WHAT DRIVES A SPARTAN?

 Major Richard Blaine is faced with the daunting task of saving the men who believe in him when he does not believe in himself.

WHAT DRIVES A SPARTAN?

“You have no control over how youare perceived. But you can make a damn good stab at it.”

– Major Richard Blaine

 

The greatest and most importantproblems of life are all fundamentally insoluble. They can never be solved butonly outgrown.

Like war and its resultant tragicwaste of life.

Sadly, I didn’t see Mankindoutgrowing them anytime soon.

I guess I would just have to workmy damnedest to survive it … and if I could wrangle the survival of my Spartan3oo at the same time that would be … well, more than seemed humanly possible.

‘Which is where I step in.’

‘That better be some stepping.’

‘It will not exactly be stepping.’

I looked down at Sgt. Savalasrousting my men out of their bunks and brooded.

Not many of them were in the Armyby choice. Only a few of them had any patriotic passion that they would speakabout.

To my Spartans, Churchill’s radiorhetoric sounded a bit embarrassing. They had no great faith in the new world,they had no belief in any great liberating mission.

 They knew it was going to be a charnel house.All they wanted was to put an end to it all.

In my mind, I went over what Iknew of their personal lives.

Men who had only little of life,men with little education and less knowledge and with no philosophical supports.

 Men with ailing, estranged or poor or needyfamilies. Men who had never been loved, men who had never had high ambitions orwanted a new world order.

Yet, here we were all going, asordered into the meatgrinder that was named Omaha Beach.

But nearly all of them would ratherhave died than let down their buddies or look the coward in front of theirbunkmates.

Of all the things that our bloodytime in Sicily had accomplished, this sense of group solidarity was the mostimportant.

If only I had been mentally withthem at the time.

‘”If only” are the two mostuseless words in the human tongue.’

I spoke loud to get theirattention, “General Bradley has called our invasion the greatest show on earth.And we are honored to have the grandstand seats.”

Pvt. Pablo Dimitri snorted, ““Hell!We’re not in the grandstand! We’re down on the damn gridiron!”

Chuckles echoed all through theSpartans, and Theo snapped, “The Major was talking, Dimitri. Drop and give mefifty.”

There were more than a fewsmiles, for Pablo could have easily done that many one-armed.

Pvt. Alfred Kent, a formerstudent of archaeology, called up, “Major, we’re here on the Rocinante,but where does the Brass think we are?”

“Funny you should ask, Kent. Sentienthas given them the illusion that we’re on LST 500, crammed alongside 2,727 otherships, ranging from battleships to transports and landing craft that will crosson their own steam.”

I laughed, “More vessels, asAdmiral Morison has pointed out, than there were in all the world whenElizabeth I was Queen of England.”

I swept out both arms as if Iwere P.T. Barnum. “And we’re about to give them a show they will never forget.”

‘And to create myths while we areat it.’

‘Why is it so important for you tocreate a myth around me and the Spartans?’

‘To be a good human being is tohave a kind of openness to the world, an ability to trust uncertain thingsbeyond your own control.’

‘Like this war?’

‘Like the war within and this warwithout.’

I saw Theo stiffen, and Irealized that the strange helmets Sentient had given him and the other Spartansallowed him to hear her.

‘The paradox of the humancondition is that while your capacity for vulnerability — and, by extension, yourability to trust others — may be what allows for tragedy to befall you.  The greatest tragedy of all is the attempt toguard against hurt by petrifying that essential softness of the soul, for thatdenies your basic humanity.’

I felt the hair brushed back frommy eyes again. ‘I have seen entire civilizations retreat into the thought, “I’lllive for my own comfort, for my own revenge, for my own anger, and I just won’tbe a member of any type of society anymore.” That really means, “I won’t bea human being anymore.”’

I nodded. ‘I see people doingthat all around me where they feel that society has let them down, and theycan’t ask anything of it, and they can’t put their hopes on anything outsidethemselves. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.’

Cloverfield scowled up at me.“You have these kinds of conversations with Sentient all the time?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder no one understandsyou.”

“Helen Mayfair did.”

Reese snorted, “Then, she must bea saint.”

I nodded in agreement. “As in St.Joan who killed for her God.”

Reese grunted, “I really have tomeet this gal.”

A door silently slid open in thebulkhead to his left, and Nurse Reynolds stepped out in tailored combatfatigues and her own diminutive Spartan helmet.

“Me, too.”

Theo sputtered, “R-Rachel!?”

“Doc” Tennyson caught Theo’seyes. “I asked her to join us, Sergeant. Her skill and unshakable calm savedlives with those Tiger survivors.”

“I outrank you, mister!”

I shook my head. “Not in medicalmatters, Sergeant. In medical matters, Tennyson outranks us all.”

“You still should have asked me.”

Rachel said, “I asked him notto.”

Theo glared at me. “You know thatbeach is suicide!”

“If I thought that, I’d be theonly one going, Theo.”

His face was a sight. “Yeah,maybe. But everyone knows you’re crazy.”

‘Enough! We are done with lurkingin the Outer Realms. It is time to birth Legend … Myth … Magic … Madness! Letthe Führer beware! We are coming!’

Over our helmet speakers cameEisenhower’s Order of the Day:

“You are about to embark upon theGreat Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of theworld are upon you. The hope and prayers of liberty-loving people everywheremarch with you. . . .

“Your task will not be an easyone. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened. He willfight savagely.

“But this is the year1944! . . .

The tide has turned! The free menof the world are marching together to Victory!

“I have full confidence in yourcourage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less thanfull victory!”

Reese cat-called, “Tell that toyour suicide note, Ike!”

“Corporal,” I said,  “it is easy to mock if you’re not carrying theburden yourself.”

Pvt. Stewart Taylor protested,“You forgive him? But he tried to kill you in your hospital bed!”

“The weak can never forgive.Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. And we Spartans do not know how tobe anything else, do we?”

The chorus of support was a biton the anemic side, so I guess that is why Sentient pipped Axis Sally into ourspeakers:

“Come on over. We are waiting foryou. Your spilled blood will grease the treads of our Panzer tanks.”

Even some of my men thought that the Nazi's named their tanks "Panzers" because of the black jungle cats.

But Panzer, in German, literallymeant "armor."

Pvt. Evans laughed, “Sally, youcome on over here. I got something for you that I know you will like.”

“Language, Private!” I snapped.“There’s a lady present.”

Theo glared at me and mouthed,“Whose fault is that?”

Rachel mouthed, “Mine” to Theo.

She and most of my Spartansyelped as all the bunks disappeared into the deck with a grinding of gears.Overfull backpacks thrust up into the spots vacated by the bunks.

Beside them arched glisteningmetal handles at the end of long metal rods that looked nothing so much as thesteering handles of a child’s scooter.

“All right, gentlemen. Put on thebackpacks and grab those handles tight. We’re about to put on a real show forthe invasion fleet.”

“A show?” frowned our residentdoubter, Stew Taylor.

“Oh, yeah,” I smiled. “Daredevilacts, music, and fireworks. The whole shebang.”

Theo grumbled, “General Marshallwill court martial your ass for a stunt like this.”

I shrugged, “Better to be hungfor a wolf than a sheep.”

Amos shook his head. “I’d rathernot be hung at all.”

If I was being honest, that wasmy thinking as well.