Even though the stadium was filled with thousands of people, everything around me suddenly felt like it was happening a million miles away. The locations Henderson rattled off brought back the deafening roar of explosions, the smell of burning diesel, the screams of wounded soldiers, and a night I had spent half my life trying to forget.
By this point, the families standing nearby had stopped their own conversations to listen.
What started as a quiet chat between a retired truck driver and a three-star general was turning into a spectacle that drew the attention of everyone standing within earshot. The intense gravity of the conversation seemed to ripple through the area, and within seconds, a large section of the stadium was watching us.
Instead of letting the event go on as planned, Henderson gestured for the people around us to stay put. The request caught everyone off guard, from the confused civilians to the junior officers who had no idea why a general was stopping the flow of the ceremony.
