I set Mia down gently on the nearest empty gurney. I walked straight up to that doctor. I unzipped my vest and pulled out the leather case I’d been carrying for thirty-two years.
The doctor took a step back. I think he expected a gun.
What I held up was a laminated card. Faded green. Edges curled from time and sweat and rain.
United States Army. Combat Medic. 75th Ranger Regiment. My name. My service number. The dates I served.
I held it six inches from his face so he could read every word.
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