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Army for over fifteen years, had a bachelor’s degree in history—earned via online courses prior to the Outbreak—and his service record was spotless. Hicks suspected Ashman was being offered a commission, and said as much to Derrick Holland.
    “You think?” the diminutive soldier asked, brow furrowed in thought.
    “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Hicks replied as they dropped to the ground at Sgt. Kelly’s command and began doing pushups. “Fifteen years in, pre-Outbreak combat experience, college degree, exemplary record. I heard there’s more officer billets out there than qualified officers to fill them. We lost a lot of people during Relentless Force. Seems pretty obvious to me.”
    Holland looked over and grinned. Hicks knew what was coming next.
    After PT, Kelly ordered the platoon to clean up and get ready for patrol. As they bathed in the field showers, Holland began taking bets on why Lt. Jonas and Sgt. Ashman had been called away. The prevailing sentiment was that one or both of them were in some kind of trouble, until Holland posited the theory that Ashman was getting a promotion. The idea caught on quickly with no one willing to bet against it. Not to be deterred, Holland started taking bets on whether or not Ashman would accept the commission. That got people wagering.
    Hicks listened, but remained silent. He was not a betting man.
    After patrol and chow, Jonas and Ashman returned. The lieutenant, never being one to mince words or keep his men in suspense, called for everyone’s attention.
    “I’m sure you’re all wondering why Sergeant Ashman and I were called away this morning,” he said. “If you were thinking we’re in some kind of trouble, the answer is no.”
    He waited for the inevitable round of chuckling and low comments to subside, a small smile on his face, then said, “Thankfully, the reason is a much happier one. Master Sergeant Ashman,” he nodded his head toward the platoon sergeant, who stood nervously, hands clasped behind his back, “has just accepted a field commission to the rank of second lieutenant.”
    If he was expecting a round of applause, he was to be disappointed. Instead, he got a mournful chorus of WHAT? and Come on, man! and Dude, you can’t leave the platoon! Jonas forestalled their complaints with an upraised hand.
    “All right, all right, that’s enough. Listen, I’m not any happier to see him go than you are. But the Army needs capable, proven leaders, and Sergeant Ashman here is one of the best. Besides, you’ve all been in long enough to know the only constant in the Army is change. People get moved around, shuffled around, promoted, assigned to other units, all kinds of shit. It happens. Sergeant Ashman has been an invaluable asset to Echo Company for the last two years, and his leadership and dedication to duty have been exemplary. But now his talents are needed elsewhere, and it’s time for him to move on. Stay in the Army long enough, and it’ll happen to you too. Except Holland. He’ll be stuck in First Platoon for the rest of his life.”
    Another round of laughter. Holland grinned. “I love you too, sir.”
    Jonas tried to scowl, but didn’t do a very good job of it. “Okay, enough jack-assing around. Sgt. Kelly, the platoon is yours for the rest of the day. I expect to see every one of you at the enlisted club at nineteen-hundred hours. First round is on me.”
    That got a cheer.
     
    *****
     
    Hicks hung around until 2200, figuring three hours and four drinks was a sufficient celebration for Echo Company’s soon-to-be-promoted master sergeant. Before leaving, he took a moment to shake Ashman’s hand and inform him the platoon wouldn’t be the same without him. The big man accepted the compliment and leaned close so only Hicks could hear him.
    “Jonas and I put in a good word for you with Captain Harlow,” he said. “You’re a hell of a soldier; one of the best I’ve ever seen.” He gave a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t expect