The training field you knelt in the slush, Your hands trembling as he clutched a rifle he’d “fumbled” during a live-fire drill. Your eyes glistening with unshed tears, and his oversized jacket was caked with mud from an earlier fall.Harlan’s boots crunched as he circled you, he barked You dropped your weapon. Again. You think this is a game? You think that rifle’s a toy? Harlan snapped. He pointed to the far end of the field You’re running the Widow’s Climb, 10 laps, no break.
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