The Colonel
Copyright© 2026 by happyhugo
Chapter 1
Today, I was in Kentucky, staring at a mailbox post. There was no mailbox, which had long gone. The driveway was long, followed by the remains of a large house had been destroyed by fire. The brick chimney was still reaching for the sky, rising from the rubble. Litter was up both sides of the driveway, primarily fast-food wrappers that were too wet or soggy to blow away. There were empty beer cans, and it looked like dozens of beer bottles had been tossed and smashed on purpose!
Kentucky, 31 years previous:
My grandfather told my father, “James, you’re divorcing her, so tell her to get out of here. She isn’t to come back either. You should have known marrying a woman from up North wouldn’t work.” He looked at Mom (Sarah Thorpe) and me (James Thorpe the Fifth). I looked up at a strange woman hanging onto my father’s arm, who he called “Tessie.”
Mother had a few things to say, but as we got ready to get into the farm pickup, they gave Mom so she could travel to the north. “Colonel, no wonder your beloved Southern ancestors lost the Civil War. Something scandalous appears, and you sweep it under the rug, not bothering to search out the truth. You are proud of your name and the rank, but we both know both are hollow.”
“James, the Fourth, my husband, though, will never honor the name you gave him. James, John Thorpe, the Fourth, will never be a name to be proud of. I predict your Grandson will someday bring honor back to the name again. I’ll predict this: Colonel James Thorpe, the Fifth, will surely attain the respect of many. In the back of your mind, you fear you are making a mistake. Soon, you will realize this, for I speak the truth.”
Father, James, the Fourth, seemed to shrink under the weight of Mom’s words. Grandfather James the Third showed no emotion after he had made up his mind. Young as I was, did I remember all of this? No, I don’t think so, but Mother reminded me of what was said that day while on the road to the state of Vermont. I also learned what sort of Southern Gentleman Grandfather thought was the culture of his ancestors.
Mom was humiliated and turned out this day with father home with a slut on his arm and lies in his teeth. The Colonel had asked Mother to forget Father’s indiscretions, but it was evident that one woman had to go. Mother gave in when the colonel promised there would be compensation until I reached the age of eighteen. Directed by My Mother to salute the Colonel like a good soldier, as this same person, My Grandfather, had taught me.
Mother received a fistful of money and the old pickup, and we set out on our way back to the North Country, which was not of the colonel’s culture. To Vermont, Mom talked, not to me, but aloud to herself, and spouting what she should have said to Father and the Colonel if she hadn’t felt the need to leave immediately. “I wish I had pulled the slut’s hair out.”
I, learning more about Father, drank to excess, cheated at cards, and would get into bed with any woman who believed his lies as I grew older. As I grew into manhood, Mother taught me how false Southern culture seemed to be. “Jimmy, please don’t glorify the lifestyle like your Father and Grandfather are living.”
Did I understand these words? Not then, but I heard them often enough over the years that followed. I came home from school one day and found Mother lying on the bed, crying as hard as I had ever seen her. “Jimmy, your father showed up on our steps today.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to see you for one thing. Another thing was that he begged me to go back to him. He tried to kiss me and put his hands on me.”
“So, is he here?”
Mother started crying harder. “No, I took the fireplace poker to him.”
More crying from Mom, “Jimmy, I’m sorry you will never know your father. He won’t be back. I’m going to put him out of my mind. I should have done it years ago.”
Father never came back. My mother had spells of sadness, and I just knew she was thinking about My Father. These didn’t last long and became less frequent during the years that followed.
Before I graduated from high school, I realized that Mother really loved Father. Last year, she met a solid Gentleman, Bill Craig, and married him after a short courtship. I never came to love him as a father, but I did respect him for making Mother happy.
Macain and Macain, the Colonel’s attorneys, visited just before I turned eighteen and told Mother that she wouldn’t receive any more money from the Colonel now that I had come of age. Her alimony had also ceased upon her remarriage. However, the stepfather, Bill, was able to provide for Mother rather well.
My Stepfather also provided financial support for my education at the Norwich Academy, where I attended. They had an excellent ROTC program, and I joined. I knew this would please the Colonel, although he might never know.
I had no plans to make the service a career, but it did have advantages. I attended the United States Military Academy and received my first commission and assignment. My first post with a training company was in Fort Lewis, Washington, where I began my career. After a few months, I requested a position abroad and assigned to a company in Korea for a year. All yearly reviews were excellent, and I didn’t want to stay in one place for long, so when a new and exciting assignment was posted, I requested a transfer.
