Having never been one for half measures and always looking to capitalize on any and all advantages that came her way, Nancy Kozak had opted to extend the perimeter. In fact, she had assigned eight men and women and two of her three machine guns, a full third of her puny force, to the two positions along the road. The easternmost was designated post number three. It covered the area from the oil storage tanks to a point off to the southwest. The Guardsmen who manned that post would rely on an M-2 heavy barreled machine gun. Though that venerable old weapon had an incredibly low rate of fire, no one would argue with its stopping power. Anything with skin thinner than the hull of a Bradley fighting vehicle was fair game to the half-inch slugs that the M-2 could spew forth at a rate of 450 a minute. Even a close miss, as many a former foe could attest, was more than enough to quickly zap an opponent’s resolve and determination.

The other position, post number four, was fifty meters to the west. Its three occupants were backed up by a much more conventional M-60 machine gun. Even now, Nancy could see the unique silhouette of that gun as its crew continued to work away at improving their position by piling sandbags higher.

From behind her the sound of dirt being ground underfoot distracted her. Looking over her shoulder she saw Staff Sergeant William Lightfoot making his way up to the top of the bunker to join her. Even before he reached the top he called out. “Last of the troops have eaten, ma’am. All they’re waiting on is you.”

Nancy smiled. “And I imagine you, too.”

Lightfoot stopped and looked up at her. “Well, yes, of course.”

Nancy shook her head. “Old habits are hard to break, aren’t they.”

Lightfoot nodded in agreement. “The Corps learned me well. Officers and senior NCOs don’t eat till the troops have had their fill.”

“And what,” she asked, “is the mess hall filling our troops with tonight?”

“Shrimp gumbo over rice,” Lightfoot responded as he continued his climb to the top.

Recalling the pitiful offerings that the regular Army passed off as meals when she had been on active duty, Nancy exclaimed, “God, I love the Guard.”

Coming up next to her Lightfoot didn’t answer. Instead he did as she had just finished and surveyed the entire circumference of their perimeter. Only when he was satisfied that all was in order did he speak. “Well, I don’t imagine that we’ll be eating so high on the hog if the rest of the personnel stationed here are called out.”

“You think the governor is going to do so?” she asked, as all traces of a smile disappeared from her face.