"Is that understood, Captain Higgins?" Mike repeated.
Jeff nodded. "Yes, sir. But . . . ah . . ."
Mike waited, with a cocked eyebrow.
Jeff took a deep breath. "Why me, Mike? Ah, sir."
For the first time since Jeff had arrived at the Third Division's field headquarters, Mike's expression lightened a little. Not much, but Jeff was still glad to see it, he surely was. He'd known Mike Stearns most of his life. This was the first time the man had ever scared him. Really scared him. An enraged Mike Stearns bore no resemblance at all to the man Jeff had grown accustomed to.
"Why you? It ought to be obvious, Jeff. You're the one commander I've got who's guaranteed to put the fear of God in every man in this division."
Jeff stared at him. He was trying to make sense of that last sentence and coming up blank.
"Huh?"
"That's ‘huh, sir.' For Pete's sake, Jeff, do you think there's one single soldier in this division who doesn't know you're Gretchen Richter's husband?"
"Huh? Uh, sir."
"Talk about the innocence of babes. I can guarantee you that at one time or another every soldier in this division has wondered what she sees in you and come to the conclusion that you must have one huge pair of brass balls. Given that she makes kings and dukes shit their pants."
Mike shook his head. "So do they really want to run the risk of pissing you off, Captain Higgins? No, Colonel Higgins, rather. Now that I think about it, I'll have to jump you up to lieutenant colonel since I'm going to put a whole regiment under your command."
"Huh? Ah . . . Huh, sir. Mike—General, I just got put in charge of a battalion three months ago, and now you want to hand me a whole regiment? But—but—"
He was spluttering a little, he was so agitated. "But, first of all—uh, sir—we don't have the rank of lieutenant colonel in the USE army. And second of all—uh, meaning no disrespect, sir—but which regiment are you planning to give me? I mean, that's really gonna piss off whichever colonel—real colonel—you take it away from." He took another deep breath. "Sir," he added, not knowing what else to say. He didn't think Mike would have him put up in front of a volley gun, but . . .
Mike smiled. There was no humor at all in it, but it beat a scowl hands down. "I'm a major general, Colonel Higgins. That means I can do damn near anything I want. I can sure as hell create the brevet rank of ‘lieutenant colonel' for a special purpose. Just to keep all the other colonels happy, you'll stay at a captain's pay grade."
"Thank you, sir. I'd appreciate that. I, ah, don't actually need the money anymore."
Mike's smile widened. There still wasn't any humor in it, though. "As for your other objection, I'm not planning to give you any existing regiment. I'm creating a new one. It'll consist of your Twelfth Battalion, and a battalion taken from the Gray Adder regiment. That'll leave them a rump regiment, and ask me if I care, since they're the shitheads who let two of their companies run wild."
Jeff swallowed. Mike had had the major in command of that battalion executed also, along with the captains in command of the two companies—although he'd done them the courtesy of using a regular firing squad, not the volley guns. Then he'd broken every officer in the battalion to the ranks and replaced them with newly promoted sergeants from other battalions.
As a display of savage discipline, Jeff thought the ghosts of Roman tribunes past were applauding somewhere. The whole division was in something of a state of shock. Until Świebodzin, Stearns had seemed like a very easy-going sort of general.
"Then I'm giving you Captain Engler's flying artillery company instead of a regular artillery unit. For the purpose of your new regiment, he fits the bill perfectly."
Stearns had used Engler's unit to carry out the executions. Between that and the man's well-known composure at Ahrensbök and Zwenkau, everyone in the division would take him dead seriously. Nobody made jokes any longer about "the Count of Narnia."
Well, Eric Krenz probably still did. Jeff wondered how he was doing. And then wondered who he'd put in charge of the 12th now that he was being kicked upstairs. Krenz would have been his natural replacement as battalion commander, but he wasn't available and Jeff had no idea when or if he might be.
"Your new regiment will fight alongside all the others in a battle," Mike continued. "But it has a special function as well whenever I call on it. You're the unit I'll be depending on to keep everyone else in line. Do you understand me, Colonel Higgins? I want no repetition of Świebodzin. Ever."
Jeff looked around. They were holding this private conversation in one of the rooms of the small village tavern Mike had taken for his field headquarters. "Taken" as in "expropriated," although no one had gotten hurt because the people who owned the tavern along with everyone in the village had fled before the division arrived.