I finished the shift with Herberich and Gularte. Nobody got shot, and they sort of bonded in that single time together. Not with me, but with each other. I understood, in the back seat, that I wasn’t really bondable material. I had my wife and daughter and that was about it, and maybe the way it was supposed to be.

I drove home in the dark, the Volks making sounds like it was more ready to do a Fourth of July celebration than a simple ride back to Cabrillo where I lived. I wondered about my approach to giving Herberich the therapy he so badly needed and also the counseling that Gularte, late of the A Shau Valley where he’d been shot like me, also badly needed.

Don's Miss any Updates or New Chapters

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from our team.

You have Successfully Subscribed!

Shares
Share This