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Magdeburg Marines: The Few And The Proud

Written by Jose J. Clavell

The Hudson Residence
City of Grantville
Thuringia Region, Germany
Monday, 6 December 1632 AD
1600 hours local

"Well, can you repair it?"

Charles "Duke" Hudson asked the question to the pair of legs sticking out from under his sink. He was a tall, no-nonsense middle-aged man whose brown buzz cut hair had gone mostly to gray, especially in the last two years. The response was garbled, so he bent over and repeated his question. The response come back garbled again. This time, recognizing the futility of answering while under the sink, the owner of the legs slid out from under it and stood. The blonde woman was almost as tall as Duke was. She was also muscular and in her thirties. For some reason, the term Valkyrie came to mind every time Duke looked at her.

"Yes, Duke. I can repair it. But it's going to cost you," Margaret "Lulu" O'Keefe replied. In addition to being the General Manager of O'Keefe Plumbing and Heating, she was also a close friend of both Duke and his wife, Claire.

"How much, Lu?"

Lulu grimaced before replying, not a good sign in a plumber, " But let's wait for Claire. That way I only have to be subjected to verbal abuse one time."

"That much?" Duke exclaimed, surprised.

"Duke, it's not like I can get in my truck and drive to Fairmont for parts anymore," Lulu said as she cleaned her hands with a kitchen rag.

Duke didn't need the reminder. Over a year ago the life of everyone in the West Virginia town of Grantville—and history itself—had changed forever. In a brief instant, on a Sunday afternoon. When, under unexplained circumstances, in what everyone now called the Ring of Fire, the whole town and its inhabitants were transported back in time to 1631 Germany. They'd wound up in the middle of the period that historians knew as The Thirty Years' War. Since that day, daily life had become a struggle for survival. Bits and pieces of the past—or future, depending on how you looked at it—ground to a halt, just like Duke's broken trash compactor.

Lulu sat at the kitchen table and pushed her toolbox next to her chair with her foot. "Maybe you need to retire the beast and accept the inevitable. Who knows, maybe one of these days someone will reinvent it. Anyway, it's just a labor saving device. And I know you're as well aware as I am that we have plenty of cheap manual labor available. In fact, I don't understand why Claire hasn't hired a maid. Think of all her responsibilities, working for the government yet. Where is she, by the way?"

"She's helping a German family that just moved down the block, the Hoffman's," Duke answered. "The man used to be a mercenary officer of sorts, I'm told. But now he wants to join our Military Police unit. He seems like a dependable sort and his wife, Ilse, is pregnant with their fourth child. So, Claire went to lend a hand with the kids and the house. You know how she likes to keep busy."

"Yes, I know. We all like to keep busy." Lulu sighed as she found a more comfortable position in her chair.

Unsaid between the two friends was that in Grantville everyone kept busy to forget. There wasn't a family in town that had not been affected by the event. In the case of the Duke and Claire, their two grown kids and grandkids were left behind. Lulu had lost her fiancé and older brother the same way.

"Well, while we wait, would you care for a beer?" Duke asked.

"Don't mind if I do. This is my last call before heading for home and another exciting night of educational TV and movies repeated for the umpteenth time."

Duke opened his refrigerator, took out two beer bottles and passed one to Lulu. The bottles were recycled but the labels announcing the latest product line from the Thuringen Gardens were new. He pulled a chair and sat across from Lulu.

She took a long sip before smacking her lips. "Wow, I think this batch is the best one yet."

"I think you're right," Duke replied, after doing his own tasting. "So, Lu, how's business?"

"I can't complain," she answered. "The business is booming, thanks to all the new construction. I've hired six more employees and we may need to hire more. The family is also discussing the possibility of starting our own plumbing fixtures manufacturing. We think there's an untapped market out there for the wonders of indoor plumbing, especially with this weather. And you, how are things with the MPs?"

"The usual," Duke said, relaxing into his chair. "Brawls after payday, fights just for the sake of fighting. Dan Frost still wants to form a Military Police unit like the Italian carabineers. But he's having problems finding someone to fill in for Elizabeth Pitre now that she's with the toy trains. And I don't want the job. She originally asked me to be her top kick."

"She made a good choice," Lulu said. "It's a damn shame that it didn't work out for you two." Lulu paused a moment and looked thoughtful. "You helped her become the kind of officer she is now. I remember when she was just a wet behind the ears shave-tail, wearing her cowboy boots in utilities."

