Counter March

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"Nah Sir, I ain't going back in there."

The commander looked at the man for a long moment, then said, "I can have you shot for refusing an order."

Another man stepped closer to the man refusing to proceed, "I don't f**king think so. Sir. We're militia, none of us signed no damned contract or nuthin', we got rights."

The commander had been a professional soldier for most of his life, after missing two promotions, he swore it was because of his politics, though his wife didn't agree, he'd retired at 20 years. (She said it was because he was an asshole, he couldn't argue that point, he was, but he'd seen lots of assholes promoted in his day.)

When things had started going south in the public square, he'd been convinced to join the militia. The reserves had told him, quite frankly, that he was "too old." (For f**k's sake, he was only forty-seven years old!) At least in the militia they appreciated his experience, and his politics for that matter.

"Look Ezekiel, we gotta go in. Orders, man."

The man called Ezekiel shook his head, "Do you know the farmer out on Mill Road, the guy you wanted to join our merry little band of part-time soldiers?"

"Yes, what about him?"

"He was out hunting yesterday, you know he likes to stalk, he don't have the patience to sit in a blind all day, anyway, he saw the regulars out there in the woods. Setting up to surprise anybody trying to take the Old Post Road he figured."

"How would he know that?"

"They were setting up a checkpoint, sure as shit he says. He was in the army, when he was younger. He'd recognize the signs, ain't that much changed over time."

The commander rubbed his chin, after the donnybrook two weeks ago, he figured the regulars would be looking for payback. Especially with their political masters getting desperate, people were waking up, the tide was starting to turn.

"He say where he saw this?"

"Lemme see your map, Boss."

The commander grinned as he pulled his map out, these fellows were pretty damned informal, it had bothered him at first, but he got used to it. They would obey orders, unless they felt the orders were stupid, which apparently Ezekiel thought these were.

"Right here, see this little pond, other side of the road is a rocky outcrop, it's a natural bottleneck. It's where I'd set up if I wanted to stop people going down that road."

"Okay, this changes things. Runner, I need you to take a message back to the general." He pulled out his notepad and began to scribble a message.

The Captain was late getting to the checkpoint, he'd been up very late doing paperwork for some mindless government initiative which his boss had passed down to him.

"You're better at this shit than I am, you seem to have a head for which way the wind is blowing. I'm more of a just tell me what you want and I'll do it, sort of guy."

Truth be told, the Lieutenant Colonel commanding the regiment was a well-known sycophant, he wouldn't touch anything where a "wrong" answer could cost him his position.

As he'd gone through the paperwork, he realized it was just a statistical questionnaire from some junior officer at headquarters. He'd answered the questions, added his observations, and sent it back to the Lieutenant-Colonel. No doubt it would sit on that man's desk for a week. But it wasn't the Captain's problem, not at all.

The checkpoint was set up, the men had rigged a gate across the road and had put up abatis to either side of the road. Anyone wanting to use the road would have to go through here.

"We seem a little short-handed today, Sergeant." he remarked as he looked around. "Have you got men on patrol?"

"No Sir, when we fell in this morning, we were already a few men short, I think a few more straggled on the march. Can I talk to you, Sir, privately?"

The Captain had a feeling that he knew where this was going, it was something he'd given some thought to,  especially after news had reached the camp that rioting was spreading across the country.

The two men moved around the the side of a rocky outcrop next to the road, the Sergeant left his Corporal in charge. The Captain remembered her from the fiasco a couple of weeks back, she had handled herself well.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"Sir, the troops aren't happy, not at all. We've got thirty-five bodies out here, should be more like eighty, that's two platoons that we can't even make one full-strength platoon out of. There's twenty-seven more back at camp, either sick or excused duty for various reasons. Even with the casualties we've taken we should have a hundred people in the company, we don't."

"And?"

"The troops want to know what the heck we're doing out here, Sir. It feels wrong, even to me and you know me, I don't overthink things."

"People are deserting, aren't they?"

The Captain's question was simple, the answer wasn't.

"Sir, the troops feel like they're fighting their own people. My Corporal asked me a very good question this morning, she's probably right. She asked me, 'Isn't this a legal matter?' She's got a point."

"Well sure, but what happens when the people refuse to obey the law?"

The Sergeant looked down at the ground, then back at his officer, "I know you for a straight shooter, Sir, you're not inclined to bullshit folks, so I'm going to ask the question - what if the law is wrong?"

"Well, the government decided ..."

"What if they're wrong, Sir? Seems to me the folks in the capital stopped listening to the people a long time ago."

The Captain looked around, then tried to answer the Sergeant's question. "Sarge, you and me, we're soldiers, we're supposed to leave the thinking to the guys above us. What if everyone started questioning their orders? Where would we be?"

The Sergeant looked his officer right in the eye, "We might not be out here waylaying citizens. We might not have lost people killed and missing two weeks ago. We might not be shedding deserters and stragglers like we are now. The troops are voting with their feet. I wonder how many are actively joining the resistance even as we speak? Things are going to Hell in a handbasket. What are we going to do, follow orders until we're at war with our own people? Until we're all dead?"

The Captain noticed that his sergeant had not used the word "Sir" at all in his little speech. He also realized that the Sergeant made some good points.

"Have the guys fall in, Sergeant. Tear down that stupid road barrier first, we're going back to camp."

Two militia scouts had been watching the regulars most of the morning. As they watched them tear down the barrier across the road, then form up and move off, back the way they came, the older man turned to his partner ...

"Well, don't that beat all?"