He could smell the coffee brewing, suddenly very hungry, he made his way down to the kitchen. Brianna had already left to go play tennis with her friends, Maria was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking a cup of coffee. “Coffee, dear?”
Smiling a very weak smile, Frank replied, “Yes, God yes, I’d love some.” He sat down at one of the other stools at the breakfast bar. Maria handed him a cup and they sat in silence drinking coffee for a few minutes.
Maria was the first one to break the silence . “Frank, are you taking your meds? ‘Cause it doesn’t seem like your are. You need to take your meds.” She gave Frank a rather harsh look.
Frank took a sip from his cup of coffee, shook his head. “No, not like I should. I don’t like the way they make me feel, Maria. I can’t concentrate.” He gave Maria a look hoping to receive sympathy.
“You’ve got to take them, Frank,” Maria said angrily. “ We’re getting tired of this shit. All of your nightmares and the yelling. You scared the hell out of Brianna this morning. We can’t go on like this. Take your damn meds, Frank.”
“Okay, you’re right. I need to take my meds,” Frank relented. “ I’ve got to get better. These nightmares are killing me. I had a real bad one this morning. I can’t go on like this Maria, I’m afraid my head is going to explode. I think I’ll give Bill a call, maybe he can see me today.”
Maria agreed, “Sounds like a good idea, Frank. But in the meantime, please take your meds.”
Frank called his psychiatrist, his old buddy and former navy corpsman Bill Riley, to set up an appointment. Bill pitched a fit, said he had planned to play eighteen holes that day, after all it was Sunday, but finally agreed to see Frank around noon.
CHAPTER II
THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
Five years prior Frank had started calling his little band of seven survivors the “Magnificent Seven”. They were meeting once a week to help each other keep their sanity. Frank thought it was an apt name for a group of ex-marines who were guarding a secret from the rest of the world. A secret that if divulged would threaten their very way of life, as well as their freedom. Needless to say the secret was one each member of the group would kill and sacrifice his life to protect.
As far as they could tell they were the only seven still alive. Five had been killed that day, several were killed in other battles or were MIA and some died of natural causes through the years, while some died under somewhat mysterious circumstances.
Frank Desio was their fearless leader, a successful real estate agent in San Diego, the rock the group had leaned on for strength during the tough years. He had always been the glue that kept the “seven” together, but of late Frank had been having problems which concerned some of the group members. He was having his nightmares again and wasn’t taking his meds, and was again talking about going to the authorities.
Roy Harris, was Frank’s staff sergeant, and second in command . He had been a career marine and retired in 1977, shortly after the war ended, taking a job at NASSCO working as a ship builder. He had a wife, Emma and a son Roy Jr. Roy was also a strong member of the group, one tough jarhead, that nobody in the group would mess with. He and Frank were best buddies. They were always over to each other’s houses, barbequing and talking to all hours of the night. It was also rumored that Roy was starting to have those feelings that they should confess to what had happened that day in Vietnam. He felt he couldn’t carry the burden much further and was in dire need of laying it down.
Roy also had another problem that was of great concern to the group. He was a gambler. He gambled on everything from the horses, to cards, to sporting events. The problem with Roy’s gambling was he usually lost. Rumor was he was into a few loan sharks around town for a substantial sum of money, and they were getting impatient.
Bill Riley, the Navy corpsman, had went to medical school after leaving the service and became a psychiatrist. Of course all the rest of the group members were his patients. They confided in him and he was the one they talked to about things they didn’t share with the rest of the group. He was married for a few years but was divorced. He loved the ladies and living the California life style. Bill particularly loved expensive clothes and cars and most of all money.
Rick Sanchez was just a private, but was one of the marines that killed several of the Vietnamese villagers that horrible day. He carried a heavy burden, probably the heaviest except for Frank. He had gone to college at UCSD and studied accounting and was a well respected CPA in Chula Vista. He had a wife Connie and three sons. He was a deeply religious man and had received absolution many times for his actions that day, praying often for forgiveness. However, he still was not willing to go along with Frank and Roy’s idea of telling the truth about that day to the authorities. He felt he had suffered enough, what good would it do.
Willie Reynolds, corporal, was one of Frank’s squad leaders. He was the one whose comment had basically started the mailay on that day in 1969. He as well carried a big part of the burden. He too was a deeply religious man. After leaving the Marine Corps in 1980 as a staff sergeant, he became a born again Christian and a minister for a small church in Logan Heights. He had a wife, Dianne, and two daughters. He had got down on his knees everyday for years and prayed for forgiveness for his role in the massacre. He also felt the group had suffered enough and did not want to go to NCIS.
Fred Sanders was Frank’s radio operator and good friend then and through the years. He had left the corps shortly after the war ended and went to school at UCLA, majoring in business and finance. He moved to San Diego in the early eighties and opened a barbeque restaurant. He had expanded his business through the years and owned six in various southern California locations. He had a wife, Rosie, and a boy and two girls. He had much to lose if their truth came to light.
