So Mitchell let him off the hook and added, "I know that one second could make the difference between living and dying, but you need to take that second and think, okay, I got a guy running at the truck. He's stopped the truck--which was what the claymore was supposed to do. We got no smoke, but the G-chief has all their attention. Let me get my marksmen on target. And yes, I know you need to make that assessment in one second. But we're not out in the woods because we're afraid of challenges. And for what it's worth, I did the same thing you did--just put tons of steel on target. I never sent the medic. The guerrillas turned it around and blamed me for his death. It took me a long time to win back their trust."

Warris considered that, muttered a "Whoa," then added, "Captain, I appreciate your honesty."

Mitchell offered his hand. "Lessons learned. So now that I'm dead, you need to figure out if you can still negotiate with my Gs and who's in charge--and sometimes even that can be a real headache. And oh, yeah, the Gs are going to loot those bodies, then after that, they might want to chop off their heads and put them on poles. How do you feel about that?"

Warris's eyes grew wide.

Mitchell gave a short nod to Captain Harruck, who began barking new instructions to the group as up ahead, an HMMWV came rolling forward and stopped. "Hi, I'm looking for Captain Mitchell," said the young PFC at the wheel.

Mitchell drew his head back. "Really, because I've been looking for you, Private"--he read the woman's patch--"Morgan."

"Sir?"

"Yeah, I haven't had a hot shower in two weeks. Can you take me to the nearest hotel?"

The private grimaced. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Yeah, I smell. You'll get over it. Just get me to a shower."

"I mean, I'm sorry, sir, they sent me up here to get you. I've been waiting back at your FOB all morning. Just got cleared to come up. I have orders to drive you back to Bragg--no detours."

Mitchell frowned. "Great." He climbed into the Hummer and collapsed into the seat, mud and paint splashing all over the floorboard. "Sorry about the mess."

"That's okay, sir."

He closed his eyes, hating that his driver, the pretty young PFC Morgan, could be Kristen's twin.

When they reached Bragg, Lieutenant Colonel Gordon and Major Grey were waiting. Gordon said they had the general breathing down their necks. Apparently, misery loved company. They ushered Mitchell directly into the nondescript Ghost offices and practically shoved him in front of the video monitor.