Day Fifty five - Wednesday, May 16th, 2001. 7:00 a.m.
<strong>Day Fifty five
Wednesday, May 16th, 2001. 7:00 a.m.</strong>
I'm happy to say we've had a surprise visit from the U.S. Army Department of the Fairy Godmother. The Sunday afternoon staff meeting informed us that those regiments most heavily involved in the recent unpleasantness with Carlos were to be granted a week's R&R (Recuperation & Rebuilding - the Army would have us believe otherwise). I'm not sure how the social life is for the Second Florida over in the greater Ruskin metropolitan area (lots of tomato farmers at least) but comparatively speaking it hasn't been too bad here in Bartow - for a post-nuclear war society that is. You don't dare go anywhere without a sidearm and it would be better to take a buddy or three along but there hasn't been any open fighting that I've seen. The roving bands of M.P.'s patrolling the town might have something to do with that. Some of them boys seem a bit uptight at having missed out on the fighting (fools that they are) and are a bit quick on the trigger with suspected looters, criminals, "Cuban sabooteurs" and such.
Once we'd recovered as much of our equipment as we were able and saw to the dead and wounded the 3rd Florida packed it up and moved over to Bartow. We're bivouacked all over the place but they did it by company so at least the basic units are in relatively compact areas. Town hasn't changed much in the three years or so since I was last down here. Monday morning the new battalion C.O. (Major Michael R. Franklin, USA) reviewed the unit, his first time seeing all of us in one place at the same time then gave everyone their liberty.
I had a pile of paperwork waiting on me but I was feeling stiff so I went for a walk, wearing my .45 so wasn't particularly concerned about safety since it was still daylight. I went by the carriage house apartment that Ann used to rent way back when and it's still there. Naturally there's someone else living there now but I was half expecting the place to have been burnt or something. The young attorney who owns the place that she was renting from has gone into the army and to my surprise I later discovered he was another of us "irregularly commissioned officers" and a brand new platoon leader over in 2nd company. I didn't recognize the name earlier and I'm not sure he ever knew my name but when I walked past the house his wife happened to see me and ran out to ask if I were in the 3rd Florida because that's where her husband had volunteered.
I walked downtown and as I expected most of the shops were closed and boarded with a few looted. To my astonishment the Silver Ring café was still open! There are very, very few restaurants open anywhere in Florida that I know of - food is just in too short of a supply to support such. More curious still because the Silver Ring primarily serves Cuban food, a very politically incorrect cuisine just now. Curiosity got the better of me and I went in. Still looked as I remembered it, worn booths and tables, stools at the bar, the original early 20th century pressed tin ceiling and general atmosphere of busy old age. The menu was very brief, essentially black beans, yellow rice, eggs and a couple of kinds of guava sweets but there were several people inside. Prices in Federal Reserve Notes (paper money) were steep but a note at the bottom of the board said "other currencies negotiable." Had a bad moment there, thought they were talking about Cuban currency (can't recall what it's called now) or Mexican pesos or something but then I saw a fellow walk up to the cash register, pull out a roll of pennies and start dickering with the girl behind the bar. Everyone doing legal business has to be willing to trade in FRN's but it's common practice to have two different prices. One in paper - one in anything else. I wasn't too concerned, we'd paid out the troops before releasing them on liberty so everyone had at least a little something in their pockets in the way of negotiable money. I'd drawn a part of mine as a $20.00 Double Eagle gold piece and was carrying it as a luck piece in my pocket. I liked the heft of it in the hand but it's not the kind of thing that could be easily spent unless you were buying something very expensive or a very great deal of something less costly.
I went inside, sat down to the bar and ordered - what else - black beans over yellow rice and guava custard for dessert. Still tasted damn fine. The cook behind the bar (who is also the owner) served me himself and started up a conversation, "We don't see much service people in here lately, what with the war and all." I replied, "Well, I suppose Cuban food is probably not very politically correct just now but I used to eat in here whenever I came down to visit my fiance'. Since I just spent the last couple of weeks getting my ass shot off by Carlos I could not care less what anyone thinks of my taste in food. I like black beans and rice!" He grinned and said, "I fought across half of Vietnam it seems like when I was drafted and I still like Vietnamese food! I hope you shot those communist bastard's balls off! My older brother never came back from the Bay of Pigs." He was still grinning as he walked down to serve another customer. Been Cubans all over south Florida for over a century now so I suppose he'll make out OK.
