Chapter 10: Promotion
Lunch was spaghetti.
This was the first lunch served after Winters took over the mess hall. Despite being spaghetti, it tasted pretty good.
"Hang on, more coming!" the cook said as he left with an empty pot. "These guys act like they want to take it to-go!" he complained to Winters in the kitchen. These soldiers could really eat.
"This stuff is orange," Tipper said, shaking his head as he lifted a few strands with his fork. "Spaghetti ain't supposed to be orange."
Perconte, wolfing down his food, replied, "This isn't spaghetti. These are Army noodles with ketchup."
Just then, Guarnere walked over with his tray and sat down next to Perconte. "Nobody's making you eat it."
"Excuse me, Mr. Gonorrhea, but as an Italian, my conscience won't let me call this garbage 'spaghetti'. It's a mortal sin," Perconte said in a preachy tone.
"Hey, hey, if you're not eating that, I'll take it," a hand reached out from behind Perconte, trying to grab his plate.
Perconte quickly shielded his plate. "No, no, I'm still eating!" he sputtered.
"Get lost!" Guarnere shouted from the side.
The entire mess hall was filled with the sound of chewing. Overall, the men of Easy Company seemed quite satisfied with their lunch.
"Aren't you eating?" White asked, carrying his tray over. He noticed the large, mostly untouched plate in front of Rhys, who was staring blankly at his spaghetti. "Not to your liking? I think it's pretty good."
Rhys smiled and shook his head. "Better to eat less. Eating too much isn't good for strenuous exercise."
"Strenuous exercise?" White sat down opposite him. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Parks. Today is an indoor lesson. We're going to have a nice, relaxing day."
"Do you really think you can predict Sobel's actions with normal logic?" Rhys frowned, watching the men of Easy Company devour their food. He knew that Sobel would soon order all of them, fresh from their meal, to go for a run. While it was a way to train them for forced marches under emergency conditions, doing it often was a real test of the soldiers' stomachs.
As they were talking, Sobel strode into the mess hall and commanded loudly, "Change of plans! On your feet!"
Every soldier dropped their plates and forks and snapped to attention.
Sobel walked through the room, shouting, "Indoor instruction is canceled! Easy Company is now running Currahee. Move it!" He then shot a glare at Winters in the kitchen and barked, "Three miles out, three miles back!"
"Shit," Guarnere muttered under his breath. "Sobel's a piece of shit."
"You really called it, Parks," White whispered, giving him a quick wink.
By now, Sobel was already yelling, "Hi-yo, Silver! Move it, move it!"
Winters watched everything from the kitchen, his heart filled with disapproval. But he couldn't just stand by while his brothers were tormented. He had to be with them, to endure it alongside them.
For the soldiers of Easy Company who had just eaten, it was torture.
Not long into the run, Hoobler threw up, his spaghetti lunch not yet digested.
"You're a washout, Private Hoobler!" Sobel berated him from behind. "You should just pack up your ears and go home!"
Gordon threw up, too.
"Looks like Gordon can't take it either, can you, Gordon?" Sobel said harshly. "Are you finished? You'll never earn your wings like this."
"Sergeant Randleman? You look tired. There's an ambulance waiting for you at the bottom of the hill. You can be free of all this right now. No more pain, no more basic training, no more Captain Sobel."
"Just listen to him," White grumbled in disgust. "Good thing I listened to you, otherwise I'd be suffering right now."
"I feel like singing," Randleman said to himself.
"Then sing, Randleman! We'll join you!" a few others around him chimed in.
"We pull upon the risers, We fall upon the grass," Randleman began to sing.
The others joined in.
"We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass!
Highty tighty, Christ almighty, who the hell are we?
Zim zam, goddamn, we're the Airborne Infantry!"
At first, it was just Randleman, but soon all the brothers of Easy Company were singing. This was Easy Company. Even when faced with the volatile Sobel and his brutal training, they always maintained their fighting spirit. This was why Rhys loved Easy Company. He smiled and joined in the singing, his voice loud and clear.
Sobel watched the group of singing soldiers, their morale growing stronger with every step. He felt a complex mix of emotions. He had done this today to make a point to Winters, who he felt was too soft on the men. He could see Winters now, running in the formation, singing loudly with his soldiers as they charged up the mountain.
After the run, the men of Easy Company were utterly exhausted. Many were lying scattered across the grass in the company area, cursing the damned Captain Sobel.
"Actually, training like this isn't completely without its benefits," Rhys said, sitting up from where he was lying in the grass, chewing on a blade of it. "Honestly, it's useful for helping us survive in difficult situations."
"I know," Guarnere said, spitting out the piece of grass he was chewing. "I think Sobel did this to make a point to Winters."
"Or maybe he just doesn't give a damn about saving our lives," Malarkey said, panting. "He's only thinking about his own schemes. He wants Easy Company to perform better than the other companies, and he's only doing this to make Colonel Sink happy."
So, the brothers of Easy Company knew exactly what Sobel was thinking. Rhys couldn't help but smile. He decided not to fan the flames of their discontent and said no more. After all, if the men didn't vent their frustrations, the outcome would only be worse down the line.
And it was precisely because of Sobel's "torture," whether his intentions were good or not, that Easy Company's performance in the 506th was outstanding. Especially in basic training, Easy Company always ranked first in the regiment.
***
Several more months passed for Rhys in Easy Company. The weather gradually grew cooler. The men were still unhappy with Captain Sobel, but they endured.
Rhys's performance in physical and basic training became increasingly prominent. After this period of exercise, his body's capabilities were gradually getting closer to that of his past life. He also never stopped using his own modern, more scientific training methods in his spare time. He did this because he knew he would have to survive on the battlefield, and the stronger he was, the higher his chances of survival would be.
Although Captain Sobel wasn't much interested in Rhys anymore, his performance was too good for others not to notice. Winters had already submitted a report for Rhys's promotion for the third time.
"Are you sure you want to promote him to Sergeant?" Sobel asked, looking down at the report Winters had submitted. He tapped his pen on the desk, then stared at Winters. "A company's NCOs play a leadership role. You know that Parks has been promoted to sergeant before, on my recommendation, but he got into a fight. He has no sense of discipline."
"Yes, Captain. I believe Parks will be a good NCO," Winters said, holding his ground.
"I'll consider it. You're dismissed," Sobel said, his tone annoyed and sharp.
Winters stood at attention, saluted, and left. He had great faith in Rhys. Whether it was in training or in his interactions with the men, he performed excellently. He was the perfect choice for an NCO. Once Winters had made up his mind, he didn't want to change it, because he believed his decision was the right one.
"Did Sobel agree?" Nixon asked as Winters walked out of the CP.
"I don't know," Winters said calmly. "I might have to submit Rhys's promotion report a fourth time."
Nixon smiled. "Your persistence is going to infuriate him."
"Do you think I should yield to Sobel?" Winters replied with a slight smile. "Or are you telling a First Lieutenant to yield to a Captain?"
Although Captain Sobel was very reluctant, Rhys's promotion was finally approved.
"Alright, Sergeant Parks," Winters said, handing him the sergeant's chevrons. "I'm confident you will be a fine NCO."
Rhys nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant." He gave Winters a formal salute.
"Do good work," Winters said, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving. 'Yes', he thought, 'I won this round. But is Sobel ready to give up?'