Thunder in the Morning Calm (42 page)

“Yes, we interviewed Colonel Pendleton about that. That Robert was Second Lieutenant Robert Harold Ward of North Carolina, your grandfather’s best friend. Your grandfather, years ago, started going by his middle name of Keith to avoid confusion and out of deference to Lieutenant Ward, who saved his life under fire at Chosin Reservoir.”

“So that explains the name.”

“Yes, that explains your grandfather’s name,” Hampton said. “It does not explain my quandary with you, Commander.” He eyed Gunner with a piercing stare. “So the question now is, what do I do about you? Put another way, has the end justified the means in this case? A means in which, I might point out, you have violated a whole host of standing orders and regulations.”

Gunner wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question or one that required a response. “As I said, sir, I offer my resignation now and plead guilty to whatever JAG throws at me.”

“You know,” Admiral Hampton said, seeming to ignore Gunner, “this ship is named for a guy who had a sign on his desk that said, ‘The Buck Stops Here.’ I’ve always admired that about Truman. Fearless decision maker.”

“Yes, sir, he was.”

“And out here, at sea” — he crossed his arms and nodded his head — “with the ships of this strike group, the buck stops with me.”

“Yes, sir, it does.”

“Good. I’m glad you understand that. So here’s my official report to Washington that will follow you for the rest of your life.” He put on reading glasses and looked down and picked up a sheet of paper and began reading.

“Sir …”

“Your request to resign is denied. Now get out of my office, you bonehead! You’ve got some catching up to do!”

US Navy C-40A Clipper
over Havelock, North Carolina
five days later

T
he big US Navy jet banked to the right, and from the far-right seat next to the window on the first row, Keith looked out and saw the forest of green Carolina pines and the sparkling rivers below. The panorama of green and blue provided his first close-up view of the continental United States in more than sixty years. Though he had kissed the ground at Hickam Field in Hawaii and enjoyed his three days of recuperation at Pearl Harbor Naval Hospital, his heart leaped for joy at the sight of the East Coast. For the trees and rivers of coastal North Carolina were but a few short miles from Camp Lejeune, where he had reported for duty with the Marines as a young butter-bar second lieutenant. Not only that, but when they landed, he would be only 150 miles from home in Suffolk, Virginia.

“Colonel. Commander.” The Navy lieutenant copilot, who had stepped out of the cockpit, interrupted his thoughts. “The pilot says we’re on final approach for landing at Cherry Point. If you would please strap in, we’ll be on the ground in about five minutes.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Keith said. The click of his seat belt sent his mind racing again.

Only two weeks ago, he had been slashed by the bullwhip of a savage North Korean guard, convinced he would die a forgotten man, never again to see home this side of heaven.

Now, here he was in a modern Navy jet, decked out in the uniform of a full-bird colonel in the United States Marine Corps, sitting beside a naval officer grandson he had never met before, who had not taken his hand off his arm for virtually the whole flight from Hawaii.

In the rows behind them, the commandant of the Marine Corps had flown out from Washington to join them on the flight back from Hawaii, along with the secretary of the Navy, along with CINCPAC, the four-star admiral in command of all the US Pacific forces. In the seat across the aisle, an attractive lady, a public-affairs officer, a Lieutenant Colonel Meg Owens, had tagged along for two days to make sure Keith did and said everything right.

Surely this was all a dream.

The jet descended rapidly now, and Keith’s ears registered the descent. He gazed out his window at the tops of the loblolly pines blurring by outside the window, and then the concrete runway came rushing toward them.

A slight bump signaled the plane had touched down, then a rushing windy sound as the jet braked on the runway.

As the plane taxied around, the Cherry Point control tower came into view, and under it, on the tarmac, Keith saw a sea of men and women in Marine Corps green and navy blue behind an army of cameramen and reporters. Several reporters stood with their backs to the plane, talking into their microphones, obviously hoping to film the arriving jet as a visual backdrop to their reports.

The plane came to a stop.

“Welcome home, Granddaddy.” Gunner smiled and patted him on the hand.

“Almost home, son,” Keith said. “Not quite yet.”

Outside, two Marine staff sergeants rolled a portable stairway up to the jet’s cabin door. The copilot stepped out of the cockpit and opened the door. A rush of chilly air blew into the cabin.

The public-affairs officer looked over at Keith. “Okay, sir, just to remind you of the itinerary, the honor guard will remove Petty Officer Dinardo’s casket from the rear of the aircraft. We will watch those ceremonies on closed-circuit television from here in our seats. After that, you will descend the ladder along with Lieutenant Commander McCormick. The president will be waiting for you at the bottom of the
stairway. He will have a few prepared remarks. After that, your daughter will greet you. We have a Marine Corps helicopter waiting to take you, your daughter, and Commander McCormick directly to Corbin Hall.”

Keith smiled at the mention of Corbin Hall.

“Any questions, sir?”

“No, I think that has it. Thank you.”

