by C. G. Cooper
CAL: I’ll bet he’s not even charging us. The good doctor tries to play the part of the money-hungry surgeon, but it’s obvious he enjoys this cloak and dagger stuff.
BRIAN: Yeah, I got the same vibe. Seems like a pretty good guy. You know, for a doctor.
CAL: Yeah.
BRIAN: All right. So now you’re gonna tell me what the hell is place is. What does your dad’s company do? They must be making millions!
CAL: You want the long or the short version?
BRIAN: Where do I have to go? I’m your babysitter, remember?
CAL: Don’t remind me. Ok, I’ll start at the beginning.
+ + +
Cal’s father, Calvin Sr., was a rising star in the Marine Corps during the first Gulf War in the early nineties. He’d first been commissioned in 1971 just as the Vietnam War was in full swing. After attending The Basic School, he’d been shipped first to Okinawa, Japan, and then to Vietnam.
He’d commanded a platoon and earned a Purple Heart and a Silver Star during his two tours. Cal remembered how his father had described those times patrolling the paddies and jungles of Vietnam. It was also where he’d learned the importance of two things: completing the mission and taking care of your Marines. It was a lesson he carried on in all aspects of his life up until the day he died.
Throughout the seventies and eighties, Cal Sr. moved up through the ranks while at the same time moving his small family all over the world. There were stints in Camp Pendleton, Monterey, Okinawa, Camp Lejeune, Nashville for recruiting duty, and more. Along the way he and Cal’s mother, Denise, bore a healthy and rambunctious little boy.
Cal had enjoyed his early days on Marine Corps bases. Living on a military base had its perks: a high level of security for family, a large number of young children to play with, good prices for food and a solid school system. It was a life you could get used to.
Needless to say, over the years Cal Sr. did more deploying than fathering. That wasn’t to say he was a bad father. Actually, the opposite was the case. He cherished his time at home with his wife and son and took full advantage of being on leave.
As Cal closed in on his teenage years, tensions increased in the Middle East, culminating in Iraq’s invasion of neighboring Kuwait. He remembered watching the footage with his mother, both knowing that it was only a matter of time before Col. Stokes would lead his Marines into battle.
Sure enough, orders were quickly passed down through the ranks and Cal Sr. headed to war commanding his regiment of Marines.
Left at home, Cal’s behavior took a nose dive. In retrospect, Cal understood that the way he’d acted was his method of dealing with the possibility that his father could die. First it was talking back in school. Then it was a fight with one of his classmates. Finally Cal was arrested by the Camp Lejeune military police when he got caught breaking into the PX at two in the morning trying to steal cigarettes.
Cal’s mother was devastated. Not only was her husband at war, her only son was now a criminal.
Word travels fast on Marine bases and this was no exception. Mrs. Stokes soon received a request by the base commanding general to come for lunch. The wives of Marine colonels do not get invited to lunch with generals. If anything it would have been the general’s wife doing the inviting.
Again, not so in this case. Mrs. Stokes arrived at the commanding general’s quarters the next day. She was ushered in by the general’s aide.
General Willard met her at the entrance to the dining room.
GEN WILLARD: Nice to see you again, Denise.
MRS STOKES (demurely): Thank you for having me.
GEN WILLARD: Why don’t we have a seat. Gunny Fred is about to bring out some club sandwiches. Does that sound OK?
MRS. STOKES: That would be fine.
The two moved to the dining room table. The leaves had all been taken out and what could at times seat twenty officers and wives now could only seat six diners total.
They both sat down and the food followed shortly. The general made small talk as they ate. Ten minutes later they were both finished and Gen. Willard began.
GEN WILLARD: Denise, I just wanted to have you by so I could make sure everything’s going OK at home. I know how trying it is to have Colonel Stokes overseas. Add to that the mischief Cal Jr’s been getting in and I know you have your hands full.
More than anything at that minute Denise Stokes, a proud southern woman and wife of a Marine colonel, was embarrassed and frightened. She’d always enjoyed the evenings at the Officer’s Club mingling with the other wives. This was something entirely different. To be summoned to the throne room was unbearable.
MRS STOKES: General, I know there’s nothing that can fix what my son has done. I only ask that he be given the punishment he deserves and maybe he’ll learn his lesson. I will say that I have tried my best but sometimes teenage boys don’t want to listen to their mothers.
GEN WILLARD: I appreciate you saying that, Denise. You do, however, realize that Cal Jr. is part of the Marine family and as a Marine I have a duty to help.
MRS STOKES: I understand.
GEN WILLARD: How about I have a little talk with the boy? Maybe even give him a tour of the local juvenile detention facility. I know the warden pretty well and he’s always happy to help me keep our kids on the straight and narrow.
MRS STOKES: If you think that would help, I’d be much obliged.
GEN WILLARD: Consider it done.
He turned to the door and yelled for his aide.
GEN WILLARD: Captain Nelson!
Capt. Nelson walked into the room.
CAPT NELSON: Yes, General?
