Standing next to the doorway of the barracks, Sergeant First Class Michael Gandulf watched as the members of 3rd Platoon, Company A, 3rd of the 517th Parachute Infantry scramble by. Every so often he’d shout out, “Move it, people. Move it.”

Outside, where the company stood parade, young Second Lieutenant Nathan Dixon watched men he didn’t even know yet form ranks in front of him. Like him, they were decked out in full field order with weapons. Unlike him, they were completely at ease, not only with the way they were turned out, but with the organized pandemonium that had engulfed the entire battalion.

For the moment Nathan had nothing to do. Following his father’s advice he was letting his NCOs do those things that they did best. While he was always given a rousing “Yes, sir!” whenever he said something Nathan appreciated the hard fact that he was not quite ready to handle his forty-plus paratroopers with the same degree of confidence and firmness that his NCOs could. During a lull in the frenzied activities, Nathan had pulled his platoon sergeant off to one side and asked if he could take care of things until they reached the green line. The platoon sergeant, who had seen many a second lieutenant come and go in his time, looked back at Nathan. “Sir,” he announced without expression or any hint of disrespect in his voice, “I was planning on doing just that.” Only after he saw what he took as hurt on Nathan’s face did Sergeant First Class Gandulf reach out and place his hand on his platoon leader’s shoulder. “Sir, I know where you’re at. So don’t worry. Me and the squad leaders will take care of you.” With that the platoon sergeant excused himself, turned, and started chewing out one of their troopers who was wandering past them in a daze.

In the center of the battalion area, as Nathan watched his sergeants execute their assigned duties with an air of authority that Nathan envied, Lieutenant Colonel Blackman was casting a wary eye his way. When Blackman caught sight of Captain Andrew King he called that officer over to where he stood. “Is young Dixon ready for this?” the colonel started while the two were still saluting.

Andrew King was taken aback by his commanding officer’s question. “Yes, sir,” King responded, surprised that his commander would ask such a question. “Of course, he is.”

Blackwell looked down at his junior company commander. “Of course?” Blackwell snapped. “Why ‘of course?’ I don’t think you fully appreciate what we’re being asked to do. Weren’t you paying attention at the briefing?”

Offended that his superior could even entertain such a thought, Andrew King drew back. “Sir, I understand completely what we’re about to do.”

Blackwell snorted. “Well, then you’re way ahead of everyone in Washington.”