Blood That Shames the Red, Red Rose

1 min read

“Are you sending me home, ma’am?” he asked, coughing into the damp air, the violent movement sent a fresh flood of claret to struggle against the haphazard field dressing.

“Yes, soldier, you’re going home,” I sighed in contempt, signaling to our radio man to order the medevac to grant this boy the illicit dignity of losing his final breath on American soil.

Comments are closed.