GEN WILLARD: Please schedule to have my driver pick up young Calvin from the Stokes residence tomorrow morning at 06:00. Bring him to the PT field and then I’ll ride back with him to the office.
CAPT NELSON: Yes, sir.
He turned back to Mrs. Stokes.
GEN WILLARD: Well then, Denise, please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Anything at all.
MRS STOKES: Thank you, si r.
She sincerely hoped she would never have to call the General. She picked up her pocketbook and made her way to the door.
The next morning, right at 06:00, Calvin Stokes Jr. was waiting with his mother on the front step of their two-story home. He wore his best Sunday khaki slacks with a white button-down shirt. His hair was buzz cut as he’d worn it during the past year and the look of anger and dejection was evident on his face.
The night before when his mother had arrived at home, she’d delivered the news. A screaming match ensued, ending with Cal slamming his bedroom door in her face. Temper tantrum or not, he was ready for the General’s driver at 05:30. He knew the alternative.
Without an appetite, he waited quietly, glaring at his mother as she’d casually eaten her own breakfast.
A government vehicle pulled up at 06:00 and what looked to be a six foot five Marine sergeant stepped out of the driver’s seat. He was dressed in firmly creased utilities and marched smartly to the door.
SGT KRAUS (in a deep baritone): Mrs. Stokes?
MRS STOKES: Yes, Sergeant, I’m Mrs. Stokes.
SGT KRAUS: Is the young Mr. Stokes ready to go?
MRS STOKES: He sure is, Sergeant. I appreciate you coming out here to get him.
SGT KRAUS: Not at all, ma’ am. You ready to go son?
CAL (nervously): Yes, sir.
SGT KRAUS: Don’t call me sir, son. You can call me Sergeant Kraus.
CAL: Yes, Sergeant Kraus.
SGT KRAUS: Well let’s get going. The General’s waiting.
He walked back to the car and held the back door open for Cal. Cal slid into the back seat and fastened his seat belt. Sgt. Kraus waved goodbye to Cal’s mother and walked around the car into the driver’s seat.
Kraus started the car and they began their trek. Cal looked back to see his mother still standing on front step. Too mad and embarrassed to move, he didn’t even wave back.
The next eight
hours were torture for Cal. Sgt. Kraus picked up the general at the PT field and then took the pair back to the Headquarters building. The whole way not a word was spoken to Cal, who sat sullen in the back. All his bluster from the night before had evaporated.
After a stern talking to while standing at attention in front of the general’s huge desk, he was taken by the ever-present Sgt. Kraus to the juvenile detention facility just off base in Jacksonville, NC.
The warden, stone-faced but cordial, instructed his staff to get Cal dressed in a prison jumpsuit. He’d changed into the oversized outfit under the disapproving glare of two male and one female guard.
Then the warden, followed closely by Sgt. Kraus and the three prison guards, gave Cal a careful tour of the entire facility.
Cal saw the looks on the faces of the kids serving time. Some looked scared. Some looked resigned. Others just looked like career criminals. By the end of the two hour tour, Cal knew he never wanted to return.
Although the shock of the prison tour seemed effective for the short term, Cal soon fell into his old routines. This go-around, however, he did a better job covering his tracks. He no longer committed outright mischief; instead he skirted the rules and bent them to his will.
Even at a young age, Cal excelled in academics. He’d enjoyed a challenge and far outpaced his classmates. He now used his mind to mold the rules as he saw fit. He was never again caught for any overt acts of fighting or stealing, but he would return home with smoke and beer on his breath. His mother could never prove it.
His behavior remained poor until Cal’s father returned from war. The homecoming was more of a relief to Mrs. Stokes than to Cal. He waited with a mixture of fear and anger as his parents discussed his fate.
Looking back, Cal knew his disruptive attitude was a kid’s way of coping with an absent father, but even in the midst of the turmoil, deep down he knew he’d crossed the line. That did not, however, mean he would beg for forgiveness. It wasn’t HIS fault that his father had gone off to war.
Col. Stokes received the news with a strange calm. He’d already been tipped off by a friend on the Commanding General’s staff, so he knew the majority of Cal’s infractions. Coming home from his second war, Cal Sr. understood the actions of young men. When given the chance, they could excel beyond anyone’s imagination. Left alone without proper guidance, young boys could just as easily fall on the wrong side of the tracks.
Col. Stokes understood why Cal had misbehaved. It didn’t make it right, but it was what it was. So although his star shined bright within the Marine Corps, Col. Stokes personally delivered his retirement papers to the commander of Second Marine Division the next day. The general did his best to set Cal Sr. against his chosen path, but the Marine, and more importantly the father, would not be dissuaded.
Col. Stokes knew it was time to spend more time with his family.
+ + +
The Stokes family packed up and relocated back to Nashville, Tennessee a few weeks later. Through teary goodbyes with lifelong friends and an emotional change of command ceremony where Col. Stokes was awarded the Legion of Merit and a Bronze Star, the Stokes clan moved on, uncertain of the future.
