For years, I served quietly. Logistics, planning, emergency extractions. I wasn’t the hero people wrote about, but I kept ships moving and men alive. I carried that pride silently. Then, an IED blast near Al Hudaydah tore through our convoy. I came home with a rebuilt knee, a limp that matched Knox’s, and a pension check that made civilian life both possible and painfully slow. I bought a small house near Norfolk, fixed it up myself, and tried to forget that my parents never once called during my recovery.