Memorial Day

Dedicated to the memory of Captain Harry Lee Blackburn, Jr. MIA
12/28/35 – 5/10/72

Chris glowered at his team, even the one who remained silent. “Well?” A few sighs and groans, and the dull thud of one head hitting the table.

“Look, I don’t like this any more then you do, hell I had plans too. I’m sorry Josiah.” Chris rubbed the big man’s shoulder.

“You all can take the rest of the day and tomorrow off. Don’t forget to pick up your travel docs. from Maria before you leave. Plane leaves at 8 am sharp. I expect everybody there by 6 so we can check in and clear our weapons. That’s all. See you Wednesday.

Chris fumed. Couldn’t that man be on time for once? He resisted the urge to look at his watch one more time. “Enough. Let’s get this done.”

Twenty-five minutes later, they were checked in and slumped in the butt-numbing seats that seem to breed in the gate area of every airport in the world.

The closer the time edged towards seven, the more surreptitiously the rest of the team drifted away from their percolating leader.

Vin nudged Buck, “Here comes trouble.” Eyes rolled and heads shook as they watched their undercover agent nod pleasantly to the two gentlemen he was with before sauntering over to join them, seemingly unconcerned at his tardiness.

“Breakfast. At the Gold Club, quite excellent actually. Belgium waffles with blueberries, strawberries and whipped cream. Very patriotic don’t you think? Oh, it’s 7:17 by my watch. I do believe it’s running a bit fast, what time do you have?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin pre-boarding flight 442 to Reagan Washington National Airport. At this time we would like to welcome….”

The rest of the announcement droned in the background while team seven waited for the inevitable blowup.

Had he not been watching closely, Chris would have missed it. “How’d you get into the Gold Club?”

“Those gentlemen were gracious enough to include me in their morning repast. Most generous of them.”

Chris Larabee laughed. That damn grin and the approval that streaked like green lightening in the tired eyes were too full of good humor not to agree.

“So, pard, what time did you get here?” Vin asked as they shuffled their way on board.

The effect of the cool look and raised eyebrow was lost in the accompanying yawn.

“No one, ‘told me’, Mr. Jackson. I believe the practice of gambling on my arrival time is a well-established practice, is it not?”

Nathan had the grace to look abashed before he turned to stuff his carry-on in the overhead compartment.

“I, on the other hand, never gamble. I only bet on a sure thing.” Ezra grinned, flashing his gold tooth. “Thank-you Mr. Wilmington.” he pocketed the fifty and sat down gracefully next to JD.

Buck turned back around dropping into the aisle seat beside Josiah. “Besides,” he leaned forward to see Nate sitting across the aisle in the window seat, “Your bet was on Ezra’s arrival time; mine was on Chris’s reaction to his arrival. Got to admit pard,” he looked across to the team leader, “you figured it out mighty quick.”

Chris grinned and leaned back stretching his legs out to the bulkhead, pleased that so far the trip was going well. None of them wanted to go; especially not to DC to testify in committee hearings on the Hill. They’d worked hard all winter and spring taking on case after case, some cases as lead, some as support. The week of skiing, complements of Judge Travis in February seemed like eons ago. Everyone had been looking forward to this long weekend at the end of May.

Oh, well, he thought just before he dozed off, such is life. Anyway, Judge promised two extra weeks this summer, in comp time. Not that he’d told the team that. They would pester him to death if they knew. Of course, if the judge was unable to keep to his promise, Larabee’s silence would keep both their asses covered.

*******
Landing over the Potomac was always good for a cheap thrill, Vin thought, glaring at Ezra and JD. Neither seemed a bit concerned that they were apparently going to land in the river. No, they were both doing the same thing they’d been doing the entire flight. Standish was still sleeping and the kid was playing with some handheld gizmo.

Ninety minutes later, as the van driver wove in and out of traffic on the G.W. parkway, Vin revised his opinion. Driving on this glorified parking lot in DC rain had to be the epitome of a cheap thrill. How in the world did the people around here ever stand to drive in this day after day? And it wasn’t even rush hour. Their driver was seemingly unconcerned and waxed on about going against traffic as they sped back across the Potomac on the Arlington Memorial bridge.

