Without remorse - Tom Clancy [191]
"This way, sir.' The corporal gestured. Kelly followed without a word.
Sir didn't mean anything, Kelly knew. When in doubt, a Marine would call a lightpole 'Sir.' He followed the youngster to a car and they drove off, crossing the railroad tracks and climbing uphill while he wished for another few hours of sleep.
'You the General's driver?'
'Yes, sir.' And that was the extent of their conversation.
There were about twenty-five of them, standing in the morning mist, stretching and chatting among themselves as the squad NCOs walked up and down the line, looking for bleary eyes or slack expressions. Heads turned when the General's car stopped and a man got out. They saw he wore the wrong sort of fatigues and wondered who the hell he was, especially since he had no rank insignia at all. He walked right up to the senior NCO.
'You Gunny Irvin?' Kelly asked.
Master Gunnery Sergeant Paul Irvin nodded politely as he sized the visitor up. 'Correct, sir. Are you Mr Clark?'
Kelly nodded. 'Well, I'm trying to be, this early.'
Both men traded a look. Paul Irvin was dark and serious-looking. Not as overtly threatening as Kelly had expected, he had the eyes of a careful, thoughtful man, which was to be expected for someone of his age and experience.
'What kinda shape you in?' Irvin asked.
'Only one way to find that out,' 'Clark' answered.
Irvin smiled broadly. 'Good. I'll let you lead the run, sir. Our captain's away somewhere jerking off.'
Oh, shit!
'Now let's get loosened up.' Irvin walked back to the formation, calling it to attention. Kelly took a place on the right side of the second rank.
'Good morning, Marines!'
'Reconl' they bellowed back.
The daily dozen wasn't exactly fun, but Kelly didn't have to show off. He did watch Irvin, who was becoming more serious by the minute, doing his exercises like some sort of robot. Half an hour later they were indeed all loosened up, and Irvin brought them back to attention in preparation for the run.
'Gentlemen, I want to introduce a new member of our team. This is Mr Clark. He'll be leading the run with me.'
Kelly took his place, whispering, 'I don't know where the hell we're going.'
Irvin smiled in a nasty way. 'No problem, sir. You can follow us in after you fall out.'
'Lead off, jarhead,' Kelly replied, one pro to another.
Forty minutes later, Kelly was still in the lead. Being there allowed him to set the pace, and that was the only good news. Not staggering was his other main concern, and that was becoming difficult, since when the body tires the fine-tuning controls go first.
'Left,' Irvin said, pointing. Kelly couldn't know that he'd needed ten seconds to assemble the surplus air to speak. He'd also had the burden of singing the cadence, however. The new path, just a dirt trail, took them into the piney woods.
Buildings, oh Jesus. I hope that's the stopping place. Even his thoughts were gasps now. The path wound around a little, but there were cars there, and that had to be - what? He almost stopped in surprise, and on his own called, 'Quick-time, march' to slow the formation down.
Mannequins?
'Detail,' Irvin called out, 'halt! Stand at ease,' he added.
Kelly coughed a few times, bending down slightly, blessing his runs in the park and around his island for allowing him to survive this morning.
'Slow,' was all Irvin had to say at the moment.
'Good morning, Mr Clark.' It turned out that one of the cars was real, Kelly saw. James Greer and Marty Young waved him over.
'Good morning. I hope y'all slept well,' Kelly told them. .
'You volunteered, John,' Greer pointed out.
'They're four minutes slow this morning,' Young observed. 'Not bad for a spook, though.'
Kelly turned away in semidisgust. It took a minute or so for him to realize what this place was.
'Damn!'
'There's your hill.' Young pointed.
'Trees are taller