Recall to Arms

by Frank Perry

her until she was well enough to return to Washington and a partial work schedule. They had treated him with special regard, which he found humbling and heartwarming. Every moment with Rachael was special.

  While recovering, he was visited frequently by John Stokes who drove from Southern Illinois, often with his wife Carolyn and sometimes with his daughters. For months after his release from the hospital, he was honored in many ways and had important jobs offered, but he just wanted to regain some measure of tranquility in his life. He had national recognition. Officially, he was still on the DOD payroll, in rehabilitation, but he could resign at any time and retain medical treatment. One Monday in the fall, he called his old boss at the Cary Country Club and asked to come out. He did not actually believe he could ever go back there, but it was part of his past that he enjoyed.

  When he arrived at the Club House in his old Explorer, no one came out to greet him. He walked around to the back and looked toward the hill and his shed; it was beautiful and peaceful, as he remembered it. He then walked up the steps onto the veranda and crossed to the door opening into the dining room. As he entered, cheers erupted from people he’d worked with or members that knew him. Many people were there that just wanted to meet the local hero. In uniform, Officer Ruiz and Patrolman Rodgers waved from the crowd. He was once again the center of a lot of attention.

  After a banquet lunch and speeches by the people that had shared part of his experience, it was time to go. At one point he jokingly approached the manager again about his old job, or even a promotion; but they both knew he could not sink back into obscurity. Instead, the Club gave him a lifetime membership and free use of the course whenever he wanted. Maybe he would actually learn to play.

  As he drove out of the parking lot, he had one tranquil thought; he thought of Rachael.

  His peace was broken when his cell phone rang. “Hello, Shields here.”

  A voice said, “Major Shields, please hold one.”

  After a momentary pause, he heard the phone switch on the other end, “Major Shields, this is Lt. General Harold Cole, I’m Chief of the National Guard Bureau.”

  “Yes sir, I know who you are.” Peter pulled to the side of the road, barely a hundred yards away from the club parking lot.

  Cole responded, “Good, you did a hell of a job up there Major and I wanted to congratulate you personally.”

  “Thank you sir.”

  “Major, I know you’ve got some options about your future, but I want to run something by you if you have a minute.”

  “Yes sir, go ahead.”

  “Major, the threat of terrorism on our shores is real and not going away any time soon. I’ve petitioned the DOD and congress to establish a new active duty directorate in my J3 staff for Counterterrorist operations. I want you to take the job.”

  Cole continued, “It’ll mean you’ll have to relocate to DC.”

  Peter responded, “Sir, I’m honored for your consideration. Can I think about it?”

  “You bet soldier, take what time you need then call me back.”

  “I’ll do that sir, thank you.”

  They disconnected and he sat in his truck for a few moments before stepping out. His head was swimming with emotion as he wandered back onto the country club property. He wanted to clear his mind as he meandered onto the fairway.

  At the clubhouse, many of the people had moved onto the veranda to enjoy the afternoon air overlooking the course. Ruiz was the first to spot Peter. He was walking up the hill toward the shed.

  ***END***