~~~
David C. Garr had made his life ‘worthy’. Now a crime-Unit was assigned permanently to the case. Paul, William and Sam were, and now it was August. They had leads found in Little Rock on a last-seen flyer, and call-in. Along witted-discoveries, made Little-horse made a ‘pass‘-on. As a detective on the case he could keep the information for four-weeks. The year, spread across the area... It was the ‘bizzy-cue’ factor... It was known in F.B.I. decorum that once central office gave the okay you could run out the general-regalia, and do specialty work. And they wasted no time. Agents could be ‘impressionistic’ and run the gamut... Sam, as any of the personnel knew the thinking; William employed-A.P.B.s on local authorities, Paul did foot-work-with the locals... By the end of August they had a whole new-outlook. Accentuating-cause and effect began in-earnest. By toward the end of August the team corraled as much evidence and enact was their-purpose seemed imperceived by emergent-calls. Everything was made current; prospects and profiled provisions-all, were brought up to date. The men worked with speed and momentum. By the 28th of August they came together on the case. Illuminated now, was the fingerprint-of David’s alias ‘Dutch Delman’-Calvin Garr, a foot-print of his known, whereabouts then and his once ‘trail’ somewhere in Arkansas, Mississippi or possibly Georgia.
-The department was confident that it would lead to an arrest. They’d shed light-on the case and was looking with the goal-of intervention... -One-bring the knick-name for it-was, had proven worthy impetus to arrive--at a resolve in the case... The factor, had proven itself, again. David’s was torn between ‘sanity’, or succumbing. His energies-were wearing ‘thin‘. As he observed, day by day, the steady seas. He’d been a sailor for 12-years. It put his brother through college. He was indebted to the service. The service held pride, duty and discipline as a committed-corollary. It had molded him to be an standing-officer and a gentleman. Through it all, the abilities he’d gained annotated much-of the realities of David’s life. He started remembering his classmates, officers and enlisted-men and how they worked together. The great framework of duty coming, to fellows... He underrated the high-order of competence, commission and confidence; gained-through allowing them to mold him. Thereby, fulfilling a role he’d enjoyed was of this-life. That discipline was congealed-into who and what he did today. It was evident he’d always missed his forces-duties. His sanity would-be based-on the elusive, he-had, and was allowed to happen.
He stayed at the coast for a month. Enjoying the last of summer. He had over $50,000 from his duties at the rigs. He was lucky, oil-rig work exemplified specialty work for good pay. He rented a room at a nearby hotel and enjoyed the scenic-life. He laid-out by the sea dried-by and feeling the breezes. Summer’s time of celebration. To enjoy weather, seashore and summer. He took time to ponder his life. All the times, done working, ramifying and realizing his life. Much water went ‘under-the-bridge’ and few times were left. Yet he had the lucid-thinking illuminate of good and bad-times. Encumbering his life, living and life-style. He’d leave in onward easing into fortune and into eventual-acceptance. He could not defer or differentiate that his world had been duty above all else. And now he had to pay his ‘dues‘. “Red-alert, red-alert men-to their post...” said the young-Commander. He was aboard the ship: ‘Exodus’, which was sitting in Macon Delta Bay. A fire-fight had broke out ashore. Aircraft fighters were dropping bombs and Vietcong were firing ground-missiles; they were setting-set to have an all-out offensive. “Hurry-up men, the Vietcong are over-running ground-HQ.” “Get aboard landing-craft and sea-boats”...
'Were going to ‘rock and roll’... Men were yelling as they dressed and suited-up. Then the lights went ‘red‘; they were receiving shore-based barrages. The artillery was hitting-close to the battle-ship. Some struck close, throwing men into the sea as they rode speed-boats while moving to shore. Men were yelling and bleeding. The hurt men were taken to the infirmary while those unhurt, headed into the gray. David then woke-up seeing the sun through an umbrella, and the quiet of the beach. He knew that sanity was succumbing to illness and those things he’d done was its result. He hadn’t much time...
End.
Fifteen
Sequoia Trail-A Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I. Novel. Second Edition Page 28