Chapter 7 - The Stripping of the Chevrons
The mess hall erupted into a collective, stunned gasp of absolute fury and disgust.
The soldiers who had respected Briggs as a hard-nosed veteran stared at him as if he were a rabid stray dog. He wasn't a warrior; he was a thief who stole medical supplies from the very men bleeding on the front lines.
General Carter stepped forward, his eyes boring into Briggs’s soul.
“You called her soft, Sergeant,” General Carter whispered, his voice cutting through the room like a razor blade. “While you were stealing bandages and morphine to sell to local criminals, this lieutenant took three rifle rounds through her femur to ensure eight nineteen-year-old privates returned home alive to their mothers.”
General Carter turned to Command Sergeant Major Miller.
“Sergeant Major.”
“Sir!”
“Strip this criminal of his rank.”
Command Sergeant Major Miller marched forward with military discipline. With two violent, ripping motions, he tore the master sergeant chevrons and the 101st Airborne patches straight off Briggs’s uniform sleeves, tossing them onto the floorboards beside the spilled tray.
Briggs flinched as if he had been struck with a whip. Tears of humiliated, pathetic ruin spilled down his cheeks.
“And Captain Vance,” General Carter continued, turning to the trembling company commander. “You are relieved of command effective immediately. You will face court-martial for dereliction of duty, grand larceny of government property, and treasonous corruption during wartime.”
Two Military Police officers stepped forward, seizing Captain Vance by his arms and pinning him face-down against the linoleum.
May you like
CLACK. CLACK.
Heavy steel transport handcuffs snapped shut around Vance’s and Briggs’s wrists in front of three hundred cheering, standing soldiers.