Duke smiled fondly at the memory. When they were first introduced, Pitre had gone pale as a ghost when someone let her know that her new platoon sergeant was a former Marine DI. "Don't be so harsh, Lu. No one packed for the Ring, remember. She was only supposed to be in town for Mike's sister's wedding. I really didn't have to work too hard with her. There was a lot of good material already there. Besides, she had her colonel father's example to provide her a good starting point. She is definitely one of the best young officers I ever had the pleasure to train. Heck, I considered her good enough to be in the Marines. If anyone has the wherewithal to get that harebrained transportation scheme off the drawing board, it's going to be her. But, she needed a first sergeant with more transportation experience than I have, so I'm out."

"That's high praise coming from you, Duke." Lulu continued to stare intently at her beer bottle until she suddenly asked. "Do you miss it?"

"Miss what? The Corps?"

"Yes. The green machine, Uncle Sam's misguided children, our Corps."

"Yes," Duke admitted. "Sometimes. But I put in my twenty years and left others to carry on the mission. No one is irreplaceable, Lu. Besides, I wanted to keep my promise to Claire to return to our hometown."

"Come on, Duke," Lulu said. "You weren't like every other Marine. I did twelve years, you know. After Dad died and I had to request a compassionate discharge, I only got a pat on the back and a farewell bash at the NCO Club. I hear that you, on the other hand, got a phone call straight from Headquarters, Marine Corps, to try to get you to reconsider your decision. I've never heard of the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps doing that for any other gunnery sergeant."

"So what." Duke shrugged. "Like I said, Lu, I promised Claire and I don't like to break my word. And just how did you hear about that, anyway?"

"Willie Ray told me one day. It was a while back, one day when we were shooting the breeze at the Gardens. And just in case you want to know, he was happy that you didn't decide to stay in. Otherwise, after the Ring of Fire, he wouldn't have had any family left in town."

"I think," Duke muttered, "that my brother talks too much."

"Maybe so," Lula said, grinning a bit. "But he told me that it wasn't until you accepted the job with Dan and the MPs that you started overcoming your doldrums. Then you took young Pitre under your wing and that helped to finally return you to your usual cheery self. Well, almost." Lulu leaned back in the chair and took another sip of beer before she went on. "That led me to suspect that you miss the Corps as much as I do."

"So what if I do? The Corps, like the rest of the twenty-first century and my kids are, and pardon the pun, past history." His bitter reply warned Lulu that she was getting closer to overstepping the line.

"Sorry, I know how much you miss Kathy and James. It was thoughtless of me."

Duke relaxed visibly before replying. "And I know how much you miss Billy and your brother. So why we don't drop the subject and talk about something else?"

"Fine with me," Lulu agreed, glad that they had managed to avoid a tender subject. "Have you heard the latest scuttlebutt about John Simpson?"

Duke shook his head and made a shivering motion. "No, I haven't. That's way above my pay grade and that's the way I like it."

Lulu snorted and plowed on in. She leaned forward with a conspirator's smile. "He's been put in charge of a special project. By Mike Stearns, no less."

Duke snorted and took another sip of beer. He was clearly amused. "Are those two talking again? I'm kind of surprised. I'd have thought that even after the elections, those two would still have some irreconcilable differences on most issues."

John Simpson's first attempt to push himself into a leadership position after the Ring of Fire and, later, his party platform during the elections that saw Mike Stearns elected as the new nation's president were generally reviled. That had strained his relationships with most of the town's residents. Most of the up-timers saw him as a representative of the managerial class. Considering that the closure of the local mines had condemned Grantville to a slow death, he wasn't a particularly popular man.

"They're talking. Just barely. But . . ." Lulu's reply was preempted by a familiar voice calling from the living room. "Duke, I'm home. Where are you?"

"In the kitchen, Claire," Duke called out. He heard his wife talking to someone and wondered who had dropped in.

"Ah, there you are," Claire said. "Hi, Lulu. I see you're loafing around my kitchen and drinking my beer instead of working hard. Let me guess, my compactor is dead, right?" Claire, a short and plump, but attractive, middle-aged brunette took off her woolen watch cap and mittens before kissing Duke.

"Well, girlfriend," Lulu answered with a grin, "unless you want to pay me a lot for handcrafted parts, I think you'd better call for a burial detail and the Wilson kid can play taps on his bugle. How's Mrs. Hoffman?"

