to make sure his mind’s on straight.  We don’t need him doing something stupid.  Give First Sergeant Herrera a head’s up, too.  He needs to make sure someone keeps an eye on the young man until we embark.”

“Weisman would be better off without the witch,” Fiorelli said.

“You know that and I know that, but I doubt the kid agrees.”

“That’s because he’s young,” Fiorelli said.

Liege was young, too.  She and Weisman were the same age, but she didn’t think she could ever get so messed up about a guy that she’d lie just to get out of a deployment.

As she walked back to her station, Liege wondered how he’d even managed to support his girlfriend or whatever she was.  Tarawa was not the cheapest place to live, especially near the bases, and being a lance corporal, he wouldn’t have much money to spend on her.  Liege had just received approval to make her Avó a dependent, and that had been a major goat-rope of bureaucracy.  It was only after a medical exam back on Nova Esperança had found him 100% disabled and Liege could prove at least six months as his main source of financial support that it had been approved.  But until her next promotion, she would not be authorized military housing, so for the time being, Avó and Leticia had to stay back in the favela. 

Liege felt more than a little guilt as she sat back down across from Weisman.  He’d managed to bring his girlfriend to Tarawa, and despite the fact that with an authorized dependent she made more than the lance corporal, she hadn’t thought it possible to bring Avó and Leticia to join her.

Lance Corporal Weisman looked nervously at Liege, wringing his hands.  He had to know he wouldn’t get away with this, at least the part about him claiming he had the Brick.  Maybe the chief could get something going through the chaplain, but Liege doubted it.  Like it or not, Weisman was most likely going to be with the battalion as they deployed.  He’d have to rely on his fellow Marines to pull through.

“OK, Tad,” she said, reading his first name off the display as she pulled out a scanner.  “Let’s see what’s going on with you.”