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Standing on the Edge

I was standing at an edge. I don’t think anyone in EOD had

ever been court marshaled. It just wasn’t done. But then EOD never

had stupid eighteen-year-old lance corporals to deal with. I would

probably be the first ever to get the axe, if for no other reason than

to send the message to the higher-ups that letting lower-ranking

kids like me into the field was a mistake. A court martial would

ripple through the EOD world like nothing else. I would lose my

top-secret clearance, which would mean that I’d be thrown out of

the field. Then, if I weren’t escorted directly into jail, I would be sent

to the jungles as a grunt, to die in some miserable swamp. But on

a deeper level, and perhaps even more personally menacing, I was

returned to the pit of childhood oppression…