Chapter 16: Bet
In Captain Sobel's eyes, the fact that Rhys Parks and Winters had stolen the show during the competition was not a good thing. He was always able to think of ways to torment them.
For instance, he had appointed Winters as his executive officer, but he kept him busy every day with the kitchen and the latrines, giving him almost no opportunity to interact with the brothers of Easy Company.
He even found ways to get at Rhys. On days when Rhys was instructing a platoon, Sobel would drastically increase that platoon's training load, hoping the men would grow to resent him.
But the effectiveness of Rhys's training was undeniable; no one could erase the results. So, the brothers of Easy Company felt no resentment toward Rhys. In fact, they grew even closer to him, an outcome Sobel had never anticipated.
As the physical fitness of the men rapidly improved under Rhys's guidance, Easy Company's basic training curriculum was intensified.
Colonel Sink had high standards; he required every member of Easy Company to master the use of mortars, machine guns, rifles, communications equipment, and battlefield first aid. Every man had to be able to do, or at least handle, any job in the platoon. Every private had to understand the duties of a corporal and a sergeant, ready to step in if necessary.
Because of this, Rhys's job gradually became easier. For Easy Company, their improved fitness meant that physical training would now be a supplement, while other skills would become the main focus.
With the reduction in physical training, Winters was also "released" by Rhys from his duties in the kitchen and the latrines. He had to be personally involved in these newly added subjects, which presented a new test for him as well.
***
"I can't believe Sobel threw you in the kitchen for over two months," Nixon said, raising a liquor bottle when he saw Winters in the barracks. "Want a drink? A celebration for your 'release from prison'."
"Just a glass of water, Nix," Winters smiled. "I'm out now, aren't I? God only knows what Sobel will have me do next. But I'm not worried anymore. After all, no executive officer has ever spent his entire career in a kitchen."
Nixon laughed. "You really are an optimist. Colonel Sink, on the other hand, has been less than optimistic lately."
"Is it about the training?"
"Yes. Colonel Sink is dead set on implementing Parks-style training throughout the entire regiment. You know that the Easy Company of today is far more formidable than it was two months ago. It's impossible for Colonel Sink not to be tempted," Nixon sighed, shaking his head.
Winters paused and looked at Nixon. "I know what's bothering the Colonel. It must be that Parks's training method wasn't approved by high command."
"How did you know?" Nixon asked, looking at him strangely. "I just heard this news from battalion myself."
"It's not surprising," Winters said. "Colonel Sink is an optimist, but he completely underestimates how much bureaucratic red tape is involved in getting anything worthwhile done by the higher-ups."
Nixon nodded. "They told Colonel Sink that although there were some results, the training method had not been approved by their experts, lacked a scientific basis, was tested for too short a time, and that no one could assess what hidden dangers might arise in the future. Therefore, its approval has been postponed."
"'Postponed'?" Winters gave a self-deprecating laugh. "More like permanently suspended. It looks like Staff Sergeant Parks is about to be unemployed."
"Yep. And don't forget you. You were the instigator," Nixon said, raising the bottle. "A toast to the unemployed!" He poured himself a glass and downed it in one go.
The news spread quickly through the regiment. Of course, the ones most concerned were the brothers of Easy Company. Winters even suspected that Sobel had only released him from menial duties because he had found out about this. But the soldiers of Easy Company were agitated.
"God knows what Colonel Sink is thinking! The results of our training are plain to see. Are they all a bunch of blind men? Why stop this training method?" White grumbled in the barracks.
To Rhys, this result was not unexpected. Colonel Sink had indeed been too optimistic. In a country like the United States, everything depended on scientific evidence and verification. To them, this was as incomprehensible as witchcraft.
Brigadier General William C. Lee would never allow an unproven training method to appear in the 101st Airborne and disrupt his overall plan. To put it bluntly, he wasn't going to let Colonel Sink run wild.
"Poor Colonel Sink," Christenson sighed from the side.
"Poor Staff Sergeant Parks," More echoed, then made a face at Rhys.
