JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (8 page)

“Really?” Corporal Jones smiled and saluted Jason. “We heard all about the massacre of the Sea Cadets. We heard a few survived. One even escaped with a cassette we had that armed a nuclear warhead. The survivors where very lucky. I can see why they sent you here now. It’s an honour to meet you, Private Steed.” He came around his desk and shook Jason’s hand.

Something he said puzzled Jason but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he ignored it.

Chapter Eight

Corporal Jones marched up the stairs with Jason following behind. Jones was over six foot with large legs so he took the stairs two at a time. Jason battled with his bags to keep up with him. He followed the man along a corridor, with rows of doors either side.

Jones explained, “This floor is reserved for year one as far as Quentin Roosevelt Military Academy is concerned or 8
th
grade as you're probably used to. All students on this floor are aged twelve to thirteen. Next year if you're still here, you'll go up a level.” He stopped and waited for Jason to catch up. “Here we are room twenty-five.” He knocked on the door.

A boy with red hair opened the door. Jason thought he was about twelve, maybe thirteen; he wore just his Pajama bottoms, his mouth full of frothy white paste and a toothbrush. He saluted when he noticed Corporal Jones; he stood back and allowed them both in.

“This is Private Luttrell. He's been here, like most of the other students on this floor, for eight months. You're behind all of them so you'll need to play catch up.” He looked at Luttrell. “You have a new responsibility. Show Private Steed around and let him know how things work. If he gets lost or screws up I’ll blame you.” He saluted, stamped his heels, and marched out of the room.

Jason held out his hand, but Luttrell ignored it and dashed to a sink and spat out his mouthful of toothpaste. Jason took in his surroundings of the dorm room. It had bunk beds; the lower bunk had bedding folded neatly and had some uniforms laid out. The top bunk looked like it had been slept in. There were posters on the walls of air force fighter planes, bombers, and an aircraft carrier.

On one wall a huge flag was hung. Jason looked at it; it was three colors—red, white, and blue with a white star in the center of a blue vertical stripe. The room had a sink that Luttrell was rinsing his mouth in plus two wardrobes and two desks side by side.

After Luttrell wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand, he came forward and shook Jason’s hand. “I heard I was getting a roommate today, but once it got past nine  I doubted you were coming. I’m Seth, Seth Luttrell.” He smiled and noticed Jason was looking at his flag. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Jason looked up at the flag. “I’m Jason Steed. What country is it?”

The boy looked annoyed by the question. “What country do you think it is?”

Jason paused. This kid was obviously proud of his country; he didn’t want to upset his new roommate. “Em, you know Seth, I’m not really good at geography, as a guess I would say
Cuba
?”

Luttrell laughed and then cursed. “The Cubans are communists their flag is.” He paused and ran to his briefcase and pulled out a book. He fingered through the pages. “Ah here, Cuba. Okay, I’ll let you off it’s similar. But if you don’t want to get hurt you better not make that mistake again. It’s the mighty flag of Texas, and there are lots of us Texans here so do yourself a favor and don’t make that mistake again. Besides, where are you from? You sound Australian?”

“I’m British. Well I was born in Hong Kong, but my mother was Scottish and my father is English. He’s a commander in the Royal Navy on an aircraft carrier.”

“British, cool. Which one?” Luttrell asked. He went to a desk and pulled out another book, this one with ships on the cover.

“Oh, HMS Hermes.” He joined Luttrell looking for a picture of it. “So, do I call you Seth or Luttrell?” Jason asked.

“Tex or Luttrell works for me. Most of our class call me Tex. The teachers call me Luttrell. Here it is, HMS Hermes. Oh it’s a baby just seven hundred and seventy feet. The USS Nimitz that comes into service next month is over one thousand feet long.”

“Well, you know what they say about a man who drives a big car. He’s compensating for a small…” Jason joked. Tex squinted at Jason; he never got the joke. Jason remembered Scott informing him that the Americans had a different sense of humour. Maybe this was what he meant.

They spent a few hours talking, but eventually Jason had to climb into his bunk. He was jet lagged. He hadn’t eaten but was confident breakfast would be good. It was past midnight and Tex had his alarm set for six in the morning.

It seemed that no sooner had his head hit the pillow the alarm was going off.

Jason met most of his class in the bathroom just after six. The large room was full of chatter. He received several looks when he stepped into the shower. He assumed it was because he was the new boy.

Tex stayed close to him, making sure he never got lost and found his way back to their dorm room.

“They let you wear your hair that long in the front in the British Sea Cadets?” Tex asked as he watched Jason gel his long blond fringe back over his head.

“No, not really, I gel it back. I keep the back and sides short. It’s called a Hitler Youth cut since it’s how they wore their hair. I like my fringe long,” Jason said.

“Your fringe?” Seth asked.

“Yeah, this.” Jason pointed to the blond hair hanging over his eyebrows.

“That’s your bangs.” Tex grinned.

Jason pulled on his new uniform. He found it strange to be wearing a jacket with the American flag on his shoulder. He looked around the room, holding the plastic it came wrapped in.

“Where’s the bin?” Jason asked.

