by J. T. Patten
“How could you?” Sean questioned Jack in utter contempt and ran towards the door with the beret. Jack picked up the Purple Heart award still encased in the jewel box and hurled it at Sean’s back.
Sean continued to the door but Jack had caught up while Sean fumbled with the lock latch. Jack grabbed Sean’s right arm pulling it away from the top chain.
Sean spun.
With a left open palm heel strike Sean connected with the lower part of Jack’s nose and upper lip. The surprise and pain caused Jack to release the grip and in no time Sean was running home clutching the beret to his chest with both arms.
Sean’s father had just come home and nearly collided in the entryway of their house with his bawling son.
“What’s gotten into you? Stop crying. SEAN! What’s wrong?”
Through sobs and heavy breathing, Sean managed to gasp and form words between breaths conveying to his father what happened. His mother came out of a room to see what was going on.
“I have it under control, hon. Go back to whatever you were doing.”
“Sean, come with me.”
Sean followed his dad into the laundry room where his father pulled out a clean white hand towel that had been recently folded, ready to be put away in the off-limits guest bathroom. Sean’s dad dabbed some water on the towel and gently stroked off the debris. Moments later the green beret was clean. Sean’s dad folded the towel so only the dry end was exposed and he continued to brush Robert Laughlin’s beret so all water droplets were off. He admired his work and showed it to his son for final approval.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“We’re not done yet. How’s your wrist?”
“Red. Sore.”
“Get in the car.”
Though only houses away they drove to Kent’s and went up to the front door. Sean’s dad knocked on the screen door frame and within seconds Jack, his wife, and Kent appeared. Kent’s mom had her arm around her son. Both of their eyes were red and swollen from crying. Jack had a fat lip. Dried blood was visible in his nostrils.
Jack was still furious and immediately went on the offensive.
“Don, your son just stole my boy’s hat and nearly ripped the screen door right out of the frame. I tried to stop him and he took a punch at me. This is unacceptable, and I am afraid he is no longer welcome here.”
Ignoring Jack, Don Havens, his own son also under his arm, said calmly, “Cheryl, Kent, while I know this is hardly timely, please accept my condolences for the passing of LT Laughlin in the line of duty.”
“Don, you don’t have to…”
“Please, Cheryl, we had no idea. I’m merely here because Sean was concerned with your husband’s lack of reverence to this symbol of service and honor, which we have now restored to a more proper condition.”
“Thank you, Don, but…”
Don continued his little speech now back in a formal military voice, “Please accept my apologies for Sean’s heartfelt motive to flee and seek safe haven in our home. He only meant to rectify the situation. I’m sorry he wasn’t able to better communicate his intentions. We didn’t mean to add to this rather heavy day.”
Cheryl knew there was no stopping Don and appreciated the formal words that had seemed lacking when she first received the news of her late husband’s demise so many years ago.
With that, Don Havens opened the screen door and handed the folded green beret with its flash patch up to Kent. Don snapped back, heels together, and saluted Kent who was holding his late father’s beret like a ring bearer holding a silk pillow.
“Kent, you are still welcome in our home whenever you wish.” As Don turned to Jack his demeanor changed. “Jack, as a former serviceman myself, if your wife and boy were not standing here, I’d pound you to a pulp. You owe my boy an apology. Now.”
Don Havens wasn’t a big man, but he was a righteous man. At that moment in time, Don Havens represented himself as a father, the military service, and LT Laughlin KIA. Even Jack could not deny the force and power emanating from Don and Sean and offered them both the most sincere apology of his life.
“And Jack, you touch my boy again and I will rip your arms right from your body. Mark my words. Never question if I would.”
Sean and his father walked away while Jack closed the door in shame.
Sean wondered what Kent’s birth dad would have thought of the scene. Because he was killed in the line of duty, some asshole got to marry his widowed wife and raise his son. Would LT Laughlin have approved of how life moved on after his death? Sean concluded no. Sean decided then and there that someone needed to protect the men in Special Forces and he would be that person.
Chapter 26
Sean went to the fridge and pulled out some more beers.
Lars had slowed his drinking. He really knew nothing of Sean’s childhood and now a lot was making sense about his brother-in-law’s personality and interests. He still needed the bottom line of his profession. Lars remained silent and looked around the room feigning boredom.
Sean knew what Lars wanted and continued.
Soon after the incident with Kent’s father, Sean heard about the Police Junior Rifle Team program. Having been a crack shot with a pellet gun he received the Christmas before, the .22 caliber match rifles felt natural.
Detective Doug Shiller, an ex-Marine sniper in Vietnam, was in charge of the police program and took Sean under his wing. Havens won every match he entered.
Shiller tried his hardest to recruit Havens towards a career in law enforcement, but understood Havens’ passion for special operations.
Havens shared with Lars a particular conversation he had with Doug that was yet another stepping stone to who he was today.
“Sean, special operations may seem glamorous, but I think you have something different to offer the world.”
Havens just shrugged. His father had said the same things. So did his beach-landing Iwo Jima uncle. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before, but it’s what I want to do.”
“Why? Do you like the guns, the adventure, the foreign lands, the idea of killing?”
