When the medevac couldn’t land because of the fire, she didn’t call for someone else to do the job. She dismounted. Under fire.”

I closed my eyes. The smell of the barbecue vanished, replaced by the copper tang of blood and the choking sulfur dust of the Afghan desert. I could hear the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the DShK tearing the armor off our Humvees.

“She dragged three wounded Marines out of burning vehicles,” Vance continued, relentless. “Carried them over her shoulders while the dirt exploded around her.

And when a hidden IED went off near the perimeter, she threw her own body over a nineteen-year-old kid.”

Chloe made a raw, ugly sound.

“That clumsy fall she told you about?” Vance pointed his cane at me. “That was her spine taking the concussive force of a bomb, and her legs taking shrapnel to protect her men.