The Marines Laughed at the Quiet Nurse — Until Their Sniper Went Down and She Picked Up His Rifle
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Chapter 7 / 28
PART 7
Captain Robert Vance was the kind of officer who looked polished even at a dust-choked outpost.
Perfect shave.
Perfect posture.
Perfect sunglasses.
He spoke like every sentence had been rehearsed at Quantico.
He liked power.
He liked contractors.
He liked men who said yes.
He did not like me.
To him, I was useful decoration.
“Lieutenant Jennings,” he said one evening at my tent flap, “the men seem attached to you.”
I was packing pressure dressings into labeled bins.
“They prefer not dying.”
His smile stayed on his mouth but left his eyes.
May you like
“Attachment creates problems.”
“So does arrogance.”
