by Jack July
“Yeah, we take some of the blame, she takes some of the blame, and we start over,” said Mike.
“The family agreed. She knew what she was signing up for,” said Liz.
“Maybe, maybe not. I say we loosen up the rules, push her curfew to where it was, and as long as she respects her detail, does her schoolwork and doesn’t do anything illegal let her go.”
“I was just hoping that maybe she would be, ya know…”
Mike interrupted her and said, “What? Pure on her wedding night?”
“Well, yeah,”
Mike shook his head gave her a little grin and said, “I think that ship done sailed.”
Liz’s head hit his chest and she said, “I figured as much, dammit.”
Mike picked up her chin and said, “You know, about thirty years ago I remember a sixteen year old girl that made a certain eighteen year old boy very happy, very, very happy, over and over again.”
Liz arched her brow and said, “Mr. North, are you calling the President of the United States a slut?”
Mike nuzzled her neck, nibbled her ear and said, “Yeah, more or less.”
The phone buzzed and the President’s secretary said, “You have a meeting with the director and the secretary.”
“Okay, give me a minute.” Liz stood up, straightened her skirt and said, “Okay.” She leaned in and gave him a kiss. “We’ll talk to her tonight. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Secretary of Defense Grant Engel and Director Dotson sat on the couch with the President in the chair next to them. The director handed the President a folder and said, “Look this over and sign it. It’s the execution order for Operation Golden Angel. Beneath that is another sheet; please sign that too.”
“What’s this?” the President asked.
“You don’t want to know,” said Tim.
“Yes, I do,” said the president.
Tim nodded and said, “Okay, this is a pardon for CIA Officer Cody Harrick.”
“What did he do?” asked the President.
“He facilitated the executions of over five hundred Serb troops and members of death squads, five KGB agents, and one Russian Ambassador.”
President North leaned back in her chair, cocked her head, and said, “I’m no Henry Kissinger, but the last time I checked, killing an Ambassador is an act of war.”
Tim nodded in agreement, “Yes, it could be. But that depends on if said Ambassador is dealing weapons to death squads in violation of a UN resolution. Ma’am, I know him personally. I recruited him. He’s a fine man that did the dirty work in a dirtier situation. He got screwed.”
“The President nodded her head and said, “Okay, why is he part of this?”
“T recruited him for Golden Angel,” said Tim.
“Really? Okay, I’ll sign. Tim, do you think Kristy Wilson is alive?” asked the President.
“I don’t know. It takes a good while to transport children overseas, if that’s where she is. We have T and an unlikely cast of misfits looking for her. To be honest, if she’s alive they will find her. Either that, or T will kill half the people in Europe,” said Tim
“Grant?” queried the President.
Secretary Engel set some paperwork on the table and said, “I have given you many options, depending on whether it is state sponsored, religious extremism, or what we think we are looking at, a South American cartel.”
“Why a cartel?” asked the President.
“Human trafficking, networks, safe houses, it fits,” said Tim.
“Okay, gentlemen, when we find out who is doing this, I want the world to tremble. I want the world to know that these acts will bring a high cost to those involved,” said the President.
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Tim and Grant.
November 20th 7:00 P.M.
Danny Kerr walked down the long underground concrete tunnel led by a German officer of the KSK (Kammando Spezialkrafte) German Special Forces. He entered an office complex where he was introduced to an exotic looking black woman. She was wearing BDU’s with no rank or insignia. Her hair was close-cropped and she wore very little make up. Her features were fine and delicate, a thin nose, full lips and blue eyes. She got the best of both worlds from a Norwegian father and Kenyan Mother. He was smitten at a glance.
She smiled at Danny and with a decidedly German accent said, “Hello, I am Edie, your liaison. I will help you with whatever you need. I, like you, am a communication specialist and I will assist you in your operation.”
