"The Old Breed," was what he and his older men were called. For a given definition of "Old," anyways.
As the oldest of his men, Michael guessed he was old, for a given definition, seeing that he was in his mid-thirties at this point.
Men who had enlisted with him had left, just as men who enlisted before the Revolution had joined. Many of them stuck around, afterwards, and they became the new crop of officers and NCOs of the enlarged unit.
It didn't matter, though. As far as the newer men and women were concerned, people like him were the "Old Breed," a nickname they would all wear with pride.
Most of them were still around, too. Sooner or later, they'd retire, but for now they were the link to the old Marines, from back in the day.
It was a different time, when they were at the back of the line for equipment, let alone vehicles. Hell, as far as Michael was concerned, at least they wouldn't have to use barges as landing craft anymore.
They don't know how good they have it.
And as much as he'd like to make a joke about how when he joined up, they "Had two sticks and a rock for the whole platoon, and they had to share the rock!" It was a lot better these days.
Not only did they have equipment, but they had manpower. As in, actual enlisted manpower who wanted to be there.
That was probably the best part, now that he thought about it, since it meant he didn't have to do everything as if he was a Call of Duty protagonist.
No, now he could do what generals were supposed to do, and delegate tasks to subordinates instead of having to fix the tanks himself.
Not that he minded, of course. It gave him plenty of free time that he hadn't had before.
Sure, there was still work to be done. Drills, exercises, and all that (and that was before he got to how his men would be training the first batch of French and Russian soldiers as part of the new defense agreements).
But that? That was work he could delegate to his subordinates, since he didn't have to do everything anymore.
Sure, he had a lot of paperwork, these days, but at least he could do that while raising his kids with his family.
That, of all things, had been the biggest change in his life, ever since the Great Journey had happened. Sure, he had considered the idea, and his parents had been encouraging him again and again.
But there was something that didn't seem right with him about it. He didn't know what it was, but it was probably the fact that he'd be bringing a child into an ever-destabilizing world.
But now? Now, things were different. There was no threat of imminent invasion, just as there was no imminent threat of climate change destabilizing the weather.
Sure, the British were creating their own bloc of allies along with the Germans, Italians, Austro-Hungarians, and probably a good chunk of the Balkans and Benelux as well.
There was a reason China's shipyards, arms factories, and vehicle plants were rapidly expanding production capacity, after all. Not only did they have to arm China, but they also had to arm half the damn planet as well.
Despite all of that, he knew full well that the world his and Aki's children would inherit would be a better place than the one he'd left.
One good look at little Morgan and Lin as they slept in the cribs was all he needed to know that a better world was possible.
It wouldn't be easy, of course. There would always be people trying to get in the way of human progress. He only had to look at what Russia had become and Britain was becoming to know that.
But a better world was possible, and he intended so see it through.
"You know," Aki chimed in. He turned to see his wife sitting next to him. "Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, you don't have to watch them every second. Well, until you conveniently walk away when they need to be changed."
Shit, I thought she wouldn't notice.
"Yeah. Just thinking, Aki."
"You're always thinking. That's my job." Normally, she would've gotten some kind of laugh out of him, but he kept watching over the babies. "What's wrong?"
"Just noticed that they look a lot like both of us."
"That's usually how this works. Children tend to look like their parents. In all likelihood, they'll act like us, once they get older."
"That's the thing, Aki."
"What?"
"I… I don't want them to turn out like me." His wife gave him a weird look. "The soldier part."
"Ah. You do know that is their decision to make, when the time comes, right?"
"Yeah, I know. I'd suck at parenting if I wanted to control them. I just don't like the idea of them getting shot at."
"Well, I don't like the idea of you getting shot at, but we make it work."
"That we do, Aki. And yeah, I know that there'll always be a need for soldiers, as long as there's a reason to fight."
"Then make sure there isn't a reason to fight."
"Aki, I don't think-"
"This is literally my job, Michael. War is policy by other means."
"Oh God, not you too."
"Your best friend is my boss," she laughed, "But you do know what I am saying, yes?"
"Yeah. Try to use diplomacy instead of war. And if there is a war… I dunno, kick their asses thoroughly and don't screw up the occupation?"
"Language, dear."
"They're asleep, Aki." His wife continued to look crossly at him. "Okay, sorry."
"Apology accepted. And yes, that would be the simplest way to put it. If there has to be a war, then it is imperative that it is prosecuted thoroughly, without half-measures."
"That's easier said than done, Aki."
"That is what we get paid to do, Michael." His wife motioned to their now-awake children. "So that Morgan and Lin will not have to."