Harry Wong stood, hands on hips, staring at his new class of recruits straight out of Annapolis. “Listen up, midshipmen! I have been in business for more years than I care to remember, and I can truthfully say you are the sorriest bunch I’ve ever had the misfortune to have enter my hallowed doors. I expected . . . hell, I don’t even know what the word is to describe you miserable human beings. You’re a bunch of wusses. The only thing I can say for you is you sweat like a bunch of girls. Smelly sweat at that. I train women who, in the blink of an eye, could nail your sorry asses to the wall and not break a sweat. You don’t even have the grace to look ashamed or embarrassed. And to think you are going to be the ones possibly running our military someday in the future somehow makes me want to puke. “I’m stuck with you because I signed a contract with the powers that be, the ones who control your lives, at least for now. By the time you get back to Annapolis in that fancy bus you arrived in, my report will be in the hands of your superiors.
