Chapter 8

It was about four o’clock when a ladder truck pulled up at the curb in front of our house. All of us went to the front door to see what was going on. About a dozen firemen in their dress uniforms got off the truck, formed a small semicircle and began to sing Christmas carols.

We were all thrilled, but Missy was particularly so. The only person we recognized in the group was Captain Harris who was leading the singing. We all got coats and went out to observe things more closely.

I noticed that Harris had seen Missy, and it was clear he was very happy she was there. When they finished, one of the men went to the truck and returned with several very large boxes which he gave to the captain.

“Missy,” Capt. Harris began, “merry Christmas! Although it’s not Christmas yet, we wanted you to have these things.” With that, he opened the first large box and removed a fireman’s helmet in Missy’s size! On the front was the emblem, “Norfolk F D, Ladder 6”. He put it on her head, made a couple of adjustments, and it fit perfectly. Opening the second box, he took out a fireman’s coat. Although it was insulated to protect the man from a fire’s heat, it was equally effective keeping out the cold. It was waterproof tan canvas with reflective yellow stripes all across it. On its back was stenciled, “Ladder 6.” Finally, there was a pair of boots.

When Missy was fully dressed she was utterly adorable and ecstatic with happiness. “This is so utterly perfect!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Sweetheart, we certainly hope you’re not fighting any fires, but it does rain here in Norfolk. You’ll find that you’ll stay dry as a bone when you take your wonderful dogs out for a walk.”

He paused and shook his head. “Actually, we’re embarrassed. All the men in the department wanted to do something nice for a girl who has been so wonderful to us. We took up a citywide collection, but then something odd happened: We went to our regular equipment suppliers and explained what we wanted. When they learned that these were gifts for a girl who had done so much for firefighters and their families, they refused to charge. These are all gifts from our suppliers to you.”

Missy turned to Marty, went into her arms and began to cry her eyes out.

Capt. Harris and the firefighters were utterly dismayed.

While holding Missy tightly, Marty explained, “She’s so incredibly happy, she just had to cry. This is one of the nicest, sweetest things anyone has ever done for her. And I have to say it is also the most original gift I could imagine. Thank you all so very much. And I’m sure Missy will say the same thing when she’s capable of saying something.”

Missy regained control and then insisted on kissing every fireman present. And she really unloaded, too.

Although we invited the firemen in, they insisted they had to get their truck back to the station. They left and we returned to the house with Missy trudging along in her brand-new boots.

James had no sooner served cocktails — I noticed that both Robin and the judge had Cardhu, our house single-malt scotch — than we heard another truck drive up and stop in front of the house. This time, it was a military vehicle. Again we all went out to see what was going on.

A group of Marines wearing their dress blues got out of the back of the truck, while three more got out of the cab. One of the three was an officer, while another was a very senior enlisted man with more stripes and chevrons on his sleeve than I could count. And again they lined up and began singing Christmas carols.

And you know what? They were really good. At the time I thought it was so typical of the United States Marines: Whatever they undertook to do, they would do very well, even if, as in this instance, it was serenading a little girl.

And Missy was ecstatic!

When they concluded their concert, the officer introduced himself as Captain John Tyler. He commanded a local Marine Corps Reserve unit. In turn, he introduced the highly decorated sergeant. “This is Howard Crawford,” he said. “He is Sergeant Major of the Corps, and as such is the senior enlisted man in the entire Marine Corps. He is on the staff of the Commandant, and the Commandant himself is the only person who can tell Howard to do anything ... and that not very often.”

Crawford chuckled at that and rolled his eyes.

“I have a Christmas gift for a girl who is a friend of the Corps and a friend to hundreds of children whose Christmas is going to be brighter this year because of her,” Crawford began. “Melissa Smith, on behalf of the officers and men and women of the United States Marine Corps, I have a cap for you. The Commandant would have come himself, but he had a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff that he had to attend.” With that he presented Missy with a soft fatigue cap with the Marine Corps device in dulled metal and below it were the twin bars of a captain, also in dulled metal.

Missy took the cap and looked at it with her eyes wide. “Oh, dear! This is so wonderful! But I’m not sure I can accept it.”

