Sacrifice of One

by Jamie Fredric

  Twenty-five minutes later, Adler went silent. Grant laid his head back. Adler quietly said, “I’m sorry, skipper. I just...”

  “No, Joe. You cleared it all up. I thought I was losing my mind, you know, not being able to remember, not understanding what it meant. You know that’s just not like me.”

  “Yeah. I know, but that’s part from the hits you took,” Adler said, as he pointed to Grant’s head, “and now the meds. You know what aspirins do to you.”

  Grant looked back at his good friend. “And the men from the Team...did they leave yet?”

  “No. The admiral had them stay a couple of extra days. They should be here today.”

  “Good. I need to see them.” He took a deep breath, feeling pain on both sides of his ribcage. “What about the men we rescued. Where are they?”

  “Understand they’re at a separate section of the hospital. Heard the big brass from D.C. are coming in. The admiral was trying to get information, but everyone’s keeping pretty tight-lipped. All he could find out was they’ll be here for at least another three weeks, if not longer. They’ve got examinations and debriefings, I expect.”

  “They’ve been through hell, Joe. Are they okay?”

  “As far as I know, they came through the whole incident in pretty good shape, except for some bumps and bruises when our chopper went down.”

  Grant went quiet, as he tried to remember their faces. He still couldn’t bring them into focus yet. Giving his head a shake, he looked back at Adler. “Okay, now give me the straight skinny. What’s wrong with me? I mean, physically. We know what’s wrong mentally!” It was the first time he smiled since coming out of the anesthesia. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Do I still have all my teeth?” he laughed.

  “Yeah, miracle upon miracle. You still got all your pearly whites! And as far as your other injuries, there’re nothing that time won’t heal. You know that shoulder of yours was dislocated. Doc said they had to do extensive repair work on the rotator cuff, so that’s gonna need some therapy.”

  “Feel like I’m in a straightjacket with this damn thing,” Grant said, looking down at his right arm, wrapped tight against his body.

  Adler nodded, then continued, “The pain in your side is because you’ve got fractured ribs. Anything else that hurts...well, now you know why. Look, maybe you should talk with Doc Engleston. He’ll...”

  “Hey! You’re being straight with me, right?”

  “Would I shit you?” Adler laughed.

  “Then that’s...” Grant went silent, continuing to stare at Adler, but almost as if he wasn’t seeing him.

  “What’s wrong, skipper?”

  “Something you just said.”

  “What? You mean ‘would I shit you’?”

  “Yeah. Somebody said that to me not too long ago.” He closed his eyes trying to draw out a face. “Who the hell was it?”

  It seemed to be something so insignificant, but Adler knew once Grant kicked his brain into gear, he wouldn’t stop until he had the answer. The only other person Adler could think of was...Oh, Christ. Tony. How the hell could he tell Grant about Mullins?

  “Hey, skipper, don’t worry about it. Maybe when the pain meds are out of your system, it’ll come to you.”

  Suddenly, Grant laughed, then looked at Adler. “Mullins! Tony said it when I called the Embassy. Hey! Where is he? Did he come here while I was zonked out?”

  “Uh. No. He hasn’t been here.”

  “He hasn’t?” Grant asked with both surprise and disappointment. “He’s not pissed at me for chewing his ass out, is he?”

  Adler shook his head. “No. He’s...he’s probably back in D.C. now.” Unable to face Grant, he got up and stepped around to the foot of the bed. He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, keeping his head lowered.

  Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong, Joe. Are you gonna tell me?”

  Adler turned. Gotta let him know, he decided. Except the time wasn’t right to let Grant know Mullins was trying to save him when he was killed. Maybe he’d never tell him.

  When he looked up, Grant still had his eyes fixed on him. “Do you remember anything about the firefight when our chopper went down?”

  “Just parts. I’m starting to remember the crash and then everybody getting out. There was the sound of another chopper and gunfire. But not much more; only brief flashes come back every now and then. Why?” All Adler could do was stare back, hoping he didn’t have to say the words.

