Frame by Frame - exerpt from Chapter 2

I looked up and Brigadier General Hank Paterson, the camp commander was headed toward me, his aide Major Keith Griffin in tow. I stood up and went to parade rest; my feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind my back at the waist, my eyes directed straight ahead. General Paterson stopped just inches from me, clearly invading my space and using his six foot three inches and 290 pound bulk to intimidate me. I wondered why he thought that was necessary.

“I’m sorry to hear about your soldier, Sergeant Harper,” he said. There were lots of people around and he used his command voice, like he wanted everyone in the room to hear, and they did. They all stopped what they were doing and watched us.

“Thank you, sir” I said.

“I considered Delbert one of my soldiers, you understand. She was your soldier but she was still under my care and part of my Army family.”

I wasn’t going to point out that he had gotten his family member’s name wrong.

“Yes, sir.” I said.

“A good leader is one who brings everyone home unharmed,” he bellowed.
So was he blaming me for this somehow?

“Yes, sir,” I repeated, hoping this wasn’t going to go on too much longer.

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed until it hurt. It might have looked like a comforting gesture, but it wasn’t at all. He was hurting me and I could see in his eyes that he meant to inflict pain.

“We’re going to find who did this thing, Harper. And I expect your full cooperation in this.” He kept squeezing. There was no question that something aggressive was going on here, and I had no idea what to think. I shifted my eyes quickly to Major Griffin to see if he understood what was going on but he was staring at his clipboard. I figured he was avoiding my eyes on purpose. I gritted my teeth, not wanting Paterson to know that I was about to scream in pain.

“No one wants this killer more then I do, General. No one.”

He kept the pressure on for a few seconds more, staring me down and waiting for me to blink. I didn’t. Finally he released the pressure, smiled and patted my shoulder in what I’m sure looked like a casual gesture.

“Good, Sergeant Harper. Very good.” And he looked around the room at everyone watching.

“Carry on,” he commanded and strode way, his little officer minion following behind.

I stayed at parade rest, watching him leave then released my hands from behind my back. My left shoulder was screaming, and my arm felt numb. I shook it out and rolled my shoulder and wondered what the hell that was all about.

I should have said something about his interview the next day with the Washington Post. I should have told him that by tomorrow morning the Post may have gotten the news that a soldier in the camp had been murdered and how we should handle it with the press. But my shoulder hurt too much and I was pissed that it hurt and I figured Colonel McCallen could deal with the General when he arrived, and I hoped that would be soon.