David spent one more day at the mine, mostly shooting the breeze with Uncle Perry and the old crew, sharing some of his frontline experiences—though he wisely filtered out the more salacious details. Perry listened, his expression a mix of pride and worry. "Look, kid," Perry handed him a cup of potent, home-brewed liquor, "When I got out, I was just a butter-bar lieutenant. A damn shavetail. My contacts are all Army, and mostly retired or dead. I can"t pull any strings for you in the Marines." He took a swig, his eyes turning serious. "And you be careful in that outfit. The Marines… they"re always the tip of the spear. The first ones in, the last to know when to quit. It"s a tough life." Mention of Captain female fleet officer, drew a derisive snort from Perry: "That fleet Commander? Don"t
