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The commander is looking at you, and you know the promotion waiver might hang in the balance. So, when he repeats the question, “who brought the liquor into the barracks?” you know that you should tell him the same thing Jones did: “Stein.”
You know it was Stein. The whole barracks knows it was Stein. So, why not pass his name, get your promotion, and scream down the promotion track like a Ferrari at Le Mans?
But Jones is a prick, and he’s just selling out Stein to get out of trouble for his screw ups at the range, the range where Stein was busy coaching new privates how to shoot.
You hide your smile, “Don’t know, sir.” You might be a Blue Falcon, but you’re not selling out the guy getting stuff done.