Duty(67)

“I said congratulations,” Captain Lemmon repeats, his smile not fading. “On your new baby.”

“I'm not in trouble?” I ask, stunned. “But . . . Aaron's an officer. Hell, I had his child while he was still a cadet. They can't take away his diploma for that, can they?”

“No, they can't, and yes, the fraternization will go in his record too, I'm sure. It at least explains why Captain Bradley transferred him off post, although I still think that's a shitty way to handle things. But Lindsey, you're fewer than six months from the end of your enlistment. What good would it do to bust you right now? You're a single mom with another child on the way. Busting you with an Article 15 or a court martial does nothing but hurt my company, hurt this battalion—hell, it hurts the Army. But more importantly, it hurts you and Lance. So, here's what I'm going to do. You are going to get an Article 15 on this, a company-level Article 15 so that nobody can try to bring this up later—double jeopardy and all. Which means I can't bust you in rank. You will be barred from re-enlistment, however. I can't do anything about that, nor do I think you need to worry about it right now. In the meantime, HQ Company is going to take care of its own. You're going to start seeing the doctor for prenatal checkups. You're excused from PT formation as long as you check in with me that you are staying in shape in order to have a healthy baby, and we're going to support you.”

I wipe at my eyes, tears of gratitude springing to my eyes. “And Aaron?”

“Aaron's a tough Devil. Even more, he's an Airborne Ranger. And he loves you. I can see that from that video. He'll do what he needs to do to come back.”

I nod, wiping at my eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Captain Lemmon shakes his head again, standing up. “No thanks needed. Now, take about ten minutes or so, get your head right, and let's get back to work.”



Somehow, some way, I get through the rest of the work day, even as every television I come across has news about the attack on it. Reports are spotty, except for confirmation of casualties as the night drags on over in Afghanistan. Finally, just around three o'clock, I shut off the television in the S-1 shop, looking around to see if anyone's going to object. “For the past two hours, it's been nothing but repeated over-dramatic hyping.”

“No complaints here,” the S-1, Major Lincoln, says, sticking his head out the door. “By the way, Sergeant Morgan, can I see you in my office?”

I go in, closing the door behind me. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Have a seat,” the S-1 says, and I sit down. “I got a call from Captain Lemmon, says he's putting you in for an Article 15. When I asked why, let's just say I wasn’t expecting the answer that I got.”

“I understand, sir. I hope that this doesn't affect my work in the shop.”

He waves it off and sits back, shaking his head. “Why should it? It seems to have been going on for at least a few months, if not a few years, and you're doing a good job here. Honestly, the only thing that is going to suck is not being able to put you in for another medal at the end of your service.”

“Thank you, sir. Now that it's out, if I'd known the way everyone would react to this, I might have let it come out a while ago.”

He shakes his head, his smile fading. “I wouldn't have. Sergeant, can we speak plainly?”

“Of course, sir. I assume this has something to do with Aaron?”

“You're correct. Sergeant, regardless of what is happening overseas, from what I understand, this would hammer most officers’ careers. Some super-strict Ring Knockers would even call it an honor violation—not my opinion, by the way. Either way, it's a pretty big violation of regs. If you'd come out earlier, your problems would have been compounded. All in all, it probably would have been best if you could have waited another couple of months, but considering today's situation, I think I can understand it.”

I swallow, nodding. “You're right, sir. I apologize for being careless about that.”

The S-1 shakes his head and reaches for his phone. “Never mind. Actually, I called you in here for another reason. I have a friend who’s been getting notifications of casualty lists faster than the public. I'm going to give him a call, see if we can find out about Aaron. He'll understand if I tell him he's got some friends down here at Bragg worried.”

While the phone rings, I feel the room start to spin again until the S-1 uncovers the handset and waves. “Breathe, Sergeant Morgan. It helps,” he says before he talks to his friend on the line. “I was wondering, if I gave you a name, can you give me an update?”

I take a deep breath, and the room stops spinning, but I'm still so nervous that I'm afraid I'm going to throw up my lunch. “Come on, Mark. I know that it's breaking the rules, but I'm asking about one name. You don't need to tell me anything more than that. Really? Okay, it's Aaron Simpson. Alpha Company. Thanks, Mark. Yeah, I can hold.”

He takes his handset away from his ear and gives me a thumbs-up. “He's checking.”

“Are you going to get in trouble for this, sir?”

The S-1 shakes his head, but before he can answer, he hears something. “Yeah, I'm here, Mark. Yeah, Simpson . . . I guess he's the Alpha XO. He's the only Aaron Simpson in the battalion, right? Okay. Thanks. Bye.”