"I guess Duke told you about our new neighbors," Claire answered. "She's about ready to pop, I think. But after three live births and two miscarriages, Ilse is pretty much matter-of-fact about the whole thing. Let's hear it for Teutonic phlegmatic practicality." Claire rolled her eyes a bit when she made that last comment and moved toward the sink and the coffee pot. She took the pot off the heating element and rinsed it out, saying, "And Duke, you have a visitor. John Simpson is waiting for you in the living room."

Lulu almost gagged on her beer. Duke's face was a study and he appeared to be speechless for a moment. She and Duke exchanged puzzled glances and then looked at Claire, who continued making coffee. Claire was apparently totally without a clue as to the bombshell that she just dropped on her kitchen. Duke finally managed to clear his throat. "Come again?"

"I said that John Simpson is waiting for you in the living room. I found him at our doorstep, ready to push the bell, when I got home. I told him I was going to make some coffee and that I'd find you. Will you tell him that it will be ready in a couple of minutes?"

"Sure, love," Duke replied. He stifled a laugh when he saw Lulu making signs to ward off evil in the direction of the living room. He made a severe face in her direction and rose to go see what John Chandler Simpson wanted.

Duke entered his living room to find Simpson carefully looking at his "love me" wall. This was the first time Duke had seen Simpson up close. The older man was tall and distinguished looking, regardless of his secondhand coat and clothes. Simpson looked to be at least in his late fifties or early sixties. Surrendering to the inevitable, Duke cleared his throat, catching Simpson's attention.

Startled, Simpson turned around. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Hudson," he said. "You caught me unaware. This is quite an impressive collection of awards and recognitions, sir. We haven't actually met, I'm afraid. I'm pleased to meet you. I'm John Simpson." Simpson advanced with his right hand extended to shake hands.

Duke was put a little off guard by John Simpson's unexpected friendly demeanor. He shook Simpson's hand automatically, noticing the firm, confident grip, and stammered a response. "Thanks, Mr. Simpson. My wife asked me to tell you that coffee will be ready shortly. Would you like to have a seat?"

"Don't mind if I do, Mr. Hudson," Simpson said. "And I'll gladly accept a cup of coffee. It's a little chilly out there at this time of year." As Simpson sat down, Duke noticed an unnatural stiffness in his left lower leg. A stiffness that was familiar to anyone who had been around military hospitals. Two purple hearts had gained Duke a somewhat regretted experience with those institutions.

Simpson noticed his gaze and replied to his unspoken question. "I lost my lower leg to an RPG in Vietnam. I was with the Navy's riverine forces. The boat section under my command was ambushed by the NVA as we tried to relieve a South Vietnamese battalion. I lost a lot of good men that day."

A shadow of sadness swept over Simpson's face. A veteran combat leader himself, Duke didn't need to be told what was going through this man's mind and he didn't have to wonder which loss was more important to him. That spoke volumes about Simpson, the man. Embarrassed and oddly intrigued by this revelation, Duke could only offer his apologies. "I am sorry, Mr. Simpson. It was rude of me to stare."

"I don't mind it too much," Simpson said. "I saw by your wall that you're in a good position to understand. In fact, that's the reason I'm here. Mike Stearns has asked me to head a new project. When I started to look for people who could help me with it, your brother was kind enough to tell me about your qualifications."

"My brother may be exaggerating a bit there, sir. And frankly, I don't know if I can be of any help to you." Duke immediately got the impression that his low-key answer provided the right tone. Simpson smiled at him.

"I doubt it, Gunnery Sergeant Hudson. I think you're the right man for the job. And, I have a proposal for you."

The Hudson Residence
City of Grantville
Thuringia Region, Germany
Tuesday, 7 December 1632 AD
0230 hours local

Claire Hudson woke up suddenly and realized that her husband was not beside her in bed. She raised her head and looked around the darkened room until she saw him sitting in one of the recliners by the window. He was staring out into the night, deep in thought. She then looked at her nightstand clock and almost cursed at the early hour, before continuing to stare at him. Even after more than twenty-five years of marriage, he was still occasionally an enigma to her. Tonight, though, she had a pretty good idea what was on his mind. Damn John Simpson, she thought.