“No. I want to help the other spec ops guys like Kent’s dad.”
“Why do you think you could help other team members better than someone else?”
“I think I may be smarter and more adaptable than some. I want to be Special Forces so I can speak a lot of languages and get good intel to make sure everyone is safe and we kill the right bad guys.”
“Hmmm. That’s pretty noble. And who do you think is going to give YOU the right intel so you can do your job?”
“I’ll get it.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Sean.”
“Well you did it, Doug, when you weren’t shooting guys.”
“Yeah, I did plenty of recon and close observation, but here is the thing. Sometimes we traveled in decent sized groups. My group was wiped out with the exception of me and a couple other guys.”
“So who was giving you the intel?”
“The Navy and another observation group.”
“And who wiped out your group?”
“The Navy and another observation group.”
“Huh?” Sean wondered if it was a conspiracy theory of the government whacking its black hit team. He knew Doug had done some dark stuff with the Marines.
“They fucked up, kid. That’s the thing about intel. Someone high enough up believes it is true, then it is. We got shelled from the ships at sea who were getting our position from another observation group, who in turn was cutting us down as soon as we tried to evac from our position.”
“Fratricide, right?”
“That’s a pretty polite way of saying it, but yeah.”
“Sean, the down and dirty in the weeds stuff can be fun but I would much rather have had a guy like you telling folks where to point the guns. It’s not always going to be fighting in jungles. And tanks are done. Someday it will be more about mixing with people and understanding them. We were starting to do that better in Vietnam. You could
have done it well.”
“So what should I do?”
“If you want to help cops and catch crooks and killers, I’d rather see you with the Bureau. If you want to help soldiers and still see the world and speak your languages and eat nasty food in nasty places, be a spook.”
“CIA?”
“Shhh. Don’t ever say that out loud. They can hear you.” Doug lowered his head and shoulders and looked around. He raised his eyes slowly to the corners of the room.
Sean mirrored the same subconsciously. “Really?”
Doug smacked Havens on the side of the head and walked down the firing range.
“Your birthday’s coming up. I’m not getting you anything, but you can still blow out your candles. Load up.”
Doug lit four small cake candles down the range, dripping wax on the ground then seating them to stand up. “Two prone, two standing. You have thirty seconds. Wait for me to get out of here.”
There were ten seconds left when the last light was shot out. The candles remained standing. Perfect shots.
When the time came to start planning for college, Havens knew he wanted a university with an ROTC rifle team, a foreign language and study abroad program, and a social psychology program. The school counselor came up with three schools: Princeton, Ohio State University, and an in-state public university. Don Havens came up with one: in-state tuition.
For the first two years at school, Havens excelled. He thrived in the academic environment, participated on the ROTC Rifle Team and Ranger Challenge team, picked up French and Spanish, and started on Modern Standard Arabic. He decided that he would contract with the Army. It was still his dream to qualify for Special Forces. He told a member of the cadre Sergeant Major Jones, and ex-Special Forces officer about it.
“Havens I think you could do it but you’re the one who had to stop during the field training exercise because you lost your contact lens.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t see.”
“You can’t call time out if you are in combat. How bad are your eyes, boy?”
“Minus seven.”
“Shit. Can you even see me standing here?”
Havens just looked down. This was not happening.
“SGM Jones, I have to qualify. I have unfinished business.”
“What are you 19? 20? What kind of business haven’t you finished except tappin’ some little Suzie Sweatpants?”
Havens gave the Sergeant Major an abbreviated version of LT Laughlin and Kent. He said he felt like if Special Forces were supposed to be the best, who was protecting them? And if something happened to a Special Forces soldier, who was protecting their family? If Havens was Special Forces qualified, he could protect them all.
Jones nodded. “Nice story. Almost made me sniff, but you still ain’t getting in with those Coke bottle contacts unless you get surgery on your eyes. Maybe you can try Military Intelligence and go the Infantry route. MI can deploy with SF. An S-2 can be attached to an A-team and support them with intel.”
“I only want to do Unconventional Warfare.”
“Son, don’t you think SF has to learn Conventional before they learn Unconventional?”
“I already learned it in lab and class. I did all that basic maneuver stuff. That was all old school. If I was Infantry, I’d get killed in a week if a war broke out. Only those Huckleberry Central Illinois kids want Infantry.”
“Uh huh. Why they haven’t already asked you to be a general is a wonder to me,” Jones remarked. “Havens, I am beginning to think you wouldn’t last in Infantry or any other military function, but not because they are old school, but because you don’t know when to shut up and check your attitude. What makes you think you are better than those men? You are not a team player.”
“Sir, I didn’t…”
“SERGEANT MAJOR, BOY! I work for a living!”
“Yes, sir, sorry, Sergeant Major, sir, I mean. Now you got me all flustered.”
“I think you were flustered before.”
“I am not better than those other guys. I’m just different. I know what the right situation will be for me. I can’t be constrained by all these rules. I want to be more autonomous.”
“Autonomous, huh. Boy, where do you come from? God help me, but I am going to do this. Havens, don’t join the Army. You need to run from the Army before the Army runs you out. I have a friend coming to town next week. His name is Jerry. He is going to be at the University recruiting for the Department of State.”
