“Private Samuel Dean, ma’am.”
“How long has this been happening?”
Doyle interrupted.
“Colonel, with respect—”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Silence.
Hart looked at Dean again.
“How long?”
Dean swallowed.
“This is the first time.”
Doyle relaxed slightly.
Hart saw that too.
“Private Dean.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I am asking you a direct question.”
Dean stared at the floor.
“First time, ma’am.”
Hart had served thirty-two years.
She knew the difference between truth and survival.
Dean was trying to survive the room.
Hart walked toward Doyle.
“What happened?”
“Private failed a team standard.”
“Which standard?”
“He left another soldier’s equipment unsecured.”
“And your solution was to strike him?”
Doyle’s jaw tightened.
“He was given an opportunity to learn.”
Hart stared at him.
“When exactly did hitting soldiers become your lesson plan?”