Claire still felt as much in love with Duke today as she had when she was seventeen. Through all those years Duke had been a gentle, caring husband and truly her best friend. Now, as she watched his not-quite ominous presence in the darkened room, she couldn't fail to think of that other aspect of his persona, the warrior. It was an aspect that he had struggled to keep hidden from her and their kids through his time in the Corps. Unlike other Marines she knew, he seldom raised his voice or tried to run his family like an extension of his unit. Watching other women struggling with husbands who, unlike Duke, couldn't keep their lives in the Corps separate from their lives at home had made her feel truly blessed.

Still, she was very much aware of his potential for, and expertise in, applied violence. Not from him, of course. She had tried early in their marriage to get him to open up and confide in her. But that was before she learned from older and more experienced Marine spouses to let sleeping dogs lie. In an organization of close-mouthed professional warriors, her husband set unbeatable standards for that trait. However, other Marines and occasionally their wives had slipped up and told her of his exploits. The stories were usually told with a strange measure of admiration, awe and wonderment at his courage. Sometimes they seemed to describe a legend in the making. Even when the Corps deigned to recognize those exploits, like his Silver Star after the Gulf War, it had come as a total surprise to her. That day, darn the man, he just told her that they were giving him some kind of award and it would be nice if she and the kids could dress up and attend. The presentation and the divisional parade that followed managed at the same time to annoy her with his discretion and make her feel truly proud as she stood with the wives of the other men receiving awards.

Now, once more, the warrior aspect of his persona was being summoned. After Simpson and Lulu left, Duke had told her about Simpson's proposal for a new Marine Corps. And then he had refused to discuss it any further. She knew that he was conflicted and had an inkling of the source of that conflict. She had hoped he could resolve it on his own. But, Claire chided herself, she knew full well that, in a roundabout way, it all depended on her. She was no longer the innocent girl who was unaware of what the love of her life did for a living.

Claire thought hard for a few moments. Was she strong enough to demonstrate that she was a warrior's wife? Claire had never been either horrified or frightened of Duke's feats. She knew, all the way to her core, that as long as he and his brothers stood guard against all enemies, she, their children and their nation would be safe. So, maybe she was a warrior's wife after all, she thought. There was only one way to find out.

Clearing her throat, Claire said, "Duke, it's too early. Come back to bed."

Her husband, startled, broke from his introspection and looked at her for a long time before replying. "Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you up."

"I know, Duke. Come back to bed, please. It's too cold to sit up like that." She watched as he reluctantly got up from the chair, shed his robe and slid in beside her. Claire immediately spooned against his back, ignoring the chill from his skin and clothing. "Why you don't tell me what the problem is, Duke?"

"I don't know if I want to discuss it, Claire."

"Well, why I don't start then?" She felt his surprise as his body stiffened. Don't chicken out now, Claire Louise, she admonished herself. "You're concerned about me and my feelings, right? Don't be. Do you remember why I originally got you to promise to put in your twenty and move back to this town? Did you forget?"

Duke turned around under the covers to face her. "Claire, I think that you lost me there."

"The kids, Duke. I wanted them to know what it's like to grow roots somewhere. And we did that, in the few years that we had together before they grew up and left home. And, after the Ring, I am so glad that we did it that way. They grew up to be such wonderful people and friends. And, I hope, they have a great future ahead of them. Kathy, our wise little girl, found this marvelous young man and . . ." Claire stopped as she read his expression. With an accusatory tone, she snarled, "Stop rolling your eyes, Duke. I can see them."

Duke smiled and propped his head with his hand as he looked down at her. "But we are talking about the long-haired freak, Tim?"

"Yes, the no longer long-haired freak. When are you going to admit that you love him as much as I do? He says the same thing of you, by the way. Men, you have a funny way to show you care. I swear I'll never understand you at all," she said, with feigned disgust.

"We like to be mysterious. Yes, I like the freak. He actually grew up to be a solid man and a good husband for Kathy."

"Yes, he did. And I'm sure that the fact that he got a degree, a good job and even joined the Guard, helped. I'll remind you that without any prodding in your part, he went through their OCS and got commissioned as an infantry officer. Our Kathy is a warrior's daughter. She would never have settled for a lesser man. They had given us two beautiful grandchildren, well . . . three by now." Claire stopped and started sobbing as Duke hugged her tightly. They shared the pain for the grandkids that they could no longer watch grow up. It was a pain that time might ease, but never erase.

