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Corpsman Dromah Schools an Officer

Corpsman Dromah spends two years in the Training Cadre of the Imperial Marine Training Base on Nekrino (Trojan Reach 2515). Many weeks in the field training Officers in leadership, tactics, field craft and weapon skills. Lots of injuries, just from moving about in rough terrain, and bad training mishaps.

Nekrino. As a planet, not bad. At least you could train outdoors without a suit, or respirator strapped to your face. Mid-summers were comfortable, mostly. Training junior officers was the latest assignment, and it took patience and attention to detail. Some of the young people really didn't get it, and it was a good thing there wasn't live ammo involved. People still got hurt, which is why medics were part of the training.

The guy Segeant Piltak was saddled with was an odd one. A month on the ground, and Sgt Piltak was still trying to figure out what the guy's problem was. Corpsman Dromah was very, very good at his job. He was on top of things, before anyone else knew there was a thing to deal with. Like during parades. It was uncanny how Corpsman Dromah would be across the parade square and right beside a trooper, just as that trooper was about to face plant. A lot of troopers owe the Corpsman their front teeth. But, the guy never did anything with the spit and polish of a normal Marine. His uniform was clean, and he was where he needed to be, doing what needed doing, all the time. Just don't ask him to snap-to.

The School Chief told Sgt Piltak he had a mixed blessing in the medic, and to just deal with the guy straight. Like nobody was going to change the guy because he'd been this way for nearly 20 years. What!?! Why hadn't the guy been cashiered? Because, the Chief said, he's an absolute miracle worker in combat. The training billet was a rotation to the rear for the guy, to give him a break. He'd just come off an OP, and had saved a lot of Marines.

The evolution today was to get the latest ‘fair-haired boy’ through his leadership evaluation. This was to be the last leadership task for what was likely to be the top student of the current class of new officers. It should be a stroll, with everything by the numbers. So far, the hike out to the training area and the task briefing was smooth. The recce and the concurrent tasks for set-up were perfunctory. The Ensign had everyone gathered for the “O Group”, and was briefing the mission. He was in ‘Phase Two’ when the Corpsman’s head came up.

The Corpsman looked at the mock-up on the dirt in the middle of the huddle, and then looked out over the field a few meters from the platoon. The Corpsman then stood up and looked out over that field with squinted eyes. A heavy sigh, and the Corpsman sat back down.

The Ensign stopped talking. Of course. He gave the Corpsman the stink eye.

“Sorry, Ensign.” The Corpsman made busy scribbling on his message pad, not looking at the Ensign.

The Ensign continued with the orders, and summed up. “Questions!” The Ensign started on his right and worked his way around the circle. As he reached the Corpsman, the second last of the platoon leads, he gave the Corpsman a hard stare. “Questions?” The Corpsman responded, “None, Ensign.” And a sigh. The Ensign looked at Sgt Piltak, his 2 I/C for the task, and last man in the circle. Sgt Piltak knew, just knew, something was up.

Instead of addressing the Ensign, he looked at the Corpsman and said, “Spill it!”

The Corpsman returned the look, “Nothing to say. Sergeant.” Sigh.

“Spill it!” Sgt Piltak knew things were not going to go like clockwork. It had been too easy. And the Corpsman knew something.

“Sergeant!” The Ensign was losing his patience. “We have a job to do. Nothing is going to get in the way of the mission, and we can have this evolution done and dusted, and be back to the garrison for lunch, if we get our asses in gear. He’s just a medic.”

“Sir! I know troopers, and this guy knows something.” Sgt Piltak was certain the Corpsman was on to something. “Medic, what are you seeing that we are missing? SPILL IT!”

“Sergeant! I have this all under control. The plan is solid! The medic is just a bandage wrapper. This is a stroll up to the defensive position, and a bit of sweat to dig in. The sooner we start moving, the sooner we are done. I don’t want to be out in the noon day heat, digging slit trenches, and I’m sure none of you want to, either. Medic, mind your place.”

“With all due respect, Ensign, the Corpsman is part of the staff. He knows something. What did the Ensign miss, Corpsman?”

“Nothing. Just like the last time I was doing this task, it looked so easy.” The Corpsman shook his head. “The Commandant is going for a ‘two-fer”. The Corpsman looked from Sgt Piltak to the Ensign trainee. “The ‘fair-haired boy’ here is in for a set-down, and the Commandant is laughing, cause I will be running my ass off cleaning up the mess.” He looked at his platoon-mates. “You guys are in for a nap. None of you will even have to walk to the far side of that field, today.” The Corpsman pointed out at the field that was between the O Group and the objective in the far tree line. "Can you see the little piles of dirt all over that field? Look hard.”

Everyone stood up and looked. There were odd little clods of dirt all over the field, just like the medic said. Fresh little clods. Small, but visible. And everywhere.

“Either those are mines... Not well done, or hidden, so not my bet.” The Corpsman squinted out into the field, and said, “I’m going for arty sims. Someone is in the far tree line, waiting for us to start across, and will start lighting them up as we get to the half-way point. Nobody in the platoon is getting across that field, today.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” shouted the Ensign. “How does that show anything about my leadership ability?”

“How well do you take getting your ass handed to you, Ensign? Have you ever failed at anything? Today, you find out.” Mikhel shook his head. “Adversity, Ensign. This isn’t how good you are at succeeding. It is about how good you are at failing. In all your planning, you look at how you are going to win the day. Have you never been told that your opposite number didn’t wake up this morning planning to fail in his mission today?” Mikhel sighed. “Let’s get moving. The lesson still needs to be learned.”

“How do you know this?” The Sergeant demanded. “How sure are you that the field is full of arty sims?”

“Very. Bravo Company. Kydde/Pax Rulin.” Said the Corpsman. "It is exactly the same terrain, and the same mission. Been there, done that."

Sergeant Piltak’s eyes went wide! He snapped his fingers and jabbed a finger in the medic’s direction! “You’re THAT Dromah! Holy crap! Wow! That guy’s a freakin’ legend! You’re THAT Dromah!? Un-BE-lievable!”

The Sergeant turned to the confused Ensign and enthused, “This ‘medic’ knows more about tactics than most of the platoon leaders in the Corps! Cause he’s been there. Stars! I didn’t think he was still around. I didn’t think I’d actually meet him. His ruck sack had ten kilos of shrapnel in it when he came out of the artillery ambush that day, but didn’t have a scratch on him. Even in that FUBAR mission, he saved a LOT of Marines!”

Mikhel sighed. “Exaggeration, Sergeant. I had some damage to my MediKit, and I didn’t do it alone, for Stars sake.” Corpsman Dromah looked at the Ensign again. “Ensign, let’s go through with your plan. There isn’t anything else to do. This is going to be a cluster-F, and we are the fall guys. Might as well get it over with. F-in’ Commandant is a complete A-hole.”