Breathing was a real problem for me due to the broken ribs but I still remember the “end of the world” roar of four tons of high explosive arrivin... from out of nowhere.Malcolm was the one who put me in for the Silver Star. He was a very tough, do-it-all kind of Brit who was clearly not in OUR military. In fact it was never clear to me what he was doing leading a Delta team. I just assumed that he worked for a little “Company” that is still based in Langley Virginia. They all knew that it was. Especially for the men that I toss myself between. I give no sympathy for their plights against hurting me. I hear their complaints and reservations, their pleading voices begging to show me something more, but I do not listen. Their instructions are always the same - do as I say, or get out.Some of them walk out with the intention of never returning, but most of them don't, and the ones that do - always reappear eventually. I suppose they are intrigued by the prospect of beating me before. More

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