After a seemingly long time, Claire cleared her throat and looked up. "Thanks, sweetie. I'm better now. Anyway, Jamie, excuse me, James. He's a grown man now and hated that nickname with a passion. You told me that he was well on his way to following in your footsteps, right?"

"My last report from Patrick at Parris Island was that he was a shoo-in for honor graduate. By this time, I expect him to be well into his first tour." Duke smiled with pride at the memory and then chuckled. "And yes, he hated to hear that nickname from everyone else but you, Kathy or Kim Chaffin . . . "Okay, sweetheart. I see your point. But what about you? I was also doing this for you."

Claire propped her head with her hand as she unconsciously imitated his stance. "What about me? Don't worry. We're more alike than you ever guessed. Tell me why you decided to join the Corps. And please don't tell me that you liked the uniform. I haven't been a teeny bopper for a long time."

Amused, Duke studied her face for a while. "I don't know, patriotism; perhaps? We lost a lot of guys in the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut and I felt like I needed to do something."

"Well, I share those feelings, too. Or do you think I followed you around the world, bore your children and lived in accommodations that would shame any third world nation, only because of your ruggedly handsome looks?" Claire asked.

"No. I stood by you and made a home for you because it was my contribution to the common defense. And now, once more your country is calling you. And I'm ready to do my part, just like you are. And, by the way, I know you got a call from Sergeant Major Overstreet when you announced that you were retiring instead of accepting your first sergeant stripes."

"Damn, I'm going to kill my brother," Duke muttered.

"No you aren't," Claire said. "I didn't hear it from him. You see, I entertained a wives' delegation shortly after you put in your papers. It was headed by Mrs. Division Sergeant Major. All the wives in your chain of command came to see me. All the way down to Mrs. O'Rourke, your first sergeant's wife, even. Mrs. Overstreet had called them from D.C. to give them a heads up on our situation."

"The dragon squad?" Duke grinned. "They sent the dragon squad? I'm sorry if they give you a hard time, sweetie."

Claire giggled before laying her head back on the pillow. "Don't be silly. They were my friends and they were doing the same thing that I had done with the wives of the men in your platoon. I'm sure some of the wives of your lance corporals thought I was part of the dragon squad, too. Part of the unofficial job description for a senior NCO wife is making sure that a subordinate's wife is receiving the proper support as she attempts to accomplish all the difficult tasks expected of a Marine wife."

Duke knew this. He just hadn't realized, consciously, that Claire knew it as well. After a moment's thought Duke realized that at all those wives' soirées she had attended, more than diapers and husbands had been discussed.

Claire went on, "In fact, I wasn't totally sure we were doing the right thing, back when you retired. But after they heard my reasoning, they backed me up a hundred percent. It's kind of funny, but I occasionally miss the joy of helping a new Marine wife to get on her feet. Maybe I can get that joy back again."

Duke smiled into the dark. Yes, helping a young Marine to get on his or her own two feet was one of the more intangible pleasures of the job. Funny, he had never realized that his wife could sympathize with that. Maybe she was right and they were more alike than he thought they were.

"Okay, sweetie," Duke said. "You've sold me on it. Tomorrow I'm going to call the admiral and . . ." He stopped when he saw the surprise in her face. "Yes, Mike is making Simpson an admiral. But, don't be too impressed. Last I heard, his navy consists of four people, counting himself, and no ships. Well, five, now, I guess. Counting me. Hey, would you like to make love to the whole one man Marine Corps? I've been told in good faith that I have ruggedly handsome looks." Duke leered and wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Claire suppressed her amusement and kept him at arms' length. "Hold your horses, lover boy. We need our sleep if we're going to start this Marine Corps off on the right foot."

"We?" Duke repeated, totally flabbergasted at the thought.

"Of course. You are going to ask Lulu, right?"

"Well, yes. After Simpson, she's my next call. But you said we."

"Ah, my ruggedly handsome boy toy." Claire grinned, reaching for him. "For over two hundred years, Marines' wives have known that if someone had bothered to ask us in the first place, a large portion of the problems Marines have experienced would have been resolved. But what can you expect from an organization that got its start in a tavern? And, if you think I'm going to miss this opportunity to make my mark in the name of marine wives, past, present and future, you're out of your ever-loving mind. "

Main Office
O'Keefe Plumbing & Heating Company
Main Street, City of Grantville
Thuringia Region, Germany
Tuesday, 7 December 1632 AD
1130 hours local

"Here we are," Lulu said, pushing the door of the small room by the main office entrance open. "What do you think?"

