The Jerico Files #3

"GET OVER HERE GENTILE"

That was my commanding officer. Eitan Eshkol was his name. Loud and abrasive, but my superior nonetheless. His words were not to be taken lightly, or his discipline would be harsher than his words. I stopped what I was doing immediately and dashed over to him, snapping to attention when I arrived next to him.

He liked to call me "Gentile", it was his way of truly and firmly distinguishing me from the other soldiers. I was an Irish man, in an Israeli Army. There could be no more distinguishing me to the next guy. But, he liked to called me Gentile, so as to further set me aside. I did not mind at all.

It was the way He did business.

He stared me in the eyes with an intesity that could have lit my brain on fire, had I been guilty of something. I joined the IDF for a reason, not to steal weapons like I had from so many of my other employers, but to do just one simple thing.

Pay to the Lord's nation, what the Lord had paid to me.

"Would you mind telling me where this TANK came from?" Commander Eshtol said to me in an accusing tone. I dared not lie to this man, this was without the one man who could put me so far in the ground I'd never be heard from again.

"I acquired it, sir!" I said in the most unwavering tone I could muster. This man's stature and power in the IDF was terrifying to fathom, and tended to cause weakness in my voice whenever I knew that there was a chance he might not like my answers.

"You acquired it? One does not just acquire a tank, Carey! I want an explanation, now!" He demanded. He had not gotten used yet to the way I ran things. Since my failures as a sniper were extremely well known amongst the regiment, Commander Eshtol decided to make me a supply officer. My duties were to handle all the delivery, documentation and upkeep of our supplies. Food, clothing, and weaponry. I made sure that if somebody needed something yesterday, they had it the day before.

I ran a tight ship, I made sure that all guns and ammo was documented, I took counts after every skirmish. We had ourselves logged down to the last bullet. Nothing got out of my supply chains, but everything that was loose and unclaimed, was sure to get in. When I joined the IDF, I not only brought my willingness to fight for God's chosen people....

I had brought my business with me.

"You see sir, our opposition has this discrepancy with their tanks. Their fuselage's do not like to be filled with certain articles, as it causes a decrease in performance, and eventual shutdown. This is a well known flaw with all gasoline powered assault vehicles. What our opposition does NOT know, is that with a simple maintenance realted procedure, the tanks can be flushed and working like new again" I explained in detail as best I could, I wanted Commander Eshtol to be more curious, so he could continue to ask questions. This would either further delay my punishment, or completely revolutionize how I was able to supply this batallion.

Commander Esthol's eyebrows were raised in interest, "These....articles....what exactly are they?"

I looked at my commander like it was common sense, "Just plain ordinary sugar, sir!"

Sugar was a hot commodity in this part of the region. The batallions were only supplied with so many foodstuffs and various sweetners and spices to add to their meals, sugar was not such a luxury. It was in scarce supply. Commander Eshtol did not enjoy my insinuation.

"Do you mean to tell me that you are using SUGAR to poison the gas tanks of our opposition? Sugar is the one thing we are lowest on supply right now--"

"But commander", I interrupted. I was willing to take the punishment for interruping the commander, because I was sure he would love my explanantion. "The sugar is not from our company, that's the beauty of my plan, sir. I know one of the individuals who supplies our opposition with gasoline for their tanks. Me and him used to be in business together. To pay me back on some "debts" he owes me, I am instructing him to put 1/2 lbs of sugar per every gallon of gas he sells to our opposition."

Commander Eshtol's countenance relaxed as he pondered over the math of 1/2 lb of sugar per gallon of gas. It wasn't enough to completely render the gas useless. Over time, the sugar would eventually clog up the fuel injection systems and render the tank useless.

As Command Eshtol thought over the math, I continued. "You see, sir, over time, the sugar will continue to decrease the performance of their tanks, until they eventually die on them. Our opposition would rather leave the tanks in the desert to rot, since they are useless to them, than have them repaired. With some of the engineers, I have developed a field repair kit that can flush the tank's systems and have it operational in an hour. That gives us plenty of time, to sneak in, repair the tank, and drive it over to our enemy lines. And that sir, is where this tank came from."

I relaxed my stance just slightly and let him ponder over what I had just said. I could tell he liked the idea that I had proposed. All was fair in war to Commander Eshtol, he just wants to know what is happening in his batallion.

Commander Eshtol seemed to breaking from his pondering and looked me square in the eye. "Good job, Gentile. I like the way you work. You in line for promotion if this plan continues to work. You are dismissed" He saluted me, which I returned and then walked away.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but smile. Sticky situations come and go around here, but there hasn't been much I couldn't handle. I've been able to supply my battalion with weapons, ammo, and supplies that are 10 times better than our opposition and twice as good as our neighboring batallions. It was my job to keep this fight going....and why not?

It was my business, after all.