Page 27 of Bullets and Dandelions

“I never miss, sir.”

The General grunted. “And you can fly a Huey?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Grandville hasn’t arrived yet. Go get some grub and for God’s sake take a shower you all stink,” General Masters ordered.

Stone and his team saluted him sharply and shouted, “Yes, sir.”

I quickly saluted him. Did I stink too?

General Masters turned on his heel and marched off.

I frowned. What kind of lies had Roberts spread about me? Was General Grandville coming here to arrest me or kick me out of the Army? The big question was: Where was my father?

“Let’s go, Reynolds,” Stone barked.

“Yes, sir.” I trotted after him. I wanted a big, juicy burger with fries and some fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. We entered the busy mess hall, and everyone turned to stare at us.

Stone bellowed, “Never seen a female sniper before?”

“No, sir,” a bunch of Marines shouted back.

“She belongs to my squad. Any questions?”

The Marines hollered, “No, sir.”

I had a few, but one look at the expression on Stone’s face and I decided they could wait.

Mysquaddumped their backpacks on an empty table. I followed suit, grabbed a plate and joined them in line. I eyed the food hungrily. Wow, I could eat breakfast or lunch. What should I start with?

Sergeant Stone took my plate. “She’ll have scrambled eggs, fruit and toast.”

“But…”

“Are you contradicting me, private?”

“No, sir.”

“Good, we wouldn’t want you puking everything back up, would we?”

“No, sir.” The first chance I got, I was putting a scorpion in his bunk. I reached for a bottle of orange juice.

Sergeant Stone took it away from me. “Water only.”

And one in his boot too. “Yes, sir.” I held out my hand for my plate.

“Don’t inhale your food.”

“Yes, sir.” I stomped back to our table and sat. What a jackass. I took a bite of the eggs and groaned. God, they were cooked to perfection.

Sergeant Stone plunked a bottle of water next to my plate. “You forgot your water.” The bastard sat next to me and opened his bottle of beer.

I wanted to stab him with my fork. Mysquad’splates were piled high with steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits.

Two fighter jocks strolled in and looked around. Once they spotted me, they yelled, “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! You are a damn fine pilot for a female.”

“Gee, you’re too kind.” I wondered how they would react if I put a scorpion in their cockpits. Would they scream like a girl? I smiled. Probably.

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