He wouldn't let me pay for the meal but I did manage to sneak him a tip under my napkin (cloth now, paper napkins are better used for other purposes) when I left. Not much else to see downtown so I walked back to the high school were the company was bivouacked. I had lodgings with a family who lived next door as did the platoon leaders in other houses. Walked into the lunchroom and found Tyree, McWhirter and a couple of the other sergeants in a poker game. One of the sergeants was just standing up to leave so I took his place and sat down. Tyree looked at me and said, "Captain, you play poker? I figured you for a bridge player or some such." I grinned at him and said, "the wife's been trying to get me to play bridge for years but I grew up in a railroad and newspaper family so poker is my game. What's the house rules?" McWhirter had the cards and answered, "Dollar ante, ten dollar limit on raises, three raise limit, no wild cards." Looked like all paper money on the table so I reached into my pocket and pulled out $100 and put in my ante. McWhirter handed me the cards and said, "Your deal." I took the deck, shuffled and said, "Gentlemen, the game is draw. Five card draw." The game went until two in the morning and I was so stiff in the chair I wasn't sure I was going to be able to walk back to my bunk but I came out $25.00 ahead and had found considerable pleasure in the game.
Spent all of Tuesday morning trapped in a morass of paper. With paper being as scarce and hard to come by as it has been ever since the beginning of the war if baffles me how the Army can waste so much of it on minutia! I was beginning to remember why I got of the service in the first place. Nevertheless, as company C.O. and regimental exec I'm stuck with it otherwise it just hurts the unit. Of course with most computer technology fried and electrical power scarce the paperwork all has to be done by hand because manual typewriters are scarce as hen's teeth. A man with a working manual typewriter and a box of ribbons could just about name his own deal with the Army right now. I think I'd happily trade a howitzer for an old Remington or Smith-Corona.
Had a noon staff meeting to go to so I gratefully threw my pen down and got ready to leave. Tyree poked his head in and asked for a word before I left. He shut the door on his way in and I knew I wasn't going to like it, whatever it was. He told me that Major Franklin had just found out about the company bank, ours and the other companies, and was all bent out of shape about it. Just wanted to give me a heads up before the staff meeting so I wouldn't get blindsided. I thanked him for the tip and headed on over. Knew it was gonna be trouble and I was not disappointed.
Staff meeting was somewhat interesting. Several regiments had formed in the Carolinas but it wasn't clear yet where they'd be sent. The government is still having difficulty pacifying some urban/suburban areas and it was thought they might be used there. Another regiment was coming from Tennessee and another one each from Georgia and Alabama. The Mexican border was becoming very serious so the DoD wanted the Cuban problem wrapped up quickly. Nothing was said but I'm beginning to get the impression that president Bush is thinking of invading Mexico as the best solution to our problems in the southwest.
On the home front it seems that we gave Carlos a real black eye over there to Cocoa but he's not out of the fight yet. He's reforming and seems to be getting ready to make another attempt on reaching Orlando. Seems a little crazy to me, I'd be thinking defense about now but then maybe that particular commander didn't get enough to suit him. Carlos over in Bradenton was still licking his wounds and regrouping. We had a LRRP team watching Sarasota Bay which reported increased boat traffic coming and going so he's probably getting some resupply but most of what's coming in is too small to carry artillery or armor. We're going to have to go down there soon and kick him out but we're still awaiting resupply ourselves. Now that we've finally got him between a rock and a hard place the Army is having fuel and transport difficulties again!
We ground through the rest of the battalion business: Troop dispositions, logistics, maintaining order and discipline among the troops on liberty (someone always seems to be able to come up with an alcohol supply!) and so on. Nothing new, nothing particularly interesting, just the necessary business of running a military unit. We got through it all and put it behind us and Major Franklin finally go to it.
"Gentlemen," he said, "it has come to my attention that the troops have been looting the enemy dead, wounded and captured of valuable items. What's more, I understand that this has been an organized activity condoned by unit officers! To make it short and sweet THIS HAS GOT TO STOP! Starting today, right now, all property taken from enemy dead, wounded and prisoners is to be surrendered. Any questions?"
No one looked at me but as I had conceived the idea in my platoon which was quickly copied by virtually every other unit in the 3rd Florida (and soon spread to other regiments) I knew that the other officers were expecting me to speak up. Nothing for it but to have it out and get it over with.
"Major," I said, "with all due respect, the Army hasn't paid any of my men a damn thing since they've enlisted. What's more, the active duty personnel under my command tell me the Army hasn't paid them since the war started. Our volunteers are here because they're defending their families, their homes, their state and their nation. No one drafted them to be sure but if you expect them to fight without paying them anything at all then you're sadly misjudging human nature. What's more, what are we to tell the families of the troops who are killed? 'So sorry your husband, father, son or brother was killed. We have nothing for you.' Patriotic fervor is one thing but these men have supplied their own weapons, their own clothing, their own gear, their own virtually everything because the Army had nothing to give them and now you want to take away what little they've been able to come by? How long do you think it will be before desertion becomes a critical problem? If we can't pay for the food and other supplies we simply must have from the local economy how long do you think it will be before our own countrymen start hiding their goods from us like we were common bandits? What little gold, jewelry and other small portable loot that we come across that is easily carried is all that we have to promise the men for their sacrifice and all that we have to pay for what my company and all the other companies who are doing the same needs to even function. If you have a better solution I'd be happy to hear it."
