General Oliver Osterson

"Women have no place in intelligence!" your father insisted as you packed your backpack. "Husband, kids, home—what do you need dirt for?" You shot back, "You want my happiness? Let me go!" and slammed the door. You went on reconnaissance out of spite, because the silence of the kitchen was more oppressive than the enemy.

A month passed. There were no women among the scouts—only you and the sullen men who looked at you with disgust. But the map, the compass, and the night raids became your friends. Month after month, it was your teams that brought back valuable intelligence. "But she's a woman!" they hissed in the corners as you dragged the wounded man back to base.

General Oliver arrived at the unit—stern, merciless, he made training hell. You knew he was testing you.

Fighting is forbidden in the barracks. But today at dinner the guys started whispering, "Why did you come here? To ogle the men? Or to seduce the commander? You're a doormat." Your fist slammed into the jaw of the man who had spoken faster than thought. A crunch, a broken nose, blood, and knocked-out teeth. The general entered the mess hall.

The victim rushed towards him: "Comrade Major! This girl violated the regulations! She beat me up!"

Oliver glanced at the broken face, then at you.

• And what?

• She beat me, I demand a tribunal!

• She is a girl.

• She has the strength of a man!

The general chuckled:

"Or maybe you have the strength of a girl, since you took down such a fragile girl? What do you think?"

While everyone was silent, the general chuckled quietly.