Orders is Orders (Military & War Short Stories Collection)
L. Ron Hubbard
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
200 miles away, on the USS Miami, stands their only hope—Marine Gunnery Sergeant James Mitchell. As tough as Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan—and just as stubborn—if anybody can negotiate a crucial supply of gold and medicine through 200 miles of bullets, bombs and butchery, it’s Sergeant Mitchell.
But the Japanese are the least of his problems. First there’s Goldy Brown, the American fan-dancer who’s hitched along for the ride—a girl as unpredictable as her skirt is tight. And then there’s the greatest enemy of all: alcohol. Mitchell has a weakness for the bottle, and if he falls into one, it’s America that will pay the price.
As a young man, Hubbard visited Manchuria, where his closest friend headed up British intelligence in northern China. Hubbard gained a unique insight into the hostile political climate between China and Japan—a knowledge that informs stories like Orders Is Orders. In addition, he served as a First Sergeant with the 20th United States Marine Corps Reserve—giving him first-hand knowledge of what it means to be a Marine.
“Originally published in 1937, this tale is a splendid audio, filled with sound effects, Asian-inspired music, and lively characterizations.” —Booklist
COMMANDING USS MIAMI The consul trembled as he handed the message to the doctor but that worthy had already read it and his invisible eyes were glowing. “Looks easy enough,” said the doctor. “Even if a few do get it, the serum will be here in time. It’s certain we can’t leave here at all unless we do get it.” “Yes,” whispered Jackson, feeling the throb of the floor beneath his feet as another aerial bomb blammed into Shunkien. “Yes, it looks easy. Only two major offensives and two hundred
“Okay, Marine. Keep your distance.” “Look here,” said Mitchell. “You’ve got me all wrong. What was the idea of telling me that whopper in the first place?” She looked at him resentfully. “I knew what I was doing. I suppose I should have come right out and said I was what I am. I know Marines by reputation. And—” “That’s interesting,” said Mitchell. “Even if not true.” “Well, I got to take care of myself, haven’t I?” He merely looked at her. But she was tired and the food had not been good
Toughey’s throat. The reverend set the bone and splinted it with bayonet and scabbard. Mitchell gave Toughey another drink and then put the bottle back into his pack. “Sarge,” said Toughey, sitting up. “I . . . I can’t walk with this thing. You and Goldy and the reverend—” “Shut up,” said Mitchell angrily. “But I can’t . . .” “You’ll walk,” said Mitchell. Toughey looked at him with contracted brows. “But I’ll slow you down. I think—” “Never mind thinking. I’ll do the thinking around
Peking to Shanghai. His cruiser riding aloof and alone, the Navy captain surveyed the cluttered, smoky waterfront through his glasses. Then, hopelessly, he let the binoculars thump against his chest and thrust his big red hands into the pockets of his coat, scowling at the panorama of devastation. “We haven’t got a chance,” he said. The younger officer beside him, his exec, not bearing all the responsibility, was less downcast. “Oh, I’m certain we can find some way, sir. After all, we’re not
gangway.” Mitchell hastily set his cap to rights and straightened his khaki tie to make the ends exactly even. But before he had gone a step, the speaker clicked on again. “A. A. Spivits, private first class, report to Captain Davis at the starboard gangway. A. A. Spivits, private first class, report to Captain Davis at the starboard gangway.” Spivits hastily fixed his own tie and straightened up his great height. “Looks like the skipper wants our advice,” said Toughey to the group and