Duty(58)

“I am in no way a bad officer,” I seethe, barely stopping myself from leaping across his desk and slamming my fist into his smug face. Still, my fingers tighten on the arms of my chair enough that I can hear the wood creak under them, and I'm about ready to see if I can rip them off the chair as is. “The Regulators are the best f*cking platoon in this company. Or were you just jacking me off when you put us up for the battalion competition three months ago?”

“Three months ago, you had a good platoon,” Bradley says, scowling. “Oh, by the way, here's your new assignment.”

He hands me another piece of paper. I force myself to take it with professional demeanor before I read it, and I feel like I've been punched in the gut. “Tenth Mountain? You're sending me to f*cking Fort Drum?”

“The battalion commander checked with division, and there aren’t any slots open for a high-speed First Lieutenant like yourself within the 82nd, especially in an XO slot like I know you're looking for. But, the Pentagon was able to find a slot in the 10th Mountain. You'll have to be quick on your move, however.”

“Why?” I ask, the ball in my gut turning to ice. I know the schedules as much as any other infantry officer, and I'm just waiting for the other boot to drop.

“Your new company rotated last month to Afghanistan,” Bradley says with a triumphant chuckle. “Unfortunately for them, their XO caught himself a very bad case of some disease or another and had to be rotated back to the States. The unit is short-handed now, so they've got priority. You're going to need to clear post by Wednesday. You fly Thursday morning.”

I ball up the paper, growling. “You're seriously sending me into a goddamn war zone with no prep, with Mountain boys? I'm not Mountain, I'm goddamn Airborne!”

“You're an Infantry First Lieutenant who’s qualified for an Executive Officer position,” Bradley shoots back, not offended at all. In fact, I think he's liking this. He'd want nothing more than for me to push it too far so he actually could have me arrested and court-martialed. “You are what the Army says you are. Now, my advice to you is to shuck your ass up to battalion to start the paperwork you need to get done. Oh, and don't worry about your property book. I've already signed it all back over to me. I'll take care of anything missing. I'll be making the announcement to the company at end of day formation. Try not to miss it so that you can say goodbye to everyone. You brought this on yourself, Simpson. Don't make it any worse.”

I stand up, trying to control my temper, and take a deep, shuddering breath. The only thing stopping me from wringing his arrogant neck is the fact that I can't see her in Leavenworth either. “Good f*cking day, Captain.”



Lindsey's face is as grave as I feel while she reads the papers again, dropping them on the table. “Tenth Mountain, in Afghanistan. Oh, Aaron . . .”

Lance, who doesn't quite understand the problem, only sees that his Mommy and Daddy are sad, and he gets worried. “Mommy? What's wrong?”

“Daddy's going to have to go away for a while,” I tell Lance, squatting down and taking his little hands in mine. “About six months or so.”

Lance looks confused still, and I realize that even though he's been an 'Army brat' his whole short life, Lindsey's never been deployed. “But why?”

“The Army wants me to go, and I have three years left on my commitment,” I tell him, picking him up and sitting down with him in the dining room chair that's available. “Lance, have you ever made a promise to do something?”

“Yes,” Lance says. “Miss Wendy makes me promise to pick up my toys every day before I get to take them out.”

“And do you?” I ask. Lance nods, and I echo it. “Well, buddy, about two years ago, I made a promise to the Army. I promised them that since they paid for me to go to West Point, and they paid for all the classes I took and the food I ate and all that stuff, that I was going to serve five years in the Army afterward. They gave me my rank, and they even gave me a job that way, but I still have three years to go on that promise.”

“But you just started to be Daddy!” Lance says, upset.

“I know,” I say, hugging him tightly as he starts to cry. “But you want to know something? Now that I'm your Daddy, that's never, ever going to stop. We can live in the same house, different houses like we do now, or even if I'm on the other side of the world. I'm always going to be your Daddy. And that's never going to change.”

Lance cries harder, and I rock him in my arms until he tapers down to sniffles, calming. I help Lindsey set him up with a video on my TV, and the two of us step into my back yard, wanting the privacy. “I understand how he feels,” Lindsey whispers, coming closer so I can hug her. “It's not fair, Aaron.”

“I know.”

“Can't you just . . . I don't know, resign your commission?” Lindsey asks, and I shake my head. “Why not?”

“Because if I don't complete my five years, the Army can come after me for the pro-rated amount of what they value a West Point education to cost. If I'd flunked out of the PT test, or there were some other possible reason they'd have me let go, that'd be one thing, and they probably wouldn't come after me for it. But, I'd be refusing orders to report to a combat unit, currently deployed, for no reason at all in their eyes. I'd have no defense. They'd come after me for every cent.”