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

He's So Drunk

"There's no way he's going to make it mile," Lieutenant Bradshaw snickered. "He'll throw up and fall out of the run before that."

"He's already sick," Lieutenant Hendricks scoffed, pointing at where Stillwater was bent over one of the big trash cans by the soda machine, noisily being sick into it. As we passed by he stood up, wiped his mouth, and moved to the soda machine.

"Wanna lay money?" I asked. "Three to one he makes it the whole run."

"I'll take some of that action," Ramirez said. "Twenty bucks he doesn't make it two miles."

"Same," Hendricks said. "That leg of his looks bad."

"Fifty bucks he doesn't make it an entire mile," Lieutenant Johnson said.

A few of the other officers heard the bets and wanted in on it. Captain Hiddle was confident enough to lay $250 on it, but I noticed that Captain Arthur, the Alpha Company and Stillwater's CO didn't lay any money, just agreed to write down everyone's bets.

"We settle up at start of business formation," I said, glancing at the soda machines. Stillwater had slugged down a soda and was busy downing another one.

"Hope you're good for this, Cromwell," Captain Arthur said. "There's almost two grand in bets, and you were offering three to one odds."

"I'm good for it," I told them. Misty was looking at Stillwater and at me.

"Battalion, fall in!" Colonel Krait yelled. We all hustled to the formation and I saw Stillwater sling the soda can into the garbage can he'd been vomiting in, wipe his mouth, and stagger up to formation.

"What the hell is he doing?" Captain Jane asked as he moved to the head of formation.

Specialist Story, HCC, was up there, holding onto the battalion guidon. Stillwater walked up, held out his hand, then covered his mouth as he belched. Story looked dubious, but at Stillwater's irritated motion and something the other man said, Story handed Stillwater the guidon.

"There's no way he's going to make it a mile and he thinks he can carry the guidon?" Lieutenant Carver, the XO for Bravo Company, sneered. He looked at me. "He's gonna lose you a hundred bucks, Cromwell."

"You just take care of the people who fall out," I snickered at him. "Make sure you have my money."

The CO and the XO looked a bit suspicious. I saw Stillwater ask Colonel Krait a question and the smaller man stepped back slightly, blinking rapidly.

Stillwater's breath had to have been like an open bottle of whiskey being splashed in Colonel Krait's face.

We started out, moving from the parking lot onto motor pool lane, a steady trot. The pace was shorter than I was used to, so I just did the airborne shuffle at the side of the formation while Sergeant Major Ferris called cadence.

The first mile Stillwater was staggering but held the guidon up. Second mile he'd straightened up, lifting the guidon higher. By the third mile he was just moving right along, no more staggering, no slouching, running in time with the cadences that First Sergeant Hardwick was calling out.

It amused the hell out of me that most of the officers and senior NCO's that had laid bets on Stillwater not even making it to the first mile had fallen out by mile five while Stillwater was running at the head of the formation, carrying the guidon, and moving like a well oiled machine and as if he wasn't wearing a heavy duty knee brace.

At the five mile mark we turned around, heading back, picking up the strays that had fallen out. Stillwater was just trucking right along, boots slamming into the pavement in time with cadence.