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After Action Conference
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: illiterate
The assembled military leaders stood up and came to attention as their leader came in, followed by a small coterie of aides. The sentries at the double doors closed them as soon as the last person entered the room.
Ears flicked as the doors locked, and one admiral gulped.
The polecat took his seat at the head of the conference table as one aide placed a folder in front of him. A second opened the folder and stepped back as the leader glanced at the top page.
His gaze rose and swept around the table like scanning radar searching for a target. A dozen furs in uniform gazed back at him stolidly, with only flattened ears and the occasional thwip-thwip of tails against brocaded upholstery to betray their nervousness.
“General Amos.” The two words fell like the taps of a gavel, and the polecat zeroed in on a fallow deer buck.
The cervine straightened in his chair. “Sir.”
“The salient near – “ The polecat glanced down, glanced up again “ – Pretzelton remains a knotty problem. You were tasked with reducing the salient and were allocated elite forces to accomplish the task.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Instead, flanking attacks by the enemy have your force tied up. It’s a battle of attrition that is unsustainable, given our present dispositions.” The polecat laced his fingers together and put his paws down on the folder as he gazed down the length of the table at the fallow buck. “Please explain why you left your flanks unprotected.”
The fallow deer gulped and glanced nervously from side to side. Neither his immediate superior, the region commander, nor the commander-in-chief dared look back at him. He took a breath. “Sir, you gave me the task.”
“Yes.”
“You have not read my service record.”
The polecat raised one eyebrow. “And?”
“I received low marks in the General Staff Academy.”
“So . . . you flunked flank.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The paws unlaced themselves. Putting his palms on the folder, the leader half-rose from his seat. “Were you born ignorant, General Amos?”
“No, Sir. I was home-schooled.”
“Then how did you pass the Academy?”
“Teacher’s pet,” an admiral mumbled sotto voce.
end
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: illiterate
The assembled military leaders stood up and came to attention as their leader came in, followed by a small coterie of aides. The sentries at the double doors closed them as soon as the last person entered the room.
Ears flicked as the doors locked, and one admiral gulped.
The polecat took his seat at the head of the conference table as one aide placed a folder in front of him. A second opened the folder and stepped back as the leader glanced at the top page.
His gaze rose and swept around the table like scanning radar searching for a target. A dozen furs in uniform gazed back at him stolidly, with only flattened ears and the occasional thwip-thwip of tails against brocaded upholstery to betray their nervousness.
“General Amos.” The two words fell like the taps of a gavel, and the polecat zeroed in on a fallow deer buck.
The cervine straightened in his chair. “Sir.”
“The salient near – “ The polecat glanced down, glanced up again “ – Pretzelton remains a knotty problem. You were tasked with reducing the salient and were allocated elite forces to accomplish the task.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Instead, flanking attacks by the enemy have your force tied up. It’s a battle of attrition that is unsustainable, given our present dispositions.” The polecat laced his fingers together and put his paws down on the folder as he gazed down the length of the table at the fallow buck. “Please explain why you left your flanks unprotected.”
The fallow deer gulped and glanced nervously from side to side. Neither his immediate superior, the region commander, nor the commander-in-chief dared look back at him. He took a breath. “Sir, you gave me the task.”
“Yes.”
“You have not read my service record.”
The polecat raised one eyebrow. “And?”
“I received low marks in the General Staff Academy.”
“So . . . you flunked flank.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The paws unlaced themselves. Putting his palms on the folder, the leader half-rose from his seat. “Were you born ignorant, General Amos?”
“No, Sir. I was home-schooled.”
“Then how did you pass the Academy?”
“Teacher’s pet,” an admiral mumbled sotto voce.
end
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Mustelid (Other)
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 51.9 kB
Listed in Folders
Well at least he's honest! ;) Actually this reminds me of one good scene in the others forgettable movie 'K-19: The Widowmaker'. The submarine has been taken over by undercover KGB operatives and part of the crew, the captain has been locked away with some of those who remained loyal. He's trying to rally there support but tearfully admits he's a third-class captain at best and only has his position because of nepotism, there is a long pause and then they agree to follow him. It was very different from the usual scene where a natural and heroic leader takes charge and made me realise how much more difficult it would be to follow someone like the former rather than the latter though it took courage to admit it in the first place.
That was very well done in my opinion.
That was very well done in my opinion.
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