The United Celestial Marine Corps (UCMC)

Gunny Sargeant True Keller was trying to shovel down his morning chow when he heard his name and the demand that he go directly to the operations center over the starships intercom. The Sarge wolfed down two more fork-full helpings of the crappy reconstituted eggs smothered in ketchup and thought, “What the fuck?” He always resented his breakfast being interrupted. It was the only time he had where he didn’t have to babysit his company of snot-nosed brats the Corps deemed trained enough to call Marines.

Private Squim from the next table over shouted over to him, “Hey Gunny, sounds like the CO wants you pronto!”

“Why the hell are you shouting Squirmy”, replied the Gunny in only a slightly elevated tone to get over the chatter of the mess hall?

Squim lowered his voice, “Gunny you told us last week after the battle of Xanth that you had lost your hearing in both ears.”

“I only told you punks that so that you’d quit crying to me about the “Buddies” everyone lost in the fighting. Like I needed to hear you Marines sniveling afterwards, it’s bad enough that I have to write to the parents that their idiot child didn’t know enough to duck to avoid getting dead.”

Squim’s bench-mate, Private Toad, leaned over and whispered to him, “Squirmy, better let it go.”

Squim was never one to heed good advice opened his mouth again, “Hey Gunny, we were only making our reports.”

Getting pissed at the kid, Keller replied, “You really think I don’t know who died on that fucking rock? Tell you what Private Squim, seeing how you like to report things, I’ll see you over by the latrines after I’m done talking with the CO. You can then report to me how long it’s going to take you to get those facilities clean enough for a health inspection.”

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As the Sergeant got up and left the mess hall Toad gave Squim an admonishing look and said, “Told you to drop it man.”

“Fuck you”, replied Squim.

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Keller was still seething as he made his way towards the operations center. He couldn’t help but think again that he was getting to old to be a nanny to these children that the Marine Corps kept sending him to fill the holes in his platoon. Sure, the Marines could guarantee that these dolts would be able to point and shoot, they could even carry all the un-necessary crap the Marines issued to each recruit. At least Keller knew that if they could carry their crap, then they could also carry a fellow marine off the field of battle.

Once these kids were issued to him he then had to mold and teach the idiots to think before they acted or as the case may be to act before they thought. When the lessons didn't take quick enough he was left with more letters to write and request forms to fill out for replacements. It seemed as if these damn kids never learned quickly enough.

Having calmed down a bit in his travels he stepped into the operation center. He was immediately waved over by the Commanding Officer.

As he stepped over to the CO, the honorable General Octavius Marshal, he saluted with his bent and twisted prosthetic hand which unfortunately looked like he was flipping the man off. “You wanted me Cap?” It was an obvious breech in protocol by miss identifying the proper rank of his superior but the General had always overlooked it before.

“I thought I told you to get that hand fixed with the med-techs Sergeant Keller?” His pronunciation, like everyone else in the company, made his name sound like “Killer”. “I can’t have you shooting me a bird every time you salute me.”

Because the General was Keller’s only contemporary in this quadrant of space he asked with a wink, “Cap, how do you know that getting my hand fixed will change my salute?”

The General gave the wink back with a lopsided grin and quietly said, “One could only hope.” Then he went on a bit more authoritatively, “Gunny Sergeant Keller, I expected you to keep your Lieutenant a bit longer than you have.”

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Both men were the same age at 58 years young, but their careers couldn’t have been more different. The General was a life-long academy graduate marine officer while Keller had only signed up ten years earlier when the marines started recruiting anything that could breathe and move under its own locomotion.

Keller joined because he had nothing left at home to keep him earth-side. He had already given both his sons, David and Daniel, to the marines. Because of their deaths his wife, Sylvia, had checked out with her sanity and left him with nothing but an empty life. With an incendiary hate burning inside him for the rebels that had killed his sons it had been a quick decision for him to sign up when the Marines recruitment standards dropped low enough to allow him in despite his age.

