CHAPTER 3

Sergeant Major Edgar R. Lewis was quite the contrast compared to General Garret’s CSM, Lenny Price. Where Price was very unassuming, and unusually quiet, short, and seemed very thoughtful, Ed Lewis was anything but that. He was a tall lanky guy and if he had any hair on his head it would have probably been snow white. His big, non-regulation, mustache was most certainly that. When you added that to his very weather beaten face, and his gravely voice, one might have guessed that the guy was pushing sixty. Phil knew the reality of that, Ed was only forty three even if he did not look it. The Sergeant Major also had something over his jump wings that made you look twice when you noticed them. He had three stars for combat jumps. It made Phil Conner wonder just where in the hell this guy got them from. Nobody else, in the battalion, even had one let alone that many.

Lewis was a habitual coffee drinker, even in the late evening, and this time was no different. Phil had always noticed that even when the guy sipped out of his mug, his eyes were always scanning. It could be somewhat unnerving even if Phil had long since learned to ignore it. Now was definitely a time to do so and when Phil walked into the small office, that had been set aside for use as the battalion command post, he got right back to the business of making sure everything was packed up. It would have been a lot easier if they had not been having to cart out boxes of paper when the standard fare, for everybody else, were laptops. It was like the army was having to reinvent itself into a past era.

The Segreant Major, as was usual, did not miss Conner’s return. He did not stop scanning, or sipping, as he asked, “what did you do with Vega?”

Phil sat down at what had been his desk and started making sure that the drawers were all cleaned out, “she’s excess, so I gave her an excess job. It’ll keep her out our hair for a while.”

Lewis snickered at that and then said, “well don’t sell her short, Major. She did do us one little favor.”

That was not something that Phil was all too convinced of, “yeah, what was that exactly?”

“When she showed up,” Lewis replied with his usual seriousness, “I knew we were going to get deployed.”

Phil actually stopped what he was doing for a second and thought about it. He then shrugged and gave a, “huh? Well, I guess maybe you’re right. Hadn’t thought about it to tell you the truth.” Then Phil mulled over that situation. It was very true that the Pentagon had been sending in anyone that graduated from the ITTC, or at least, anyone that the Pentagon thought would be of some use. The problem was that nobody back in DC seemed to have a clue about what the batallion really needed. Did they bother to even read any of the reports? Phil had worked at the Pentagon and he knew that they did. The problem was they usually looked at those words through their own little filters and the message usually got lost between one point to the other, or, in other words, somewhere between their ears.

Vega was a good case in point. The batallion was already over strength in Lieutenants. Why did they bother to send that girl? At the same time, they had a perfectly good open slot for a Captain who could run the S-1 shop. That was the guy who took care of personell issues. At the moment, Phil was not only doing that job but, his own as well. If it were not for guys like the Segreant Major, Phil was pretty sure he would not have been able to manage.

When Phil said as much to Lewis, the Sergeant Major only smirked. He was quite amused when he told the officer quite bluntly, “you ain’t figured out what all that means just yet, have you?”

Phil was now certain his desk was as cleaned out as it could be. He then huffed in resignation as he looked at his field gear that was neatly stacked on a chair beside his desk. It was time to put all that crap on. As he began doing it he told Lewis, “you know Sergeant Major, you’re supposed to be squashing rumors, not starting them.”

Again, Lewis seemed amused, “that’s how you squash them Major, you start your own. The difference being that yours are useful.”

“I see,” replied Phil as he slid on his body armor, “you want the troops pissing in their pants all the time.”

“As much as possible,” Lewis shot back. “Keeps them alert and following orders.”

Phil looked around the mostly empty office. Most everyone looked busy and not paying any attention so Phil stepped up to his top non-com and quietly asked, “and is it just a command tool or do you really expect something out of all this?”

Ed scratched at the hair over his lip and thought about it for a second. Then he snickered, “they spent a lot of money training us up and then sending us here. That’s not even counting where we are about to go. I don’t reckon they’d do that unless there was a real threat. You know?”

Phil just shrugged, “sounds kind of pessimistic if you ask me.”

“Just being a realist,” the Sergeant Major replied. “Rangers aren’t trained for good will tours and we already know there’s a war going on over there.” When Phil did not reply, Ed asked him, “come on Major, you don’t really believe that our Vulcan eared buddies just decided to show up two years ago cause they figured it was time?”

That was not exactly a new question. Phil had heard the whispers going around since the day that the Feyland Ambassador addressed the UN General Assembly on live Television. That was also far from the only question that had ran through Phil’s mind. This entire situation with the elves stank to high hell and it was not really a secret.

If one were too believe the official story then, a bunch of British physicists had detected this tear in reality, what they called a Dell, and had made contact with the elves. The elves were an instant media hit after that. Most people had their eyes so glazed over with the shit storm that, Phil suspected, not many were asking some of the more relevant questions.

Apparently, the Sergeant Major was not one of the people who just accepted the, “we come in peace,” that was the overriding message from Feyland. Phil had asked but, what difference did it make? He was an instrument of policy, he didn’t make it. Nobody cared what he thought. Nobody cared about Ed Lewis either but, Phil did. The guy was far from stupid and, judging by the look on his face, the man had obviously thought of something else that Phil had missed.

When Phil asked the Sergeant Major for a clue, Ed replied, “you don’t think the Brits just up and found this thing, do you? You and me done been over to Building Thirteen. Did that place look new to you?”

That had occurred to Phil but, he had not really considered it’s implications, “I suppose not. Course, the Brits did say this place has been an RAF base going all the way back before World War Two. I mean, you saw all those old fashioned radar towers that ring this place.”

“Yeah,” Ed replied and had the look of a man that knew a secret. That turned out to not be the case, exactly, but what he did have was an interesting observation, “and for towers that were abandoned just after a long gone war, they sure as hell look to be in good repair, don’t they?” That struck Phil like a lightening bolt. Ed let it sink in and then asked, “and who the hell are those guys in the black uniforms?”

Phil shrugged, “internal security? That’s what I was told.”

“That’s what they do, Major.” Ed put his coffee cup down and had an amusing smile on his face as he finished with, “that’s not who they are. I’d really like to find that out.”