The general hadn’t walked for 15 years—until the new black soldier did the impossible.
“Private Carter, step aside. He doesn’t need help.”
Nyla didn’t move. Kneeling on one knee in the soft grass, she held the tensioned straps of the general’s knee brace with both hands. Steady, calm, sure.
Around her, other soldiers paused their drills. Some whispered, others just stared, unsure what they were witnessing. General Allan Strickland, silver-haired and stone-faced, sat in his wheelchair, stiff in his dark navy dress uniform. His hands rested on his thighs, unmoving. His expression was unreadable.
Everyone knew his story. Fifteen years ago, during a covert deployment overseas, his convoy was hit. The medics said he was lucky to survive. The spinal damage was permanent. No chance of recovery, they said—except the chair. And so, he did. But Private First Class Nyla Carter, new to the base, hadn’t read him like a myth. She read him like a…..Read Full Story Here.……………