Some were in places of great danger, but I decided to take my chances. I lived in many countries and theaters worldwide for the next ten years. Some weren’t aware that the US was involved. I never stayed long enough anywhere to think about looking for a wife. The way I was requesting transfers, finding someone for love, and soon moving on would not be wise. I suppose I was handsome, and I never lacked companionship. Tears welled up when I received new orders for a new post, but my companion and I had known this was on the horizon from the start of our relationship.
Another fact was that I was often the acting officer one grade above my own when I reached my new assignment. Several times after I became Captain, this happened. by being frequently addressed as Acting Major, James Thorpe. I thought this was hilarious and decided I might stay in the military until I had oak leaf clusters on my uniform. I would be eligible for this at the age of 33. In addition, yes, I did pin them on when I was 34.
My first assignment as a Major was duty in Syria. The outfit was to help displaced families move out of different war zones. There was some strafing of our convoy, but our planes soon arrived and drove the attackers off. The Colonel in charge, the senior officer, wounded, and evacuated from that theater. I was now in charge as acting Lieutenant Colonel. It was good enough if I survived this encounter, and I was acting Lt. Colonel for three months.
I was now considering resigning because military life was beginning to weigh heavily on me. It was time for me to find a wife and have a family. I had plenty of money because I was a saver. Of course, winning a lottery ticket years ago helped considerably. Needs were few, being single and traveling on the government tab. I didn’t even own a car to travel off base. Most bases had bus service, and I used these where possible. I could always ask someone for a ride to town, buy them beer, and get where I wanted to go.
I inquired about retiring. I was to think it over for a few days because I was a definite asset to the service. It was also time to pay some attention to my mother. Maybe she and my stepfather would like to travel. I wanted to discuss this with her because it was a big decision. “Mom, I’m on leave and have 45 days to decide by when my hitch ends, and I have to decide to resign or stay. Someday, I plan to go south to see where I was born.”
I was at the officer’s mess when a 1st Lieutenant asked if anyone wanted to buy his car, as he was heading on a tour to Afghanistan. I said I would look at it. It had a few dings, but having low mileage. and regularly serviced. I bought the vehicle, which was another reason not to stay in the Army. It was a sweet little Subaru, and I enjoyed my drive to Vermont. Mom had moved since I was home last and is now living in St. Johnsbury. She was happy to see her son traveling the world.
I stayed with her and my stepdad for a week before returning to Washington. I had a room with another officer just out of town in Virginia. Somehow, I had to decide whether to stay in the service or retire. It was stressful because the right decision wouldn’t come. “I wish someone would help lay it out for me.”
It was the wrong thing to wish. I went to a shopping mall for some toiletries. When I came out, heading for my vehicle, a 72-year-old woman made the decision for me. I was walking behind a row of cars with my purchases when I saw a vehicle two rows ahead of me pull into an empty spot.
I smiled when the driver parked crookedly. When I walked behind the car, it suddenly reversed and backed into me, knocking me down and running over my foot. I screamed, and the driver straightened the wheels and drove back over the same foot again.
A couple of people who saw what happened came rushing to my aid. One woman had already called 911. Someone brought a pillow for my head. Someone asked, “How bad is it?”
“I think it crushed my foot. The pain is damned sharp. I knew help was coming. “God, I wish them here now!”
Just then, the driver, a woman, got out of the car, seeing people standing around, before she saw me lying behind her car on the ground. She asked indignantly,
“What are you doing lying on the ground behind my car? Are you drunk?”
One of the women in the crowd said, “You’re the drunk. He was walking by when you parked, backed right into him, and knocked him to the ground. You ran over his foot, and before he could move, you drove ahead and drove over his foot again.”
“Well, I never did! I’m a good driver; you can ask anyone who knows me. I’m going into the grocery store and getting my groceries.”
One of the many men there said, “I don’t think that is a good idea. You caused an accident, and if you leave, the police may charge you with leaving the scene of the accident. Let me have your keys, and you sit in your car so the police can ask you what happened.”
I was in terrible pain while this was going on. “Can you find out when Rescue will be here? I’m feeling faint.”
The woman who called in the accident said they were only three minutes away. The driver of the accident got into her car to take a seat. Suddenly, she got out and said, “Son, if I did this, I’m sorry. Oh dear, I would not have this happen for the world. What’s your name?”
“It’s James Thorpe. Lady, do not fret yourself; this was an accident. Everyone has accidents, and it is just a matter of whether it’s yours or mine. What is your name?”
