Chapter 1: The Weight of the Dress Blues
The heavy scent of floor wax and generations of brass polish hung thick in the air of the Hall of Heroes, the grand rotunda at the heart of our installation. Above me, the vaulted ceilings echoed with the quiet, respectful murmurs of high-ranking officials and distinguished guests. Today was supposed to be the culmination of fourteen years of blood, sweat, and desert sand. Today, I was to be promoted.
I stood near the edge of the grand foyer, a thirty-four-year-old Major in the United States Army, dressed impeccably in my uniform. The gold oak leaves on my shoulders felt heavier today, though not because of the impending promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. The real weight came from the life actively kicking against my ribs. I adjusted my Dress Blues, my fingers lingering on the crisp edge of my jacket, ensuring the dark navy fabric didn’t pull too tightly over my seven-month belly.
