Chapter 2

The guys in the shop quickly stopped talking about it when I kept downplaying the incident; the article in the base newspaper was quickly forgotten, I’m not sure anyone watched the base TV news and saw the blurb there. My 15 minutes of fame lasted about 5; a week later I thought the whole thing was over; it wasn’t. My buddy Paul came back one night from a night on the town, and announced my picture was posted on the wall in most of the clubs.

“What?”

“It’s true! It seems to be a newspaper article that I can’t read, with a headshot of you in uniform. There was a notice posted below it, I don’t know what that said either. I asked about it, I got a lot of chattering and finally figured out that they wanted to meet you.

What? I didn’t go into the bars very often, and not for long, and not for a couple months now. I’d quickly figured out how the bars operated, and politely refused to buy a drink for the bar girls; I was pretty much ignored after that. I had taken to going past the gauntlet, past the traffic light, and patronizing the smaller and quieter clubs down the road. My favorite place was a small neighborhood place that served food and drinks, and usually had some kind of sports program on the TV. I even watched sumo wrestling a couple times, and the other patrons tried explaining it to me. The best thing was the fried yakisoba; I had fallen in love with the dish, and they made the best of the several places I tried.

A couple nights later Paul talked me into going off base and check it out. The first bar didn’t have my picture displayed, but the second one did. We walked up to it; I recognized the picture as the one taken in the General’s office; I can’t read the article or the notice below it either, but now I have some context. We were soon approached by a couple of the bar girls; asking what we’d like to drink, and if they could sit with us, maybe buy them a drink. They hadn’t quite got through their spiel when one of them looked back and forth from me to the picture, squealed “It’s him!” in Japanese; and started chattering away so fast I couldn’t figure out what she was saying.

Quickly we were swamped by bar girls, both Paul and I getting hugs; soon what I assumed was the manager arrived; I could understand him, when he asked the girls what was up. They explained, he compared the picture to me, then led us to a table and asked what we wanted to drink, on the house. I started to refuse but Paul quickly ordered us beer; I finally asked the manager what was going on? What did the article say, why was it on the wall, what was the notice below?

He explained in English that the article was from the local newspaper, about the incident with the little girl; I asked what exactly it said, he had one of the girls take it down and hand it to him, then read it to me. Mostly factual, with a little bit of creative enhancement; it explained the who, what, when, and where of the accident. The why was embarrassing; it happened because I was a brave hero, completely ignoring the danger to myself, and leaping to save a child’s life. That part got a little flowery; I explained to the manager that I wasn’t a hero; I hadn’t thought about anything, I had just reacted. He accepted that; but stated that the article also talked about how grateful the parents were, and how much they wanted to personally thank me. That’s what the displayed article was about; the additional notice said that if I was spotted, please let them know so a thank-you could be properly given, with a phone number listed.

It didn’t take long before I realized that if I wasn’t careful, the circus would be back. If I let the Corps know what was going on; the public affairs officer would get involved, and who knows what would happen. The bar manager was eager to have the thank-you be in his bar; I could see the circus going from one ring, to two or three. What to do? Paul and I had another beer while I thought about it; I needed help, but didn’t know who to ask. Could I somehow arrange a private meeting with the parents somewhere; arrange to visit their home?

I thought about it for a couple days, not getting anywhere. I went off base, kept my head down, and checked a few more bars; the article with my picture and the notice was in most of the places on the gauntlet. It was even in a few of the bars and restaurants in the next section of road, and in my favorite neighborhood bar. I was ready for some yakisoba; but when I spotted the article and notice, I just bowed apologetically and left. The damn thing was even tacked up on the bulletin board in the visitor’s center, but it was being buried behind newer notices.

I sat there for a few minutes, then suddenly remembered Lt. Detective Sato’s card. I found it in my wallet, considered a few seconds; the asked the attendant if I could use the phone to make a call, showing her the card. She gave me skeptical look, I could see she was wondering why I wanted to call the police; then made the call for me. Once she got the Lieutenant on the line, she handed the phone to me.

“I’ll bet this is Corporal Donaldson, hero of the Corps,” he chuckled.

