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The Grenade and the Hearing
The morning air was sharp with the scent of pine and diesel as Sergeant Summer Sargent adjusted her helmet and checked the radio on her wrist. The training exercise had started ten minutes ago, but the sound of static and distant gunfire still made her pulse quicken.
She glanced at the field manual tucked into her belt, its pages marked with a red pen at the section on protocol. Her eyes flicked to the broken radio on the ground, its cracked casing still glowing faintly from the last burst of interference.
A shout echoed across the field, and Summer turned to see Private Constance Hanna stumbling toward the edge of the clearing. A grenade had rolled between her feet, its pin already pulled.
Summer sprinted toward Constance, her boots crunching over the dry grass as the grenade rolled toward the tree line. She grabbed Constance's arm, pulling her back just as the grenade exploded with a flash of fire and a deafening boom.
The blast threw them both to the ground, and Summer's ears rang with the noise. Constance groaned, clutching her side, and Summer looked down at her, her heart racing.
'Sargent, report!' A voice barked over the radio. Summer looked up to see Lieutenant Malia Cline standing at the edge of the clearing, her face a mask of cold disapproval.
'I found the grenade and pulled Constance back,' Summer said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. Lieutenant Cline stepped closer, her eyes scanning the ground where the grenade had landed.
'You left your post,' Cline said, her voice sharp as a blade. Summer opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat.
The next morning, Summer stood in the mess hall, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. The dog tag on the table in front of her glinted in the harsh fluorescent light, its surface cracked from the explosion.
A week later, Summer sat in the disciplinary hearing room, her fingers tracing the edge of the cracked dog tag on the table. Lieutenant Cline stood across from her, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The dog tag was all that remained of the grenade's impact - a silent reminder of the choice that had changed everything.