  The realization suddenly hit Grant. He pressed his head back against the pillow. “Oh, Christ! No! He can’t be. Tell me he’s not dead!” Adler still didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told Grant everything. “Tony’s dead?” Adler merely nodded. “How? What...what happened?”

  Adler looked down as he walked to the chair, but he didn’t sit. He described to Grant how Mullins died, what he was trying to do, and finally he said, “They sent his body back to D.C. the other day.”

  “Goddamn it, Joe! Goddamn it! If I hadn’t asked him to...”

  “Hold it!” Adler said loudly, slapping his hand on the bed rail. This was another one of their moments, when military protocol was about to be thrown out the window, when a brotherly friendship would take over.

  A nurse tending a patient on the opposite side of the room walked quickly toward Adler. “Shhh! Please! Keep your voices down!” She drew the curtain around the bed and left.

  “Yeah. Yeah,” Adler commented, waving her off. He turned back to Grant, leaning over the rails, trying to keep his voice down to a loud whisper. “Look, you just wait a freakin’ minute! You just remembered that you asked him if he could help us while we were in Moscow, right?”

  “Yeah, so?” Grant asked, still angry at himself.

  “Well, do you remember that he took it on himself to show up at the safe house? In fact, you tried to talk him out of it when we were in Washington, the night at the memorial. Remember?” Grant gave an almost imperceptible nod. “He put his ass out there. Shit! He wanted to put his ass out there! Nothing you said changed his mind. So don’t you go busting your ass and take any blame. Hear me?” Grant remained motionless, taking in Adler’s words, but unable to believe the fact, unable to shake the guilt.

  Adler put his arms on the bed rail, then rested his chin on his fists. “Look, skipper. You’ve been through shit these past few days. You haven’t been able to think straight, and I know you’ve still got questions and probably blank pages in that brain of yours. It’ll all come back.”

  “I know, but it’s just so damn frustrating. Listen, Joe, can you give me a few minutes?”

  Adler nodded, “Sure. Sure I will. I’ll go get us a couple of Cokes. You want a Snickers?” Grant didn’t answer. Adler understood.

  Grant needed some private time, to think about Mullins, think about everything he’d ever asked of him. Joe said he was aboard the rescue chopper, picking up the POWs. It was something Tony wanted to do, for his cousin. How ironic if one of those men was his cousin, but it wasn’t likely.

  Thinking of the arguments they had, and the firefight aboard the Bronson,and that scraggly ass hair and beard, Grant managed a brief smile. “Damn, Tony,” he said under his breath.

  He was trying to adjust to a more comfortable position in bed, when Adler walked in, seeing him shifting his body. “I think doc said they’d try to get you up this afternoon.”

  “That’s what I hear,” Grant answered. “You know it’s driving me nuts being in this place.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He handed Grant a Coke. “I got you a Snickers just in case.” He put it on the side table, then asked, “Hey, are you okay, I mean, about Tony?”

  “Yeah. You’re right. No matter how much I chewed his ass out, he’d made up his mind. Guess we all can be hardheaded at one time or other, but he died because of it.”

  “Do you think the CIA will try to tarnish his record?”

  “Christ, Joe! I hope not. When I get back, maybe the two of us can stand up for him. See
what you can find out, since you’ll be home before me.” Adler gave a quick nod. “Okay, time to change the subject. Did Grigori and Alexandra fly back with the admiral?”

  “Yeah. On the same plane he flew in on, courtesy of the President.”

  Grant just shook his head slowly. “Can’t believe it actually happened, Joe. I mean, Grigori ‘coming over.’ Guess he’ll be going through some tough G2 sessions. Jesus! I wish I could be there for him.”

  “I got word I’m supposed to be ‘interviewed’ when I get back. Think they’ll send somebody here to talk with you?”

  “I hope so. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Oh, one other thing,” Adler said, clearing his throat. “Lieutenant Palmer was here briefly the day you were brought in.”

