While it was obvious that the colonel’s statement had much more meaning packed into it than he probably intended, Nathan listened politely and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he responded when he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Again, there was a momentary silence as Blackwell looked Nathan over. Then the colonel leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk before him and resting the weight of his upper body on them. “That having been said,” he stated slowly in a low, rumbling tone that reminded Nathan of prelude to a Wagnerian opera, “I have no intention of measuring you, one way or the other, against your father. You, lieutenant, will stand or fall on your own merits and abilities. As long as I am in command of this battalion, it will be your performance and not your father’s past achievements or current rank that will determine if you have a future in my Army.”

Though he was unsure if the colonel was expecting a response, Nathan felt obliged to give one. “That, sir, is what I expect.”

Again, there was a slight quivering at the corner of the colonel’s mouth as it struggled to smile. “Good,” he announced. “You’re going down to A Company, Captain King’s unit. He’s a good man and a tough character. He’ll push you to the limits.”

What exactly Blackwell meant by this escaped Nathan. But whatever it portended, it didn’t sound very comforting. After another long pause, the colonel leaned further forward until he was all but lifting himself out of his seat. “You’re being given 3rd Platoon, I hear. That’s Sergeant Gandulf’s platoon. It’s a good platoon. Don’t fuck it up.”

After having been lulled into a sense of security, this last statement rattled Nathan. “Don’t fuck it up?” This was the single most important pearl of wisdom his battalion commander could give him? Don’t fuck up a platoon?

Nathan’s mind was still reeling from this shock when he heard the adjutant’s voice from behind. “Sir,” the staff captain whispered, “Captain Cockran is in my office, awaiting your pleasure.”

Without a glance or a nod Blackwell acknowledged the adjutant, then turned his attention back to Nathan. “This battalion, like all airborne battalions, has a tough mission,” he stated as he stood up and extended his right hand toward Nathan.

Jumping up from his seat, Nathan took the colonel’s hand. “Well, sir, I’m ready.”

Grasping Nathan’s hand in a viselike grip, Blackwell pulled the young lieutenant forward a bit. “You better be,” he whispered menacingly before he let Nathan’s hand go. With that he dismissed his newly assigned officer and turned his mind and attention to dealing with one of his captains as only a battalion commander knows how.