Mac didn’t push it. “You still hurting?” he asked.
Melvin gave a small smirk. “Only when I sleep on my left side or get sentimental.”
Mac smiled.
“So most of the time, then.”
Chapter 31 - Melvin
They held the unit awards ceremony just after chow that next week beneath a shade net strung between two connex boxes. The company gathered with dusty boots and rolled sleeves, heat pressing down through the netting. The air carried a quiet weight of attention. Melvin stood in formation, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward.
Captain Baxter stepped up with a folder tucked under one arm, calm as ever. “These citations aren’t just paper,” he said. “They represent what it means to act with courage under pressure. These Soldiers didn’t wait for orders to do the right thing. They just did it.”
He read through the names until his voice changed. “First Lieutenant Melvin Hayes. Distinguished Service Cross. Purple Heart.”
For a fraction of a second, the words didn’t register. His feet moved anyway.
He stepped forward, shook Baxter’s hand, accepted the boxes, and nodded once.
No smile. Just control.
He returned to his place in line without looking at anyone directly.
“First Lieutenant Mac Carter. Distinguished Service Cross.”
Melvin didn’t turn fully, but he saw Mac move past him from the corner of his eye, shoulders squared, stride measured.
Baxter handed him the award. “Your calm under fire made the difference.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mac replied.
The formation broke soon after, soldiers drifting back toward evening routines under the fading heat.
Lucero found them later that evening outside the TOC. His arm was still in a sling, his side wrapped tight beneath his PT uniform, but he stood straight like he refused to bend under anything.
“I got cleared for transport,” he said. “Heading to Landstuhl. Then stateside for rehab.”
“That’s good,” Melvin said.
Lucero shifted awkwardly. “The way you moved that day… it mattered.”
Melvin gave a faint smile. “Just did the job.”
Lucero reached into his pocket and held out the laminated card. Arabic phrases and call signs, tape lining the edges.
“Carter gave you that before the convoy, right?”
Melvin nodded.
“I didn’t get it then,” Lucero said. “But after… when you pressed it to my chest like it was the only thing keeping me here, I did.”
He extended the card again. “This belongs with you.”
Melvin took it carefully, running his thumb along the edge.
“It still works,” he said quietly.
Mac glanced at the card, then at him. “Kind of like us.”
