Both Lee and Tay bowed, and each of the men nodded in recognition.
“Okay. I’m going to do my best to make it through this. Please bear with me,” Fletcher announced, taking a moment to compose himself. “When we made this pact, I always prayed that today would be a great many years away. As it turned out, I was given ten full years. You always want more, but it’s probably longer than I deserve. I want you to know that Jack was never sick a single day in all that time. Each morning, regardless of what commitments the world demanded from us, we would always go down to the beach. Jack loved to swim in the breakwater and run after seagulls. His exuberance never waned. I don’t think he ever really wanted to catch the seabirds; he just enjoyed the chase. In his last few months, when his hips began to fail, I would carry him to the beach and we’d stare out over the ocean together. Sometimes I’d be late for appointments, but it never mattered. There’s nothing like surviving a plane crash and living through a war to give you some perspective on what’s important.” He paused, his voice faltering. “It was a beautiful, warm morning when he died. Just as I had carried him in Southeast Asia … so he slipped away in my arms. I must’ve sat on that beach holding him for hours. I remember stroking the side of his face until my fingers became numb. It was Lee who eventually found us. He knew exactly where to look. Although I don’t remember it happening, he gently pried Jack from my arms, and Tay helped me to her car. I can’t tell you where we drove that day, just that I cried all the way. I take great comfort in the last years of Jack’s life. I know that he loved each and every day we shared—God knows I did. But…” he said, no longer able to restrain his grief, “it doesn’t make his passing any easier. I … I guess I just miss my friend.”
The group crowded around Fletcher, and Rogan placed his hand on his shoulder. Fletcher rested his own hand on top of his lieutenant’s, but kept his head bowed. For a while, they were quiet as Jack’s coffin was moved into position.
Ordinarily, no cemetery would allow an animal to be buried on its premises, but the caretaker of Hampton Lane had become a close friend of Fletcher’s over the years. He had lost both his boys to Vietnam. When he heard the news of Jack’s passing, he immediately offered Fletcher a plot next to his girls.
Mitchell walked across to a basket that was filled with a dozen white roses. He chose one, kissed it, and gently placed it on top of Jack’s coffin. Marvin, Lee, and Rogan each followed suit. Fletcher could hardly see anymore. His tears had blurred and distorted his vision. He wanted to say more—there was so much more that needed to be said—but he knew the words would fail him. He stumbled up to the grave and placed Jack’s leash on top of his coffin. “I wish we could spend just one more day together,” he managed, then whispered, “Just to watch you run, Jack…”
Overcome by the moment, Tay ran up behind Fletcher and wrapped her arms around him. Together they watched as Jack was lowered down. When the coffin had come to a stop, each of the men shoveled a measure of sand into the grave until there was little of his coffin left to see.
Fletcher felt exhausted, drained; his head was reeling.
He felt on the verge of passing out.
As Lee and Tay led him away, he looked back and saw that both Rogan and Mitchell were kneeling next to Jack’s cross. They were reading his epitaph.
Fletcher closed his eyes and read along with them.
JACK
I now know that Vietnam could never claim you.
Some souls burn too bright to be lost to the darkness.
Yet, as we part, know that our journey is not at an end.
Just as you found me, I will seek you out again.
Run to her, Jack, she’s waiting for you.
I’ll be along in a while.
Ruush.
Fletcher
Author’s Note
Finding Jack is a tribute to the Vietnam war dogs, many of whom gave their lives to protect American and allied soldiers. Shortly after troops began to pull out of the war, it’s believed the U.S. government ordered that the dogs be left behind. It was proving too expensive to transport them home. They were labeled as “surplus military equipment” and left to fates unknown.
Some were handed over to the South Vietnamese, but many were left to die. In the end, it’s estimated that some four thousand dogs were sent to serve in Vietnam. It’s believed they saved the lives of more than ten thousand soldiers.
Fewer than two hundred dogs made it home.
May we never forget their sacrifice. And if you can remember Jack, then you can remember all the dogs.
I hope you do.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
FINDING JACK. Copyright © 2011 by Gareth Crocker. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
www.garethcrocker.com
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Crocker, Gareth.
(Leaving Jack)
Finding Jack : a novel / Gareth Crocker. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Originally published as Leaving Jack. Johannesburg, South Africa : Robert Hale Publishers, 2008.
ISBN 978-0-312-62172-8
1. Soldiers—Fiction. 2. Dogs—War use—Fiction. 3. Human-animal relationships—Fiction. 4. Bereavement—Fiction. 5. Vietnam War, 1961–1975—Fiction. I. Title.
PR9369.4.C76L43 2011
823'.92—dc22 2010039361
First Edition: February 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-9479-8
First St. Martin’s Press eBook Edition: February 2011
Finding Jack Page 20