"It's small, but I think it will do, Lu," Duke said. He entered the office, more a cubicle than a full fledged office, but it had real walls and a door. "Are you sure we're not going to have any problems with your family?"

"Duke, remember I'm the general manager," Lulu said, smirking a bit. "Anyway, this was my brother's office. We've only used it for storage since the Ring. Just consider it the O'Keefe Company's contribution to the support of the new Marine Corps. Claire is okay with all this, right?

"Lu," Duke said, shaking his head in bemusement, "she was the one who pushed me to agree. Not that she had to push too hard. By the way, Claire is taking charge of clearing our way through the government. She also had some ideas about how to equip ourselves that she wants to explore. Do you know a Tracy Kubiak?"

"Darnn, Duke, she really wants you out of the house." Lulu chuckled as she cleaned some spider webs with her hand. "Tracy? I think she runs a canvas tent manufacturing business from her home. She used to be a parachute rigger sergeant with the Eighty Second Airborne Division. Is she joining us?"

"No." Duke shook his head regretfully. "I think Claire wants to find out if she can be our supplier. Besides she just had a baby." As he talked, he curiously scanned the office contents for possible use.

"Oh," Lulu said. "Well, that would kind of cramp a woman's style. Okay then, what's first on the agenda?"

"We need to find some more Marines. Just the two of us, and Claire, is not going to cut it."

"Even if we have the strength of ten because our hearts are pure?" Lulu asked as she tilted her head to one side and opened her blue eyes in a wide innocent stare.

Duke snorted, amused. "Even then. We can only be in one place at a time. Do you know anyone who fits the bill?"

"Not that many," Lulu answered. "People here tend to join the army or the guard. We Marines stick out like sore thumbs. I know some WWII, Korea and Nam gyrenes but I think you mean relatively young folks."

"Yes. And I also need them with NCO experience. I think I already got one, though. Do you know Calvin Hobbs? He used to be a sergeant armorer with the Twenty Second MEU."

"I know his wife, Nancy," Lulu said. "She once told me he was into living history and weapons. Good idea, that. He may be a big help."

"I'm going to give him a call later today, Lu." Duke stopped for a second as he scratched his head. "You know, we need a corpsman, too."

"Way ahead of you, buddy. Do you remember Aunt Beulah's right hand woman, Mary Pat, Elizabeth's good buddy? Didn't she have a NCOIC working for her at military medical training? Dorrman, David Dorrman is his name."

"Yes, I remember," Duke said. "I was introduced to him when I was still working with Beth Pitre. You're right. He mentioned once that he had been an independent duty corpsman."

"He was also with the Fleet Marine Force and saw action. He's the one we definitely need to recruit." Lulu paused a moment, then straightened her shoulders as she faced him. "I've also got another one for you. But I'm not sure how you're going to feel. Just hear me out, before you say anything, okay?"

"If you insist. But so far, I like everyone that you've mentioned," Duke said as he crossed his arms and waited for her tale.

Lulu leaned against the doorframe. When she found a comfortable position, she started telling her story. "His name is William Musgrove, goes by Wild Bill. He used to work as a mechanic at Fairmont Jiffy Lube. Since the Ring, he's been working for the government in the repair shop. He was a corporal with amtracks. However, he left the Corps as a private with a BCD."

Duke eyebrows went up. "A bad conduct discharge, Lu? Just tell me there's more to his story than that."

Lulu, expecting this reaction, continued calmly after taking a deep breath. "There is. Just hear me out. I got this from a mutual friend, because Wild Bill is as closemouthed as you are. It seems that his track was redlined even after repairs and he told that to his platoon commander, a world-class asshole. The lieutenant, a rather fresh butter bar, courtesy of Canoe U and the Basic School, decided to take it for a test swim anyway, regardless of Bill's warning. His gunny was at the company, so there weren't any older and wiser heads around to reason with the idiot. Of course, to no enlisted person's surprise, the track sank. Bill had to rescue the trapped driver, who was not only his best friend but also his sister's fiancé. After they swam to shore, the lieutenant tried to put the blame on the driver. Bill lost his cool and hit the butter bar. He broke the idiot's jaw."

Duke had to shake his head. In twenty years in the Corps, he had seen variations of the same story repeated many times. "Wow, I can't say that I can blame him. But why the BCD?"

