My heart raced as I entered my commander’s office for my next assignment. The formality of my salute was a poor tribute to his guest, Battalion Commander Richard Nichols. The famed seven-foot, bulging muscle, superman war hero that I’d imagined, was a mere five-foot-eight, average-built man sporting a full head of grey hair he’d undoubtedly earned as a POW during the Vietnam War. When he graduated from West Point, I wasn’t even a glint in my father’s eye. In fact, my parents hadn’t gone on their first date. Now, I was tasked with protecting this National Treasure.
Sue Clayton
20/8/2022 05:41:20 am
All service personnel, war heroes or not, are national treasures in their respective countries. Protect Commander Nichols well. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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