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Stephen, left with nothing else to occupy himself, fell to reflecting upon his shipmates. He had quickly grown to like Sergeant Strasser. Stephen was a keen judge of men and women - he would have been dead several times over if he had not been - and he pierced through to the man’s essential goodness: vain at times to the point of silliness (he shaved twice a day, and owned a pair of micropliers, Swiss made, specifically for plucking out errant eyebrow hairs), but steady, reliable, capable, and fun. He had consulted Stephen professionally for a GI complaint, and when he had removed his shirt for the wholly negative exam, Stephen had been surprised by the number of scars he had seen, evidence mostly of the King’s enemies, though also of one or two bar room brawls.
Stephen had been dismayed at the results of his exam, for they lent credence to his working diagnosis of PTSD. Even the many scars had supported this diagnosis - someone with this much battle experience should long ago have been rotated off of the front line, though now that he thought of it, Roth wasn’t exactly in the thick of the fighting. The drinking, so far only occasional, supported this diagnosis, too, Stephen thought ruefully.
Mister Greenstreet was the Yin to the sergeant’s Yang. He seemed to care nothing for his appearance, shaving only when his beard grew long enough to itch, and not always bathing on a regular basis. As he bitterly recounted, he had yet to see action, and believed that people held this against him. In truth, he was far more vain that Sergeant Strasser, as his chief concern in life seemed to be what various people thought of him, but though he was happy to complain of being passed over for promotion to anyone who would listen (and to many who would rather not), he did little to actually improve his station, seeming instead to believe that he was owed. Why exactly the sublieutenant was owed Stephen had yet to discern, not that he had truly applied himself to the issue. The sublieutenant was the oldest member of the wardroom, at 49, and the most religious. He ruled their proceedings with a dour hand, frequently conflicting with Sergeant Strasser, who Stephen (and the rest of the ward room, he believed) felt to be better company, and a better and more-reasonable person. Stephen had been more than a little surprised to learn that Mister Greenstreet was married, wondering who might possibly chose to bind their life to his.
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