Excerpt from The Blue House Raid

Night patrol watch a reading

MARSHALL SENSED A FACE  looking back at him, an Asian face with a trooper hat. Marshall pointed his rifle, his finger resting between safety and trigger. Push, pull, he thought.

The face disappeared, replaced by the murky outlines of branches and  brush. I’m real close to pissing my pants, thought Marshall. He remembered his second day in the army, in-processing at the reception center, prelude to eight weeks of basic training, sitting with a dozen other draftees on folding chairs, still in civilian clothes, their hair yet uncropped. A sergeant first class stood to their front telling them they could sign up for the regular army, extending their service one year but getting to choose their branch. They could sign up for quartermaster, signal corps, whatever they wanted. The draftees smirked. Another year? Get out of town. “Choice, not chance,” said the sergeant.

Why didn’t I listen to him, thought Marshall. What the fuck was going through my head? Three years of anything else was better than two years of this shit. Three years of anything was better than one second of getting a hole blown through you.