Rhys just chuckled. "It's not necessarily a bad thing. We all know the method now, so there's nothing to be upset about. The most important thing now is to handle these new training subjects well. You all know Captain Sobel isn't easy to deal with. I don't have high hopes for you guys at the start."
"Come on, Parks!" Cobb called out from the side. "We know you're a beast at physical training, and we all respect you for it. But if you think you're going to be the best at these other things, it's definitely not going to be so easy."
"We'll see about that, Cobb," Rhys said with a grin. "Want to make a bet? Our platoon has marksmanship training tomorrow. Why don't we make a wager? A big one. Fifty dollars says I can outshoot you."
This clearly put Cobb in a difficult position. This guy Parks couldn't be judged by normal standards. He had just been talking smack out of a little jealousy, but if he had to actually bet, he had very little confidence—especially for fifty dollars.
Seeing Cobb hesitate, the other men in the barracks started to jeer. "Oh, come on, Cobb, show some guts! Don't let Parks get away with that."
In the end, Cobb didn't agree. Despite the heckling, he backed down. "I'm not falling into your trap. Parks is a wizard. Who here dares to bet against him? No, I'm not looking for trouble."
***
Just one day later, Cobb was feeling very grateful for his decision.
"Fire!" At the instructor's command, Second Platoon, lying prone, let loose a volley from their M1 Garands.
'PING!*'The sound of an empty en bloc clip ejecting was crisp and clear.
The instructor suddenly roared at one of the soldiers. "You—what's your name, Private?"
"Roy Cobb, First Sergeant," Cobb said, standing up dejectedly.
"Are your eyes in your asshole? Look at your shooting! Eight rounds in that clip, and where did they all go?" The instructor was furious. Cobb had only put four rounds on the target. The result was pathetic.
Just then, the First Sergeant walked over to Rhys. "Staff Sergeant, what's your name?"
Rhys stood up. "Rhys Parks."
"Excellent. Keep it up," the First Sergeant said, patting his shoulder. Then he asked curiously, "Are you the same Parks who invented that physical training method?"
"Yes, sir," Rhys nodded.
This time, the NCO said nothing more. He just had someone bring him the target from in front of Rhys. The paper was completely shredded, with a single large hole in the center.
"Look here, gentlemen! This is marksmanship!" the NCO shouted at the men of Second Platoon. "When you get to the battlefield, it's either you kill the Krauts, or the Krauts kill you!"
This truly shocked the brothers of Second Platoon. Looking at that large hole in the middle, it was obvious that all eight rounds had passed through the dead center of the target. To these men, who were still new to shooting, this was an almost frightening accomplishment.
"Keep up the good work," the instructor said with a nod to Rhys.
***
As soon as training was over, Cobb couldn't wait to share his opinion, looking quite smug. "See? I'm glad I had the foresight. You can't even describe Parks as human."
Clearly, this training session had revealed yet another one of Rhys's talents.
"I hear Shifty Powers in First Platoon is also a damn good shot. Hey, Parks, why don't you compete against him? I bet you could definitely beat him," Cobb shouted.
(Note: Shifty is a nickname. His real name is Darrell.)
This suggestion immediately drew the attention of all the men in Second Platoon.
"Do it, Parks!" Guarnere said, his interest piqued. "I'll bet fifty dollars on you to win!"
"Hey, hey, count me in! Fifty dollars on Parks!" Tipper squeezed through the crowd, looking at Rhys with hopeful eyes.
Rhys shook his head. "No. I won't proactively challenge a brother to a competition." He refused outright. He knew that no matter the outcome, it would put a burden on both participants, which wasn't good for either of them.
The men of Second Platoon were clearly disappointed.
But that disappointment didn't last long. The men of First Platoon had also heard about Rhys's amazing shooting, and they had Shifty Powers. They wanted to make a bet, too.
"Parks, accept it! Like a man!" Private Albert Blithe from First Platoon came running over, delivering the message. "Shifty agreed! Come on, just treat it like another game of darts!"
Rhys looked at the eager faces of his own platoon mates. They were all staring at him. He could only shrug. "Alright. I accept."
*****
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