“It’s Amelia Baker, and I’ll come visit you in the hospital after I find out where they take you.”
“Try Walter Reed first. I’m in the military.” At this point, I faded out from the pain.
I came to in the back of a rescue vehicle. A nurse was monitoring me. She asked questions about my health. When she asked about allergies, I answered, “Just from little old ladies driving cars.”
“Major, I shouldn’t wonder. You are headed directly to a Trauma Center. We can do little for you except transport. We have given you some painkillers. You’re in good physical shape and are in no real danger.”
“How is my foot?”
“I can’t tell. We thought it best not to remove your shoe until we get you into the center. They will take care of you there. That little older woman stuffed her address and phone number into your pocket. She wants to have you call her when you can.”
It was a few days later when I had reconstructive surgery on my foot. I ended up with some small pins in the joints of my big toe, and removed someday.
“The major damage is to the arch. The arch is badly damaged, and you will have a flat foot, which will cause you to always walk with a definite limp.”
I left the hospital for a few weeks while my foot healed. I had been wearing a metal brace, which allowed me to get around without my foot touching the ground, and I spent several days at home with Mother. I underwent some rehabilitation in White River Junction, VT. Two months later, I was unfit for active duty and discharged.
I had called Amelia, the woman who had run over my foot with her vehicle. She felt terrible. I felt bad for her, and I denied her car insurance at the DMV when it was up for renewal. I called her often to cheer her up. I found out her husband had been an ex-Navy man, and he died long ago. They never had any family of their own. I promised to take her to dinner when I could drive well enough to retrieve my car from storage. She was looking forward to this.
I had been at Mother’s for a couple of weeks. She was the one driving me to rehab at the Vet center. We just got home when a black sedan with Kentucky license plates pulled into Mom’s driveway. Two young men got out as we exited Mom’s car.
“Major James, the Fifth?” I recognized these men as attorneys.
“That’s me. What do you want? If it is about Amelia Baker, I’m not instituting any lawsuit against her.”
“We don’t know anything about who you are speaking to. Concerning your grandfather, Mr. James Thorpe the Third, explaining what we have been here for may take a while, so may we sit down with you?”
Mom said, “Come in.”
The two followed us inside, and Mom cleared the dining table and pulled the chairs out. She pulled one out for herself as well, sitting down first. The two men were getting papers out of a suitcase. She spoke as I sat down. “Jimmy, I know what some of this is about. These two attorneys are from your grandfather’s law firm, Macain & Macain. I have been expecting them.”
“You mean Grandfather has been alive all these years? I suppose he died years ago. What is this, a will or something?”
One of the lawyers answered, “No, he is still alive.”
“Well, how old is he?”
“He is 76 and seems to be in good health. His idea is to settle some things before he passes away. He has been living with a middle-aged woman and a younger woman, not related to you.
“Your grandfather is deeding you 80 percent of what was once his horse farm. The property should have come down to your Father and, someday, to you. Your father hasn’t been heard from for many years and is presumed dead. Therefore, the property comes to you. The other twenty percent goes to the young woman because the elder looks on her as a granddaughter. He has some weird ideas, and we implement his wishes the best we can.”
“I can explain to Jimmy if you don’t want to get into who she is and where she came from.”
One of the lawyers said, “Tell us we’re interested; there is a lot about the older person that is unknown to us.”
Mother turned, “Jimmy, do you remember Tessie, the woman with whom your father replaced me?” I did not remember her.
Mom continued, “Tessie came to her wedding with your Father with some baggage. A few months into your Father’s marriage with Tessie, Tessie’s sister, Maggie, brought a little girl named Molly Burns to the ranch. Maggie couldn’t care for the two-year-old child; it was Tessie’s responsibility anyway.
“Tessie thought your Father would come to love the child, Molly, since you weren’t around any longer, but he would have nothing to do with you or the young child. He ignored Molly, and Tessie, the loose woman she was, wasn’t much better at caring for her own. The Colonel tried to ignore Molly, too, but she would climb into his lap and want a story read. Eventually, she began to call him Grandpa. Sometimes, your Grandfather would salute someone, and Molly started imitating him, much as you did at that age.
“Tessie began disappearing at times and wasn’t often at home, and it went on for a couple of years. James, your Father did the same by staying away from home for extended days. The Colonel finally arranged for Maggie, Molly’s aunt, to stay at the horse farm to care for Molly. That one time your Father came to see me when I ran him off was the last time he was seen anywhere. Tessie, beaten up a year or so later, went homeless. She ended up in an asylum and died there ten years ago.
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