Not Many People Ask.... [Patty]

[George O'Brian]

The corridor was quite ominous as the polished boot's of O'Brian clicked on the floor, muffled slightly by the shag of the carpet. He had made sure his uniform was immaculate. Neat creases sat on his short shirt-sleeves and trousers, he had gone through it making sure there was not a single stray thread anywhere. It was a hot day, and he'd just changed in to the uniform to avoid any possible sweat patches on the light cloth.

He came to a halt outside of a single door. It was strange how intimidating just a few centimeters of wood could be. He raised his arm and hesitated slightly. Was the what he really wanted? The moment his knuckles made contact, he would have to carry through on one of the biggest changes in his military career. Was he prepared for this? There could be no hesitation from now on.

He let his knuckles connect, once, twice, three times. Each one his heart feeling like it was going to stop. What if Patterson laughed in his face? What if he was sent away with an evil look? He swallowed, and instantly hoped he didn't start sweating. At least he had the climate to blame if he did, but still, it wouldn't look good in the slightest. With a quick flick of his hand he checked his headgear was in place and did a final once over. He noticed a few specks of dust ruining the perfect shine on his boots, but he could hide that by coming close enough to the desk. Not everybody came asking for this kind of thing. Here goes nothing.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson spun to face the rear wall of his overly paper filled office. The sun was beaming in through the pleasantly crafted windows. The sun was heading down for the night. The few dust particles in the air could be seen wafting about in the stale air. Patterson took it all in, it had been a long time since he had a nice day, the last time he had a moment for himself the Doctor stuck a needle into him. He stood up and looked out of his second story window and a platoon of men lining up for evening PT, they had split the times up for PT a couple of months back when a mortar attack from almost out of nowhere had taken out the bulk of two platoons, an inconvenience they didn't want repeated.

The Captain heard a muffled knock from the outer hall. He could hear the footsteps as Giles pushed away from his desk and went to open the door. Everything seemed so peaceful for once in a blue moon Patterson just sat back down and smiled for no apparent reason, he just enjoyed the silence...while he could.

A moment later Giles cracked open his door. "Sir, First Sergeant O'Brian is here, he wishes to speak with you." With a nod Giles stepped away back toward the front office door, the Captain's sitting directly behind it. His was the smaller of the two by a good margin, but there were also three people laying claim to the front office, Giles was the only that ever opened the Captain's door though, the others were a bit jealous of his close friendship with the Captain, but it also meant that Patterson expected more from Giles on a regular basis, so it balanced out. Again he heard footsteps, they became more crisp as they neared his office door and it was slowly pushed open.

[George O'Brian]

Half a moment after knocking, the door opened and Sergeant Giles stood in the doorway and greeted O'Brian with a neutral "Good Afternoon, First Sergeant."
O'Brian responded politely, "Good Afternoon Sergeant. Is the Captain free? If so, is it possible for me to talk to him?" Excusing himself, Giles turned and pushed open the door. O'Brian couldn't see what was happening, but Giles stepped backwards and indicated for his superior to come forward.

Taking three strides, he crossed the room and pushed the door open gently. He took a step inside, checked he wasn't going to hit a bookcase and swung his arm up in salute. "Good Afternoon, sir." He took another step forward and closed the door behind him, and resumed the position of attention, a few steps in front of the desk. His eyes took in the gentle decor of the room, the shafts of sunlight entering. He could feel the light around his mouth, but thankfully it didn't go any higher to blind him. "Sir, I'd like to request that you demote me. I wish to return back down to Squad level as a Sergeant instead of dealing with an entire company. I joined this war to fight, but I feel there is just too much resting on me at the moment. I don't feel I'm the kind of soldier cut out for this posting, I'm more comfortable as a Junior NCO."

He paused, not wanting to disrespect the Officer with an endless monologue. He became perfectly still apart from the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Captain Patterson's next few words could make a massive difference to his career. He hadn't had many words with the Officer before, but he'd been assured that Patterson was reasonable. Hopefully, that wasn't part of an elaborate stitch-up.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson sat up straight in his old leather chair, as O'Brian entered his office, the fabric creaking a bit under his weight. He returned the salute without rising from up. "At ease First Sergeant. What can I do for you this evening?" he asked pleasantly, but the response was nothing of the sort. Of all the days to bring this into his office, it had to be on a nice day, a day that was nice enough that just being still in it was enough to bring a smile to the Captain's face. This was the day he chose to bestow this lovely bit of information upon his commander.

"You joined this war to fight huh?...GILES!" Patterson stammered out through the man in front of him. Moments later Giles cracked open the door.

"Yes sir?" Giles asked, a bit hesitantly.

Patterson leaned over a bit in his chair to look around the First Sergeant, well soon to be exFirst Sergeant rather. "Go next door and pull O'Brian's file." and with a nod Giles scampered off and the Captain returned to his previous posture. To the best of his knowledge O'Brian had yet to see combat. He recalled something about securing a propaganda studio in Russia, but the mission was grounded before planning was even complete. Not exactly the background you want to have when you decide to make your COs day a piece of crap in a combat zone. But he did have a point, such a responsibility would be better suited to a veteran of the environment.