  “Terri? She was here?” Grant questioned, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, but you were still in recovery. She drove down from Rhein-Main but said she couldn’t stay.”

  “How’d she know I was here?”

  Adler shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Maybe she saw a message come into Communications at Rhein-Main.”

  “Is she coming back?”

  Adler shook his head. “She got new orders to Pearl. She was flying to D.C. that night.”

  Grant tried to sit up straighter, as he answered, “Pearl, huh? Well, it’s best.”

  “Thought you ended that.”

  “Yeah. I did. It just wouldn’t be fair, you know? I mean, look at the shit that happened to me. Couldn’t ask anybody else to make a decision to live this kind of life.”

  Grant remembers the day, as if it were yesterday, when a Navy vehicle pulled up in front of his house. The day he and his mom learned his dad had been killed. Seeing his mom suffering, the look in her eyes, and the anguish on her face affected him deeply. There were days when he thought she wanted to die. And that frightened him almost as much as the day his dad left for Korea.

  “Yeah. Look at me,” Adler said, frowning. “Divorced twice. It doesn’t always work, skipper, but...sometimes that one special person comes along.” He hesitated briefly before saying, “It worked for you and Jenny, didn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it did,” Grant nodded, thinking about his wife. During one of his trips to Nam, she contracted a viral infection and died before he could get home.

  Enough had been said. Adler picked up his cap from the side table. “Do you remember this is my last day here?”

  “I know,” Grant replied. “Won’t have anybody to play with anymore.”

  “Well, you just be nice to all the nurses, and I bet you won’t even miss me.” He glanced at his watch. “Guess I’d better get going. My flight’s at 1430. Oh, by the way. I picked up your dress blues and rucksack that we left at Tempelhof. There’re lockers downstairs. The lock key’s in the drawer here.” He walked around to the other side of the bed, reaching for Grant’s left hand, being mindful of the wires and IV. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  “That’s affirmative! Hey! You still got an extra set of keys for my apartment and the Vette, right?”

  “Yeah, back in my apartment.”

  “Well, start up the Vette a few times, okay?”

  “My pleasure,”Adler said, with a quick, two finger salute.

  As he started walking past the bed, Grant said, “Thanks, Joe.”

  “For what?”

  “Just...thanks.”

  Chapter 14

  Air Terminal Dining Facility

  Ramstein Air Base

  Five Weeks Later

  Noon

  Grant slid the food tray along the metal rack of the serving line, paid the bill then glanced around the room, looking for an empty table. He picked one out, farthest away from the serving line, noise, and closest to a wall. He chastised himself. Get over that damn back to the wall paranoia thing, Stevens.

  Placing his tray on one of the small round cafe tables, he pulled out a red plastic chair, sat down, then put his cap upside down on an extra chair.

  As he opened the first carton of milk, he glanced around the room, seeing a man and a boy sitting a few tables away.

  The boy, who appeared to be about fifteen, was watching him. Grant smiled and gave a quick nod. The boy turned away.

  After taking a healthy swig of cold milk from the carton, Grant picked up the cheeseburger with everything on it, relieved his appetite finally returned and his taste buds were back to normal.

  For almost five weeks he’d been a “resident” in the convalescent ward. Classified as TAD (temporary additional duty), he went through therapy for his shoulder, and waited for the ribs and liver to heal. Today was the day he was finally going home.

  Everything about the mission had finally reassembled in his brain. The POWs were no longer POWs, but were free men. He, Joe, Grigori, and Tony were able to make it happen. He would probably never find out if they were the same men from the failed mission in ’75. It no longer mattered. His second chance made it right.

  Every mission he’d ever been on is filed away in his brain, there to be pulled out on a moment’s notice. Except this mission, this rescue, has affected him like no other. The faces of those men will remain with him for as long as he lives.

