looking. You won’t find
“What about me? Am I free?”
“You’re going on temporary duty to Walter Reed for evaluation.”
“What? You think I’m crazy?”
“Nah. I might if you’d answered that phone. Scott, you bivouacked a long time in that fucking valley of woe. Let’s placate them for now, okay?”
I sigh deeply.
“Look, son, this has been tough for all of us.”
“Tough? A hangover is tough. This has been a goddamned nightmare, and yeah, maybe I should sit my ass in a psych ward so I can decide whether I want to do this anymore…”
“Are you kidding me? When you get out of the hospital, I’m promoting you to major. You’ll be general by the time I get through with you. I told you the Army’s changing, and we old-school boys need to adapt.”
I couldn’t hide my twisted grin. “One minute I’m going to Leavenworth, the next I’m being promoted. I’m crazy. The system’s crazy…”
Keating crosses to the kitchen, lifts my empty scotch bottle. “You’re crazy drinking this crap. We only drink Glenfiddich single malt. Didn’t I teach you that?”
“You did, sir.”
“All right, then, pack your bags, soldier.”
“I will. But first I want you to read something.”
I hand him the note written by James McNurty, Jr.
He reads it, then looks up, a sheen now in his eyes.
“Being a soldier is a great honor,” I remind him. “But are we honoring the profession? Or maybe, just maybe, they’re asking too much of us. Just a little too much.”
He takes a deep breath, returns the letter, then says, “Hurry up and pack. Then we’ll get some real scotch.”