Patterson looked down at his desk for a few moments before raising a hand and slowly closing the supply file in front of him. He took a deep breathe through his nose and looked back up to O'Brian. He could here file cabinets scrub against the tile floor next door. Patterson folded his hands in front of his face and slowly lowered them down to rest on his desk. "George, I'm a Captain, I went to numerous schools so that I could lead this unit effectively. I've seen combat and lead my men to the best of my ability with the least amount of losses." he stood up and walked over to the window to peer out at the soldiers below. "Do you think this is what I wanted? Do you think I wished to waste years of my life away in books? Do you think that anyone else in this unit is exactly where they want to be? We have been called to do a job, whether it is the job we wish to have or not is beside the point, we felt the calling..." he turned swiftly to face the man before him. "...AND WE FUCKING ANSWERED IT!!!" It seemed that all Patterson did now-a-days was get upset, but if you tried babysitting a bunch of hooligans with firearms you would be on edge quite often as well. "Do you see what I'm getting at here George? This makes me feel that you have second guessed yourself, that you shouldn't have answered that calling. Do you see where this could be an issue for a man in my position?"

[George O'Brian]

O'Brian slid himself to the position of ease and held himself their as his folder was brought through and the Captain flicked through it. He stood still, listening intently to the Officer as he began talking, and O'Brian nodded, ready to pull out his trump card.

"Sir, there is another reason I want a demotion," he began, slipping around the Officer's question. "When I was drafted in, I was half way through a degree in radio telephony. There was a mess-up and the military would neithe rlet me complete, nor would they let me enlist as a radio man, there just wasn't the demand. But now they're urging for radiomen. There are two conditions, you must ahve previous experience in Radio Telephony, and you can not be ranked higher than Sergeant."

He paused for breath and to let it sink in. "Sir, you said every man had a calling for this war. This is my calling, to finish my studies and serve my country. You have said several times that this division needs radiomen, and we have more than enough First Sergeants. Sir, I think this is the best way to serve my country and serve my division." He stopped speaking, making his body perfectly in position with a minute shuffle and turned his mouth to a straight line. He had to hope the Officer still had his ideas about wanting more radiomen. If not, he'd turn around and march out, head held high satisfied in knowing he'd at least tried.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson looked on as the man before him divulged another set of details that would have kept Patterson's blood pressure from going through the roof. Why did this guy feel the need to wait to say this? he thought as he semi frowned thinking about what he had just heard taking his seat. The point was more than valid, the amount of senior sergeants was to the point where they didn't have proper groups of men to command, and the communication breakdown in the filed was more than troubling.

"I see." he said, thinking on the notion a bit more. It all worked out, rarely did things in the military do so, but this indeed made all possible sense. A bit of a relief from the rigors of trying to figure out what the politicians were trying to do and how the Army translated it.

"O'Brian, you have a point, a good one, too damned good for me to do anything other than agree with you, unless I was unfit to lead this unit. I will honor this request." Patterson closed up the folder, taking a mental note of how empty it was, then he pulled it up to his face, thinking it over one last time before jutting his arm over the top of his desk. "Take this to the personnel office down the hall, don't rush them, I'll probably be on the phone with them as you are walking in the door. It's your file, they will make the necessary changes to your paperwork." Patterson handed the folder off as he pulled open the bottom drawer to his large wooden desk, rummaging through it for a few seconds he stood and walked around to George.

He held out his hand and offered the new stripes to the man. Once he took them the Captain reached up and ripped the stripes rockers and the diamond from the man's sleeve, closing his eyes tightly as he did so. He then stood in front of him and asked with his head held low "Sergeant, will you do me a favor though? Since I have honored yours?" as he reached over and removed the other patch from the opposite sleeve...

...he raised his head to face him,
a small tear forming in his eye,
"You bring our boys home..

...GODDAMNIT you bring them home!"

Patterson stood firm and brought himself to the position of attention, returning the salute of his newest Sergeant before the man turned to exit.

[George O'Brian]

"I see." The two words Patterson said seemed to almost stop time as O'Brian stood still, gently rising and falling with breathing. The Officer finally spoke again, letting the First Sergeant know his fate.

Bang. There it was, accepted. Patterson had agreed, and it all seemed to have happened so quickly. Patterson snapped the folder closed, and handed it it O'Brian who took it in his left hand holding it sharp against his side as the Captain came around him and began swapping his shoulderboards for the lesser Sergeant one. This was it, his last chance to say 'no, don't do it, Sir.'

But he didn't, and the Captain walked around him sliding on the two boards before stepping in front of the Sergeant.

"Sir, I can promise you this. I will do what I expect every man in this division to do. I will go above and beyond everything in my power, I will utilise everything available to me and more to make sure every one of the members of this divisions makes it home." George returned the salute, and put in an about face, marching towards the door and stepping out, a wide grin on his face. As he came in to the smaller office, he was greated by Giles, with a "Is there anything else First....oh. Sorry, Sergeant O'Brian?"

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson watched as O'Brian turned and walked out. Wonder if he expects every man in this unit to ask for a demotion. Above and beyond, that's not so hard to ask when you are a buck Sergeant who has already filled the shoes of a diamond wearing veteran.

Patterson just shook his head a bit as he slowly closed his door. He walked around his desk and took his seat, with a heavy sigh he picked up the phone. "This is Patterson, O'Brian's coming down the hall, he has voluntarily demoted himself to Sergeant, make sure to lose his paperwork for a few days." and with that he set the phone back upon the receiver. It was his unit and you just didn't get away with slapping your commander in face that easily anywhere. The Army had promoted him to the rank of First Sergeant, and he had served in that capacity, asking for a demotion was basically the same thing as telling your commanding officer that he didn't know what he was talking about, that he should have noticed the man was unfit for the rank beforehand.

But it would work out just fine, as soon as the unit had finished up it's shuffle in the near future, O'Brian's squad would find themselves with some horrid details, and very very shaky sleeping hours. You just don't prod a bear with a stick and expect to walk out of the fight with all of your appendages in tact.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post

Oooh, dramatic!

CP:
Captain Patterson: 8CP

First Sergeant O' Brien: 7CP


~Dan