Stranded With The Sergeant. Cathie Linz
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as bad off as he thought if he could think of sex at a time like this.
Of course, another way of looking at things was that he was truly certifiable to be entertaining the thought of his commanding officer’s daughter and the word sex in the same sentence.
And then there were all the kids, swarming around in masses and sucking all the oxygen from the room.
“These beds are so little,” Pete noted in surprise. “And they’re bunk beds.”
“Here in the Marine Corps, your bed is your rack,” Joe automatically corrected him.
“A rack, huh? It looks like something you’d get tortured on,” Pete agreed.
Torture was being in such close confines with so many kids. Even his first day of boot camp hadn’t made him this jumpy.
“These beds…er, racks,” Pete quickly corrected himself, “are really clean.”
“That’s because Marines have to learn how to make perfectly folded forty-five-degree corners on the sheets when they make their racks,” Prudence said.
“No way!” Pete’s brown eyebrows shot up. “Marines have to make beds…er…racks?”
“Affirmative,” Joe said. “They have to learn the Marine way of making their racks.”
“You see, in the Marine Corps there’s only one right way of doing things and that’s the Marine way,” Prudence said in a mocking voice. Turning to Joe she said, “Tell the kids about the rest of Marine terminology. The floor is called…”
She was the daughter of a Marine, she knew what it was called. She simply wanted to wipe the deck with him. Daddy’s little princess, indeed. Spoiled rotten needed to be added to that description. How dare she mock his beloved Marine Corps? He and the men she mocked put their lives on the line to protect her little fanny. But did she care? Clearly not.
Narrowing his eyes at her, Joe straightened his already ramrod straight shoulders. “The floor is a deck,” he barked, startling her. Good. “To your right and left are bulkheads, not walls. Windows are ports. Above is an overhead, not a ceiling. Upstairs and downstairs do not exist. Instead we use topside and down below. You are facing forward. To your left is port and to your right is starboard. Behind you is aft.”
“My dad has a boat and he uses those words,” Pete said, hurriedly adding, “sir.”
“The terms are a result of the Marine Corps early origins as a sea service,” Joe said.
The tour ended at the Beirut Memorial, commemorating those who died in the 1983 bombing of Battalion Landing Team 1/8’s Headquarters in Lebanon. Joe found it impossible to speak. For once, Prudence was quiet.
By the time the class returned to base headquarters, Joe had regained his self-control. He fielded the kids’ questions as best he could on everything from the possibility of a top secret Marine Corps group that trained to protect earth from extraterrestrial life-forms to why his uniform was green.
During that time, Prudence kept her distance. He could tell she didn’t like him. Which was fine by him. Maybe it would get him off this assignment.
Baby-sitting a bunch of sixth-graders was hardly up his alley. He’d been trained in hand-to-hand combat, in Marine battle tactics and camouflage and survival techniques. Not kid stuff.
Especially not now.
A few years ago Joe might have laughed off this chore. But since the accident, his life had turned upside down. And he was the only one who knew it. Which is the way he planned on keeping things.
“Daddy, this isn’t going to work,” Prudence stated as she perched herself on the corner of his desk.
“Hey, princess, how did the tour go?”
“The man you sent didn’t know much about the base.”
“Well, he’s only been here a few weeks. Give the guy a chance.”
She shook her head, sliding a strand of her dark hair behind one ear before saying, “I think it would be better if you found someone else for the job.”
“Did Sergeant Wilder tell you to come talk to me on his behalf?” her father asked suspiciously.
“No.” The question surprised her. “What makes you say that?”
“The fact that he’s no more pleased about being given this assignment than you are about having him along.”
“There you go then,” Prudence said. “All the more reason to get someone else. You’ve got thousands of Marines here.”
“I’m not the base commander here, princess. I was lucky to get Sergeant Wilder for this assignment on such short notice. I’m afraid you’ll have to cancel the field trip if you don’t take him.” Pausing, he looked over her shoulder to the open doorway. “Ah, here he is now. Come on in, Sergeant.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” Joe said, noting the cozy father-daughter setup.
“You’re not interrupting. My daughter was just talking about you. She’s not happy at having you assigned to accompany her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.” What a lie! The truth was that Joe was filled with relief. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else.…”
“Nonsense,” his commanding officer said. “As I was just telling my daughter, it’s you or no one.”
Joe’s heart fell.
Prudence looked equally disappointed with the news. “We’re not canceling this trip,” she said. “These kids have been looking forward to this for weeks.”
“Twenty-five kids in the Blue Ridge mountains is a bit much for two adults to supervise, don’t you think?” Joe said, still holding out a slim chance of escaping.
“Absolutely,” Prudence agreed, the first time she’d agreed with anything he’d said all day. “Which is why there will only be five students coming on the field trip. The entire class got to come on the tour of the base, but participation in the field trip to the mountains was limited to the top five finalists in our Class Knowledge Fair.” Hopping off her father’s desk, she kissed her dad on the cheek before turning to face Joe. “I guess it looks like we’re stuck with each other.”
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe you’re actually calling me for help,” Curt Blackwell noted, his amusement apparent over the phone line.
A year ago Joe had stood up at Curt’s wedding as his best man. Funny how things changed. In the past, Curt had always been the loner and Joe the life of the party. Now Curt was happily married and had a young daughter named Blue. And it was Joe who was struggling.
“This has got to be a first,” Curt was saying. “Usually it’s the other way around, me calling you.”
“Yeah, well, enjoy it while you can, buddy, because it’s not going to happen very often. Not if you gloat like this every time I call you looking for some help.”
“I won’t gloat every time,” Curt replied. “Just this time.”
“There’s no time for gloating. Just think of some way I can get out of this stupid mess.”
“A Marine never avoids an assignment.”
“He does if it involves escorting his commanding officer’s daughter into the mountains of North Carolina for the weekend.”
“How old is she?” Curt asked.
“I don’t know. Late twenties, I’d guess.”
“Sounds like a plum assignment for a ladies’ man like you. What’s the problem?”
“She’s