“Very, very reluctant hero,” I replied. “I hope you have a couple minutes; I need some advice and can’t think of anyone else to ask.”

“Is this about the notices in the bars?”

“You know about them; you’ve seen them?”

“Of course I have; that’s part of my job. Where are you?”

“I’m in the visitor’s center.”

“Can you wait there for 15 minutes or so; I’ve got some free time now, and I should explain what’s going on.”

“Sure; I’ll be hiding in the back corner.”

He laughed, and hung up; I hid in the back corner. After a couple minutes I went up to the bulletin board and subtly removed the notice; one down, only maybe 50-60 more to go.

It was closer to 20 minutes before Lt. Sato showed up and joined me in the back. He took about 15 minutes to explain just how important it was for the parents to thank me personally. They were massively indebted to me; as far as they were concerned, I had risked my life to save their daughters life; and they needed, not just wanted, to thank me. I told him I really, really did not want the Marine Corps involved with this; I didn’t want or need that. He explained that they needed to be seen publicly thanking me. Shit! We talked a little more, he made a couple calls; he then asked if I could be in the visitor’s center tomorrow; in uniform with my new medal, around 6 PM. I can do that; the plan is that he will pick me up and take me to the local community center, and I can be thanked there.

There’s a little bit more; he grinned. He will try to keep the publicity down, but I should expect at least one reporter. He will also try to keep the ceremony short, and even come up with a short speech for me to give them, essentially thanking them for thanking me. He gave me a couple pointers about bowing; try to bow as low as least as low as they did; he told me. I should also expect a few politicians; the ones here are just like the ones back home, they wanted to be seen at something like this. Finally; by coming in uniform, I can claim that I needed to get back to work, and that will keep the thing from going on and on. Finally, I’ll owe him a beer for all this; saying it with another grin.

I told him that I would now be in his debt; did I need to publicly thank him? He laughed at that and clapped me on my shoulder; see you tomorrow, we both agreed.

The next day I debated with myself about letting the Gunny know what was going on, in the end I told him. He agreed it would be best if I didn’t get the Corps involved; this would be all civilians, and not a military ceremony. He did advise me not to tell anyone; not on your life, I told him, not on my life. I got off work a little early, showered and shaved and got parade ground ready; I was at the visitors center a littler early; Lt. Sato was waiting. I had written down a couple things to possibly say, we compared that to what he had and combined the two. When we got to the community center, I was amazed by how many people showed up; probably over 100. Not just the parents and grandparents; but I was told many neighbors were there, the little girl’s teacher, and a few of her classmates, and their parents, and more than a couple politicians. No reporter; but there was a photographer; there was also a couple policemen.

Lt. Sato started the thing off; leading with that I needed to get back to work, so let’s get started. The parents and I bowed to each other; he gave me an obviously rehearsed and heartfelt thank you for what I had done, the wife echoing; Lt. Sato interpreting. They were a little surprised when I was able to make my response mostly in Japanese, apologizing for my poor language, but eventually we got through it. I got in a short talk with the little girl; I never got her name but I knelt down next to her and told her in Japanese I was glad such a pretty girl hadn’t gotten hurt, she giggled. A few more pictures, then we got out of there as the politicians tried to take over.

A week later the aide came through; I got a message through the squadron office that I needed to report to the hospital for my procedure. The next day I reported as ordered; of course when I got there, no one at the desk knew what was going on. I explained; I was told I needed to submit a request through proper channels; and it would be considered. I was ready; I had the completed paperwork in my pocket and handed it to the petty officer. Okay; he glanced at it, and said he’d submit it and they would get back to me. I pointed out the General’s signature at the bottom of the form authorizing the procedure; and the note added at the bottom that it needed to be completed ASAP.

That got them moving; slowly, but moving. He had me take a seat, and disappeared with the form; about 15 minutes later he came back and said he’d made an appointment with the hospital chaplain for me for next week. I asked if I could use the phone for a minute; he pushed it my way and then ignored me. I had the General’s aid’s phone number; I called and let him know what was happening so far. He told me to take a seat; this shouldn’t take long. A couple minutes later a Navy Commander came out with my forms, and told me to follow him. It is nice to have a comrade in high places.