“The, what did you say,
bin
?”

“Yeah the bin to put the rubbish in. You know, a rubbish bin.”

Tex roared with laughter. “Jason, you’ll have to learn to speak English. You mean a trashcan. We don’t have them in the rooms because guys were putting food scraps in them. The place was infested with cockroaches. All trash goes in the trash cans in the bathrooms, and they’re emptied twice a day.”

They walked down to the canteen together. Jason was impressed with the canteen, although he was told it was called a mess hall not a canteen. They offered everything to eat except hot tea. As he tucked into eggs and bacon, he looked at Tex.

“What do you want to join when you're eighteen, Navy?”

“Hell no. The US Marines. What about you?” Tex asked.

“S.A.S.,” Jason said.

“S.A.S? What’s that?”

“Em, Special Air Service. Like your Navy Seals, but tougher and smarter,” he automatically and proudly said without thinking.

Tex’s face changed. “Bull, no one is tougher than the US Naval Seals. You Brits wouldn’t stand a chance against them. We sent you home running in 1776 and took the country for ourselves in the revolution.”

“Ha, that was a civil war and we let you have it. We still had India, Australia, Hong Kong, and Canada. Even today Hawaii has the British Union Jack as part of its flag. We let you share it with the Native Indians.” Jason grinned.

“Oh boy, you're gonna be a hoot in history, and we got that first lesson with Corporal Armstrong. He's the strictest, meanest teacher we have. He’s gonna roast you if you mention that.” Tex laughed.

Chapter Nine

At seven-thirty they had roll call on the parade ground. It was followed by drill and inspection. Jason had experienced drill in the Sea Cadets, and he found it no more difficult here.

He followed Tex into the first class. He was still getting looks from some of the other students. Many had said hello to him and asked him if he was Australian. He sat next to Seth two rows from the front.

The door flew open and was slammed shut by an overweight man bulging out of his uniform. He turned and faced his students as if he was inspecting them and stood behind his desk at the front of the class. Jason noticed his nametag said
Armstrong
and assumed it was the corporal Seth had warned him about.

“Stand for the Pledge,” He ordered.

Jason stood with everyone else; he copied them when they all put their right hands across their hearts and faced the flag in the corner of the room. As they started to say the pledge he stood quiet, looking around and taking in the new experience. When they had finished they sat down, all that was, except for Corporal Armstrong. He threw a stick of chalk at Jason, who noticed it and caught it in his hand, much to the annoyance of Armstrong. A few gasps went around the room. No one had ever caught the chalk before, or tried. It usually just hit you in the face or head.

“Stand and tell me your name, Private,” Barked Armstrong.

“Steed sir. Jason Steed…” He paused. “Em, Private Steed, Sir.”

“Well Private Steed. You will now say the Pledge of Allegiance again for us all to hear.”

Jason colored up a little, He hated being center of attention and could feel everyone’s eyes watching him. He placed his hand on his heart and looked at the flag. Nothing came from his mouth.

“He’s new, Sir,” Tex said.

Armstrong threw a stick of chalk at him, although he was not fast enough to catch it, and it bounced off his forehead, leaving a white mark. “Did I ask your opinion Luttrell?” Armstrong sneered.

“No, Sir.”

“Then get out here and give me fifty.”

Tex climbed up from his seat, walked to the front of the class, and performed fifty push-ups. Jason watched, not sure what was going to happen next. He was confident he could do push-ups if he had to. Armstrong turned his attention back to Jason.

“So new boy, did they not do the Pledge at your last school?”

“No, Sir,” Jason said.

Armstrong marched towards Jason and faced him. He looked down at Jason, his face just inches away. “Do you take me for a fool boy? What kind of school doesn’t do the Pledge of Allegiance every morning?”

“A British school, Sir,” Jason said. Some giggles went around the room.

Armstrong pulled away from Jason, his eyes darting around the room trying to see who dared laugh. “Well then Limey. You will be saying the Pledge of Allegiance in class every morning until I say different, and if you get one word wrong, the whole class gets to do fifty.” Armstrong smiled. He turned and walked back to his desk feeling sorry for himself. He stopped short and faced Jason again who had sat back down.

“Did I say sit?”

“Um, no sir, sorry sir, I thought...” Jason stuttered and stood again.

“So Limey, name me ten Presidents. They don’t have to be in order,” Armstrong asked. Most of the class rolled their eyes. They could all answer over twenty but had no confidence in the new boy.

“Well we have President Ford, President Nixon, Washington, Roosevelt.” He paused thinking hard, the entire class trying to mouth the names to him. “Oh, President Lincoln, Eisenhower, Em.” A long pause followed. “I don’t know anymore, Sir.”

“Six. You can just name six out of a possible thirty-seven don’t they teach history in Britain Private Steed, or are they
all
backward?” Armstrong asked.

The remark angered Jason who was very proud of his country. “Yes sir, they do teach history and much more of it ,as we have so much. Such as all the kings and queens and all the little countries we've owned from time to time, like America. Plus all the wives of King Henry VIII. I doubt anyone here could name them all including you,” Jason said.