From above the clouds, a terrifying shriek tore through the heavens. It sounded like the sky itself was ripping in half. The jets were diving.
Down in the mud, Private Sterling buried his face into the earth. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Gunnery Sergeant Vance standing atop the rock, bathed in red light, looking like a fiery rooster greeting the dawn of hell.
Then, the sky came down.
The jungle exploded into a wall of white heat and concussive thunder. The shockwave threw Harlon from the rock. He fell through the burning canopy, crashing into the mud just as the earth around him ceased to exist.
Click.
Harlon snapped the Zippo shut, extinguishing the flame.
The A Shau Valley vanished. The deafening roar of napalm and high explosives faded into the hum of the mess hall’s industrial refrigerators. Harlon Vance was back in Camp Lejeune, staring into the pale, confused face of Staff Sergeant Cade Miller.
The mess hall was still dead silent. No one had moved.
“That’s a nice story in your head, old man,” Miller scoffed, though his voice shook. He was desperate to regain control of the room. “But I don't care what you did fifty years ago. You are out of uniform, and you are leaving my mess hall—”
“Staff Sergeant Miller.”
The voice boomed from the entrance of the hall. It was not loud, but it carried absolute, uncompromising authority.
The sea of Marines parted instantly, snapping to attention. A four-star General—the Commandant of the Marine Corps—strode down the center aisle. His eyes were locked on the table near the vending machines.
Miller immediately snapped to attention, his spine rigid, his hand raised in a crisp salute. “General! I was just clearing this civilian out of the area before your arrival, sir. He is out of uniform and—”
The Commandant ignored Miller entirely. He stopped at the table. He looked at the spilled milk, the tray of cold peas, and the battered Zippo resting near Harlon’s swollen, trembling hand.
Slowly, the four-star General removed his cover. He ignored the hundreds of perfectly polished Marines standing at attention around him. Instead, he looked down at the old man in the frayed flannel shirt.