At this unlikely junction of two dirt paths, the sergeant ordered the driver to stop. ‘Hey, Grant,’ the sergeant yelled. ‘I sure as hell don’t...know what the fuckin’ Army is thinking, but I swear this is where they want a TCP.’ ‘That’s ridiculous, Sarge. There can’t possibly be enough traffic here to warrant a traffic control point.’ Even as I spoke, I knew it was a losing argument. The men in B platoon called the sergeant ‘No-Balls’ for a reason. If there was any possibility the higher-ups. NetI'm looking for an assistant apply by emailing.Chapter 2 -- The Choice.Brant Everard was six months younger than I. I haven't seen him for years, but I remember him very clearly. He was tall, slender as a willow, and fair skinned. He wore his dark hair in ringlets and favored lacy collars and cuffs. With a simple handshake between my stepfather and his father, our engagement was arranged.I was livid, but my opinion was of no consequence. The marriage was to end a century long feud between. More

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