“I’m not going to sit in some embassy.”
“Shut the hell up and do not interrupt me again! Damn you are impertinent, boy. He doesn’t work for State. He works for someone else who may be able to use you. I know you have a couple more years left here, but…”
“I’m leaving next year for Europe. I am studying abroad.” Havens cringed, realizing he had interrupted the Sergeant Major again.
SGM Jones was the blackest African American Havens had ever seen. Jones was six feet tall and seemed to be four feet wide at the shoulders. Havens loved SGM Jones and often came across as too familiar. Jones had reminded him of Doug, who let Sean get close. Jones did not.
“Dammit Havens, shut up! If you want help let me help. I don’t give a shit if you are going on some all expenses paid Eurail trip. Go find Jerry at the recruiting event. Tell him I sent you. Tell him I hate you and that I am offering him payback. He will take care of you. Just shut your mouth when you talk to him. Shut your mouth when you listen to him, and shut your mouth if he asks you a question. Whatever you leak out, since you can’t follow directions, will be a good enough answer. The man is a legend, but keep that to yourself, and understand that it means if you screw this up I will thoroughly wreck you, boy.”
“Thanks, Sarge.” Havens gave a playful slap on Jones’ arm. “I know you like me. Hug?” Havens smiled and outstretched his arms.
“Havens, drop and give me a hundred. If Jerry was here, I’d say he’s going to love you. If you weren’t such a smart mouth you could be one of my best. I’m giving him a mustang ‘cause Lord knows I’ve tried to break you. And don’t get me wrong Havens, if I wasn’t confined by this school, you’d be all busted up and tamed.”
“What are you going to buy me for my graduation, Sergeant Major?”
“Faster Havens, you loud mouth four-eyed spoiled irreverent piece of shit! Every one of those push-ups is how much I hate you. Shit, I hate you so much that if you did as many pushups as the amount of times I wished I never met you, you’d look big and handsome like me. And you ain’t pretty enough to look like me. Don’t bend your back and keep your ass lower. You trying to cheat me, Havens?”
“Sergeant Major, I see a smudge on your boot. Hey, looks like maybe some popcorn stuck on the side. You go to the movies in these?”
“Start from the beginning, Havens.” Good luck, kid.
Havens found Jerry at the career day by hovering around the State Department booth and looking at name tags. Jerry was an older fellow. Much different than Havens expected, especially if he was a friend of SGM Jones. Jerry looked more like a professor or even a carpet salesman. He was just a regular guy. Maybe even less. The type you would never notice if you passed each other on the street.
Jerry was talking to a young coed who was sharing her future plans as a political science major and ideally working for the Department of State. Jerry was attentive and appearing interested. When the girl would look down nervously in her pitch, Havens watched as Jerry scanned the crowds in just enough time to meet the girl’s eye contact again.
Fuckin’ A, this old guy is a pretty cool hawk.
“Can I help you? Are you interested in a career with the Department of State?”
Havens turned to an attractive African American girl who could not have been more than twenty-five years old.
“No, thanks. I just need to talk to Jerry.”
“Oh, well perhaps I can answer some questions for you.”
“No, thanks. I am not looking for a job. Just need Je
rry.”
“I see. Does he know you?”
“No. He knows a friend of mine. Well a friend of mine is a friend of his. I mean, I was referred to him.”
“I’ll get him.”
Glad to have an excuse to save Jerry from the coed, the State Department representative excused the interruption and nodded towards the young man wishing to speak to Jerry but not wanting a job. Jerry excused himself to attend to Havens and outstretched his hand. He had a huge gem-adorned college ring on his hand that Sean couldn’t make out.
“Hello, I’m Jerry. And you are?”
“Sean. Sean Havens. I know SGM Jones. He said to tell you I should talk to you and that you would be happy he did so.”
“Nice to meet you Sean. Yes, I do know SGM Jones. You must be in the ROTC program here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what exactly did he say to you, can you recall the exact words?”
“Exact words in the conversation or exact words when he referenced you?”
“What do you think would be most appropriate, Sean? This isn’t a test, relax. I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”
“He said, ‘Go find Jerry at the recruiting event. Tell him I sent you. Tell him I hate you and that I am offering him payback. He will take care of you. Just shut your mouth when you talk to him, listen to him, and answer his questions.”
“Thank you. Indeed that is the man I know. He must like you.”
“I like him, but I am not so sure he likes me. I wouldn’t say that if I wanted a job, but thought if you were helping me, you should know everything.”
Jerry smiled and patted Sean on the arm. “He likes you if he sent you. Years back I sent him one of my best. I really liked the kid but thought he would flourish more with Jones. The kid needed structure and wanted discipline.”
“That’s a good fit with Jones. How could you just send someone to the Army from, um, State?”
“I sent him to Jones when Jones was ‘special’ Army. He is returning the favor, I would imagine.”
“So what do you do?”
“Let’s take a little walk. We can get some fresh air. I have been inside all day and could really use a stretch of the legs. Don’t suppose you have a Scotch on you?”