Cal Sr. used his considerable accrued leave time to reach out to his numerous contacts in the civilian world. Throughout his time in the Corps, he’d come in contact with various influential individuals both on the national and local scene. Although his skills from the Marine Corps didn’t equate to one particular job in the civilian world (not many regiments to command on Main Street U.S.A.), his Marine determination knew he would find something.
He spent his days making phone calls and his nights and weekends with the family. Most time devoted to the family found Cal and his father bonding and figuring out each other. There were camping and fishing trips. All the while, Cal’s father treated his son like a man and started to relay life’s lessons.
Cal’s spirits and attitude improved. He’d needed his father and once again things felt right in the world.
Not long after settling in the Nashville suburb of Franklin, TN, Cal Sr. was hired by a local government facility as a consultant to evaluate the facility’s security and operations. The contact had been arranged by an old friend now serving at the Pentagon who had sung Cal Sr.’s praises to regional director in charge of all of the state of Tennessee federal facilities.
Although he’d never done anything like what he’d been hired for, the money was right and like a true Marine, he’d figure it out as he went.
Long story short, after evaluating the facility, interviewing employees, cataloging procedures, and simply observing for six weeks, Col. Stokes delivered his thirty page summary to the regional director. The director was very pleased with the recommendations and asked Cal Sr. to stay on-board to help implement his suggestions.
Cal’s father didn’t want to be employed by the government, so instead he asked if a new consulting contract could be drafted for the follow-up work. The director agreed and Cal Sr. spent the good part of the next six months retraining the facility staff and implementing the upgraded security protocol.
During the entire process he made it absolutely clear that the job would not interfere with his home life. He insisted on leaving no later than 4:30 each day in order to spend time with Cal. It was a habit that he’d continue until the day he died.
Throughout his first consulting gig, Cal Sr. began to see the possibilities in the world of national and international security. He’d recognized the rise of international terrorist cells during his time in the Marine Corps. He’s lost friends in the Beirut bombing. Col. Stokes knew it wouldn’t be long before those attacks hit American soil.
Over the next couple years he formalized the structure of Stokes Security International. He leveraged his abundant contacts within state and federal agencies to help win jobs that included law enforcement training, security analysis, VIP protection, etc. Over time, his staff grew, as did his reputation for being absolutely dependable.
He refused jobs that would take him away for long periods of time. He refused offers from certain Middle East governments with reported ties to developing terrorist organizations. While no longer an active duty Marine, Col. Stokes still felt an intense desire to protect and defend the United States.
Along the way, he hired former military officers and enlisted men to be part of the growing SSI. He soon became known within certain circles as the man who gave second chances. Col. Stokes knew from experience that everyone has at least one bad day and sometimes good troops fall by the wayside.
His first “second chance” hire, strangely enough, was Cal’s cousin Travis. At the time Travis was a Navy Lieutenant serving as a platoon commander with the SEALs. A highly intelligent young man (Rhodes Scholar in college), and an impressive athlete who’d started at defensive back on Ole Miss’ football team for four years, Travis seemed to be on the fast track to Navy stardom.
That all changed when he found out that one of his SEALs was beating his wife. A deeply honorable man, Travis confronted the enlisted man. During the short conversation the SEAL admitted to abusing his wife and told Travis it wasn’t any of his business.
Although the sailor outweighed Travis by almost fifty pounds, he still found himself waking up inside a San Diego hospital with a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, a cracked jaw, four broken ribs, a broken leg and one helluva headache.
Travis, after calling the ambulance, turned himself in to the Shore Patrol and was confined at the brig until the unconscious SEAL could wake up and testify against his platoon commander.
The man decided not to press charges, but the damage had already been done. By turning himself in, Travis had admitted his guilt. There was nothing the Special Operations community could do except let him leave the Navy quietly. At least it was better than spending more time in the brig.
Cal Sr. found out about the incident from his brother, Travis’ father. He invited Travis to fly out to Nashville to spend a little time with family. During the tw
o-week stay, Cal’s father introduced Travis to the inner workings of SSI. He never made it seem like he was courting a new employee; instead, he quizzed Travis on how SSI could improve its operations.
By the end of the visit, without prompting, Travis made up his mind. He asked his uncle if he could join the company. He explained that he would rather sweep floors for his uncle’s company than to beg for work elsewhere.
Needless to say, Cal Sr. took him up on his offer. Instead of starting Travis on the bottom of the totem pole, the CEO of SSI took Travis under his wing. For the first year he rarely left Cal Sr.’s side. Some people called Travis “The Bodyguard,” but he served as more of an aide and apprentice. Travis would later admit that the time spent with his uncle and his family probably saved him from a depressive fate.
Never a word was said by the rest of the company staff other than to give the new man a friendly ribbing. Many within SSI came from similar backgrounds and circumstances. It was the former Marine turned CEO who had helped many of his staff over the years. They respected their leader’s decisions and believed in his vision.