Chapter 23 Chapter Twenty-Three

As usual, Puller doesn't suddenly get out of bed.Slowly he disengaged from the narrow bed of Annie's Motel.He is self-controlled, his every action is measured and calm.Instead of fighting hooded killers in the suburbs outside Kandahar, Afghanistan, he's now wrestling with killers who may have been born and bred in the mines of stateside America. He didn't have to check his watch, the internal clock told him what he wanted to know: zero four thirty.He took a shower and stayed under the hot shower for an extra thirty seconds, trying to wash away the bloody smell of the memory of that battle all those years ago.It doesn't work, it never works, it's just wishful thinking on his part.He put on jeans and a short-sleeved shirt with CID on it.The suit had so quickly become his uniform here.Instead of his sneakers, he put on a pair of old beige army boots.It was still very hot outside, and the temperature didn't seem to drop at all during the night.But no matter how hot it is, it's not quite the same as summers in Afghanistan or Iraq.It was an unforgettable heat wave.In particular, there are raging diesel fires and the heart-piercing cries of people whose lives were swallowed by the flames.Right in front of your eyes, they are blackened and naked, with not a single piece of flesh on them.

His cell phone rang.It could be HQ, it could be Cole, maybe something else happened.He glanced at the caller ID, his expression changed from one kind of alertness to another, but the level of alertness weakened. "I'm John Pooler." "You haven't returned my calls, Xiaoqiu Ba." "I'm out on a mission." Plew paused, but only for a second. "How are you doing now, General?" Old John Pooler's voice sounded like the barking of a ferocious dog with a huge chest.There was a saying in the army that old Puller could kill a lot of people just by his voice, because their hearts would suddenly stop beating from such a shock.

"You haven't returned my calls, Xiaoqiu Ba." Old Puller said again, as if he hadn't heard his son's answer at all. "Want to get back to you today, sir. Are you having any problems?" "My order was actually taken as a deaf ear." Puller's father was quite old when he had two sons.He is now seventy-three years old and in poor health. "You'll whip them back into line. You've been doing it all the time. Those guys ain't bad, they'll obey. Rangers, vanguard, general." Puller had given up trying to make sense of his father a long time ago, and stopped saying things like "You're not a commander anymore."His father was old and sick, and his life was slipping toward the end of his life too quickly for him to believe.Perhaps the old warrior himself never believed that he himself would die one day.

"I need you here. You can keep them under control. I can always count on you, Xiaoqiu Ba." Puller enlisted at the end of his father's illustrious military career.They never served together, but the father watched his youngest son's development closely.A blood connection to the lieutenant general didn't make Puller's start any easier.In fact, it makes things more difficult. "Thank you, sir. But as I said, I'm on another mission." Puller paused again, glancing at his watch.According to the timetable he set, he was already delayed.He didn't want to play the card in his hand, but he had to do it when he had to.

"I saw Bobby the other day and he asked me to greet you in his place." ①Bobby: Nickname for Puller's older brother, Robert. The father immediately hung up the phone. Puller closed the phone and slipped it into the case on his belt.He sat there for a few seconds, staring down at the military boots on his feet.He should start, really should.Instead, he took his wallet out of his pocket and flipped through the photo. The three Puller men stood in a row.They are all tall, but the tallest is Little Pule, who is 1.3 centimeters taller than his father if measured barefoot.The general's father's face seemed to be carved out of granite.His eyes have been described as two muzzles, filled with the largest caliber shells.He looked as if Patton and MacArthur had been rolled into one, except that he was more arrogant, more difficult, and more stubborn than those two generals.He was a son-of-a-bitch general, and his soldiers loved him and would live and die for him.

He's also a son-of-a-bitch dad, and what do his kids think of him? I love him and would die for him. Puller Sr. was captain of the basketball team at West Point.In the four years he was captain, the team never won a championship of any kind, but any team they played against came off the field with a limp and bruises on their bodies. A piece of purple.Even when they beat his team, it still felt like they were losing. "Tucked away by Puller" is what people often say when describing a situation like this.This is true on the court, and it is also true on the battlefield.For him, the two are undoubtedly the same thing.Before the final whistle sounded, he would relentlessly stalk his opponent.Or, after running out of bullets, he would lead his soldiers into a hand-to-hand fight, stalking them to the final victory.

Pooler Jr.'s gaze briefly rests on the position to the left of his father in the photo.There was no one there, although there should have been.There should have been. He put the picture away, strapped his gun, put on the CID jacket, and went out to lock the door behind him. The past is the past.Set off.