Danny had noticed his mouth had fallen open and quickly shut it. “Hi, yes, nice to meet you,” then he reached out to shake her long, thin, warm hand. “Edie,” he felt her name flow out of his mouth. “How about a tour?”
“My thoughts exactly,” she said with a smile, a perfect smile.
Edie pulled out a map and gave him a quick overview and then they started walking. The place was huge. She pointed out the café, bathrooms, and showers. As they walked, he saw passageways with big red VERBOTEN signs, indicating areas, she told him,that were off-limits to him. They moved down a larger hall with a door every thirty feet or so, and she paused at a door. She placed her palm on a reader, it clicked, then opened. She waved him through first and they walked inside. Danny took a look around and said, “Now, this is nice.”
Seven screens adorned the walls: live satellite images, drone feeds, and a console that made the Starship Enterprise look like a Ford Fiesta. He had worked at the CIA and the NSA but he had yet to see anything like this. Danny’s mouth, on occasion, could get him into trouble. Today was no different. “How did you guys lose the war?” he said as he looked around the room with a sense of wonderment. As he heard his own words, he wanted to grab them and stuff them back in his mouth.
He slowly looked at Edie to gauge her reaction. She shook her head, smiled, and said, “Leadership.”
Danny readjusted and got his head back in the game. He looked at the console and said, “Um, it’s mostly in German.”
“Yes it is; that’s why I’m here. I’ll be with you for the duration of your operation.”
OUTSTANDING! Danny thought. Then he thought, is she cleared for this? Just then a soft buzzer sounded and a light flashed on the console.
“I think you have a call,” said Edie, looking like she had just read his mind.
It was Adele Harris. After a few perfunctory introductions, Adele smiled and said to Danny, “No, you can’t keep her.”
Danny blushed and Edie laughed.
Adele got serious and said, “Okay kids, this is what’s going on. At 0900 tomorrow T will hold a briefing. Get your mind right, this could go from a small urban covert operation to a good-size military assault. It’s all time sensitive, it’s a take no prisoners, slash and burn extravaganza. The chain of command is T, Director Dotson and I, and President North. You will meet the operatives for the European theater tomorrow. T will stay in CONUS with possibly another agent until she completes the investigation. Your IS contacts are Thing One and Thing Two.”
Danny took a deep breath and shook his head.
“What now?” asked Adele.
“That woman is impossible, she is such a bitch,” said Danny.
“Yeah, but the boy is brilliant, so suck it up,” answered Adele.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Danny.
“Any questions? Edie?” asked Adele.
They both shook their heads no.
Adele sighed and said, “Okay then. Get some sleep because there won’t be much for the next week or so. Danny?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Unless you want to end up at a comms station in the Arctic Circle, don’t smart-mouth the President.”
“I think I know better than that,” said Danny.
“Sometimes I’m not so sure,” said Adele giving him a stern look.
&
nbsp; The Story of Danny Kerr
On a cold day in December, 1977, Danny Elijah Maxwell was born in a hallway on the 5th floor of the Cabrini Greene housing project in Chicago, Illinois. His 15-year-old mother went in to labor while pounding on the door of a crack dealer begging for another rock. He spent two months in the hospital allowing his lungs to finish developing and recovering from the crack addiction of his mother.
His mother petitioned child protective services for the return of her son. She didn’t want him because of some motherly declaration of love, but for a welfare check. The wisdom of the government agency found it appropriate to return him to her. He barely survived three years of malnourishment and mistreatment until thankfully his mother died of an overdose. He was then placed in the foster system.
He bounced from home to home, some situations better than others. All assumed he was retarded because he didn’t speak. What they didn’t know was that when he made a sound as a baby his mother would place her hand over his mouth and nose until he stopped. He was far from retarded, and actually had very keen observational skills.
Robert and Betsy Kerr adopted the little boy. Betsy was a nurse and Rob a steelworker in South Chicago. His new parents read to him daily. It wasn’t the activity of reading that helped him, although it certainly helped scholastically, but the daily closeness and gentle touch of the man and woman. Hugs, kisses and the constant affirmation that they weren’t going anywhere did the rest. By the time he was seven he began to open up. Then one day he started talking and wouldn’t shut up.
