“Agreed. Kaminski’s cannon ought to take care of that.”
“And digging all of those goddamn holes. Do you really think that’s going to help with the bombardments, sir?”
“It should. Earth HQ suggested it. Melting lots of holes in star and circle patterns should dampen surface shock waves by quite a bit.”
“Well, I imagine we’ll find out later today. Papa Romeo’s been pretty regular with his deliveries.”
Papa Romeo Charlie was the Marine pet name for the Star Mountain, which changed orbit to bombard the base just before each PRC attack..
“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Jeff replied. All of the attacks since Monday’s first big push had been relatively low scale and minor, designed to wear the Marine defenders down rather than overrun the base completely. There were two landers out there now, the first one, to the west, and a second that had touched down to the south. Others had come and gone in the past three days, but those two had remained behind as advance bases or OPs. Chinese troops lurked in the chaotic terrain south and east of the base, sniping with laser rifles and Type 80s when they had the chance. The Marines had learned to be very careful when moving anywhere along the crater rim.
“Very well,” Jeff said, deciding. “I’m pulling one of your rockers, Tom. You are hereby reduced in rank to staff sergeant.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“And I’m turning your platoon over to Staff Sergeant Campanelli, who I am promoting to acting gunnery sergeant.”
“A good choice, sir. She’s sharp. A good Marine.”
“I know. I want to recognize her role in spotting the incoming lander the other day, getting a warning back to us, and in killing that tank with her lobber. You think she’s up to bossing a platoon?”
“I think so, sir.”
“You’re her 2IC now, Tom. Help her out.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
He was gone.
Jeff stared at the bulkhead for a long moment. He wasn’t entirely happy with his decision, but it was the best he could find. Tom Pope was a good Marine. In his own mind, at least, Jeff thought of the demotion as strictly probationary; Pope would have that rocker back inside of six months.
The leadership of the platoon was another matter. He didn’t like changing horses in midcrossing. The makeup, the attitudes, the politics of any platoon were complex enough without the CO coming in and scrambling things. And keeping Tom as second-in-command might easily backfire. If this was Earth, Jeff would have arranged for Tom’s transfer to another unit, just so he wouldn’t be following in the unit he’d once led.
It was damned hard keeping rank and leadership positions balanced when there was no outside manpower pool to draw on. Ever since the first Marine unit had been deployed outside Earth’s atmosphere, there’d been a serious problem in units becoming top-heavy with rank. Because promotions from private to private first class and from PFC to lance corporal were largely automatic, given time in grade, no Marine left space training as less than an E3—lance corporal. As a result, units deployed to space duty tended toward a preponderance of NCOs—corporals, sergeants, staff sergeants, gunnery sergeants. It was as bad as the Army Special Forces, where you couldn’t even apply for training unless you were a noncom with four years behind you.
Second Platoon had boosted with only one gunnery sergeant, however, which made it necessary to promote someone else to fill the platoon leader slot. Campanelli was the logical choice. She had enough time in grade for promotion and had already passed the necessary quals Earthside. A field promotion would need confirmation, but that would follow almost automatically with his recommendation.
The problem was how the platoon was going to take this. Hell, Campanelli was one of the ten Marines who’d been skylarking on the ice; in a way, he was rewarding her for that—not the message he wanted to send at all. He’d get around that by including another field promotion in the round. Lucky Leckie’s performance on the crater rim Monday also demanded special recognition.
The real question, then, was how Second Platoon would take the reshuffling. On the one hand, his decision might be seen as interference, as micro management of a well-tuned platoon, and bad for morale. But to ignore the incident would be bad for discipline.
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. He decided he needed to have another chat with Chesty. They didn’t teach you these things in OCS.
His thoughts were jolted by the sudden shock of an alarm.
Squad Bay, E-DARES Facility
Ice Station Zebra, Europa
0942 hours Zulu
They were fully suited up except for gloves and helmets. Second Platoon, First section had the “Alert Five,” meaning they were suited and ready to cycle out onto the surface in five minutes. It made card playing a bit clumsy, but there was damned little else to do, sitting for six hours at a stretch waiting for something to happen.