Chapter 8: It’s Illegal!

I didn’t even knock on Justin’s door, I busted in like Kreamer on a Seinfeld episode. Justin had a client sitting in front of his desk. “Sir–” Justin began as a young lance corporal turned around to see who had just come in. “Oh, shit. Sorry. When you’re done, could...

On What It Means to Be a Marine on our 244th Birthday

I slammed on the brakes, sending Scott forward. He didn’t curse. He was reaching for his M4 as he looked up.
“Oh, fuck-”
I just nodded my head. Thirty yards in front of us, we could see the little flags in the ground, red and white, in neat rows, some rows completed, some not. Some entirely white, others a combination of red and white. It was part of the extensive United Nations mine-clearing effort in Afghanistan; I had driven us into an old Russian minefield and we were fully in it.