Vin had to admit, the guy knew his stuff; he was better then a tour guide. He’d consistently pointed out all sorts of things while commenting on traffic like a demented football sportscaster.

“Lady, it’s the one on the right. There is Crystal City. Nothing there but concrete and steel. You keep your eyes peeled… that’s a right turn lane, idiot… you’ll see the Pentagon on the left. Hey, buddy your arm broke? Look there’s the Navy Memorial across from that you can see the Jefferson Memorial…pass on the left, you dickhead… right on the Tidal basin. Directly behind us is Arlington National Cemetery, used to be old Bobby Lee’s plantation. Big doing’s over there on Monday, you fellows going? Hell’s bells …”

Vin wondered if Nathan was going to burst a blood vessel when the guy slammed on the brakes right in the middle of the bridge.

“Not long now folks, provided this lame brain can get it in gear. What does he think green means? There’s the Lincoln Memorial and the Mall, you can follow it right down to the Washington Memorial. The Wall is right there too. I’ll be there on Monday for the vet’s ceremony. If you guys don’t have somewhere else to be, that’s where I would go if I were you. Not a long walk from your hotel.”

“What’s the Wall?” JD asked, leaning over to see the various monuments, their white marble gleaming in the filtered sunlight.

“Wow.” JD wiggled around to see Josiah. “You ever been to the memorial Josiah?”

“No, I haven’t but I believe I would like to take the opportunity to visit it since we’re so close.”

“We could all go to the Memorial Day celebration there, couldn’t we Chris?”

Chris nodded, “Sure, if you want us to?” he asked. Josiah was the one team member whose plans he felt the most guilty about having disrupting. The big-hearted man visited his sister religiously, usually the last weekend every month. It was always a hard time for him. Even though he looked forward to the visits, both brother and sister were disturbed afterward.

There was universal agreement, well at least no one said no, but Chris Larabee didn’t miss the sudden clenching of a jaw.

The time in the hearings went quickly enough. Late evenings found them grabbing a quick bite in one of the many nearby Georgetown eateries. Mornings were early, so after two full days of waiting to be drilled by various congressional figures, being drilled by them and waiting again, they all agreed to take it easy on Saturday. It was just as well, the weather continued to be overcast and rainy with violent thunderstorms all through the day.

After a late breakfast, which really felt like a regular breakfast due to the time change, Nathan and Josiah headed off to visit NIH. Buck had, not surprisingly, met a graduate student at GW who was going to show him all the sights. With some persuasion, JD and Vin convinced a reluctant Chris and tense Ezra to accompany them to the Smithsonian; then to hit some Georgetown night spots.

“Trolling in at three am is not my speed anymore,” Chris complained to his companions. Vin and JD looked about done in themselves.

“Yeah, pard, you been getting up mighty early.” Vin added with a touch of concern that escaped everyone but Chris.

The team leader shared that concern when he took in the raccoon-like eyes with their red-rims. Ezra had been hard pushed, more so even then himself during the testimony. Mostly because he did possess a suave sophistication that politicians understood. His innate charm and persuasive speech didn’t hurt either. As they worked together as a team, he and the others loosed the arrows, but Ezra was like the fletching, making sure they flew right on target.

“Well, I for one, intend on sleeping well past noon tomorrow,” Chris said. “And I do not expect to be disturbed for any reason.” He looked meaningfully at JD, who laughed.

Chris was good as his word. It was after one when he emerged into the small sitting room of the suite he shared with Vin and Ezra.

They’d worked out sleeping arrangements for travel when the team was first formed. Of course, singles were preferred whenever possible, but there was always the GAO looking over their shoulders. Taking into consideration both temperament and sleeping habits, Chris split them up on fairly predictable lines.