It took a few minutes to go over my medical record, determine I was alive and well; and schedule the procedure for the next day. I was given a brief explanation of the procedure, that it would take less than an hour, but then I was to take the rest of that day off; and would then be on ‘light duty’ for a couple days. I’d have to come back to get the stitches out, and then in a few weeks for testing to make sure the operation was successful; that was it at the hospital. I went back and told the Gunny what was going on; he nodded, and that was it in the shop.

Of course I had done research on the procedure, and knew what was going to happen; I showed up at the hospital, got into a surgical gown, and everything went smoothly; pretty much. I was surprised when I found out that Lt. Allison Martin would be assisting, she just winked and smiled at me. Actually, it was a corpsman that was doing the work, with a doctor looking over his shoulder. I was given a pill to relax me, laid back on the table, given a local anesthetic; then the corpsman got busy. I was awake and alert, and was talking to Lt. Martin; her main job seemed to be to distract and calm me, if required. The first side went well, I didn’t really feel anything, just a little tugging; the second side the corpsman pulled on something that seemed to snake all the way up the right side of my head to my ear.

I gasped a little and started to curl up; they asked what was wrong and I told them the corpsman seemed to be pulling on something connected to my right ear; please put that back and try something else. Allison smiled, squeezed my arm, and said it didn’t at work that way; I leaned my right side her way a said and asked “What?” in a loud voice; that got a little laugh. The doctor double-checked that the corpsman wasn’t making a mistake, the corpsman continued; a few minutes later it was done.

The corpsman cleaned me up, then left with the tray of instruments to clean them; the doctor said it had gone well and told Allison to keep an eye on me for a few minutes, then he left. The pill to relax and calm me seemed to be working really well.

“What’s that movie line; we have to stop meeting this way?” I said to her.

“I take it you’re feeling, okay?” she chuckled, standing next to me.

“Not feeling much of anything. You’re just here to check out my nice ass again.”

“Not so loud!” she softly giggled. “We shouldn’t have given you that pill, it was obviously not necessary. It will wear off soon; got any questions, anything you want to talk about?”

“Not really. Your first name is Allison; right? It’s a pretty name; it suits you.”

“You know my first name?”

“You told me when we were talking in the ward, when we first met.”

“I can’t believe you remember it.”

“Like I said, a pretty name and a pretty woman. I’m starting to think of you as Allison, not Lieutenant Martin.”

“What happened with the little girl?” she smiled.

“She’s okay; the General gave me a medal, then later I met her parents and they thanked me.”

“A medal?”

“The Navy Commendation Medal; I didn’t want it, and told the General I didn’t deserve it.”

“Obviously he didn’t agree?”

“No. We talked after the ceremony and he said I should continue with my education; I would probably make a good officer someday.”

“You’re going to make the Corps a career?”

“Thinking about it; not sure I want to be an officer.”

“Why not?”

“I’m really good at my job; I like fixing things. I don’t want to be stuck at a desk.”

Suddenly my mind cleared; I shook my head a little; “I think the pill finally wore off; I seem to be back,” I told her.

She gently sat me up, then got me off the table; standing. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m good, really. Sorry I was running my mouth; I couldn’t seem to stop talking.”

“I like listening to you. Are you really considering becoming an officer?”

“I can’t believe I told you that. Maybe.”

“And you think Allison is a pretty name?”

“Okay, now you’re messing with me.”

“A little,” she smiled at me.

“Okay, I think you are pretty; beautiful, even,” I smiled back.

“You may not be all the way back,” she chuckled.

“Back enough. I think I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself.”

She escorted back to the locker room so I could get back into my uniform. “Maybe we’ll meet again;” she giggled, “by the way, you still have a nice ass,” she said as she started to leave.

I gave her a little wiggle of my maybe nice ass, then disappeared to get out of the hospital gown.

Life pretty much went back to normal. A couple weeks later I went back to the hospital and verified the procedure was successful; I was confirmed to now be ‘shooting blanks’. I started going off base a little more; the newspaper article stayed up in a few of the bars, but the notice was removed. Paul said that when he mentioned that he knew and worked with me; he usually got a free drink.