The Legionnaire being addressed suddenly glanced around the room fearfully as if it were about to vanish as they spoke. Until now, he hadn’t stopped to think that a new assignment would mean leaving the company’s beloved Club behind.
“Then again,” Harry continued, “there’s one big problem with `real fighting,’ as you call it. Unlike the targets you all have been shootin’ to shreds, in real fightin’, the targets shoot back. How many of these folks do you think have ever been shot at before? Let me tell you, troop, it’s no fun.”
The Legionnaire who had started the conversation licked his lips and swallowed hard. The truth was he had never been shot at before, and, now that he found himself seriously considering the possibility, his earlier enthusiasm for real combat was fading fast.
“Well, I’ve been shot at before,” Brandy said, stepping into the conversation, “both as a civilian and in the Legion, and as far as I’m concerned it’s a lot better when you can shoot back … especially if you’ve got superior firepower and teammates you trust guarding your back.”
The supply sergeant gave a quick bark of laughter in spite of his earlier gloominess.
“You got that right, Top. You sure do.”
He clapped the now-relieved Legionnaire on the shoulder with a friendly hand.
“Don’t you worry none, little buddy. Odds are, they’ll ignore you completely, what with two big easy targets like the Top and me around. Just stick close to one of us, and they’ll never even see you.”
The Legionnaire gave him a nod and a weak smile before wandering off to find another, less nerve-wracking conversation.