Buck snored like a lawn tractor. Chris could share with him and had for years, but JD had the same tolerance, so as he told JD, age before beauty. Josiah and Nathan had a penchant for waking very early. Nathan slept more soundly then could be imagined; though he possessed the enviable quality of instant alertness when he awoke. Josiah’s rumbling, dead to the world snore rivaled Buck’s. Nathan tolerated it with his usual calm. Chris saw no need to spoil that arrangement.

Chris was a relatively sound sleeper and possessed the good fortune of not only falling asleep quickly, but being able to fall back to sleep easily after waking. Moreover, he was able to selectively filter out sounds as he slept.

Vin and Ezra were good natured about sharing, although Chris rarely asked them to do so. Both were incredibly light sleepers. Self-defense, Chris thought. They might tease Ezra about sleeping through anything, the truth was he only slept soundly if he believed one of them was watching his back. No wonder he usually slept for twelve or fourteen hours a day for a week straight when coming off an assignment. Moreover, when he did sleep, Ezra was a restless sleeper. Chris had awakened more than once to one of the Southerner’s vivid dreams. Vin, of all people, talked in his sleep. After a few nights together, neither Vin nor Ezra would be well rested. The rest of the team would then pay the price of an irritable sharpshooter and hyperactive undercover agent. Ugly, at best.

This trip, after listening to Vin sneeze almost as soon as they got off the plane, Chris decided to share with Ezra. Tylenol Allergy – Sinus™ just wasn’t enough a buffer between Vin and his hay fever.

Now, as Chris headed for the coffee pot, he realized that Ezra had not dreamed once since they got here. No, that wasn’t right, he amended, he had not awakened Chris once with his dreaming. That meant one of two things. He wasn’t dreaming or he wasn’t sleeping.

“Damn.” he muttered, sitting down the coffee pot with more force then necessary.

“And a pleasant good-day to you too.” Ezra commented, peering over the International section of The Washington Times.

Vin lifted up slightly from where he was sprawled on the sofa watching some show on OLN. “Hey.”

“Sorry.” Chris muttered, walking over to stand in front of the paper. “What time did you get up?”

Knowing better then to ask Vin. Chris simply pushed down on the top of the Times, certain that his meticulous undercover would allow the faux mask to fall instead of risking crumpling the paper.

Ezra took his time, neatly folding the newsprint precisely on each crease. “It’s an – ah - unpleasant weekend for me. Never cared much for Memorial Day, if you must know. I hoped to spend it as I usually do.”

Chris tucked his long legs under him and sat on the other armchair, sipping his coffee. Vin muted the TV.

“You don’t have to go tomorrow.” Chris said, with just the slightest inkling of what was bothering the Southerner.

Running his thumb over his lip, Ezra nodded before rising and looking out the windows fronting E street. Close gray clouds hung over the city like a shroud and rain struck the windows tapping out their dismal tattoo.

“Gimme that, Buck. Order more juice if you want, this one’s mine.” JD growled at his grinning friend. “Doesn’t the sun ever shine in this town?’

“It’s not raining today.” Nathan admonished. “It’s just partly cloudy.”

Nathan snorted. “I suppose there’s no chance you aren’t going to enlighten us as to the difference.”

“So,” Vin said, reaching over Ezra to snag another piece of toast. “Partly sunny, partly cloudy - what’s the difference?”

“Perhaps it’s a variant of the glass analogy. Half-empty being like partly cloudy, while half-full would be partly sunny.” Josiah remarked biting into his cranberry-orange muffin with approval.

“Nah. It’s probably got something to do with percentages. You know if the cloud cover is more then fifty percent, it’s partly cloudy, otherwise it’s partly sunny.”

“That makes sense, JD.” Vin went to reach for the toast again, only to find the plate at his elbow. “Thanks.”

Chris nodded. He figured it was simple self-preservation. Ezra had been about to smack Vin with the back of his spoon. Not that he didn’t agree, but he had no wish to be on the receiving end of flying jam. Ezra always seemed to know just when to duck, their sharpshooter’s remarkable aim notwithstanding.

“So,” Nathan said, “tell us Mr. Wiseguy, what’s the difference in those weather terms.”

