Chapter 6 - The Clean UniformTwo hours later, the rain had stopped over the small town, leaving the pavement glistening under the warm amber streetlights.
I walked out of Post 214 wearing a clean dark jacket that Frank had brought me from his personal locker in the back—an old Army field coat that smelled faintly of cedar and pipe tobacco.
My damaged service dress tunic was carefully wrapped in a protective garment bag, resting on the passenger seat of my truck.
As I climbed into the driver's seat, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was an official notification from the Air Force Personnel Center, confirming my assignment to the 160th Special Operations Wing, alongside an administrative decree confirming Private First Class Tyler Grant’s demotion and discharge from the Reserve Corps.
I set the phone down on the dashboard, turning the key in the ignition.
The engine rumbled softly to life, its steady, warm vibration filling the quiet cab.
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I looked through the windshield at the small brick building of Post 214, watching the neon sign flicker against the dark night sky.
I could still hear my grandfather's voice tapping two fingers against the wooden table: People who did the hardest things usually don’t need to make them sound harder.
