"Eric Flint & David Weber - 1634 - The Baltic War42" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

become pilots like Hans Richter, sure enough. But in an air force that still only had a literal handful of
planes, how many pilots did you need? What the air force mainly needed were people for the ground
crews—and for all but a tiny number of CoC firebrands, serving behind the lines doing what they saw as
mostly menial chores just didn't appeal to them. One of the many American terms that had made its way
into the hybrid mostly-German dialect of the new nation emerging in central Europe was "REMFs".
Instead, they volunteered for the new regiments in the army Gustav Adolf was creating, which were sure
to see action come next spring. So, for the most part, Jesse had to make do with men—and some women,
here and there—who "volunteered" out of necessity rather than political fervor. Granted, that saved Jesse
from having to deal with the rambunctious politics that saturated the new army regiments and had most
down-time officers tearing out their hair. Most up-time officers, for that matter, who were often just as
aghast as their down-time counterparts at the radical conclusions their volunteers sometimes drew about
the logic of democracy as applied to military discipline.
So, true enough, Jesse was generally spared that problem. What he faced instead were the traditional
ones of maintaining efficiency and discipline in a mercenary force—a problem that officers in the new
army regiments rarely had to deal with. If a recruit in one of those regiments slacked off, he'd get
disciplined by his CoC mates before any officer even knew a problem existed—and the discipline could
be a lot more savage than anything even a sergeant like Krueger would hand out.
Jesse rubbed his eyes, pulled his leather jacket over his own brown flying suit, and grabbed the two
often-used envelopes. Sweeping up his beret with its eagle insignia off his desk, he stretched his sore
back and stepped out of his office into that of his adjutant. Lieutenant Cynthia Garlow was seated behind
her desk, sharpening a goose feather quill, her own computer showing a floral screen saver pattern. For
reasons Jesse had never been able to grasp, she preferred using quill pens over the still-perfectly-
functional modern pens that had come through the Ring of Fire in plentitude.
She didn't stand up as he entered. She couldn't, having lost the use of her legs in a riding accident on the
far side of the Ring of Fire. Instead, the former CAP cadet straightened to attention in her wheelchair
and looked at Jesse expectantly.
"Yes, Colonel?"
Jesse smiled. "Cynthia, how many times have I told you to save the 'attention' bit for visitors? It's just the

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 - Chapter 1

two of us here. At ease, for Pete's sake."
Cynthia tossed her short auburn curls impatiently. "About a million times, Colonel. Almost as often as
I've told you I can type faster than you, so why not just dictate to me?" She looked meaningfully at the
envelopes in Jesse's hand.
Jesse laid the envelopes on her desk. "Not this time, Lieutenant. This report was a pleasure to write. I've
declared the Gustav flight tests completed. Now that we've finished those, the real fun begins. With luck
and good weather, we'll have half a dozen trained crews by spring. Send the original to Mike Stearns in
Government House on tomorrow's courier run to Magdeburg. The copy goes to Admiral Simpson."
"Yes, sir. That's great news. Anything else?"
"Yeah, send word to Major Horton that I'd like to see him in my quarters tonight at 2030, will you? I'm
going to take a turn around the base, then go home. Why don't you wrap up things here and take off?"
Cynthia gave him an impish grin. "Why, thank you sir. Friedrich promised to take me to dinner in town,
if we both got off early enough."
Jesse nodded and wondered again at the dichotomy of Sergeant Krueger's renowned harshness to
recruits and his obvious love for the crippled girl in the wheelchair. His gentleness and deference to her
was an unceasing wonder to all who witnessed it. Cynthia was lovely and doubtless her fluency in
German helped, but still . . . Jesse was glad he hadn't found the need to institute any of the fraternization
rules from the other time line. Planting his beret on his head, eagle shining, he moved toward the door.