Buck and Vin started to laugh, JD scowled, Nathan sighed and Josiah nodded sagely.

Watching them Chris couldn’t help but laugh. Worse then a bunch of middle school kids on a field trip. Least the man was joking around with them. Maybe the sleeping pill he gave Ezra last night helped.

“Um, Josiah,” JD asked, “would you tell me some about your time Vietnam? I mean, it’s just that I don’t know very much about it. It’s okay if you don’t want to.” He hurried to assure his older friend.”

JD felt as if he were a frog on the dissecting table under Josiah’s quiet contemplative gaze. Then Josiah nodded, seeing what he needed to in those wide hazel eyes.

Running rough fingers over the edge of the cloth napkin, he began his story. “I’d just graduated from High School. Summer of ’66. Those were tumultuous days. The country was reeling over one thing after another: drugs, racial tensions, desegregation, the Iron Curtain, the arms race, assassinations, murders, the Bomb. I can remember bomb drills. All of us were trying to fit under our desks as though that would protect us from the fallout of a nuclear bomb.”

“My father and I did nothing but fight that summer. Not that it was anything new. I had a football scholarship to Michigan State but he was bound and determined that I would attend his Alma Mater. Wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Hannah was just starting to get sick but we didn’t know what was wrong. Now, of course, I can see that she had all the classic symptoms of schizophrenia. My father thought she was doing drugs and I was too much wrapped up in hanging out with my buddies to care one way or the other.”

“Well, one night it all came to a head. My father was furious, I’d never seen him so enraged. We’d been screaming at each other for hours. For the first time in my life, he raised his hand to me. I don’t know if he would have hit me or not, but then Hannah was there. He pulled back, but she was knocked to the floor. I went crazy and attacked him with everything I had. He didn’t even fight back. If it hadn’t been for my sister’s screams, I think I might have killed him.”

By December, I found myself in Vietnam. The heat was incredible and wet doesn’t even begin to describe it. It was just like being in a sauna. I liked it. I was a good soldier. Could have gone to officers training school, but I just wanted to get over there and start kicking butt.”

“We were stationed in a mountainous area. The terrain was beautiful, harsh and unforgiving. The platoons rotated duties, we’d patrol for a while then spend time in camp doing whatever god-awful crap they could come up with.”

“At least you got it out of your system.” Chris said dryly, looking over at Vin and Ezra.

They laughed and Josiah continued. “Patrols were not much better. Creeping through undergrowth so thick you couldn’t see your own two feet, chopping vegetation with one hand and keeping your finger on the trigger with the other. Lt. Cox was our CO. Toughest SOB I’ve ever known. He just turned twenty-two when I joined the unit. Been there for a tour of duty already. Knew how to stay alive and kept us that way best he could.”

“Together we kicked some ass, let me tell you. Whenever I’d say something about crows, the Lieutenant would say ‘Hell, Sanchez, those aren’t crows, those are mosquitoes.’ Lot of then fellows got mosquito bit. Cox was six weeks from the end of his second tour when we were ambushed in a village. Never cared much for village fighting, nasty and messy. Non-coms and Charlie all mixed together. Cox caught one right between the eyes.” Josiah paused, his eyes were shadowed and sad. When he spoke again, his voice was laden with sorrow and bitterness.

“Vietnam was a mistake,” Josiah shook his head, “We went over there with all the wrong objectives, politically and militarily. We never stood a chance. All those deaths for nothing.”

Nathan jumped to his feet. “Good Lord, Ezra are you all right?” He reached around to grab the hand, but was brought up short by the enraged Southerner.

“Nothing?” Ezra hissed, his normally soft tones hard and brittle with anger. “Fifty-eight thousand American’s never returned from that hell-hole and you have the unmitigated gall to say it was for nothing! Must be nice to sit there, alive and whole and judge their sacrifice in vain. Damn you.”

“Damn you, Standish. What do you know about it? Were you there? Did you see your friends pulverized into pieces in front of your eyes. Did you breathe air hot with napalm and blood? Did you watch little children strap on explosives and walk into the midst of a squad and blow themselves to kingdom come?” Josiah’s words fell like incendiary bombs in the forest. He stood, red-faced with fury, towering over Ezra.

