A Marine of Plenty Read Online Free PDF Page A

around her seemed especially concerned, so she forced her gaze ahead. They entered a lower, flatter building that backed right into a hill—or was it a small mountain? Her limited grasp of the terrain made it hard to judge. Afghanistan’s mountain regions had lots of caves and formations ideal for hiding terrorists and, apparently, for helping the Marines protect their kitchens.
    Inside, they lost the escort of three and wound through a wide-open dining area toward the kitchen and the familiar sound of pots clanging, laughter, and—if her ears weren’t mistaken—music.
    “Sergeant Hall.” The captain called out a greeting as he held one of the swinging doors open for Jana.
    Most of the men and women working on various tasks halted and delivered swift, even salutes to the captain before returning to their cooking, save for a tall, skinny redhead with a hard face and a nose that looked like it had been broken one too many times and remained permanently crooked.
    None of them were in flak jackets or helmets. The temperature inside the kitchens was about fifteen degrees hotter than anywhere else she’d been and, despite her shower, sweat dripped down her back.
    “Sergeant Hall, this is Jana Grimaldi.” Charlie’s introduction dragged her attention back to the tall sergeant. He wiped his hands on a towel and nodded a greeting.
    “Ma’am.”
    “Sergeant.”
    If Charlie stayed in the kitchen the whole time, she suspected he’d make her stay in the gear, but if he left her to work—maybe she could wrangle at least getting rid of the helmet.
    “Your food arrived, ma’am, and we’ve got it in the cold storage for now. We’re finishing prep for the evening meal, and then we can talk turkey for tomorrow.”
    The kitchen had three large ovens and a dozen open burners for stovetop cooking.
    “If you have a place for me, I can start putting together the breads and pies.” The meat wouldn’t need that much in the way of prep. “Or even peel potatoes, if you were able to get them.” She’d had enough trouble securing the cargo space for what food she’d been able to bring—everything else had to be obtained locally.
    “Corporal Duncan obtained about eighty pounds worth.” The sergeant’s pride echoed in his voice. They were feeding about two hundred and thirty-one souls, so eighty pounds wouldn’t go far, but it definitely gave them somewhere to start.
    “Then put me to work, Sergeant. I want to make this the best Thanksgiving meal we can manage.” She glanced at Charlie and blinked at his frown. “Is everything okay?”
    “It’s fine. You’re going to be here a while?” He seemed to be weighing her answer before she even gave it.
    “We have several turkeys, roasts to get cooking and some brisket that will need most of the night. I brought flour and supplies to make bread and some pie crusts, and Hernandez will be put out if I don’t make him at least one pumpkin pie. I don’t think I’ll be leaving the kitchen anytime soon.” After all, she’d come to Afghanistan for a reason—to cook.
    To his credit, the sergeant didn’t laugh.
    “All right, I’m going to take care of a few things. Sergeant, when she’s ready to return to her quarters, call me. She does not leave the premises without a full escort and my notification. Clear?”
    “Sir, yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted, his jaw set in a firm line. Jana didn’t doubt for a second that Hall would do exactly as instructed.
    “Thank you, Charlie.” She smiled.
    “You’re welcome.” He appeared to want to say more, but shook his head and left her. With his absence, the conversation rose in volume and someone turned the music up.
    Christmas carols filtered through the air. The simple addition of the music reminded her of home and she glanced at Hall. “Put me to work, Sergeant, if you don’t mind.”
    “Not at all, ma’am.” He led her around the table and past stoves, where food prep for the evening meal continued, to an empty table.