Carla trotted silently down the darkened hallway. The four other trainees were clustered around her as they moved.
They’d lost Harry and Max in the last six months of the Operator Training Course. Harry decided he couldn’t hack the mental side. Delta wasn’t for your average Joe, not even when a grunt was exceptional enough to qualify.
Max had dropped out with a torn knee courtesy of a bad nighttime parachute jump into the high Rockies—though he’d successfully completed the five-day mountain-survival exercise wearing a splint and swore he’d be back in the next class. The Unit had given him a pass on Delta Selection; he’d go straight into OTC with the next group.
They learned everything from how to attack a helicopter to how to fly one. Comm gear, rifles, medicine, languages; the list gre
