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off the walls with excitement and would never get any rest. Better to let them get a few hours of sleep before breaking the news, Jake thought.
    A Bronze Star with a “V” device was a big deal, even to Jake. They didn’t just give those away, especially in Afghanistan. He had never before been decorated for courage under fire and never worried about it. He’d done his job and nothing more, but he was proud that he’d never chickened out or hesitated in combat. Now he was going to be awarded the Army’s fourth highest award for valor. Did that make him a “war hero”? He had gone the extra mile to save Slater, but that act wasn’t necessarily heroic. There had been only a small sliver of sympathy for a man who had been reckless and stupid. No, the main reason he had busted his ass to get Slater to safety was that leaving him out there would have gotten Jake into serious trouble. And yet, the Army had finally decided to decorate him mere weeks before he was thrown out. Still, he would eagerly accept the award. Being labeled a war hero never hurt anyone’s career, military or civilian.
    This was the end of Jake’s second and final combat tour. Neither his first rotation to Iraq nor this rotation to Afghanistan had been quiet. Despite the dubious distinction of remaining a platoon leader for the full duration of both his tours, he was returning to the United States physically unscathed—a feat more and more uncommon.
    Jake took stock. He could recall a few dramatic examples without much effort where giving 100 percent effort just wasn’t enough to be successful. He couldn’t always stop the bad guys, but he liked to believe that he stopped them when he was able and dealt with the situation when he wasn’t. For an instant, the face of Peter Harris crept into his consciousness. He realized he needed something to take his mind off his dead soldiers. Looking up toward the tent, he saw just the thing.
    She was standing by the back entrance that Jake liked to use to enter the tent, and she knew it. When Jake was about 30 feet away, she ran up and hugged him. Anyone within a kilometer of this display could easily tell that this woman wasn’t just a friend. The embrace made Jake uncomfortable, but it was only six a.m. and there were few around to notice.
    Finally, after what seemed a year in her arms, she spoke, “I was so worried, they said a captain got hit. I thought it was you,” she said
    “Oh, that wasn’t me. You must be thinking of someone else,” he replied.
    “I know it wasn’t you!” she said, as she playfully punched Jake. “You were there when he got hit, right?”
    “Yes, and now I’m here,” Jake said, as he pointed to the ground directly under his feet.
    “I missed you,” she said.
    Jessica Walsh worked in the combat support hospital as a nurse. Raven black hair and blue eyes, just the way Jake liked his women. She was smart, sexy, and hooked on Jake. She’d been on shift when Captain Slater had been Medevaced. Without a doubt, she already had a pretty good rundown of the previous evening’s events, but she wanted Jake to tell her about it. And not because she was a junkie for war stories, either.
    Smart, funny, witty—Jessica was about perfect. Other men on the base fell over themselves to get her attention. In fact, Jake was convinced that a few had injured themselves intentionally, just to go to the hospital. Jessica was fun to be with and she had made Jake happy. A perfect relationship for him, if there weren’t a small problem: he was married and had a son. Furthermore, he loved his wife and son and had no intention of getting divorced.
    While he was in the States, Jake never even considered infidelity. He was, by all accounts, a good husband and father. A loyal provider and a good man. Overseas, however, it was like something changed that forced him to stray from the beaten path of normalcy and faithfulness. This certainly wasn’t uncommon for deployed soldiers. To Jake, Jessica