vanguard
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“So you want my squad to be bait?” Commander Trevolt asked with a frown. He cast his gaze over the map as he spoke.
“No, of course not.” General Walters said. “You and your men aren’t bait. You’re the proud vanguard. The spearhead which all others follow. The rallying point that paves the way to victory.”
The general sure knew how to speak. Had he been less competent man, Trevolt might have gone along with the older officer’s words without question. As it was, he knew what was going on.
“Got it. Not bait. Meat shields.”
“Vanguard.” The general insisted. “It’s a very important position, and one with a lot of prestige.”
“Sir, don’t BS me. You want my guys to run in front of everyone else to soak up as much enemy ammo as we can to keep the more experienced soldiers safer longer. That’s what we call a meat shield.”
The general seemed to deflate. He was probably used to people going along with what he said.
“Okay, yes. You and your boys are the meat shields. The sacrificial lambs that make sure the battle goes as well as possible. It’s not a good place to be, I know. But that’s where you’re going. So suck it up, soldier, call it the vanguard and make it sound like something other than a death sentence to your men.”
Trevolt sighed. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
“Glory. Honor. Respect. All that good stuff. I know it’s a load of bull, and so do you. But that’s the life of a solider, right? Now, any more questions?”
“A lot, sir. A whole lot. But I’ll boil it down to two: Why my squad, and will we at least be kitted out properly?”
General Walters sat on the nearest chair. It was nothing special, just a folding chair that creaked slightly when used.
“I’m supposed to give you a big speech here. About how your boys are the best. An inspiration to everyone else. But given our previous conversation, I’m inclined to believe you won’t buy it.”
“I know my men too well anyway, sir.”
“Well then I bet you can guess. But if you want me to say it, it’s because you’re men are problems. Troublemakers. People with disciplinary problems that the army feels we can do better without. They were given to you because of your reputation in dealing with delinquents. But most of the higher ups feel such a…difficult element is better removed.”
The commander noticed the general’s use of “most.” He guessed Walters was implying he was a member of the dissenting minority on that decision. Not that it made a difference.
“As for gear, yes and no. You’ll be given good gear, yes. Enough to take a good amount of shots and keep going. But it won’t be our best. Not by a long shot. You understand, right?”
“Yeah, I get it. Give us enough to do our jobs, but still go down in a blaze of glory to give everyone else a martyr to rally behind. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to be, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Never mind that it’ll just be us getting shot at and killed so others don’t.”
“That’s how it is for every soldier, commander. You’re just going to be first in line. Now go out there and get our army’s vanguard ready to move. We leave tomorrow, bright and early.”
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There are so, so many reasons why I never wanted to enlist. Getting shot at was pretty high up there.
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