Steve Rollins was also a private in Frank’s platoon and was one of the shooters. He had left the corps after the war and bummed around for a few years getting heavily into drugs and alcohol, eventually ending up in prison. He had sold drugs and robbed banks to feed his drug habit. He got clean and sober with the help of the group. He did odd jobs to make ends meet and never married or had any children.
So this was the “Magnificent Seven”, a hell of a name to live up to. There were many times through the years when various members wanted to come forward and tell the truth. But as Frank had said that day, they would never speak of the events that transpired with no one, a statement Frank himself should well remember. That meant even their wives and children. This was very difficult but necessary. They had to take their secret to the grave. It was the only way. Many of the marines had already taken it there.
I guess at this point they were the “Magnificent Six”. One of the seven had already lost his life not even three months prior. Even though his company said it was an accident the group was not totally convinced. They had become increasingly paranoid, some of the group had even said they thought someone had been following them. They agreed it was probably just their imagination, but it made them feel uneasy nonetheless.
CHAPTER THREE
ROY HARRIS
Three months earlier Roy Harris, a welder by trade, entered the gates of NASSCO and made his way to his locker to change into his work clothes. It was a sunny morning in October, Roy looked up in the skies and smiled. “It’s gonna be all right man,” Roy said under his breath hoping no one heard. “Junior will be okay, don’t worry. I hope to God he brings Emma’s car back in one piece or I’m gonna kill that boy. Won’t take his meds. What the hell
Roy’s best friend Freeman Wade, came up behind Roy who was still ranting to himself and slapped him on the back. “Who the hell you talking to Roy. You done lost your rabbit ass mind?”
“It’s that son of mine, Freeman. Damn fool ran off with Emma’s car this morning. He’s off his meds again. No telling what he might do,” Roy said shaking his head almost in tears.
Freeman, trying to console Roy patted him on his shoulder and sai
d compassionately, “It’s gonna be okay. God looks out for fools and people who won’t take their meds. He won’t let anything happen him.”
“I hope you’re right,” Roy said feeling a little bit better. “We better get to work or the boss man’s gonna have our ass.”
“Yeah, you right Roy. Holler at you later.”
Roy threaded his way through the shipyard as massive cranes thundered by hoisting pieces of a ship into place where welders like Roy flashed arcs of blinding light, putting the vessel together like a giant jigsaw puzzle.
Finally making it to his work station, Roy finished putting on his gear and gathered up the tools he needed to complete the task at hand. He began his climb up the scaffold, his old arthritic knees creaked as he ascended to the top. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” Roy said laughing to himself as he climbed. Step by step he labored up the scaffold feeling like he was climbing a mountain.
He thought briefly about Roy Jr. as he was making his ascent. He had always tried to do right by him, but things just kept going wrong. Roy hoped Jr. was okay and hadn’t hurt himself or anyone else. Hopefully he hadn’t got arrested or into a fight at some bar. All of these things occupied Roy’s mind. “Keep your mind on the job Roy. I ain’t trying to fall,” he cautioned himself as he approached the pinnacle of his climb.
Roy got almost to the top of the scaffold when suddenly it dawned on him, ”Damn, I forgot my welding goggles. Shit, are you kidding me. I left them in my tool box. Get your mind on the job, Roy.”
Making it back down to the ground and to his locker he retrieved the goggles and headed back to get to work. He again began his ascent. He said to himself, “Can, I finally get some work now. Pull your head out of your ass, Roy.” He reached the top and started to work. It was just another day, other than the worry about Jr.
Roy did his work and finished up for the day, jumped on the blue line heading south and got off at the 24th street station. He walked down the street, grabbed a couple of “In and Out” burgers and headed for the house.
His wife Emma was waiting for him in tears and hysterical. Roy knew before he asked it must be something about Roy Jr., and it must be bad news. He braced himself, but the news was worst than he could have even imagined.
Emma blurted out, “You won’t believe what that son of yours has done now.”
Roy said in a comforting tone, “Just calm down, Emma. Tell me what has happened.”
Emma continued, “You know he ran off in my car this morning. Well I got a call from Paradise Valley hospital a little while ago. Junior’s in the hospital. He had an accident, totaled the car, and damn near killed the people in the other car and himself. They said he was driving eighty miles an hour on the wrong side of the street. My God, what are we going to do with him Roy?”
Roy sat down on the couch and shook his head, “I don’t know Emma, I really don’t know.”
Emma still in tears said, “Well we’ve got to do something. Why don’t you talk to your old Marine buddy, the shrink, and see if he can help us out.”
Roy reluctantly replied, “Yeah, I guess I could ask, but I’m not sure if he would help us or not. I should have asked him a long time ago. I was just ashamed, and hoped Junior would get better on his own. I guess it’s time. There’s nothing else we can do."
“All he can say is yes or no.” Emma said with a dejected look on her face.
Roy did call Bill Riley and he said he would see Jr. for old times sake, as soon as he got out of the hospital.
They went to bed that night deeply troubled about their son, but optimistic that Bill could help him and ease the burden they had carried for years.
Roy got a good night’s sleep for a change and woke up the next morning at five ready to face the day. Emma was already up making Roy’s breakfast and packing his lunch box. “Good morning Emma. Sleep well?” He sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip from a cup of coffee that was waiting for him.
