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23
WILL
Icame into work early this morning, fresh off another pep talk from Paul. Yes, even from his honeymoon. Aria had texted Shelby about the incident, she’d told Paul, and he’d called me first thing to make sure I was good. And I was. Yeah, I was worried that the command would have no choice but to discipline me for hitting Roberts, but even if they did, I knew I’d be okay.
Paul had actually been proud of me for standing up for Chase and said he would have done the same thing. He’d acknowledged that hitting him was a bad choice, but not a completely unique one. Most guys would have done the same. That didn’t make them abusive jerks any more than it made me one. Hearing Aria say something similar was good, but hearing Paul say it—my trusted friend who hadn’t been touched by the violence I had—helped even more.
“Morning,” Staff Sergeant Jordan greeted me when I walked into the shop.
The rest of the guys wouldn’t be in for about thirty minutes, so we were alone. Sergeant Major Thomas walked in behind me, and my stomach dropped. I stood straighter, hiding the anxiety that swept over me at the sight of him. “Good morning, Sergeant Major.”
“Good morning,” he replied. “I wanted to talk to you myself. Have a seat.”
We all sat around the table in the corner of the shop, Sergeant Major leaning forward with his hands linked in front of him. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly I was sure they could hear it. For a moment, no one said anything. Was time standing still, or was it just me?
Then Sergeant Major let his head fall and he sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to do anything about you hitting Roberts. After everything we learned in our investigation, I can definitely see why you did it.”
I swallowed hard, nodding, but not speaking. This was the calm before the storm, and I was afraid to say anything that would make it worse.
“That being said, we can’t go around punching people. It sets the wrong example for the younger Marines. You understand that, right?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
He glanced at Staff Sergeant Jordan and then fixed his hard gaze on me again. “Due to the nature of the incident, and the fact that your staff NCO witnessed it, I’m recommending we forgo a court martial. But you’ll still get an NJP. In this case, we’ve decided on forfeiture of pay instead of kicking you down a rank. You’re a good Marine, and a good man, and I don’t want this to mean you can’t have a long career as a member of our fighting force.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll be fined half of your base pay for this month, but no further action is required and there will be statements from Staff Sergeant Jordan and myself in your fitness report that will help when you’re up for advancement in the future. I wouldn’t expect to pick up your next rank as quickly as you would have before this incident, but you’ll pick it up eventually.”
This time, I looked at both men, thanking them individually.
“As for Sergeant Roberts, given the fact that he would have landed that strike on Lance Corporal Mitchell if it weren’t for you, he’s getting separated from the Marine Corps immediately.”
My brows flew up and I leaned back in my chair. A dishonorable discharge was no joke. It would follow him for the rest of his life. He’d lose any future VA benefits that he’d be entitled to, even if he’d rated disability from things that happened while he was active duty. He’d also be disqualified from federal employment, and he’d even lose some civilian rights—like the right to bear arms. Even worse, I’d heard some people had even been banned from getting things like civilian unemployment or federal student loans. This was a huge deal. But so was hazing. And he should have thought about that.
I knew I couldn’t fix the problem in the entire military, not even in the Marine Corps alone, but there was some measure of satisfaction that came from knowing I’d stopped the cycle Roberts was perpetuating. Chase likely wasn’t the first or the last boot he would have hazed.
I furrowed my brow, looking back at Sergeant Major. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can even do, but Roberts said he’d been hazed like this when he was a boot. If that guy is higher up in leadership now, he’s probably still acting the same way. Is that something you could look into?”
Sergeant Major looked surprised, and he looked at Staff Sergeant Jordan, who pursed his lips. “I can check it out, but without knowing who the specific Marine was, it would be hard. Roberts would have to tell me, and he doesn’t seem particularly chatty at the moment.”
“Understood. It was worth a shot,” I said.
“Told you,” Staff Sergeant Jordan said to our higher-up.
The older man chuckled slightly and the crinkles around his eyes grew deeper. “You did.” Before I could ask what they were talking about, Sergeant Major’s phone rang and he silenced it without removing it from his pocket. Then he lightly slapped his palm on the table. “Okay, gents. I’ve got a long day ahead of me. Unless you have any questions about your punishment, Paxton, I’ll leave you guys to get to it.”
“No questions, Sergeant Major. And thank you. Again.”
“You’re welcome. We’re glad to have you in this shop, Sergeant. Keep your nose clean, but don’t stop looking out for your junior Marines. This organization is only as strong as its members.”
“Rah,” I replied with a nod.
He stood, so we followed suit, each shaking his hand before watching him leave. Staff Sergeant Jordan blew out a breath and shook his head. “That’s good leadership, right there.”
“It is. And you’re a good leader, too. Thanks for having my back.”
“That’s the way it should be, man. I have yours, you have Chase’s. It’s not supposed to be something we have to worry about within our own hangar. Hopefully, now that Roberts is gone, we won’t have anything like this again.”
