"I'm sure the sergeant's account is complete and accurate ... sir," I sez, crisp-like.

Normally, I would have just clammed up until I had a lawyer, but so far no charges have been mentioned, and I somehow don't think this is a good time to make waves.

"Very well," the officer nods. "In that case I feel compelled to follow the sergeant's recommendation in this case."

It occurs to me that maybe I should have offered up some defense, but it is too late now, as the officer has already swung into action. Pickin' up a quill, he scribbles his name across the bottom of a series of papers that have been sittin' on his desk.

"Do you know what an army that's been growing as fast as ours needs the most, Guido?" he sez as he's writin'.

I start to say "Divine Intervention," but decide to keep my mouth shut ... which is just as well as he proceeds to answer his own question.

"Leadership," he sez, finishin' his signin' with a flourish of his quill. "We're always on the lookout for new leaders ... which is why I'm so pleased to sign these orders."

For a change, I have no difficulty lookin' innocent and dumb, as he has totally lost me with his train of thought.

"Sir?"

"What I have here are the papers promoting you to sergeant and Nunzio ... he's your cousin, isn't he? ... to corporal."

Now I am really lost.

"Promotions, sir?"

"That's right. Sergeant Smiley here has told me how the two of you have taken it on yourselves to lead your squad during training ... even to the point of giving them extra training during off duty hours. After seeing for myself how you took command after ... that mishap during training today, I have no problem approving your promotion. That's the kind of leadership and incentive we like to see here in the army. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," I sez, not bein' able to think of anything else to say.

"Oh yes ... and one other thing. I'm pulling your entire unit out of training and assigning them to active duty. Ifs only garrison duty, but it's the only thing available right now. I figure that anything more they need to learn, you can help them pick up on the job. That's all ... Sergeant Guido."

It takes me a minute to register he is addressin' me by my new rank, but I manage to come to attention and salute before turnin' to go.

"If I may, sir," I heard Sergeant Smiley say, "I'd like to have a word outside with Sergeant Guido before he rejoins his unit."

I am half-expectin' Smiley to try to jump me, bad arm and all, once we get outside, or at least lay some heavy threats on me about what would happen the next time our paths cross. Instead, he is all grins and holds out his good hand for me to shake.

"Congratulations, Guido ... sorry, I mean Sergeant Guido," he sez. "There was one thing I wanted to say to you away from the other recruits."

"What's that, Sergeant?"

"I wanted to tell you that you were right all along ... it does take more skill to handle a combat situation without killing ... and I'm glad to see we're getting men of your abilities enlisting on our side. Just remember, though, that we only have limited time to train the recruits ... which is why we focus on getting them to think in terms of 'kills.' If they're at all squeamish about killing, if they think they can get by by disarming the enemy, they'll try to do that instead ... and they don't have the skill and we don't have the time to teach it to them, so they end up dead themselves and we end up placing second in a two army fight. Try to keep that in mind the next time you're working with a group of raw recruits. In the meantime, good luck! Maybe we'll get a chance to serve together again sometime."

I am so surprised by the sergeant turnin' out to be a good Joe, not to mention givin' careful consideration to the thoughts he laid on me, that I am nearly back to the unit before the full impact of my promotion sinks in.

Then, I feel depressed. My entire career has been geared toward avoidin' bein' an authority-type figure, and now I am saddled with what is at least a supervisory post ... permanent this time instead of temporary. My only consolations are that a) I can potentially do more damage havin' a higher rank, and b) Nunzio has to suffer the burden of extra stripes right along with me.

Perkin' up a little from these thoughts, I go lookin' for Nunzio, wantin' to be the first to slip him the bad news.

Chapter Seven:

"To Serve and Protect ..."

TRADITIONAL MOTTO OF PROTECTION RACKETS

AS EAGER AS we are to get on with our assignment, which is to say demoralizin' and disruptin' the army, both Nunzio and me are more than a little nervous about doin' garrison duty.

Not that there is anything wrong with the town, mind you. Twixt is a bigger'n average military town, which means there is lots of stuff to keep us amused during our off-duty hours. The very fact that it is a sizable burg, however, increases the odds of our presence bein' noticed and reported to Don Bruce ... which, as we have mentioned before, was not high on our list of desirable occurrences.

The duty itself was annoyin'ly easy, annoyin' in that it's hard to stir up the troops when the worst thing facin' them is boredom. The situation is readily apparent even when I put Nunzio to work settlin' our crew in whilst I report in to the garrison commander.

"Our only real job here is to maintain a military presence ... show the flag so's folks remember why they're paying their taxes."

The individual deliverin' this speech is average height, about a head shorter than me, and has dark tight-curly hair with a few wisps of grey showin' in spots ... which might have made him look dignified if he didn't move like a dock worker tryin' to finish early so's he can go on a heavy date. He has a rapid-fire kinda speech pattern and rattles off his orders without lookin' up from the papers he is scribblin' on. I can't help but notice, however, that what he is workin' on so hard looks a lot like poetry ... which I somehow don't think is covered by his official orders.

"All you and your boys gotta do is spend a certain number of hours a day patrolling the streets in uniform so's folks can see the army is here. The rest of the time, you're on your own."

"You mean like policemen?"

The words just sorta popped outta my mouth, but they must'a had a note of horror in them, as the commander broke off what he was doin' to look at me direct.

"Not really," he sez, quick-like. "We used to be responsible for patrolling the streets, but the town's grown to a point where it has its own police force, and we try not to interfere with their authority. They watch the citizens, and our own Military Police watches our troops. Clear and separate. See?"

"Yes sir."

"... which brings us to another point," the commander continues, startin' to scribble on his papers again. 'There's a non-fraternization rule in effect for our troops. We don't enforce it too strictly, so you don't have to worry if one of the ... ah, ladies makes advances toward you or your men, but let them come to you. Don't start messing around with the ordinary civilian women. It's liable to get the civilian men upset however it goes, and our main directive here is to not incite any trouble with the civilians. Be nice to them ... show them we're just plain folks, like they are. If you can do that, then they're less inclined to believe any wild stories they might hear about what our troops are doing on the front lines. Got that?"

I didn't think it would really matter what I said or did, as the commander is rattlin' all this off like it is memorized while he fiddles with his writin'. I didn't think it would be wise to test this theory, however.