Flood - Andrew H. Vachss [142]
I’d seen enough. I wrapped up my papers and headed back to Michelle. I wasn’t that impatient to see if the column was in the paper—either it was or it wasn’t. I couldn’t change anything by reading there in the park.
Michelle opened the door even as my soft tap was echoing in the dead-quiet corridor. When she saw the racing form in my hand her eyes flashed instant disapproval so I quickly held up the copy of the paper to show her I hadn’t forgotten why I’d gone out. I sat down in the chair in front of the Mole’s telephone unit with Michelle perched on the arm as I leafed through. Sure enough, next to the kid’s smiling photograph was his semiweekly column. The thick black headline read UNCLE BIGOT WANTS YOU! Michelle and I went through it together.
Master Sergeant William Jones, a crewcut spit-and-polish veteran of the Korean and Vietnam wars, sits alone in his ground floor recruiting office in Herald Square, patiently waiting to explain the advantages of the “new” army to enough young men to make his quota for the month. Sgt. Jones is able to offer a truly staggering array of inducements to potential recruits—guaranteed choice of training, overseas or stateside assignment, a deferred enlistment program, an improved G.I. Bill, a college assistance deal where the army contributes towards tuition, and “more money than a captain used to make, including combat pay.” His office is attractive, centrally located, and the atmosphere is friendly.
But business hasn’t been too good for Sgt. Jones and his fellow recruiters around the city. Even with massive unemployment infecting the ghetto, young men are simply not opting for a military career these days. Sgt. Jones says the problem is the army’s insistence on educational standards that are not related to the needs of a fighting force. For the “new” all-volunteer army, only bonafide high-school graduates need apply. Says Jones, “When I went in the service, I hadn’t even finished the ninth grade. So what? The army taught me how to fight, made sure I knew everything I needed to know, taught me to be a man. I finished high school in the service, the same way most of my friends did back then. Today, it’s ridiculous. There’s no such thing as simple patriotism anymore. The kids today want everything handed to them on a silver platter.” When asked how today’s all-volunteer army would fare in a combat situation, Jones just shrugged, but all observers agree that the goal of developing a “professional army” has fallen well short of expectations.
Meanwhile, a few blocks downtown, at 224 Fifth Avenue, in a shabby two-room office on the 14th floor, recruiting for a vastly different kind of army is going on. This army makes no promises of “training.” Indeed, it expects to hire only fully trained and experienced men—no women or rookies need apply. And unlike the U.S. Army, this army is pointedly not an equal-opportunity employer. The location where the recruits will serve is not even disclosed at the time of enlistment. Pay is a flat thousand dollars per month, with additional pay for “specialists” and some unexplained “bonuses.” Term of enlistment is “for the duration” and the only promise made is that all recruits will see action against the enemy, described by the recruiters as “terrs,” short for terrorists. Yet the men who run the little office say business is booming.
The office of Falcon Enterprises hasn’t been around too long, and the man in charge, a suave individual who identified himself only as Mr. James, freely admits that they don’t expect to be in business too much longer. James and his associate, a hulking individual who calls himself “Gunther, no mister,” will not discuss the purpose of their recruiting