Mike Sloane cooled Special Forces training, but Sergeant Phipps chewed his ass like prime meat.
“Sloane! Get it together, shithead!”
“But . . .” Mike retaliated, “my weapon’s clean—real clean.”
One day in Vietnam, their patrol exposed a small village. Mike, on point, went in first. Someone darted from a hut. Mike’s M-16 spouted death. He emptied four magazines into panicked villagers.
Sergeant Phipps ran up. “Sloane! What the fuck you doin’?”
Mike’s stony eyes froze. Whirling his bayonet, he slit Phipps’s throat. The remaining squad advanced.
“Trap!” Mike shouted, surrounded by the bloody carnage. “Can’t trust anyone!”
“That your bayonet, Sloane?”
When I wrote ths book in 2000, I was concerned about children having access to the Internet and to chat rooms where "you can be anyone you want." Here we are many years later and the situation with children talking freely to stangers on the Internet
