Evening’s Leave

“Four fingers of whiskey please,” Evans waited while the bartender poured his drink. He then walked back to the table.

“Going a little hard aren’t we Jim?” Turner pointed at the whiskey, “What’s that, third glass? And we haven’t even eaten yet.”

“Maybe if the service was faster I wouldn’t have to drink as much.”

“Maybe the service would be faster if we had just gone to the Senior NCO’s bar.”

Tiscornia put on an offended look, “Oh, leaving me out are we?”

“If you would be willing to accept promotions, you’d have made Sergeant or even Sergeant Major by now. So it’s really your own damn fault,” Turner rolled her eyes.

“Plus, I want to see what my soldiers are doing.”

“Oh, so eavesdropping are we?” Turner smiled then continued, “My squad is getting along famously. I’ve even given them all nicknames.”

She discretely pointed to her soldiers, “Kempe is Warrior, Delage is Hedge, Nash is Ash Tree, Grillo is Cricket, Norris is Nurse, Poulin is Chicken, Minett is Love, Nosek is Little Nose, Garfield is Triangle, and I’m Starling.”

“Those are terrible nicknames,” Evans looked at the soldiers, “Why the hell would you call them that?”

Turner smiled, “Those are the meanings of their names. I like crosswords.”

“But we all can’t be so lucky, so I’m learning useful things.”

Tiscornia laughed, “What, that Lady Johnson has a thing for that Corporal?” He nodded towards Johnson, who was sitting at a table with someone from some other regiment.

“Yeah, I feel like trying to get an officer would be more her speed.”

“No, that would be ‘Above her class,’” Tiscornia rolled his eyes, “These types love the rigid class structures. So anyone of a higher class interested in her would be debasing himself. And he’s from another Regiment because she has to follow protocol.”

“Ah well,” Evans gestured at Howe and Nivelle, “Those two are getting along too well. Though Howe won’t do anything, she’s like me. Won’t do anything until marriage. Because some things are still sacred.” He made a sarcastic look at the other two.

Tiscornia pointed at Callahan, who had his arm around a young private and walking her to the door, “Looks like Callahan is about to do something not sacred.”

“Hey, he’s pretty good looking,” Turner shrugged, “If he weren’t in the regiment I’d let him do something not sacred to me. Can you transfer him Jim?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just find someone else?”

“Eh,” Turner shrugged. The waiter came and dropped off the food. Turner waved to her and said, “Hey, is the Bartender seeing anyone?”

The waiter shook her head no. Tiscornia looked at Turner, “Want me to go over and talk you up?”

When Turner nodded, he got up and walked over.

“Wow, Classy.”

“Hey, I need something to do later,” Turner smiled and continued, “So learn anything new about your soldiers?”

“Callahan is impatient,” Evans pointed out one of the side windows, “He was making out with the Private in the alleyway. Hand up her shirt and everything.”

“Hey, at least I’m gonna get a room with the guy,” Turner rolled her eyes and changed the subject, “So, when do you think we’re getting deployed?”

“I’m betting two weeks.”

“Eh, I’m gonna go with one week.”

Tiscornia walked back to the table and sat down, “He gets off in an hour and has a place in town.”

“Nice,” Turner took a bite of her sandwich, “Guess I’ll leave in an hour then.”

“You gonna go talk to him?” Evans tilted his head to the side, “Or get to know him?”

“Why would I want to do that, I’m just gonna sleep with him?”

“You’re doing this just to needle me, aren’t you?”

“A bit.”


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