The call came while the Oklahoma heat shimmered outside my office windows and artillery thudded somewhere beyond the training fields like distant thunder that had learned discipline.
At Fort Sill, you get used to that sound. The low concussion. The faint tremor in the walls. The knowledge that somewhere young soldiers are learning how to send force across distance and make it land exactly where intended. It becomes background noise after a while, like the hum of fluorescent lights or the rattle of an old air conditioner trying to survive August.
I was reviewing a training packet when my phone lit up.
Janet.
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