I’d seen my personnel file, the original one on paper, still in official Army triplicate. Coming out of Nigeria, it said ‘bad attitude’ on it, all capital letters, and it’s underlined twice. There isn’t even a smiley face as the dot over the 'i' in 'attitude', so you know it’s serious. I hoped Captain Andrews wasn't going to underline it again, and circle it with a big angry face. Running frantically through my memory, I couldn't think of anything I'd fucked up more than usual since we left Earth. Balanced against my alleged bad attitude was a Purple Heart that explained the scars on my left arm, and paperwork started to award a Bronze Star. That paperwork had stopped at the brigade level, which I could understand considering the circumstances. I appreciated the gesture anyway.

"You know Staff Sergeant Agnelli?" He asked, and I nodded again, then he said something unexpected. "There's an opening for a sergeant in his squad, and you've been recommended." He didn't say who had recommended me. "It's yours if you want it. We don't have time, or resources, for a regular training program, so you'll learn on the job. If you're interested, report to Agnelli, and I'll handle the paperwork."

Shit. I didn't know if I was ready to command a fireteam, three guys I didn't know. Andrews cleared his throat. "That was me waiting for an answer, Bishop. I know this is unusual, we don't have time for the normal process out here."

"Oh, yes, sir. Thank you. I mean, yes, I'm honored. Yes." Promotions were supposed to be a more formal process, I was taken completely by surprise. The Division had holes that needed to be filled.

"Uh huh." He sounded less than convinced. "Agnelli will keep you out of trouble. And, Bishop?"

"Yes?"

"Stay away from ice cream trucks." He wasn't smiling.

Taking command of a new fireteam wasn't the most difficult part of my promotion, my three guys all had experience in Nigeria and knew what to do without me needing to tell them much. Staff Sergeant Agnelli was patient with me and, other than the administrative part of the job that was overwhelming at first, I didn't have much trouble adjusting. The Army didn't have time to put me through the standard training, which saved me from memorizing a bunch of crap, and I'm sure that would come back to bite me in the ass later. The most difficult part of being promoted was leaving my old unit; Sergeant Koch, Ski, and especially Cornpone. Cornpone had a tear in his eye, which he said was caused by blowing sand, and my eyes teared up too. "Damn," Cornpone said, "think how much stupid stuff you get into when I'm around. What are you going to do without me? And the Army put you in charge of a fireteam?" He shook his head sadly.

"If I see an ice cream truck, I'll run the other way."