Vin and Nathan slipped in between the two men. Tanner was taken back by the sudden ferocity of the conversation. He had to admit he could understand Josiah, but where was Ezra’s vehemence coming from?

Nathan quickly laid his hand on Josiah’s chest, he could feel the hammering of the big man’s heart. “Let it go, Josiah.” He spoke softly, hoping he could reach his friend.

“Well boy, I’m waiting for your answer. What gives you the right to question me?”

Chris could feel Ezra’s rage rise, his face blanched of all color, eyes almost black with adrenaline. He grabbed Ezra’s arm in his iron grip.

Uncomfortable didn’t begin to describe the silence that fell over the group. Chris watched as Ezra’s face turned another shade of pale. He could see the man shaking and for one horrible instant he could swear that Ezra was about to physically attack Josiah.

Then somehow the moment was over. Josiah rubbed his hand tiredly over his eyes. “I need to get some air,” he mumbled. “I’ll be back in time to head over for the memorial,” he added. He looked intently at Ezra, surprised himself by the sudden lack of anger. “I hope you all will still join me,” he offered carefully.

Summoning a smile for the young man, Josiah clasped his shoulder. “Sure, I’d like the company.”

Seeing the hesitation, Chris gestured with his head. Nathan nodded his thanks and headed off to catch up with Josiah and JD.

Chris held onto Ezra’s arm. The man was still shaking. It was almost like he was in shock. What in the hell? he wondered, grateful to see Buck taking care of the bill and charming the waitress. Hopefully, they could get out of here without attracting any more attention.

When the elevator doors slid closed, Vin remarked, more concerned then condemning. “You came a bit unglued there.”

Overhearing, Buck agreed. Ezra rarely became angry. He’d once told Buck he saw no point. He chose not to get mad, just get even. They’d laughed at the time, but the mustached agent knew there was a good bit of truth to that statement.

“It would appear that Mr. Sanchez and I do not share the same views on the subject.”

They all disagreed, but were more than familiar with the barricade that they just slammed into. It was impenetrable by a direct assault. Silently they agreed that a stealth attack was in order.

When they reached their suite, Ezra stalked into the room he shared with Chris and quietly but firmly shut the door.

“What in the hell was that all about?” Buck asked, folding his lean body onto the couch where Vin sat slumped.

Idly punching the buttons on the remote, Vin replied, “Don’t know but I have a feelin’ it ain’t over.”

Grunting his agreement, Chris snagged the novel he was currently reading and buried his reservations in the author’s pithy writing, a small part of his mind acknowledging the irony. The Cardinal and the Bear, indeed, Mr. Clancy.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Ezra tugged off his clothes, letting them lay where they dropped. They trailed him into the bathroom like crumbs dropped by a demented Hansel. Although he’d showered just hours earlier, he scrubbed thoroughly, the repetitive and familiar activity coaxing away coherent thought. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but the small bar of soap had vanished under his methodical ministrations. Regretfully, he turned off the water and went about dressing, again.

I hate this, he muttered, gathering up the wrinkled piles of clothing and stuffing them into his laundry bag. Finally out of excuses, he laid his suitcase on the bed and drew out the slender box. He opened it and made sure everything was just as it should be. His index finger traced the smooth shining metal. Soon, he promised himself, it’ll be over soon. You can do this. They’ll understand. He laughed shortly. Some of them, maybe.

Josiah stood before the featureless door and tucked in his anger. How in the hell could a war, decades over, still cause such animosity? Feelings of powerlessness, frustration and loss, feelings he thought long resolved, tugged at the edges of his composure. Quickly, lest they take a foothold, he knocked.

The door opened immediately. Ezra stood there, impassive façade firmly in place and bottle green eyes unflinchingly searching Josiah’s clear blue ones. Sanchez was taken by an almost overpowering urge to come to attention and salute. As soon as it came, it faded away, leaving him puzzled. He pushed the strange moment aside with the others from this strained day; later he’d bring out each one and examine them for the truth he hoped they held. For now, he simply asked, “Coming?”

