Mrs. Roberts ran and kissed him on the cheek.
“Father Dan,” she called him, even though Brother Jack knew for a fact that he was Episcopalian, not Roman Catholic. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Not only that, I came in style,” he said. “E. Z.’s here, too.”
“Where?”
“The bar at the club is open,” he said. “Where else?” Then he saw Brother Jack. “I really hate to just jump in on you like this, Chaplain,” he said, “but I went through War II with the colonel, Colonel Parker, that is, and I christened the groom, so I figured that it was my duty to marry him.”
“We’re honored to have you here, sir,” Brother Jack said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Nothing but clean up the mess afterward,” the Chief of Chaplains said, cheerfully. “I know this chapel. I was stationed here. The reason the organ is new is because the old one, when I was here, used to collapse once a month.”
Then the guests started to arrive. Including the officer the Chief of Chaplains had identified as “E. Z.” E. Z. turned out to be the newly appointed Vice Chief of Staff of the United States Army, General E. Z. Black.
The Vice Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army smelled as heavily of booze as did Major Green.
Fair’s fair, Brother Jack decided, admitting that the very brief Episcopalian wedding ceremony had a lot of class, even if it meant the minister didn’t have much of an opportunity to exhort the bride and groom on their responsibilities to God and the community as man and wife.
And he really liked the officers lined up outside the chapel afterward, with their sabers forming an arch over the newlyweds. He hadn’t been able to find out what this Norwich Association was, but he made a note to look into it. Maybe he could get them to do the saber thing regularly. It added a nice military touch.
The self-propelled 155 mm cannon was a disaster, as Brother Jack knew it would be. First, when they started it up, it made so much noise you couldn’t hear the organ music during the recessional. Next, it frightened the bride, when the groom and she got into it. And when she rode it to the officer’s club, she got grease all over her white dress.
And, as Brother Jack knew very well it would, it just tore up the macadam road in front of the chapel and all the way to the officer’s club, where there was a party that could only be described as drunken.
But he couldn’t say anything to anyone about that. For what happened was that the Vice Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army, a four-star general, obviously in his cups, had called out to the groom’s father (whom Brother Jack had learned was a retired colonel). “Come on, Phil,” the Vice Chief had said, “it’s our last chance, probably,” and then ordered the driver and the commander of the self-propelled 155 mm off the vehicle and had driven Captain and Mrs. Philip Sheridan Parker IV to their reception at the officer’s open mess.
W.E.B. Griffin is the author of the bestselling Brotherhood of War, Corps, Badge of Honor, Men at War, Honor Bound, and Presidential Agent series. He has been invested into the orders of St. George of the U.S. Armor Association and St. Andrew of the U.S. Army Aviation Association; is a life member of the U.S. Special Operations Association; and is a member of Gaston-Lee Post 5660, Veterans of Foreign Wars and of China Post #1 in Exile of the American Legion, and the Police Chiefs Association of Southeast Pennsylvania, South New Jersey, and Delaware. He has been named an honorary life member of the U.S. Army Otter & Caribou Association, the U.S. Army Special Forces Association, the U.S. Marine Corps Raider Association, and the USMC Combat Correspondents Association. Visit his website at www.webgriffin.com.
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