11 Chapter 11

That evening, Bond recognized Rory in the hospital dining room for American armed forces personnel. He half stood and waved him to a seat across from him. After Rory took his seat, the doctor said, in a voice colored by fatigue, “Thanks for the great piloting. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. Thanks to you, we did.”

“I think luck, poor marksmanship, and a lack of missile launchers on the part of the enemy factored into it. Maybe even a little touch from the Good Lord, although that didn’t help your friend.”

Bond stopped chewing and looked at his plate.

“I’m sorry ya couldna save him.”

Bond nodded. “It was tough.”

“Were ya the one carrying him on your shoulder?”

He nodded again. “Those were my men. As team leader, I’m responsible for them.”

“And we never leave anyone behind—wounded or dead—to be tortured, murdered, or their bodies desecrated by the enemy,” Rory said.