For a man who had previously been a highly paid mid-level manager he had adapted quickly and Keller now made it his business to kill as many rebels as got in his way. It was this last trait that made Keller so well liked and needed by the General.

The General and the Gunny were slight of build in comparison to their young brawny subordinates. By contrast the General had all his natural limbs still attached while Keller was sporting a mechanical right arm and two marine combat prosthetics below the knee on both legs; not to mention the titanium cranium plate. In conjecture, the word around the troop ship implied the doctors must have cut out a bit of the Gunny’s compassion when they installed that metal skull cap.

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“Sir, I was able to keep him healthy through three battles and I thought he was going to be able to hold his own from there. Besides, he only got his butt shot off, when can I expect him back?”

“That’s the point Keller, he’s not getting back soon enough so I’m going to have you break in a new JG”

That’s when Keller took a look around and actually noticed the scrawny pimply faced Junior Grade Lieutenant sitting at the clerk’s desk off to the right. Probably filling out his life insurance forms and getting his will notarized.

“Aw, come on Cap, have you taken a look at that kid? What, did the marines yank him straight from his mommy’s womb? Why do I have to play nurse-maid to this pup?”

The Generals reply put a momentary end to the casualness that they had been sharing, “That’s my pup there Gunny and you’re going to make it your primary mission to keep that officer alive and in one piece until this company gets cycled back to Earth. Can I be any clearer with my orders for you Gunny?”

Keller started to just shake his head no and realized he had to make it verbal, “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear General Sir.”

In a lighter and conspiratorial tone the General continued, “Good, you do realize that if you had accepted the battlefield commission that I offered you neither you nor I would be in this position right now. That boy over there would probably not been pulled for this combat group and I could have gotten him an adjutant position earth-side.”

“Shit Cap, don’t put that on me. You know as well as I, his ticket got pulled and there’s little you or I could do to influence that. Besides, you know I signed up to kill rebels not to sit up here and send guys out to do the killing. I have to be in the thick of it if I’m going to be any good to you.”

“Believe it or not, that is exactly why you are getting my boy. Your platoon has the lowest casualty rate, not just in this company but in the entire division. I really can’t put him in a safer place until we cycle out. I figure by the time we’re done with our next mission we can head home.”

“If you don’t mind me asking Sir, where are we heading next?”

“We’re finally going to take that rubble pit Azura back. You know of it?” asked the General.

Keller knew damn well the General was aware that Azura was the early battlefield that had deprived him of both his sons during the infancy of the rebellion. Getting pissed again he struggled to maintain his cool with the one man he could relate to. “Sir, you want me to take that wet JG with me into a battle on asteroid Azura and you want me to keep him safe? You might as well ask me to end this rebellion by myself.”

Catching the hint of hostility in the question the general responded. “Keller, I’m not asking for shit, I commanding you to take on a new officer and find a way to train him to survive. It’s nothing less than you would do for any of your other replacements. I’ll send your new JG to you as soon as he is processed in. That will be all Gunny Sergeant Keller.”

This time Keller intentionally flipped the general a salute before he turned on his heel to head back to his platoon.

He heard the final command from the General, “And go get that damn hand fixed before we go into action”, just as he marched out of the combat operation center.

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General Marshal stood there a moment and watched the back of one of the best Marines he’d ever had under his command leave the operations center. Thinking of the "Old Man Gunny" and the physical scars he carried with him. He then thought about his own emotional scars, the scars inflicted on him by being in command. He hated sending the boys under his command into combat knowing that he wouldn’t be able to send most of them home alive when this war was over.

When he finally turned away from the hatch and looked at his own son busy with his paperwork. It was a good decision putting his only son, Lieutenant JG Jason Marshal, under the wing of the Gunny. It’s the only thing he could have done to help him survive. It would have been impossible for the General to spare his boy from the battle to come; he couldn’t be seen showing favoritism to one while he sent others to die. Maybe that beat up old Gunny could save him from this one scar. As good as the Gunny was at killing, he was better at keeping the boys under his command alive.

