When we came into the storage yard, Sergeant Bitterroot told everyone to hit the shade.
Sweetpea—the only nickname I’d caught—said, Seriously, Sarge?
It’s how we roll, Sergeant Bitterroot said.
A group huzzah, followed by a few guys calling out, You’re the bomb!
I’m down with that, Sarge, I thought, though of course as a replacement I hadn’t earned the right to say so yet. Still, I dropped my pack with the others and was about to express my appreciation, when Bitterroot singled me out.
