He had been in surgery at a Navy Hospital, and he had needed a blood transfusion. He didn't yell at me, or call me names, or threaten to have his mother sue the Navy. He just sat there, sweet and hopeless. And I was helpless to do anything, except process him out of the Navy. Yes, he had committed a crime.
Desertion is a crime, according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice.
I knew all the arguments. Instead he ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, trying to escape the disease he had caught in a Navy Hospital. The records were silent. Anything that could hold the Navy responsible was no longer in existence. Everything in front of me condemned him, on new, crisp, white papers.