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Keller resented the General for dumping his ass-wipe kid on him. He had enough on his hands drilling and getting his other recruits ready for battle. Now he had this stupid plebe coming on board and rank was going to make things difficult for the Gunny.

About that time he caught up to Private Squim laboring near the latrines. As Keller looked around he was actually happy with how the latrines looked but Squim looked a mess.

“What’s the report Private Squim?” He asked as he walked up to the Private.

The Private straightened up at the sound of the Gunny’s voice and replied, “Gunny, I should be done here in another couple of hours.”

Giving the Private a rare grin, “Squirmy you’re done here for today, I’ve another task for you that will fill your spare time.” Then he asked, “Just how old are you Squirmy?”

Squim was pondering what task could be worse than cleaning latrines when he answered, “I’ll be 18 in three weeks Gunny.”

Private Squim had been with him through five battles and as far as he could see the boy didn’t have a scratch on him yet. Keller decided that delegating the JG’s training to this kid might be the most brilliant thing he did during the whole war.

“Yeah, well Squim I’m giving you and early birthday present. You get your own Lieutenant. I want him ready for battle within two weeks and you’re going to train him up.”

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Two weeks later all the prep work was complete and the men in his platoon were as ready as they could be for the coming action. The assault transports were filled and flying away towards the asteroid called Azura like locusts intent on their next feast.

Keller was in the middle of his final briefing with his young Lieutenant and several squad leaders. “Okay Lieutenant, I need you and Private Squirmy to set up the communications pod here”, indicating the location on the map.

Young Marshal replied, “But Gunny, I think I could be much more effective commanding one of the flanking squads.”

Thinking, oh this boy is going to piss me off yet, he replied, “Sir, we’ve been over this a hundred times now. You need to have a picture of the entire battle and the only way do that is if you’re at the comm-pod. I’m going to need you and the private to secure that pod so the rest of us on the field don’t start shooting at each other.” The Gunny was only trying to appease this punks need to be involved in the action.

The Lieutenant conceded the logic, “Right you are Gunny, I’ll make sure comms stay operational.”

Moments later the attack stations klaxon started blaring and over the noise you could hear Keller yelling, “Alright boys grab you teddy-bears because I hear mommy is down on that rock and she wants to sing a lullaby to some of you!”

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A couple days after the battle of Azura, Private Toad knocked on the hatchway seal plate before he entered the Gunny's cabin. The Gunny was busy at the desk with paperwork and had his back to the private. “Gunny the platoon is formed up and ready for departure.”

Keller didn’t turn around but answered, “Alright private, go back tell the guys to stand easy. I’ve a couple more letters to get through before I can get down there.”

“Okay Gunny, I’ll let them know”, and Toad turned to head back toward the assembly area.

Keller reread the letter he had just composed. It was a letter to his wife. He always wrote her after every battle even though he knew they were never read and ended up unopened in the drawer of her bedside table.

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My Dearest Sylvia,

I hope to see you soon darling. It looks as if this may have been our last battle and the rebellion has been put down. They say the boys and I have to stay on for a few more months for some mop up duty and make sure there aren’t any stray rebels making trouble.

I’m sad to say, in this last go round we lost one from my platoon. I know I promised that I would try to save them all. I saved who I could. He was a good boy who reminded me a lot of our own boys. You would have liked him I’m sure.

His name was Private Alfred Squim and we all used to call him Squirmy.

I hate to keep this letter short but I have to take a few moments to write to Squirmy’s folks and let them know what a nice kid he was before we ship out.

With all my Love
True

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With the proof reading done, he folded the letter and put it into the envelope. As always, he then wiped his eyes of the tears and used the tears to seal the envelope.

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Word Count: 2626