Church had a major impact on him. The family attended twice a week. It wasn’t just any church but one of the largest black congregations in Chicago. It was black theology church founded by a former military man turned pastor. Jesus Christ’s message was strong but there was more. At the core of the church teaching was the liberation of the marginalized, especially the injustices done towards blacks in America. Black theology mixes Christianity with civil rights and the Black Power movements reconstituted from the 60’s and 70’s.
Danny grew up with an appreciation for who he was and what he was, and that was a good thing...until he left his neighborhood and had to get along with other races and other ideas. At that point his forceful absolute attitudes and opinions drove others away. This was never more apparent than in 1996 when he enlisted in the US Navy for training and money for college. Rob, Danny’s father, put school above everything else and Danny graduated in the top ten percent of his class. After taking his ASVAB (or Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) he was eligible for almost any school in the Navy. He chose Cryptologic Technician.
Danny went through boot camp quietly with not much attention drawn to him. However, as he became comfortable in school his black militant ideology spilled forward causing him to be shunned in certain circles. Other sailors did not want to be around someone who consistently lectured and complained. He took responsibility for nothing and instead put his shortcomings on others. As he found himself ostracized, the chip on his shoulder grew.
He graduated from CT school as a CTN. His specialty was computer communications, radio communications, Morse code and radio direction-finding equipment. With no friends, he spent all of his time working on his classwork. He graduated first in his class, received a meritorious promotion to Third Class Petty Officer, and received his orders. PO Kerr was assigned to the Guided Missile Cruiser USS Antietam home-ported in San Diego. He seemed to blend in well with his department at first, but as training and work-ups for deployment continued, his attitude became untenable. With a crew of around four hundred, a bad seed was even more visible.
All came to a head when Danny wrote his congressman to complain about rampant racism aboard ship, a move that could have caused many fine and innocent people a devastating negative mark on their Navy career. That’s when the COB (Chief of the Boat) decided to deal with it personally. On every Navy vessel and base will be found the Command Master Chief, the senior enlisted person, who is tasked with issues concerning enlisted personnel. Most of the time, a wise Commanding Officer will defer to his Command Master Chief for advice on issues surrounding the enlisted personnel. The skipper of the USS Antietam was no different.
Master Chief Petty Officer Jeremiah Lucas played a little football at Grambling before joining the Navy. At five feet nine inches tall and two hundred and thirty five pounds, he was a thick, wide, and powerful individual. He never spoke much, he just growled; when upset the growling got louder and longer. His men didn’t understand a word he said but they knew exactly what he meant. On this particular day, the Master Chief had a private meeting with Petty Officer Kerr. This meeting would forever change young Danny’s life.
Strategically placed throughout warships are rooms called damage control lockers, containing tools and items to help the ship stay afloat in the case of accident or attack. But as all sailors know, they are also excellent places to hash out issues and disagreements in private. These disagreements can be verbal or physical. However, at the end of the day, both parties leave with greater respect and a better understanding of a shipmate. MCPO Lucas invited PO Kerr for just such a discussion. Junior enlisted personnel are tasked with the cleaning and maintenance of these lockers. MCPO Lucas met Danny at his locker for inspection. Lucas walked into the space, turned, and secured the door.
“Kerr,” Lucas growled, “I’ve seen cleaner.”
“Yes, Master Chief,” replied Danny.
Lucas nodded, grabbed a steel bucket, flipped it upside down, and slid it over to Danny. He grabbed another, flipped it over and took a seat. “Sit down son. We need to have a little talk.”
Danny took a seat. Lucas sat across from him, about two feet away, rubbed his knees and said, “It’s hell getting old.”