  And then there was Grigori. He still couldn’t quite believe Grigori and Alexandra were in the States. How many times they talked about it, joked about it. They’d been there as long as he’d been in the hospital. Five weeks to get acclimated to a brand new way of life, with new identities, with just about new everything. He was eager get home.

  He took another bite from the burger when he heard a voice. “Excuse me.”

  He looked up. It was the boy he noticed earlier. Trying to swallow his mouthful of burger, he helped it along with a gulp of milk. Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he finally asked, “What can I do for you?”

  “That’s my dad over there.” Grant looked at the father and acknowledged him. “He said I could come over and talk to you. I’d like to sit with you for a little while, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure!” Grant pulled a chair out and moved his cap to another. He extended a hand to the boy. “By the way, I’m Grant.”

  “I’m Chris.” A nervous smile crossed his young face, revealing a row of white crooked teeth. He brushed a hand across his forehead, pushing aside blond curly hair.

  “So, Chris, you and your dad headed back to the States?”

  Chris nodded. “We’re flying back to D.C.”

  “No kidding? That’s where I’m going. Is that where you live?”

  “No. We’re from Indiana. My mom and little sisters are at home waiting for us.”

  Grant noticed the boy seemed a bit nervous. He pushed his plate away, then leaned back. “Is there something you want to ask me, Chris?”

  “You’re a Navy SEAL, aren’t you?”

  There was a slight curve to the right side of Grant’s mouth. “Yeah. I am. Guess you noticed the ‘Budweiser’ here,” he said as he pointed to the gold insignia on his jacket.

  “‘Budweiser’?” Chris frowned.

  “Yeah. ‘Budweiser’ is the nickname for the SEAL insignia, the Trident. It looks like the Budweiser beer emblem, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “My dad likes Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

  Grant laughed. “Nothing wrong with that!”

  He took some extra time and explained the Trident and how the name “SEAL” was derived. “Tell you what. Once we’re underway, you come and find me. If you want, I’ll answer any questions you have about the Teams and Navy, okay?”

  “I’d like that,” Chris answered with a grin. Then he glanced over at his dad.

  “Something else on your mind?” Grant asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Chris turned serious, lowering his head briefly as he started to say, “I’ve sorta been...well, I’ve sorta been a screw up the past couple of years.” He quickly added, “I don’t mean I’ve been in jail or anything like that! Just...stuff.” Innocent blue eyes looked up at Grant.
>
  “Most of us probably have done some weird, questionable stuff during our lives, Chris, especially when we were young. Sounds like you’ve already taken a big step by recognizing that. It’s all part of growing up, you know?”

  Chris nodded, seeming a little embarrassed at revealing his personal problem to a stranger...and a Navy SEAL. “My dad was in the Army, but I never really paid much attention to military stuff, and I really didn’t know anything about you guys until...until recently.”

  “You’ve probably got more important things to do, anyway. How old are you? About fifteen?” Chris nodded. “Well, high school can be a great time in your life. Are you into sports?”

  “Play baseball, second base.”

  “Busy position, second base! I got stuck in center field!” Grant laughed, then said, “Hey! You thinking about joining up after college?”

  “College? Would I hafta go to college?”

  Grant laughed again. “Of course not. But I’d bet you’d make good officer material, and college will help get you there.” Chris just looked at him. “Uh-oh. Am I sounding like mom and dad?”

  “No. No. It’s just...college, you know? More school.”

  “Look. You’ve got time to think about it. You’ll make the right decision when the time comes. I’m sure your folks will help you.”

  “I guess so.” He looked over at his dad. “Well, I think I’d better get back to my dad.” He pushed his chair back then stood, as did Grant. “Do you think I could write to you once in awhile?”

  “Sure,” Grant said, reaching for a napkin. He took a ballpoint pen from a pocket inside his dress blues jacket. “Here’s my address.” He handed him the napkin. “Why don’t you give me yours?” Chris scribbled his name and address, then slid the napkin to Grant, as he watched him. Grant spun the napkin around. He tried to interpret the writing. “Is that Southern, or ...?”