There, I’ve offered the proverbial olive branch, he assured his conscience. A short nod and gesture for him to lead the way had to suffice, but Josiah was a man who took comfort in small things.

Inconsequential conversation accompanied the men as they walked the few blocks to the end of the mall where the Vietnam Veterans Memorial rested among green grass and tall hardwoods. Nathan and Josiah led the way, shadowed by Buck and JD who kept up a running commentary on everything from the latest sports scores to the best foods for a picnic.

Vin ambled along content to simply soak up the sweet, sunny air. The rain of the past week had passed and huge cumulus clouds hung in the pure blue sky. He used the quiet to steel himself for the crowds he anticipated to be present at the memorial.

Matching pace with Ezra, Chris was again amazed at how the man’s muscular legs could eat up distance. There was never anything hurried about his stride, just efficient. At that pace, most people would feel like they were rushing, yet his undercover agent didn’t even break a sweat. The crisp, dazzling white pinpoint oxford and sharply creased navy trousers would look freshly pressed and nary a hair out of place when they reached the subdued gathering at the Wall.

Josiah soon lost himself in reminiscences. He couldn’t quite see the entire black structure from where they stood observing to the ceremony but he could feel it’s presence, looming very, very real. Faces he thought he’d forgotten flashed behind his eyes. Good times and bad were remembered; his abrupt and brutal coming of age.

Vin found that, for once, being in a crowd did not bother him. The people gathered on the grassy plateau were quiet and respectful; more than one person hushed into introspection by the solemn moment.

Buck listened. The ceremony, while brief, was impressive with dignity and military reverence. A fresh breeze blew off the Potomac sending the flags to flapping briskly. The speeches done, the color guard at attention while a salute was fired. The sharp bark of the rifles contrasted with the snap of the flags and the soft sounds of weeping here and there in the crowd as some mother, a father, sister, a brother, someone mourned their loss. Gradually other sounds filled in: old friends in greeting, youngsters calling out questions, a voice or two quietly raised in prayer and the soft benediction of names being read from the Wall.

One by one the men meandered through the dispersing crowd to stand before the Wall. Nathan was drawn by the different people gathered in its lea; a microcosm of the United States. From the outside looking in, the paramedic saw this strange family in the world joined by blood. One body but not yet whole. He realized that he never stopped to consider how this war, this horrid conflict had fueled the fires of civil rights. Every one of these names rising like wraiths to stand on this ground when Martin Luther King stood not far from here to speak of a dream that all Americans could share.

JD stood in awe before the sacrifice written in stone. He knew that many of those names were of men younger then himself. Boys really, some eighteen or nineteen at most. Boys whose worst worry before had been a date for the prom or passing Miss Grinsted’s English composition class. Boys like Josiah had been, young, brave and all too mortal. Boys whose return from the cauldron of violence and devastation was so cloaked in national shame that it was almost fifteen years after the humiliation of the fall of Saigon before their schizophrenic country welcomed them home.

It rises, purest of black, as if it had been there since time immemorial. Eloquent in its simplicity. The long sides stretching out to the east and west were like the embrace of some stealth guardian. It draws you in, welcoming in some inexplicable way and oh, so agonizingly lovely. Name after name is painstakingly engraved into the unbreakable surface. One after another they march along, a precious testament in glowing silver. Generations would stand on this spot, long after other wars and sorrows visited, and these names will be read. Never again to be forgotten.

“Indeed.” Ezra agreed with a distracted nod as he strolled away scanning the wall intently.

Chris roved over the crowd, marking where each of his men stood. He wasn’t even really aware of the process, so ingrained was the habit. He saw Josiah with Buck, Nathan and JD standing at the west end of the memorial. From the looks on their faces, he was recounting some old memory. Motion caught his eye. There was something in the sharpshooter’s alert posture that caught his attention and he made his way over to him.