Danny sat quietly until Lucas spoke again. “Son, Skipper got a call from a Congressperson. She said she received a letter saying that he was running a slave ship. You wrote that letter. Being the gracious woman she is, she has allowed the skipper to address this issue with the assurance that these letters would stop and harmony would be achieved on this vessel. Now I have one question. Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because I figured you knew what was going on. This is your ship,” said Danny.
Lucas shook his head and said, “No son, this is our ship. A boat named for the Civil War battle that helped to free the slaves. Think about the irony in what you wrote. Now I would like some examples of how you were treated unfairly, because of your skin color.”
Danny proceeded to air his grievances, “They always give me the shitty night watches. Edwards always makes me fail my bunk inspection and I get extra duty. This locker, how come nobody else has to do this? My shipmates talk about me behind my back and Edwards keeps calling me boy, BOY, do this, BOY, do that. I’m tired of it. That’s a slur and I have had it.”
“Yes, I saw that list. The watch rotation is standard; you had no more or no less than anyone else. I checked your bunk and it looks like shit. I talked to your shipmates; they say you are rude and angry without a nice thing to say about anyone or anything. You get extra duty because of your failure to do your job properly. Being given this locker to maintain is an honor. Some communist blows a hole in the side of our ship, this locker could make the difference between us living or dying. You are given time off of work to take care of it. Looking around here, you aren’t doing too badly. Edwards? Hell, son, he’s from Texas, he calls everybody boy,” Lucas said with a little shrug.
Danny shook his head and mumbled under his breath, “You ain’t nothin’ but an Uncle Tom.”
Lucas arched his eyebrows, leaned his head in, turned it to one side and said, “Excuse me, I didn’t get that last part.”
Danny started to speak when a large meaty hand caught him on the side of the face, knocking him off the bucket and propelling him against the bulkhead.
Lucas jumped up from his seat and growled, “Okay, boy, now I’m go
nna speak to you in a language you can understand. You don’t know shit about being a nigger, NOTHIN. I watched my daddy get beat half to death by three white men outside Jackson, Mississippi for the accusation of looking at a white woman. He never again walked without a limp and his face was partially paralyzed so he couldn’t smile. Your problem, son, is you. I don’t know who filled your head full of ‘poor little nigger me’ bullshit, but we gonna empty that right now.”
Lucas reached down and grabbed Danny by the shirt and sat him back on the bucket.
“Mother fucker, yo life has just changed for the better, I’m changin’ it starting today. You will not be another sorry ass motha’ fucka’ that shares my skin color blamin’ the world on his failures, his bullshit, why he can’t. From now on, you only know can. That’s it, can. It ain’t African’t, it’s African. Do you understand me? Nod yo head yes,” Danny’s eyes were big and he nodded quickly.
Lucas was animated. Pointing and waving his arms, he started again, “I have simplified yo day. It’s real simple; you eat, shit, sleep, and go to work. Anytime those things are not happening, your ass will be in my quarters studying for your second-class test. When you open your mouth, it will be to say something positive about someone or something, otherwise you will shut the fuck up. Deviate from my plan, and you will be sent TAD to the Boatswain’s locker chippin’ paint for the rest of this cruise. Do I make myself clear?”
Danny nodded and Lucas said, “Mother Fucker, I can’t hear you,”
“Yes, Master Chief,” said Danny.
Lucas reached down and lifted Danny to his feet. He stared at the young man for a few seconds and said, “There are people on this ship that care about you. Even as big an asshole as you have been, people see your potential. Your shop supervisor, First Class Edwards is one of them. So am I.”
Lucas reached out and put a heavy arm around his neck and gave him a hug then said, “Now get your ass to work.”
The American military, all branches, is a special place for a young man or woman. It not only gives them training and opportunity for mental growth, but also for behavioral growth. You can make some pretty big mistakes and the military does not throw you away. Instead, they give you just enough rope to hang yourself. Then they drag you back in, dust you off and give you another opportunity. Danny Kerr received just that opportunity and he made the best of it.