51
Lieutenant General Jorge Martinez stood on the hard sand surface beneath the burning Mexican sun, but he didn’t feel the heat. It had taken him years, but the time had finally arrived and nothing else mattered.
“Former three-star general of the US Air Force,” he told the parched desert.
He wished it could make him feel good…or bad. Something.
But all he felt was anger.
Not at the Air Force. He’d loved the Academy, his thirty-five years of service, and his part of making it the greatest fighting force in the world. They were more effective than the rest of the world’s air forces combined.
No. There was nothing wrong with the tool. The problem was with the politicians who couldn’t be trusted to wield a butter knife without f*****g it up.
Desert Storm, where they’d been sent in to k
