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It had been a while since anyone called Valentine "kid"-Brother Mark's "my son's" hardly counted; churchmen of his rank called everyone obviously beneath their age son or daughter.
"Just give us what you can. Even if it's just those yearling pigs and the beans."
"Harebrained operation you're on, Lieutenant-Major," Reisling said. "You want to fool the Kurians, you gotta go one tippy-toe. You boys are stomping into the KZ in clown shoes.
They're going to slap down on you, hard."
"Just get us what you can. We'll be back tonight with a truck."
The supplies showed up, including a surprising quantity of eggs. The underground men who helped them load it said practically every family in Clarksville had given up little reserves of food they kept in case of shortages. Word had gone out that eggs were needed, and they came in straw-packed, ribboned baskets. Many of the eggs had been decorated using vinegar dyes, red and blue mostly, with gold stars stuck on.
God bless you, read the tiny, cursive ink letters on one.
But Reisling just stood with arms crossed in an old overcoat, watching them load.
"You'll get your food. The people here are going to pay for every bit. Mark my words."
Valentine could taste his grudge in every mouthful.
* * * *
At the first camp in Kentucky, Seng had a ceremony inviting members of all the companies in his command to see him hand out commendations and medals. Most were going to the Bear and Wolf teams who destroyed the Kurian tower.
Valentine and Patel decided to send Glass and his Grogs under the supervision of Patel and Rand. Valentine wanted the rest of the brigade to get used to the sight of the Grogs, lest some nervous picket open up on them as they brought a cartload of pork back. He called Glass into the company headquarters tent.
"Send someone else, sir," Glass said. "That crap doesn't impress me."
"Glass," Patel said.
"Oh, he's free to talk," Valentine said. "You've got something against medals, Glass?"
"The right guys never get 'em, that's my problem."
Valentine felt he should reprimand Glass, but he wasn't speaking contemptuously of any particular person, just the practice in general. Valentine could hardly upbraid him for having an opinion and expressing it when asked. "Don't tell me you think that way about Colonel Seng too. He's got too many medals to wear, and probably deserves twice that."
"Only medal that means much to me is the combat badge. If you've faced fire, you've proved all you ever have to prove in my book. The valor medals look pretty, but valor's just another word for something getting screwing up. A well-run fight's where you throw so much shit on target what's left of the enemy crawls out begging you to stop."
* * * *
As they camped in the quiet, greening hills of Kentucky the first day of April, Rand brought him the front page of the Nashville Community Spirit ("Giving a little good for the betterment of all" read the motto just under the rather imposing looking font of the newspaper's logo).
Rand pointed to an article at the bottom of page one.
Mississippi
Secure Again
Guerrilla WRECKERS STRIKE OUT! A full-scale raid on rail and river routes north of ENDED WITH A WHIMPER
Monday. The last elements of the bandit incursion gave up or swam for their lives as LOCAL VOLUNTEER HEROES
restored ORDER AND SAFETY to north GREATER MEMPHIS.
Security spokesmen affirmed that there had been unusually DESPERATE WINTER SHORTAGES IN
TRANS-MISSISSIPPI. The attack failed utterly as a heavy barrage pinned them against the river. The barrage, which ALARMED PEACE-LOVING MEMPHIS FAMILIES, lasted only long enough to organize the COUNTERATTACK
which SWEPT TO VICTORY against the banks of the Mississippi.