"The asshole's father was another Canoe U grad and an admiral. Bill had to take the BCD or face serious brig time."

Duke snorted in disgust as the picture become clearer. "Damn. I see. But are you sure he might still be interested in giving the Corps a chance? If I were him, I might still harbor some resentment."

"I can see him this afternoon and invite him to come over tomorrow to discuss it, Duke."

"Works for me, Lu. Next thing, recruits. We need to set high standards for the first class. I want down-timers mostly, with military experience, preferably as NCOs or officers."

Lulu nodded, as she followed his reasoning. "Let me guess—train the trainers, right?"

"Absolutely right, Lu," Duke replied, as he tested the chair behind the desk. "This chair is in severe need of oil for its wheels. Our main base is going to be in Magdeburg where King Gustavus Adolphus has set up his capital. It's a river town, so we're talking brown water operations. But if I understood the admiral's intentions, we're going to end up as a blue water navy soon enough. He's going to need Marines for both force protection and to provide his ground-fighting elements."

After making sure that the chair could support him, Duke sat down in a gingerly fashion. Lulu watched, amused. "This means that we're only going to have time to train one boot camp class here before we move the whole shebang over there," Duke said. "We need to concentrate on boots who can be trained to form the NCO cadre first. We need to have a rifle company in place in Magdeburg by the end of next year. If we do the job right, they can keep running the recruit training, so we can grow exponentially. I told the admiral we can have a battalion by the end of 1634."

Lulu raised her eyebrows as she digested the news. "Wow. That's quite a timetable, Duke. Now, I believe that Simpson went to Annapolis. They're brainwashed with the Mahan crap from day one. Still, I think it's doable. It's going to be hard on us, but doable. At least we have two advantages the guys at Turn tavern didn't have."

"Don't be so harsh, Lu. Without Captain Mahan's theories of sea power we would never have had the kind of navy or, by the same token, Marine Corps that was preeminent in the twentieth century. I just wonder how the admiral is going to apply those theories in this century. Anyway, you said that we had two other advantages. What are they? Don't keep me in suspense, Lu," Duke said, as he started clearing some of the supplies from the desk.

"Unlike them, we've got over two hundreds years of accumulated Marine experience. And, of course, female logic isn't something they had either. It's a good thing you have me and Claire on your side."

Duke stopped emptying the desk and tried to repress his laughter. "I suspect I'm going to be reminded of that for a long time." He then went back to opening the desk drawers and looking at their contents.

"Say, Duke, I've got a question." Lulu cleaned a corner of the desk and perched on it. "What is going to be our policy for women in combat?"

Duke opened the last drawer and stared at its contents for a second. Then, with raised eyebrows, he slammed it shut. A perplexed Lulu could only ask. "What?"

Duke gave her an uncomfortable smile. "I think I just found your brother's stash of girlie magazines."

Lulu snorted. Then she continued speaking in a very matter-of-fact way. "Don't throw them away, Duke. I hear there are folks who pay good money for them."

Duke looked like he was expecting a joke. But when he saw her looking back without any hesitation, he decided to drop the subject and answer her question.

"When I originally talked to the admiral his plans were no females at all. I told him that if he wanted me, he'd better want you, too. I told him that because I'm not going to do everything by myself. He had to agree to that if he wanted me, so he did. And, of course, if we let you join, we can't refuse any other women who want to try."

Lulu smiled. "I'm the camel nose under the tent, I see."

"Sort of," Duke said as he leaned back in the chair. "The truth is that I'm not going to handicap myself by being forced to choose poor candidates just because they're men. I don't plan to waste my time like Jackson did at the beginning."

Lulu smirked in disgust at the mention of Jackson's name. There was bad blood between her and Jackson. After the Ring of Fire, she had offered her services to the new army. After Jackson told her he didn't needed either women or fat jarheads, Lulu was furious. In front of his staff, she had invited him to step outside so she could sweep the street with his bony doughboy ass. Luckily for Jackson's ego and health, someone had the presence of mind to get Dan Frost and Duke, who put a stop to the confrontation. Later, when Jackson had been forced to let women into his Army, Lulu had felt vindicated. But she had never tried to join up again.

