Read Online The Rabid Brigadier by Craig Sargent - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Craig Sargent
Ads: Link
Bradley III if his memory served him right. Dead
center of the wide parking area stood rows of gasoline tanks, huge thirty-foot steel cylinders filled with the valuable motor
fuel, worth more than gold these days. On the other side of the main thoroughfare, a number of two-story warehouses for arms
and munitions that looked, by the wooden crates standing outside some of them waiting to be loaded, filled to capacity.
Stone was impressed. Very impressed. This General Patton, or whoever the hell he was, had gathered a substantial strike force.
Given enough time, enough energy, he might well somehow gain control of the country. Although how he could weave together
the disparate criminal and even savage elements that the new United States had become was beyond him.
Stone noticed as they walked that the entire encampment was surrounded by a fifteen-foot-high fence of barbed wire crowned
link fence. And from the electrical equipment that stood nearby, it was probably able to electrocute, even kill those who
touched it. Machine-gun towers stood at the four corners of the camp and in the center of each gated wall. From here they
commanded a view of cleared field around the fort that extended hundreds of yards. The place seemed invulnerable.
Nurse Williamson pushed through a pair of swinging doors and they entered into a boisterous, soldier-filled cafeteria lined
with fifty long tables, every one of them filled to the brim. Stone almost reeled back for a second at the sudden encountering
of so much energy. But no one really paid much attention to them—too busy cramming bowlsof steaming food and loaves of bread into their mouths. She led him up along one side and to a set of trays. Stone walked
slowly along the bowls of food, huge canisters four feet high with ladles sitting around them.
“Take as much as you want,” Nurse Williamson said, pointing down. “We believe in feeding people here. General Patton believes
that a filled stomach is a loyal stomach.”
“He’s damned right about that. I’ve seen people die over a piece of bread,” he answered, loading up with what looked like
beef stew with carrots and onions. Food like people used to eat. “Jesus, this is incredible,” Stone said with a smile on his
face. He almost felt like a kid. Like he wanted to pile his plate high with everything. Take two plates, a whole loaf of bread.
But he contained himself and merely filled the plate to overflow.
“Here, sit here,” Williamson said, leading him to a table that was obviously reserved for officers, roped off to one side,
near some windows. There were about a dozen higher ranks sitting around the table chewing away and they looked up at Stone
and the nurse. They took two empty places along one side. Some of the officers, captains, colonels, a few majors, didn’t look
too pleased at his joining them. But they didn’t say anything.
“Hey, ain’t you the fellow they picked up just before the falls?” one of the officers directly across from Stone asked.
“Yeah, I’m the fool who ended up heading for Niagara Falls without a barrel.” Stone grinned back sheepishly. “And to every
man in this unit I’d like to give my thanks,” Stone said, looking quickly around the table. “I really mean it. And the medical
treatment I received when you all could have let me die. I haven’t seen this level of civilization anywhere—to say the least.”
He took a bite of the pungent stewand felt his stomach growl. It tasted so good. Sending his mind back to better days when his mother had cooked thick stew
on a winter’s night. Days gone forever.
“Well thanks, mister,” one of the hardfaced colonels sitting next to him said. The rest seemed to have relaxed a little at
Stone’s expression of gratitude. All men like to be complimented. “And welcome to the New American Army if anyone hasn’t welcomed
you yet. You look like you’ll be a great recruit—once you can move your
center of the wide parking area stood rows of gasoline tanks, huge thirty-foot steel cylinders filled with the valuable motor
fuel, worth more than gold these days. On the other side of the main thoroughfare, a number of two-story warehouses for arms
and munitions that looked, by the wooden crates standing outside some of them waiting to be loaded, filled to capacity.
Stone was impressed. Very impressed. This General Patton, or whoever the hell he was, had gathered a substantial strike force.
Given enough time, enough energy, he might well somehow gain control of the country. Although how he could weave together
the disparate criminal and even savage elements that the new United States had become was beyond him.
Stone noticed as they walked that the entire encampment was surrounded by a fifteen-foot-high fence of barbed wire crowned
link fence. And from the electrical equipment that stood nearby, it was probably able to electrocute, even kill those who
touched it. Machine-gun towers stood at the four corners of the camp and in the center of each gated wall. From here they
commanded a view of cleared field around the fort that extended hundreds of yards. The place seemed invulnerable.
Nurse Williamson pushed through a pair of swinging doors and they entered into a boisterous, soldier-filled cafeteria lined
with fifty long tables, every one of them filled to the brim. Stone almost reeled back for a second at the sudden encountering
of so much energy. But no one really paid much attention to them—too busy cramming bowlsof steaming food and loaves of bread into their mouths. She led him up along one side and to a set of trays. Stone walked
slowly along the bowls of food, huge canisters four feet high with ladles sitting around them.
“Take as much as you want,” Nurse Williamson said, pointing down. “We believe in feeding people here. General Patton believes
that a filled stomach is a loyal stomach.”
“He’s damned right about that. I’ve seen people die over a piece of bread,” he answered, loading up with what looked like
beef stew with carrots and onions. Food like people used to eat. “Jesus, this is incredible,” Stone said with a smile on his
face. He almost felt like a kid. Like he wanted to pile his plate high with everything. Take two plates, a whole loaf of bread.
But he contained himself and merely filled the plate to overflow.
“Here, sit here,” Williamson said, leading him to a table that was obviously reserved for officers, roped off to one side,
near some windows. There were about a dozen higher ranks sitting around the table chewing away and they looked up at Stone
and the nurse. They took two empty places along one side. Some of the officers, captains, colonels, a few majors, didn’t look
too pleased at his joining them. But they didn’t say anything.
“Hey, ain’t you the fellow they picked up just before the falls?” one of the officers directly across from Stone asked.
“Yeah, I’m the fool who ended up heading for Niagara Falls without a barrel.” Stone grinned back sheepishly. “And to every
man in this unit I’d like to give my thanks,” Stone said, looking quickly around the table. “I really mean it. And the medical
treatment I received when you all could have let me die. I haven’t seen this level of civilization anywhere—to say the least.”
He took a bite of the pungent stewand felt his stomach growl. It tasted so good. Sending his mind back to better days when his mother had cooked thick stew
on a winter’s night. Days gone forever.
“Well thanks, mister,” one of the hardfaced colonels sitting next to him said. The rest seemed to have relaxed a little at
Stone’s expression of gratitude. All men like to be complimented. “And welcome to the New American Army if anyone hasn’t welcomed
you yet. You look like you’ll be a great recruit—once you can move your
Similar Books
