Chapter 25

Standing on the top deck of the ferry, I watched the dock slip away as the propellers left a trail of white churning water and the ferry headed across Puget Sound. Standing on the wet deck, leaning on the ferry’s railing, I watched Seattle fade into the distance on a cold misty Monday morning. Within a few minutes I decided it was too cold to stand on the windswept deck any longer and I headed to the restaurant part of the ship, hoping to find something to warm me up.

Once I had my extra-large cup of coffee, (with a lot of half & half, thank you) I headed back down to the truck where BJ looked overjoyed to see me. Of course, then I had to go through the argument with her to move over to her side of the vehicle. She seems to think the entire truck is hers and I have difficulty getting her to understand I’m the one who needs to drive.

Sitting in my truck sipping my coffee, I reflected on today’s mission. I was off to visit Walter. During my time in SE Asia, we had a guy in our outfit who really seemed to enjoy what he was doing. His name was Walter McLaughlin. When I arrived in my unit, Walter was there, and he was still in Nam when they flew me to Hawaii to start my recovery. Telling it precisely, it wasn’t he liked what he was doing, what he loved was the solitude of the patrols. His specialty was two-to-five-man patrols, the smaller the better. There were many reasons why Walter didn’t seem to do well with civilization. I never spoke with him about it. I always wondered where he grew up and what caused his antisocial attitudes about life.

From my point of view, the best thing about Walter was on one occasion he saved my life. The mission had gone wrong from the very start. We had bad information, there was bad timing, bad equipment; just bad everything. In addition to the other screw-ups, I ended up with serious wounds. At the time, Walter could have just left me where I was, and nobody would have known the difference. Why? Because I was almost dead anyways and there was no way I was going to make it back without help. But I’d always been straight with Walter, and I guess that was enough for him to return and rescue me. He came back and removed me from a very ugly situation that most assuredly would have ended my life. Even though I thanked him many times for what he’d done, I always felt I owed him more than just a thank you.

Some years back, one day I was reading the cover page of the second section in our local newspaper, and I came across a large picture of Walter. The picture showed him on the ground, cuffed and a large police dog with teeth bared standing guard over him. He’d been involved in a disagreement in what now is called The International District of Seattle. When I was a kid, we knew it as Chinatown. But over time the actual population of Chinese living there became a minority and now the district is called by the new name.

When I was young and was still called Chinatown, the area used to back up against what was the black area of town. In those days, that area was referred to as The Colored Section. In today’s world, both old terms are considered as politically incorrect references.

Time had altered all of this as well. As Chinatown grew due to the rapid influx of displaced Asians because of the SE Asian wars, many of the blacks moved out of their district. The International District moved deeply into what the blacks considered their part of town, and as the Asian population grew, the blacks fled to other adjoining districts. At first, there had been friction between the Blacks and the Asian population, but finally the conflict died down as Blacks decided to move on.

During one of the more violent altercations between the various factions, Walter, who’d been living in the I.D., became involved. This resulted in his arrest by the police. When I saw his picture, I became concerned for him. I remembered his inability to deal well with conventional living, and I felt obligated to help him because of what he had done for me in Nam.

When I visited him in jail, I found out he didn’t have any sort of legal representation, and I called Albert Bradson to help him. I told Albert I was footing the bill and Bradson performed his usual magic and before long, Walter was released. After the affair with the police and the court system was settled, Walter decided, with some encouragement from me, perhaps it would be best if he lived in a less populated area. The problem was Walter had no place to move.

At one time I’d purchased a logging contract on a large section of land on a remote portion of the Olympic Peninsula. The contract had gone sour, and I ended up being stuck with a very large amount of acreage. At the time, I didn’t have any use for the land and over the years I tried several times to sell the parcel, but without any luck. The more I thought about it the more I felt it would be a perfect place for Walter, and if he was interested, we could work something out so the land would somehow be his.

Walter agreed to go over to the peninsula and look at the property. I took him over and showed him the land. I offered him part or all of it, as a final payment, for him saving my sorry ass, as I put it. I remembered he asked me to wait an hour or so, and he left me sitting in my truck at the end of a deserted logging road out in the middle of nowhere. When Walter returned, he told me he liked what he’d seen so far. He asked me to leave him and come back in a week to the same place where I was dropping him off. He told me at that time he’d be able to give me his final answer. I argued with him, because all he had with him was a small backpack, until he reminded me of his duties back in Nam. As I drove away, I left him standing in the clearing waving at me.

When I came back a week later, Walter was sitting on a stump at the end of the road, waiting patiently for my return. He informed me he’d found a site on top of one of the larger hills facing west, and he wondered if I’d mind if he built himself a cabin. He told me he wanted to stay, and he liked living out in the woods. I told him he was more than welcome to build a cabin, or anything else he needed.

Because of his war injuries, Walter was drawing a full medical pension from the military. That, in addition to his social security, was enough income for him, so money was not a real problem. I gave him my address and told him if anyone questioned his ownership of the property, he was to contact me. Once again, I left him standing in the clearing at the end of the dirt road, which stopped at the edge of what I now thought of as “our property”.

A couple of months later I received a terse letter from him, giving me a post office box number in a village not too far from the property, and he thanked me for my help. At the bottom of the letter was a PS where he invited me to visit any time I wanted. His only request was that I write to him at the post office box and let him know when I was coming over. He’d then meet me at the end of the road where I’d left him the last time I’d seen him.

