“Yes, sir.”
“You were there.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes, sir.”
He took a step back, and I watched the color drain from his face. Everyone in the military knew about the Kabul supply depot attack. Insurgents had hit a civilian contractor facility with mortars and small arms fire during the night shift. The explosions had triggered fires that spread through the warehouse complex, trapping workers inside.Twelve people died that night. Twenty-three were injured. And one civilian—a logistics coordinator named Emma Torres—had gone back into the burning building three times to pull out wounded workers before the roof collapsed.
I’d been that logistics coordinator. The scars proved it.
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