Chapter 12 - The Secret History Behind General Vance And The Marines
General Thomas gestured toward the private VIP dining alcove, inviting me away from the main hall.
“Come have a glass of bourbon in the back, Eleanor. You picked a hell of a night to drop by unannounced,” he sighed.
We walked into the quiet alcove, sitting down at a mahogany table far away from the lingering whispers.
“I didn't plan it this way, Thomas. I was driving down from the Pentagon for tomorrow's regional inspection,” I replied.
“Hale has been a cancer in this battalion for two years, but nobody had the spine to challenge him,” Thomas admitted.
“Because fear is a powerful weapon when wielded by insecure leaders who mistake volume for authority,” I noted.
I took a slow sip of the amber liquid Thomas poured into a heavy crystal glass, letting the warmth settle.
“Reminds me of twenty-three years ago, when I was a rookie lieutenant standing in a club just like this,” I murmured.
“Did some arrogant major try to put you in your place back then too?” Thomas asked with a knowing smile.
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“Worse. A whole table of colonels told me women belonged in administrative typing pools, not cockpits.”
***
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