Walking over to the sleeping lieutenant, he picked up the man's rifle, then turned to the group.
"Who will go with me to Asia?" he asked.
The group stepped forward as one man.
A knot formed in Kurt Zen's throat at the sight and he gulped to force it down. He knew how much this decision meant to them. They had been trained in the ways of peace, they were searching for the road to the future. Fighting meant turning backward on the path that led to growth, it was the last thing they wanted to do. Yet do it they would, if it was necessary. In an instant they were scrambling for weapons from the sleeping Asians, then they were trying to salute and tell him their names and say they would follow him at the same time.
One man saluted well. "Red-Dog Jimmie Thurman," he said. Pride was in the man's voice.
Zen caught the man's arm. "Red-Dog Jimmie Thurman? But I know you."
"Maybe you do, suh." Thurman spoke with the soft drawl of the old south.
"One of the new people appeared in your plane and saved your life!" Zen burst out.
"Yes, suh. That's right, suh."
"But you deserted!"