Suspend Disbelief - Have an adventure

Santa's Training Day

“Have a seat, Sergeant Cooper,” the major behind the desk said. Major Smith looked at his watch, and the clock on the wall as if trying to decide if the time pieces were lying in collusion. It was two hours until the end of the day. It seemed to have been two hours until the end of the day for the last two hours.

“Am I in trouble, Sir?” Sebastian Cooper asked, as he eased into the chair. He was ready to spring back to attention at the slightest provocation. As a sergeant, he wasn’t dressed drown by anybody, unless they had gold bars on their shoulder.

This particular major Sebastian had never met before. He was on the far side of base, where there were pleasant administration offices which oversaw all things logistical in the military. This was not the world of gun oil and grunts that Sebastian was used to.

“Are you happy in the army?” Smith asked.

“Yes Sir,” Sergeant Cooper answered.

“That makes this a little harder. We are, the army that is, is not going to pick up your re-enrollment option this time.”

“What does that mean, Sir?” To Sebastian it sounded like legal talk to begin negotiating a pay cut.

“You’re being discharged,” Smith said plainly.

“I’m being sent to a new unit?” Sebastian asked.

“No Sergeant Cooper. The military feels it is in our best interest to discontinue your service as a soldier. You’ve got thirty-five years in,” Smith made the slightest of glances to a file on his desk to verify. “You’ve done your time. It’s time to be at peace.”

“Forgiving your pardon, Sir, but this is bull shit. I’m not fifty-five years old.”

“Sebastian, can I call you Sebastian?”

“No.”

“Sergeant,” Major Smith pushed forward three files, each one thicker than the last. “This is your admin file.” He pointed to the thinnest of the files. “It contains all our records on your promotions and test scores, and postings. Administration things. This,” he indicated the middle file which was twice as thick, “is your commendation file. All the awards and medals you’ve won. Do you realize you’re the third most decorated soldier currently serving in the military. The only thing you’re missing is a letter from God. You’re one of the bravest men in NATO.” Smith tapped the third and thickest file. “This is your disciplinary file. It’s grows exponentially every time you come back from a mission. You drink too much, you carouse and fight, and you question orders. In two years you would have been released anyway. We’re just going ahead and doing it sooner.”

“I drink. Everybody drinks,” Sebastian said. “I fight and fuck, so does everybody else. I don’t see how I’m any different than a hundred other soldiers on this base, Sir.”

“And questions orders,” Smith said.

“It’s every soldier’s duty to question orders,” Sebastian answered. “And the higher the rank the more questions there should be in order to stop the rank and file from doing something illegal. That was determined at Nuremberg over eighty years ago.”

“Exactly. Eighty years ago it made sense. A century later it’s an outdated concept.”

“How is not killing civilians an outdated concept?”

“You can fight this Sergeant, but you’re not going to be a soldier any longer.” Smith pushed another folder forward. “If you sign here, where indicated, you’re a civilian with a full military pension from thirty-five years of service.”

“If I don’t sign?” Sebastian asked.

“You’ll be kicked out with a court martial, dishonorable discharge and no pension. If you go out with dignity, you’re set for life. You fight it, you leave with nothing.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want. Surely you have some interests outside the military.”

“I joined at eighteen and it’s all I’ve ever done,” Sebastian admitted. “I don’t know anything about civilian life.”

“Discharge services will help you. Sign please,” Major Smith nudged a pen toward the Sergeant. Sebastian read through the document, which seemed fairly standard including clauses about not suing the military for anything that happened on or off duty at any point in his career. Reluctantly, Sebastian scrawled his signature above his neatly typed name on the form.

“Now what happens?” Sebastian asked.

“Congratulations Mr. Cooper,” Smith stood and held out his hand to shake, but Sebastian looked at it like it held an unpinned hand grenade. “You’ve got a month to clear out of your barracks room, but I’ve seen your file. I don’t think it would take more than a week to pack up your T.V. and bar fridge. We need the room for somebody else. If you could be out by Friday it would be greatly appreciated.”

“But what happens to me?” Sebastian repeated.

“Whatever you want,” Smith tidied the files on his desk. “The world is your oyster.”

“But, where do I go?”

“Again, wherever you want. These are questions best suited for Discharge Services, in the next building over. The future is wide open to you Mr. Cooper. Go enjoy it.”

“I’m not a soldier anymore?” Sebastian finally let the message sink in.

“Not in this army,” Smith agreed.