As I was speaking my piece I could see Major Franklin getting red in the face and I knew that he was fixing to unload on me. "CAPTAIN Hagan, I realize that you came to the Army in an unorthodox fashion due to the needs of the moment but you have to realize that you are lacking a good deal of the education that a professional officer would have ordinarily received in the process of becoming commissioned. This organized, wholesale looting that you have caused to come into being is quite simply in contravention of military regulations. It is ILLEGAL. With the banking system in disarray it is my understanding that special pay units have been formed and will be making the rounds of the major units once a month to pay the troops in cash. The regional Federal Reserve banks have been instructed to disburse cash money to the Army for this purpose. I realize this places us in a difficult situation but that's the way it is. The battalion will just have to cope until the Army can get our pay situation straightened out. There is to be NO MORE looting. Have I made myself clear?"
I stood up so that I could look him in the eye and wondered what it was like to be shot by a firing squad. As is my usual habit when I'm angry I spoke in a low, even tone. "Major, it is true that I have not received a professional officer's education but I am not entirely uneducated. I also have two eyes to see with and a brain to think with. The Army can play bookkeeper all it wants but if they think the troops are going to be satisfied with paper dollars that lose value by the day then it is fooling itself. I had lunch in town yesterday. A simple plate of <I>black beans and yellow rice</I> was <b>$25.00 in Federal Reserve Notes.</b> That same plate cost the fellow in line ahead of me a grand total of 27 cents in pre-1982 copper pennies. You want to make a small wager that that meal will cost in a paper dollars or copper pennies <b>next week?</b> The average soldier is not a rocket scientist to be sure but you can damn sure bet that the units have the same ratio of bright ones to dull ones that the world around them has and the bright ones are going to explain the concept of inflation and how it works to anyone who hasn't yet figured it out for themselves. You try to confiscate the unit banks and you'll run a serious risk of mutiny. Now is the Army more interested in kicking the godd*mned Cubans out of this state or in enforcing their precious regulations? "
As I was speaking Major Franklin had been playing with the flap of his sidearm holster and I was beginning to wonder if he would pull his Beretta and what I'd do if he did. When I finished he looked around the table. Just over a third of the officers sitting at the table were "irregularly commissioned officers" just like myself and they were watching our interplay intensely. The remaining professional officers (mostly Guard and Reserve with a sprinkling of active duty types) were also paying close attention. They all knew the score. His hand suddenly came away from his holster flap. "Well then," he said in an even tone, "I think feelings have become a bit inflamed here. Let's table the idea for a day and we'll get it squared away tomorrow. I want to speak with the colonel about it." You just do that, I thought, you just do that.
The unit bank matter never again surfaced in a staff meeting.
Sometime later I heard from McWhirter (how do these old non-coms manage to find out everything?) that Franklin had, in fact, spoken with the colonel. The regimental C.O. explained to him in short, simple sentences the realities of human nature and what it takes to keep an effective army in the field and that the next time he had an idea of treating one of his combat battalions like a bunch of garrison troops he'd find him some garrison troops to command! I may not be a professional officer (as has been repeatedly pointed out to me) but even I know that promotions come much, much faster in the units seeing action than those just doing little more than guard duty. This had to be particularly keenly felt by Franklin in his conversation with Colonel Hall since Franklin actually had a longer time in grade than Hall as a major but Hall was now his C.O.! Incredibly enough Franklin had requested permission to take the matter up with the General and Hall had granted his request but the major seemed to have a seizure of intelligence and thought better of it before actually making the appointment to go over his C.O.'s head. McWhirter said, "Captain, it's your business and not mine but I hope you know Major Franklin's gonna be all over your ass like stink on sh*t now. You were dead right but he ain't gonna forget it." Thanks McWhirter, tell me something I didn't already know.
I had such an adrenalin dump from the staff meeting I went back to the school and savagely attacked the paperwork until I had it all finished. My damn hand was cramped from writing so much (I'm not sure if I miss hot showers or keyboards more! I've always had bad handwriting!) and my back stiffened up as well so I left to take a long walk before it got dark. On the way out the door Tyree observed that know that he knew the secret of getting me to do paperwork he'd have to make sure I got pissed off more often! I growled back at him that some of that paperwork might be his transfer to guarding a sewer! He just laughed.
A couple of miles worked the kinks out and some of my anger passed so I decided that it would be safe for me to come back to civilization (such as it is just at the moment). Found the perpetual poker game in the lunch room (the players change but the game never stops) and took a seat. Played past midnight till corporal Carter (I'd promoted him after Pendergrast died) cleared his throat enough behind me to remind me how late it was and said, "Begging the Captain's pardon sir, you're supposed to be going over to Ruskin tomorrow at 0630 for your liaison's meeting with the 2nd." Sigh, Hall still has me pegged as regimental exec so I suppose there's no getting out of it. One more thing to piss Franklin off about. Poker game was fun. Only came out $5.00 ahead but the pleasure of seeing the look on Tyree's face when I trumped his aces over kings full boat with a straight heart flush in a big pot was worth gold to me!