a DI, though not her platoon’s, had arrived.
A private Carly didn’t know also entered the door but hung back. It was obvious that she had run for help. Carly didn’t blame
her. If their places had been reversed, she would have done the same.
“What’s going on here?” the DI repeated.
“She was askin’ for it,” another private said.
The DI glared at the speaker.
“I heard you try to get away from her,” another private said, looking at Carly. “We all did.” Others murmured in agreement.
The DI swept the room with her gaze, taking in all the faces present. Then she stared at Carly and Alex. “Fighting on base
is strictly forbidden. You’re both on report. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, report to the company officer.” The DI left
without a backward glance.
Carly felt the tears that she’d held back for weeks well up inside. She could hold them back no longer. She began sobbing.
Lorelle helped her to her feet and led her back over to the avocado-green plastic chairs where they’d been sitting. She pulled
Carly close and Carly buried her face in Lorelle’s shoulder. The sobs wracked her body in heaving, pounding waves. Through
her tears, she glimpsed someone helping Alex to her feet. Alex looked dazed and wandered outside, leaving her laundry bag
on the floor where she’d dropped it.
Another soldier picked up Carly’s damp laundry from the floor, shoved it into the dryer, and fed it a quarter. Still casting
glances toward Carly and Lorelle, everyone moved back to what she had been doing before the fight. An unnatural quiet hung
over them all. Only the sound of the washing machines agitating and the dryers spinning accompanied Carly’s waning sobs.
After her clothing dried, Carly went through the calming motions of folding her dry clothes into the neat little piles their
DI had taught them. When she was done, she wordlessly hugged Lorelle and headed back to her barracks, her duffel on her shoulder.
She felt flattened—unable to get more upset over what had happened. Someone had told a sergeant about the fight, and she was
on report. So what? She didn’t have enough strength to care. She couldn’t change what had happened, didn’t want to change
what had happened. She defiantly told her conscience that Alex had deserved what she’d gotten.
Francie met her at the entrance of the barracks. “I heard there was trouble at the laundry.”
Carly closed, then opened her eyes, trying to clear her head, trying to shake the disorientation she was experiencing. Well,
this made it a certainty. If it had already gotten to Francie, everyone must be broadcasting it loud and clear.
“I’m bushed. I have to lie down.” Carly walked past her.
Francie squeezed her shoulder but didn’t try to stop her.
As Carly lay down on her bunk, she wondered what the punishment for fighting on base would be. She laid her head on her pillow.
Her last conscious thought was,
I don’t care
.
But after breakfast the next morning, Carly admitted to herself that she cared very much. After turning in her empty tray,
she approached her drill sergeant. An ingot of solid lead was slowly sinking through Carly’s stomach. Was she supposed to
tell her DI that she had to go to the company commander’s office? Or would the drill sergeant order her to go?
Her drill sergeant stared at her. “Do you remember where the company commander’s office is?”
So she did know. Carly couldn’t speak through her dry mouth, so she nodded.
“After your appointment,” the DI said, “you will be brought out to join us at the firing range. Be sure to bring your weapon
and be prepared for practice.”
Stiffening her spine, Carly refused to be intimidated. No matter what the outcome was, she had done nothing wrong. Her chin
up, Carly turned on her heel and marched out of the dining hall. Operating on pure bravado, she headed for the company commander’s
office, which lay in the center of their
A private Carly didn’t know also entered the door but hung back. It was obvious that she had run for help. Carly didn’t blame
her. If their places had been reversed, she would have done the same.
“What’s going on here?” the DI repeated.
“She was askin’ for it,” another private said.
The DI glared at the speaker.
“I heard you try to get away from her,” another private said, looking at Carly. “We all did.” Others murmured in agreement.
The DI swept the room with her gaze, taking in all the faces present. Then she stared at Carly and Alex. “Fighting on base
is strictly forbidden. You’re both on report. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, report to the company officer.” The DI left
without a backward glance.
Carly felt the tears that she’d held back for weeks well up inside. She could hold them back no longer. She began sobbing.
Lorelle helped her to her feet and led her back over to the avocado-green plastic chairs where they’d been sitting. She pulled
Carly close and Carly buried her face in Lorelle’s shoulder. The sobs wracked her body in heaving, pounding waves. Through
her tears, she glimpsed someone helping Alex to her feet. Alex looked dazed and wandered outside, leaving her laundry bag
on the floor where she’d dropped it.
Another soldier picked up Carly’s damp laundry from the floor, shoved it into the dryer, and fed it a quarter. Still casting
glances toward Carly and Lorelle, everyone moved back to what she had been doing before the fight. An unnatural quiet hung
over them all. Only the sound of the washing machines agitating and the dryers spinning accompanied Carly’s waning sobs.
After her clothing dried, Carly went through the calming motions of folding her dry clothes into the neat little piles their
DI had taught them. When she was done, she wordlessly hugged Lorelle and headed back to her barracks, her duffel on her shoulder.
She felt flattened—unable to get more upset over what had happened. Someone had told a sergeant about the fight, and she was
on report. So what? She didn’t have enough strength to care. She couldn’t change what had happened, didn’t want to change
what had happened. She defiantly told her conscience that Alex had deserved what she’d gotten.
Francie met her at the entrance of the barracks. “I heard there was trouble at the laundry.”
Carly closed, then opened her eyes, trying to clear her head, trying to shake the disorientation she was experiencing. Well,
this made it a certainty. If it had already gotten to Francie, everyone must be broadcasting it loud and clear.
“I’m bushed. I have to lie down.” Carly walked past her.
Francie squeezed her shoulder but didn’t try to stop her.
As Carly lay down on her bunk, she wondered what the punishment for fighting on base would be. She laid her head on her pillow.
Her last conscious thought was,
I don’t care
.
But after breakfast the next morning, Carly admitted to herself that she cared very much. After turning in her empty tray,
she approached her drill sergeant. An ingot of solid lead was slowly sinking through Carly’s stomach. Was she supposed to
tell her DI that she had to go to the company commander’s office? Or would the drill sergeant order her to go?
Her drill sergeant stared at her. “Do you remember where the company commander’s office is?”
So she did know. Carly couldn’t speak through her dry mouth, so she nodded.
“After your appointment,” the DI said, “you will be brought out to join us at the firing range. Be sure to bring your weapon
and be prepared for practice.”
Stiffening her spine, Carly refused to be intimidated. No matter what the outcome was, she had done nothing wrong. Her chin
up, Carly turned on her heel and marched out of the dining hall. Operating on pure bravado, she headed for the company commander’s
office, which lay in the center of their
Similar Books