Duke didn't need to be mind reader to know what his friend was thinking, so he continued talking. "Like the up-time Corps, women are going to be excluded from direct combat roles, like infantry, artillery and cavalry. I know that this is very restrictive compared with what the army allows. But they don't have to think about operating in cramped shipboard conditions or opposed beach landings. However, I don't plan to send them to the rear, either. If there is anything that the Croat raid demonstrated to everyone, it was that we don't have a rear. So, I expect every Marine, regardless of gender or duty, to remember that we are all riflemen first. I plan to train everyone under that standard. Can you live with that, Lu?"

Lulu thought for a second before nodding her approval. "Yes, I can live with that. I suppose I'd better brush off my combat skills then, eh?"

Duke smiled. "Yes. But you aren't the only one. I have to get in shape again, too. And we need to do it before we start boot camp. So, we can work up together." He started rummaging through the desk again. "Say, Lu, can you find us some pens and paper? I want to write down what we discussed so far and start working in the basic plan."

Lulu stood up and brushed her pants. "Sure, Duke. Meanwhile, can you clean the desk and the chairs? I'm going to get some of my boys to clean the place, later. You know, I remember seeing two manual typewriters in my dad's junk. I bet we can use them in Magdeburg."

"You bet we can," Duke grinned. "But I'm not sure if future generations of Marines are going to be happy with us. You know we're going to have to reinvent paperwork."

Lulu, a former administration and supply specialist, laughed hard as she exited the small office.

GRANTVILLE FREE PRESS

May 11, 1633

First Marines Complete Training

by Jason Waters

The early sun was not completely over the horizon when this reporter observed the last Marine "boot" passing the marker that completed the final forced march of their training at the Hudson farm. Recruit Kimberly Ann Chaffin, 19, of Grantville, crossed the final line five seconds after the last man on her platoon at 0715 today, completing . . .

Outskirts, City of Grantville
Road to Magdeburg
Saturday, 21 May 1633 AD
0900 hours local

Claire Hudson wiped the tears out of her eyes as the last troops disappeared around the bend of the road. With a flourish, the high school band ended their rendition of "The Girl I Left Behind Me." As a sudden silence settled over the crowd, most started walking back into the direction of town. Claire felt rooted to the spot, a feeling shared by many of the women around her. All of them, with the exception of naval spouse Susan Dorrman, were Marine wives or sweethearts. She also felt a sense of déjà vu, as the memory of her participation in many departures ceremonies like this in the twentieth century mixed with the reality of 1633 Grantville.

After a deep breath, Claire took stock of the situation. She was now the defacto senior spouse, or the senior dragon lady in her husband's words. One of the last things that he had asked her to do while they were saying their goodbye was to watch out for all of them. As she looked at the mostly young women, she knew that she had a great task ahead. Gathering her flock around her, she stood by her neighbor and now duty translator, Ilse Hoffman and addressed the women.

"Ladies, tomorrow we will meet at my house for coffee at 1400 hours. That's two in the afternoon. Don't look so surprised; you married Marines and that's how they talk. Learn it. Bring your problems and we can discuss them and find solutions. The wives of Captain Lennox's unit are going to provide us with child care support like they did today at Ilse's house. You all have my phone number. If you need help or want to talk; I'm here for you. Thank you and I'll see you all tomorrow."

As the group broke up, Claire found herself walking with Susan and Ilse. Nancy Hobbs and Bill Musgrove's fiancée, Connie Miller, joined them. Nancy had her arm around Connie as she sobbed quietly. Her on and off relationship with Wild Bill seemed to be on at the moment. To the whole detachment's amusement, her overnight goodbye almost made her warrior late for the initial formation.

Looking at Claire, Susan told her, "Well this went well. At least we were not left at the pier watching the ships as they became smaller and smaller towards the horizon."

"Yes but watching a horse's rear end doing the same thing lacks some of the romance," a saddened Nancy shot back.

For several steps the group walked in silence until Claire started giggling. Then the whole group, including Ilse who had only understood part of the observation, part in hysteria and part in relief, broke into loud laughs.

Wiping her eyes, Claire spoke to her friends. "Well, it's obvious that except for Connie, we all have gone through similar experiences. At least Magdeburg is not at the other end of the world and hopefully we will be able to see the guys soon."

"They might be at the other end of the world as far as we are concerned, Claire," Nancy Hobbs replied as she kept walking with Connie. "I was hoping that after Calvin left the Corps, I would be able to keep him around but look at us now; back to square one. And this time, we have no phone or e-mail and we're back to the old-fashioned snail mail if we are lucky."

"She's right, Claire. Becoming a geographical ...