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Valentine recognized the vests. They were Labor Regiment. He used to cram sandwiches and water bottles into the big pockets for a day in the fields or on the roads. There were D
rings for holding more gear on this version.
He walked around the soldier modeling the uniform. He looked like a young, fit construction worker.
"The Day-Glo tape is almost out at Supply, sir," she said. "I backed it with fabric and Velcro. Removing the reflective stuff just takes a second. Speaking of Velcro, sir, the same goes for the arm patches. If it would be possible for us to get something made that looks KZ-ish, we could swap between KZ and Southern Command as needed."
"I wondered about that, sir," Rand said. "The inspector general's office won't like flags not being sewn on. 'These colors don't run' and all that."
"The inspector general's never had to look inconspicuous in a KZ streecar," Valentine said.
"Who's the honcho there now?"
"General Martinez," Rand said. "Three Hots Martinez, the men call him."
Valentine's stomach went sour, but there was no need to pick at old scabs. He offered his hand to Ediyak.
"Good work, Ediyak. You just won yourself a promotion to corporal. You're also company clerk, if you want the job."
"Clerk, sir?" she said.
"It's a quick path up to lieutenant's bars, if you'd like to start that climb again."
She considered for a second. "I'll do it, sir."
"Good. Your first job will be to requisition whatever you need to finish these uniforms. I'll speak to someone about getting us some KZ patches." That someone being Lambert and staff.
Valentine rather liked being able to dump such details off on someone who could be relied on to get it done.
"What about helmets and rain gear, sir?" Rand said.
"Typically these formations wear white or yellow hard hats, sir," Ediyak said.
Valentine's liquid dinner arrived. It tasted like a shake made out of strawberries and mud but it was fast and easy. "Let's see if we can scrounge up some civilian winter coats," he said as he sipped. "I don't ever remember seeing these guys in ponchos. As for helmets, maybe we can stuff some old hard hats with Kevlar. Get canvas covers for when we don't want the Day-Glo look."
"Patrol coming in," the company outdoor fire watch shouted.
"Patrol?" Valentine asked Rand.
"Patel's Shepherds have been taking them out, platoon at a time, on overnighters or three-dayers, sir. This should be first platoon com-ing back from a three-dayer."
Valentine went out to take a look.
The platoon looked dog tired and strained, rolling on their feet in the toe-in manner of footsore men as they carried sand-filled artillery shell casings instead of guns. The bearded old Wolf in charge straightened them up and they saluted as they marched past. Valentine saw some bandages across noses and a few blackened eyes.
"Sergeant, halt," he called.
"Line up for inspection," the bearded sergeant bawled. Valentine saw Corporal Glass at the other end discreetly check the line.
Valentine took a look at one of the bandages. "What happened, here, Sergeant?"
"We paused at a roadside for fresh pretzel bread and beverages, sir," the old gray Wolf said.
"The gentlemen owning the establishment didn't care for scrip. We convinced them otherwise."
"Anything serious?" Valentine asked. He doubted the road-stop in question would make a report. Everyone was required to take Southern Command scrip but some business owners didn't care for the exchange rates.
"One of them drew a knife, sir. The civilian in question will be working his fly with his left hand for a while. Corporal Glass has a good eye. He's quick or I might not be standing here."