Television screens over the seats flashed on, showing the tail section of the aircraft. A coffin draped with the flag of the United States of America slowly descended on a lift from the rear of the plane. Standing at attention waiting for it were six enlisted Marines who made up the pallbearer honor guard and a United States Navy chaplain. They wore dress-blue uniforms with white belts and white gloves. Swords dangled from their belts.

The Marines stepped forward and lifted the casket. Then, moving in perfect unison, they took one step backward away from the lift. The Marine Corps band began a slow, mournful rendition of the “Navy Hymn.” The Marines moved slowly, step by step, carrying the flag-draped coffin to a black hearse parked on the tarmac. The Marine band stopped playing, and the US Navy Chorus, standing in blue crackerjack uniforms beside the hearse, began to sing
a cappella
the words of the hymn as the Marines loaded the coffin into the hearse.

Three volleys of rifle shots cracked the Carolina blue sky. Then a reverent silence blanketed the tarmac.

Keith watched as the hearse moved forward and drove out of view. They were home. Frank was gone.

A moment passed.

“Colonel. Commander McCormick,” the public-affairs officer said. “It’s time.”

Keith and Gunner stood and walked to the entrance of the aircraft as the Marine Band trumpet section broke into “Ruffles and Flourishes.” Then the red-jacketed band began playing a piece of music that Keith had feared he would never hear again.

From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli;

They stepped out into the sunshine at the top of the portable stairway to thunderous sustained applause.

We will fight our country’s battles

In the air, on land and sea;

They walked down the stairway, waving to a sea of a thousand camera flashes.

First to fight for right and freedom

And to keep our honor clean;

At the bottom, they walked together out on the tarmac. The applause continued.

We are proud to claim the title

Of United States Marine.

The applause kept on and on. Keith realized that the PAO officer and the commandant of the Marine Corps and several other dignitaries were now standing close behind him.

“This way, Colonel,” the public-affairs officer said. They walked toward the podium set up on the field. And there, to one side of the podium with a blue covering and a round emblem with the phrase “Seal of the President of the United States,” stood a smiling salt-and-pepper-haired man in a navy blue suit and red tie. He was applauding. A limousine with the presidential seal on the back passenger door was parked nearby.

When the applause finally subsided, the man stepped behind the
microphones and said, “Colonel Pendleton. I’m Mack Williams. I’m your new commander in chief. Welcome home!”

Keith shot the president a sharp salute. “Nice to meet you, Mr. President.”

That reignited thunderous applause, this time peppered with cheers and whistling and the sound of Marines grunting “Ooooo-rah.”

“My first order,” the president said, then waited as more whistles and applause threatened to drown out his words. When the applause subsided again, he said, “My first order is for you to come stand behind the podium with me.”

Keith complied, and the president greeted him with a big bear hug.

More applause.

“Colonel, I know you are anxious to get home, and we have a Marine chopper waiting to take you to a place called Corbin Hall.” Cheers … whistles. “But first, there is something you should know. While you were in flight from Hawaii, the Senate, at my recommendation, approved your promotion to brigadier general. You will retire from the Marine Corps at that rank and, though I haven’t checked lately, I suspect that might improve your retirement pay a tad.”

More cheering.

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

“I’ll ask Lieutenant Commander McCormick, your grandson, to help me here, and we’re going to remove those birds from your collar and replace them with stars.”

“With pleasure, Mr. President,” Gunner said.

Keith stood at attention while Gunner removed the eagle off his left collar, and the president removed the eagle from his right collar. Then they each pinned a single silver star onto each collar, officially making him a brigadier general in the United States Marine Corps.

“Congratulations, General Pendleton,” the president said. More applause. “And now … and now … there is someone who is very anxious to see you.” He turned around and said, “Captain.”

A trim Marine officer, standing by the black limousine, opened the back door. An attractive woman who looked to be in her sixties got out, took the arm of the Marine officer, and walked toward the podium. With her free hand, she wiped tears from her eyes.

He had last seen her when she was a baby. But still, somehow, he knew. Daddy never forgets his little girl.

She walked up to him and fell into his arms.

“My little Margaret,” he said, holding her tight.

“I always knew you were alive,” she said. “I never stopped praying.”

They hugged, oblivious of the sustained cheering around them.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

“Yes, let’s.” She stepped back, smiling, tears flooding her eyes.

The president said, “General, I know you’ve got a chopper to catch and a lot of catching up to do. But before you do, is there anything you’d like to say?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President, there is.” Keith stepped to the microphone.

The crowd went stone silent. All eyes were focused on him.

“Thank you for being here. You have made this one grand welcome home. I am grateful. And I was grateful for my country when I was captured sixty years ago as a young man. I am no less grateful for my country today as an old man. I am grateful to my grandson Lieutenant Commander Gunner McCormick and to all who risked their lives to save me. And I am most grateful that my final days on this earth will be spent at home, with my family, in the glorious sunset of freedom.

“May God bless America.”