Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC #7) by Scott Hildreth Read Free Book Online

need to get back to my platoon. I don’t want discharged, Sir. I can’t be. The two-seven needs combat experienced Marines who have proven themselves. I’ve never been one to beg for anything, but I’m begging you, Sir. Send me back into combat.”
    His mouth formed into a full-blown grin as he broke my gaze and turned toward the Major. “Three years into this war, and Staff Sergeant Jacob’s got two Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star with Combat ‘V’, and a ride home on a bird. And all he can think about is the welfare of his Marines and how to get back into battle.”
    He cleared his throat. “You remind me of someone, Staff Sergeant. My grandfather, who fought for our beloved Corps in the Battle of Bataan in World War II. Crazy bastard begged to be sent back into battle twice after having being wounded, just like you. Marines like you aren’t trained, Jacob, they’re born. Born and raised by men who I can’t help but admire. I tell you what. You get yourself cleared medically and mentally, and I’ll get you back to your war.”
    As much as it wasn’t what I should have done from a medical standpoint, and as contrary as I was sure it would be to the doctor’s best wishes, I gritted my teeth, moved my legs to the side of the bed, and allowed them to fall to the floor.
    As the doctor began to protest, I pulled against the hoses of the I.V., giving myself a little more room.
    The Major raised his hands toward the doctor.
    “Let him be,” he said sternly.
    As I stood on my rubbery legs, I cupped my hands and pressed them to the outside center of my thighs, and stood erect.
    Marines differed from the other branches of the armed forces, with the exception of the Navy. Marines did not salute officers indoors while not under arms or ‘on duty’. As I wasn’t wearing my uniform or on duty, a salute wasn’t proper protocol.
    But standing at attention was.
    I fully realized he had no expectation of me standing at attention and acknowledging his order. I didn’t do it for me, or to show off, prove anything, or gain his approval. I did it as a matter of respect, and because as a Marine, I felt I had to.
    “Make myself mentally fit and physically capable. Aye-aye, Sir,” I said as I clenched my jaw muscles and fought back the tears.
    Both he and the Major stood erect.
    “As you were, Staff Sergeant,” he said.
    I exhaled, did my best to perform an about face maneuver, and collapsed onto the bed.
    That afternoon as I slept out of sheer exhaustion, I dreamt of raising a child.
    A son.
    One with the same moral values that were instilled in me by my father.
    And I slept more peacefully than I had in longer than I cared to try and remember.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    Early Winter 2005, Wichita, Kansas, USA
    She asked, and because she did, I had to tell her the truth. One thing I had never done – and never would do – was tell a lie. My concerns were whether or not she would be able to accept the truth as being what was in our best interest as a couple.
    “You can’t. They’ve got to let you out. Alec, you’ve been shot to pieces. You have pieces of metal inside of you. You were…” She paused and began to cry.
    I reached for her shoulder and pulled her against me. “Babe, don’t cry.”
    She sobbed for a moment, caught her breath, and leaned away from me. With her face filled with a combination of concern and fear, and her eyes still dripping droplets of hope down her cheeks, she continued.
    “You were in the hospital for two months, Alec. Two months. You’ve been…you’ve been shot over and over. I asked Steve. And I’ve looked on the internet. I know . You can get discharged. Have they offered you a release?” she asked as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
    Steve, my best friend since childhood, was a trauma surgeon at the local hospital, and an excellent source of information and support for her. Since my first deployment, she had used him as a sounding board for her concerns,