The AGSU was not flashy. No gold braids, no cavalry sabers. It was the uniform of staff officers, recruiters, and funeral details. The uniform of admin , her old drill sergeant had sneered. But it was also the uniform of Sergeant Major Cross, who’d worn his AGSU to every single soldier’s legal hearing — and never lost one.
Outside, rain had started. Elena limped to her car, still in the AGSU. Her mother was waiting in the passenger seat, having driven her there.
She pinned on her ribbons: just four. An Army Achievement Medal, a Good Conduct, a National Defense Service, and an Iraq Campaign Medal with one service star. Modest. But hers. agsu dress uniform
The board’s legal advisor, a major with wire-rim glasses, almost smiled.
The hearing lasted four hours. The AGSU stayed dry despite her sweating through the shirt. When they asked about her worst day — the explosion, the blood, the soldier she’d dragged fifty meters before collapsing — she answered. The uniform held her upright. The AGSU was not flashy
“How’d it go?” her mother asked.
“But,” he continued, “I’m going to recommend an upgrade to a Meritorious Service Medal for your actions that day. Someone should have done it years ago.” The uniform of admin , her old drill sergeant had sneered
Now, she pulled it out again. The smell of dry cleaner’s plastic and mothballs hit her. Her mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed.