How does a mecenery manage to have a military title and a be a former preacher?

The following being transcribed from a video interview with Jake Cobb by Gordon Freeman, found at an undisclosed location.

JC: Name? ID?

GF: Gordon Freeman. Here’s my ID.

JC: Cool, come in, so before we start, you got folks?”

GF: No, but I don’t see how...

JC: *interrupting* Sorry it’s just, I got trust issues, you understand right?

GF: Yeah, sure, no problems.

JC: So, kid, where'd you want me to start?

GF: Start from the beginning, Mr Nu.. sorry Mr Cobb, in your words..

JC: Ok, kid, but one more slip and I’ll gut ya, and please, call me Jake.

GF: Sorry, Jake. Please continue.

JC: There ain't much to tell about my childhood. Grew up in a lovin' family home, parents wanted me to be a preacher, I wanted to travel and all seemed shiny. Then a few summers pass and, while I was off yonder with some friends, the gorram Reavers visited my home. My whole ruttin' family got killed an' worse. Some of them bodies couldn’t be found. I buried 'em all and said a few words, thought about stayin' but since I don't got nothin' there no more. Then a few friends, that I'd made on the trip, decide to join up to the Alliance Forces. They’d lost folks too and figured why not? They’d get to see the 'Verse and maybe, someday get their revenge, some notion of, I dunno, findin' out how or why the Reavers had come about. So I figure why not join em? After a while, I liked it. Not much later I earned the rank of Sergeant.

GF: I don’t understand, if it was so good, why’d you leave?

JC: Ah, good question.. see, the thing about bein' both a leader and a former preacher, your team and some of your equals, well they took to confidin' in me. Some of their thoughts were a might disturbin', some useful to know, one in particular would come in handy should things go sour. Yep, all was real good, and then the war came. A lot of foul stuff happened, ain't somethin' I want to see in print you understand, but I’ll tell you the main reason for my leavin'.

GF: You ok? You look a little pale...

JC: Nah, I’m fine, *sigh* yeah, where was I? Oh yeah, my real reason for leavin', the one the Alliance won’t tell anyone about. I wouldn’t know it, but the war was comin' to an end when it happened, must have been only a few months away, but durin' what would be my last tour, me and my squad where on a routine patrol and things went south. We was lookin' for resistence members in the area. I made the mistake of restin' up while my team went on ahead. About an hour later, I hear screamin' and gunfire from up the road where my team was, so I head off real quick-like, hopin' they were ok. And then I found them, the carnage was a mighty powerful kind of terrible. They'd come across a group of civilians who'd been hidin' a couple of resistence members. The whole squad had gone Shiang Jing Ping! The men tied to stakes, gunshots to the head, women defiled and battered to death, children slaughtered, and right there, plumb in the middle of it all, were my gorram team grinnin' like they'd just had a shindig. They’d tried to claim it was Reavers, but I knew better. Anyway when we got back to camp, I wrote all this down in an official report, and then things turned real ugly.

GF: Oh god *throws up* that’s horrible. Then what happened?

JC: Well, my C.O. called me in, I could tell he was fixin' for a real bout of shoutin' an' cussin'. Turns out one of my team was his Nephew. The kid had lied about his age to get in and I hadn’t said nothin' ‘cause he was a crack marksman. Still, hell of a way to find your nephew’s not only in the army, but accused of atrocities. He told me to "bury the report, or else!" So I said "or else what?" Man, the shouts where so loud, all I heard was the words ‘firin' squad’ and ‘insubordination’. Either way, I figured fer bein' dishonourably discharged.

GF: So what did you do?

JC: Well, I didn’t want be takin' no dirt-nap, and I wanted to keep my title and my good self out of jail, but bein' the preachin' kind, I couldn’t lie and tellin' truth would darn sure get me killed. Then I remembered all of those confessions. One in particular that, like I told you, would be bang-up useful if things turned real sour, and sour it was. I called the man in question, he was a real high rankin' officer by now and he’d heard the rumours about what happened. He said if I buried the report to appease my C.O. and promised that I ain't gonna tell no one else about what he’d done, and never call him again, he’d get me out on an honourable discharge. I took it. I didn’t tell him what my plans was fer once I got out, heck, with my skills I’d already decided to join the resistance, if they’d trust me enough. ‘Course, the war had finished by then.. so here I am, a gun-fer-hire! A merc to whoever’ll pay me.

GF: I see.. well, that’s all.. I should be able to publish this as it is. I’ll be off. Here's your payment. It's all here, but you can count it if you like. I can see myself out.

JC: Ku, kid, ku. *looking out the window at the pristine-new car parked outside* Mind answerin' a few questions for me?

GF: *looks puzzled* Sure, go ahead.

JC: That your car out front?

GF: Yeah, why?

JC: Shiny. By the way, how’s Zed?

GF: Who’s Zed?

JC: *pulls out a silenced gun and shoots Gordon in the head* Supposed to be your boss, chwen joo! *Jake Cobb then leaves*