Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

Chips of Ice

Charlie Company Operations Office
15th Forward Support Battalion Barracks Area
Fort Hood, Texas
CONUS
19 September, 1991
1710 Hours

"Captain Jane in?" I asked, staring down at the PFC at the desk. She swallowed and nodded. I stared at her for a moment, then sighed. "Private, go over to the door, knock on it, when called in, announce that I am waiting to see her. Got it?"

She nodded and I sighed again as she did what I had told her.

It wasn't like I was just going to walk into the CO's office unannounced, and dammit, some protocol had be upheld.

2/19th had been a bizarre mixture of barbarity and formalism.

"Captain Jane is ready to see you, Ma'am, " the PFC said.

"Just Chief is fine, Private," I told her, "And thank you."

She looked startled by the courtesy, and I chalked that up to at least one of the lieutenants being an abusive asshole.

Henley might have been an abusive, grating, profane, and insulting asshole, but he had been in charge of walking talking weapons of mass destruction, trying to mitigate between a hostile chain of command and the enlisted that would kill a man for breathing wrong.

Any officer in 15th had no such excuse.

"Come along, Donovan," I snapped, handing him my folder. "Stand on my left, at parade rest, do not speak unless spoken to," I told him.

"Yes, Chief," He said. He sounded a little shocky, and why not? He'd just watched me yank the starter on a HMMWV, change the fluids (which was really easy), and swap out the filters, getting Humvee-Five up and running in less than an hour.

I stopped in front of Captain Jane's desk and went to attention, saluting her.

"At ease, Chief," Captain Jane said. She sighed, "You're going to be a formal one, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I'd prefer it right now, Ma'am. I need to get acclimated to the regular Army, not hardship postings, combat operations, and deprivation," I pointed at the chairs behind me. "May I sit?"

"Be seated," Captain Jane nodded. I could see the gears moving in her head as I sat down. My hip popped loudly and I sighed in pleasure. "Is that an issue?"

I shook my head. "No, Ma'am," I told her. "The pins in my pelvic bone haven't fully set, and I've still got a year or so of physical therapy in front of me."

"When were they put in?" She asked me, moving a notepad in front of her and picking up a pen.

"Same time as the prosthetic in my face, mid-March of this year. Six pins to hold my two butterfly bones onto the spine of the pelvis, two pins in the head of my right femur," I told her.

"How has your recovery been?" She asked, jotting down notes.

"Slow and excruciatingly painful at first," I admitted. "First two months at Walter Reed, I wanted to die. Things are better now, mostly my hips just pop in rainy and cold weather."

"Any major problems in your recovery?" She asked me.

"My eyes never recovered from snow blindness in 1988, I'm severely light sensitive," I grinned, "Gives me amazing night vision, I can see clearly on a clear night, but even indoor lighting can be headache inducing without sunglasses."

"You have a profile for that?"

"Yes, Ma'am, right now it's a permanent profile, but it'll be reviewed in December after I see an optometrist."

"Any problems passing the PT test?" She asked me.

"Passed one at Fort Meade. Managed a fourteen thirty on the two mile," I half lied. Actually, it had been at Blackbriar Ridge. "I plan on taking another one when I schedule one for the unit." That made her wince slightly.