Emma said cheerfully, “Yes, I did. It’s going to be a beautiful day. I think everything is going to be all right with Junior. That’s what I’m praying for. I had a call from the hospital a little while ago, they said Junior was going to be all right. Those poor folks he hit are going to be fine as well.”
This took a big load off of Roy’s mind. He could go to work that day with a clear head and keep his mind on his work. Roy finished his breakfast , said goodbye to Emma, and headed out the door to the trolley station.
He entered the NASSCO lot, showed his security badge and made his way to the lockers to change clothes. He felt much better and more optimistic this morning. Maybe things would actually get better, he certainly hoped so. His boss came by and reminded Roy, “Don’t forget about the safety meeting at ten o’clock.”
Roy said, “I’ll be there with bells on boss. You know me. I‘m all about safety.”
Be careful this morning Roy. The wind’s kind of high and it might rain.”
“Roger that. Will do.”
Roy grabbed up his gear and as he headed to the ship a huge super crane rolled by sounding it’s extremely loud danger alarm. He watched as the crane lifted a huge section of the ship’s super structure into place, a forklift drove by with a load of scrap metal, yard workers walked by heading for various job locations, talking about last night’s events and the news of the day. A smile came across Roy’s face, suddenly realizing how much he loved his job.
He was finally at his work spot for the day and started the same climb that he had made the day before, He had all his gear and his mind was clear. The wind had died down and the sun was peeping through the partly cloudy skies. A good omen, Roy thought. He felt good about his life and his future. Everything was going to work out with his son. He began to sing an old Temptations song, “My Girl” as he continued his ascent up the scaffold.
Reaching the top, Roy walked out on the platform, like he did every day. He felt it immediately start to give away and in an instant he was falling, he grabbed for a rail but missed, hitting the pavement below in a matter of seconds. His mangled, twisted body lay in a pool of blood.
His co-workers rushed to the scene but there was nothing they could do. Roy was dead. He left his wife Emma, his son Junior, and the remainder of the “Magnificent Seven” to mourn his loss.
After a thorough investgation the safety people at NASSCO ruled that Roy’s death was an accident. He was laid to rest at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery with full military honors.
CHAPTER FOUR
DR. BILL RILEY
Dr. Bill Riley’s office, located in a swank medical highrise building in downtown San Diego, oozed class and big money. A majestic structure, it towered over and overshadowed the much smaller and less affluent buildings that surrounded it. The streets were almost empty that morning except for a few cars and a few bums pushing shopping carts. A pair of hookers stumbled down the street, looking like they had a rough night tricking and were finally and thankfully heading for home. The homeless took to their blankets in various doorways and settled in for a couple of hours of needed sleep. It was a cloudy day and a slight mist could be felt in the air.
Bill puttered around his office waiting for Frank to arrive, sipping a bourbon and coke and ranting to himself. “That bastard better have a good reason for dragging me away from my golf game today. Bet he’s not taking his fucking meds again. Him and his dreams. He better keep his big mouth shut. I’d hate to have to shut it for him permanently.”
A knock at Bill’s door interrupted his dissertation. “Come on in Frank.
Frank lumbered in, hair uncombed, clothes dirty and wrinkled, he lay down on Bill’s lush leather office couch not even bothering to remove his long since white, dirty tennis shoes.
Bill visually pissed said, “Frank, I know how much you like my couch. Could you at least take your fucking shoes off, for Christ’s sake?”
Frank apologized, “Oh, sorry Bill.” He sat up, took off his shoes, and lay back down
Bill star
ted it off by saying, “Okay, Frank. Tell me what’s so important that you had to drag me down to my office on a Sunday. First off are you taking your meds?”
Frank stammered, “No, no, not like I should Bill. The damn things make me so groggy, I can’t concentrate.”
Bill yelled, “You’ve got to stay on your meds Frank. We went over this before. That’s why you’re having these nightmares.”
Frank screamed back at Bill, now sitting up on the couch, “I can’t take it anymore. We’ve got to go to the authorities, it’s the only way. We’ve got to tell the truth. I can’t live like this anymore Bill!”
Bill said trying to calm Frank, “We’ve been over this a thousand times. You did what you had to do. You don’t have any reason to feel guilty.”
“I know, I know,” said Frank laying back down on the couch. “But still I feel guilty. I had a hell of a bad dream this morning."
“Tell me about your dream,” Bill said taking out a notebook.
Frank told his story. “I was on the helo heading towards the LZ. It flew through a hazy darkness and spun round and r ound. When it stopped I found myself in a clearing, my M-16 at the ready. I noticed shadowy figures in the distance that started to come towards me. As they grew near I could see that they were the rotted, bloody corpses of the men and women that had died. As they came closer they started to fly. I fired my weapon over and over, but still they came. They swept over me and I was obliterated, turned into a million pieces and I blew away in the wind.”
Bill sat and nodded his head , writing on his notepad. “Go on.”
Frank was now up and pacing the room. “The demons took me away. They came for me. Nothing is going to stop them. I’ve got to rid myself of this burden. I can’t take it anymore, Bill.”
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