It was over a year before I had the time to go to visit Walter. I sent him a letter telling him what day and time I’d be at the clearing. When I pulled up to the end of the dirt road, I stopped my truck and there he was, sitting on the same stump as the last time I’d seen him. I was shocked and amazed at how well he looked. He had cut his hair short, and his beard was neatly trimmed. His clothing was clean, and he looked better than in all the time I’d known him. I grabbed my pack out of the back of the truck, and we headed off through the woods.

BJ was having the time of her life. At first, I was afraid that she might take off and get lost, but she stayed quite close to us. Sometimes she’d run off into the underbrush chasing something, but she’d return shortly afterwards. After a few minutes, the trail became very difficult to decipher, and I realized I’d never have been able to follow it had Walter not been there to guide me.

After around fifteen minutes of difficult hiking, the trail became slightly better marked and we were able to move more quickly. I knew I was out of shape, but the last climb up the final hill to his cabin left me gasping for breath. All the way up Walter kept chiding me, because I let myself go and was now in such poor condition. Finally, I told him to just shut the fuck up and lead the way. I already felt guilty about my physical condition, the last thing I needed was his lecture.

Without warning, we came around from behind a large outcropping of rock and crested the top of one of the highest hills on the property. The beauty of the view overwhelmed me. It was a clear day, and in the distance, I could even see the Pacific Ocean. His cabin faced due west, with a massive porch extending across the entire front. Smoke curled lazily out of a beautifully made stone chimney, which he told me he’d built from river rock he had brought up from the river.

The front of the cabin was primarily windows with a carved door of stunning beauty on one side. I’d always imagined Walter was living in a lean-to, or at best, a primitive log cabin. But this was a very handsome cabin with lots of character. I complimented him on how great the cabin looked and on the beauty of the setting. I noticed he seemed very proud of his accomplishment and wanted to share all the amenities the cabin had to offer. Standing there taking in the beauty of the cabin and the surroundings, an attractive young Asian woman stepped out of the door and onto the porch. I had no idea Walter had anyone there beside himself. Walter introduced us and told me this was his wife, Thien. When he was stationed in SE Asia, Walter had known her and her family. She was just a little girl at that time. At the end of the war, Walter had managed to smuggle the entire family out. Thien had always been in love with Walter. However, he didn’t feel comfortable with the vast difference in their ages. After Walter made the final decision to live on “our” property, he went back to collect his belongings. As he was preparing to move, Thien saw him. She told him she was going with him; they argued, but she’d won.

Dinner that evening had also been something unexpected. Thien had cooked several delicacies from home, and, for me, it was a touch of nostalgia from my days in the service. After dinner, we sat on the front deck and drank, smoked some excellent weed Walter had grown in his back yard, and we reminisced about the old days. At one point in the evening, Thien took me aside and kissed me on the cheek. When I asked her what it was for, she replied, “Walter was dying back in Seattle. You gave him a new life. For that I thank you.”

“No ... Walter saved my life back in Nam and I owed him for that. He didn’t need to come back and rescue me, but he did, and now I feel the debt is partially repaid,” I told her.

“No, you’ve paid the debt, and then some. You saved his life, and you’ve made me a very happy woman. Thank you.” She smiled her lovely smile at me, and I was finally at peace with the debt of honor I owed Walter.

The next day, as I left him standing there in the gravel parking spot, I couldn’t help but wonder who between the two of us had the better deal in life. I had my toys, and I have to admit, I felt overall I had a great life, but his was so simple, and it finally seemed he was at peace with the world. It made me wonder all the way back to Seattle.

Today when I pulled up to the end of the road, I saw Walter sitting on the same stump, waiting. If anything, he looked in better health than he had last time I’d seen him. After we exchanged greetings, we headed off to the cabin. Since BJ seemed to remember the way, she was gone from us more this time than last. When we arrived at the cabin, I was even more out of breath than last time, so Walter started chided me even more. When I looked up, I could see BJ on one end of the deck already curled up and resting, and Thien sitting in a rocking chair beside her. As she got up from the rocker to come over and say hello, I noticed she was about six months pregnant. I looked back at Walter, and grinned. When he realized what I was grinning about he actually blushed.

Walter brought out a couple of cold beers, explaining how he’d diverted part of a stream that was snow run off, and how it kept things cold. I was more amazed with this visit than the last. After we settled in on the porch he asked, “So, Matt, what brings you up here? Are you finally ready to ask me to build you a cabin so you can move up here too?”

“There are days when your offer is the most tempting thing I’ve ever heard.” I started telling Walter and Thien about my winning the houseboat, and the rest of my story. I finally reached the point of the story that covered the reason I made the trip to see him. “I have something I’d like you to look at...” I reached inside of my shirt pocket and handed him the photo of the man who was murdered in the vacant lot behind my apartment.

Walter’s hands trembled as he held the photo, and his face turned visibly white. He continued staring at the photo as if he was seeing a ghost. I was positive I heard a tremor in his voice, “Matt, where did this picture come from?”

“That’s a police photo taken at the morgue. He broke into my place and when he fell in the vacant lot behind my apartment he broke his leg. I went back into the apartment to get a phone and call for help. I heard some shots and when I came back out, I found him shot and killed in the lot.” I paused a moment as I noticed the fear in his face. “Why? What’s the big deal with this guy?”

For the first time since I’d known Walter, there was a trace of fear in his voice when he answered me. “Matt, when I knew him, this was a bad dude. A very bad dude. He may have worn the same uniform as you and me, but he was not on our side; he was on his side.” A long silence ensued, and I started to wonder if Walter was off another of his flashbacks. Finally, I heard him mutter, “I could swear I saw him die in ‘Nam. Well, actually, it was more like maybe Laos, but the borders were kinda vague back then.” He stared at the picture again, and then turned to me, “Matt, why does he look kinda different? What’s changed about him?”