What he saw froze him like granite. Just to the left of the apex of the long, low triangle, knelt their undercover. Chris watched in fascination as Ezra drew out a slender box. It reminded him of the boxes he gave to his wife that contained some delicate necklace to grace her lovely throat. He never noticed when the rest of the seven silently joined them. In the bright afternoon light, the gleaming star caught the light, reflecting gold prisms on the black surface of the Wall.

Taking a thin piece of rice paper from the box, Ezra laid it reverently on the surface of the wall. Spreading his left hand carefully over the edge and pressing up slightly on the balls of his feet, he began to rub the charcoal stick over the surface, starting with the small cross on the left. Slowly, bit by bit the name appeared, Peeling the paper back and returning the charcoal to its holder, he bent his head and blew gently on the paper before slipping it into a protective envelope, replacing both into the top of the box.

Kneeling down once more, Ezra drew out a carefully folded piece of lined notebook paper, the kind that school children use for their assignments. Gently unfolding the creases, he laid it, tattered and yellowed, at the foot of the panel and placed an old Polaroid photograph on top, adding a small seashell to weigh the whole thing down. Finally, he stood and lifted his hand back up to slowly trace each and every letter. As his index finger slipped off the last character, he rested his forehead against the Wall.

Josiah bent forward and respectfully picked up the case, his eyes widening when he saw the Medal of Honor laying on the white silk. The outside of the case was embossed in gold with the name that was traced by Ezra’s hand. Next he ran his fingers lightly over the POW-MIA bracelet nestled beside it, knowing it too bore the same name. Feeling those intense green eyes on the back of his neck, he looked up and pointing to the photo and paper, asked, “May I.”

At the small nod, he picked up the photo. It was of a little boy; but he’d know that face anywhere. The little boy dressed in a miniature flight suit and clung to the hand of man with an unknown but yet familiar face. A Navy fighter loomed in the background.

Josiah felt the tears rush to his eyes. Through the blur he picked up the paper, written in a young boy’s hand and read the words, his sonorous voice uneven over the lump in his throat.

Ezra knelt down and slipped the well-worn bracelet on his wrist. With tender hands he closed the case, gathered it up and rose to stare with unseeing eyes at the dark wound in the earth.

Josiah heard the words he’d spoken that morning in his head. Heard them the way this son heard them – a mistake – for nothing. He fumbled desperately for something to say and was ashamed that he could not speak at all.

Patting his shoulder, Ezra smiled and remarked to no one in particular. “I believe I’ll take advantage of this fine weather and take a walk along the Mall. Gentlemen.”

“So, pard,” Vin said with a casual smile as he matched Ezra’s stride, “Your Dad ever take you up in that fighter?”

Ezra stopped for a moment and looked at Vin with a bit of surprise, “Once. Broke every regulation in the book, but the Colonel wasn’t very good at poker.”

Ezra shrugged. “My father played cards as well as he flew a plane. Only person I knew could ever beat him was my mother.”

“Umm, “ Ezra licked his lips, his whole face lighting up with memory. “I was…I don’t know, it was like nothing else I have ever felt.” He laughed, “What can I say?”

Vin watched his friend with pleasure. Ezra didn’t need words, his whole body glowed with the memory and his eyes shone with a delight Vin had never seen in them before. For a moment he looked exactly as he must have looked that day.

“It was the best day of my life. I will never forget how happy and perfectly safe I felt sitting in my father’s lap, oxygen masks on our faces, flying a million dollar fighter plane with my Dad.”

“I think so too. Sometimes, well, I think he’d have liked the team. Probably remind him of those wild boys he flew with.”

Slinging his arm around Ezra’s neck, Vin pointed to the Washington Monument. “Race you to the top?”

“Perhaps, if you’d like to place a wager- hey!” Ezra sprinted after Vin, his father’s medal case safely buried deep in his pant’s pocket.

My thanks to Tommy Holmes for the very liberal use of the stirring poem he wrote, as a young boy, for his father. Thanks to Will Cox, Tommy King, Mac McIntyre and Don Poss – for sharing their experiences, helping us to remember. And most of all for Harry, who has not been forgotten.