All of us were puzzled by that statement, but Missy just led the way into the house with everyone else trailing behind. She went back in the foyer to a position beside the stairway and just stood aside in front of the Mina portrait of Jim and Paul. “This is the reason,” Missy explained. “Uncle Jim and Uncle Paul are sailors. I don’t know if they would let me wear a Marine cap.”

Crawford saw the two Navy Crosses around the necks of Jim and Paul. Only then did I realize that the first ribbon on his chest was identical to the ribbon holding the Navy Cross. Clearly, he had won one, too.

“Well I’ll be damned!” he muttered. “The guys were right...”

I walked right into it. “Right about what?”

“They said that Kellogg’s was packing these things in boxes of Corn Flakes, and if a couple of swabbies have them, I guess they were right.”

Everyone laughed at that, particularly Paul and Jim. Then Jim said, “Sweetie, the Navy keeps the Marines around. They look good saluting at the gates of naval bases, and there are still Marine detachments aboard our capital ships. So it would be okay for you to wear their cap.”

Missy grinned happily and put it on. It was perfectly sized and looked lovely on her golden head. “How do I look?” she asked.

Sergeant Crawford gave her a meticulous salute. To his amazement, Missy returned it with one as good. “A sailor knowing how to salute? When the hell did that happen?” Again there was laughter all around.

Then Paul observed, “I see that Missy is a captain. How did that happen?”

Captain Tyler explained, “Because of your marvelous gifts to our Toys for Tots program, we wanted to do something for Missy, so we came up with the idea of this fatigue cap. Somehow it got to Washington, and the Commandant heard about it. He’s the one who insisted on captain’s bars.” He grinned and added, “And when the Commandant of the United States Marine Corps says that Melissa Smith is a captain, by God, she’s a captain! There ain’t no one going to argue that point.”

One of the other Marines had been looking at the painting carefully. Then his eyes widened and he noted, “Good grief! This is ... a Mina!”

“What’s a mina?” Tyler asked, looking a bit bewildered.

“Mina may be only the finest painter active in the world today, except nobody knows who he is.” He saw Maria snuggling close to Paul and said, “But Mina isn’t a ‘he’, she’s a ‘she’, isn’t she?” he asked looking right at Maria.

Looking chagrined, she raised her hand to shoulder level and just nodded once. At that point the Marines looked at both Maria and JJ, and realized what stunning beauties both were. Another whistled softly and then to Crawford he asked, “Is your wife as beautiful as these two, Sergeant Major?”

“She’s beautiful,” Crawford replied, “but not a world-class beauty like these two.”

“Damn!” another Marine commented. “I thought they issued you one along with the Navy Cross.”

Everyone laughed at that comment.

When the laughter died down, Crawford replied, “No, they don’t, but I think it’s a neat idea. I’ll have to take it up with the Commandant.”

More laughter.

Then another Marine remarked, “Okay, they’re beautiful. But can they cook?”

Still more laughter.

Another rejoined, “If my wife looked like either of these two, she’d never be out of my bed long enough to even find the kitchen!”

Even though she was blushing like a beet, Maria responded, “Maybe that’s the trouble. Since Paul keeps me constantly in a post-orgasmic haze, I’m only semi-conscious when I’m painting.”

That time the guys all cheered.

Then another Marine said, “Someone asked if they could cook. Have any of you ever seen the TV show, “Cooking with Jane J”? Well, guess what? Mrs. Johnson is Jane. Can she cook? Only one of the world’s finest!”

This time it was JJ’s turn to blush. She just hid her face in Jim’s broad shoulder and he held her tightly.

And only then did I realize how truly beautiful Maria and JJ really were ... and are! Remarkable!

One of the other Marines had been walking around the foyer and even up the stairway looking at the portraits of my ancestors, most of whom were in military uniforms. “You know what, guys?” he commented. “These two should feel right at home. It’s pretty clear to me that this is a family of warriors going way, way back.” To me he asked, “Did your ancestors ever miss a fight?”

“We’ve been around here since 1607, and I really don’t think they ever did,” I admitted.

The Marines declined refreshments which was just as well because I could tell JJ was concerned about her dinner being ruined. As they were preparing to leave, though, Sergeant Crawford asked Paul what he did with his time in the winter (he had already learned that Paul was our gardener). Paul told him that he did a little work for NSA, the National Security Agency based at Fort Meade and the home of our communications intelligence community. When Crawford expressed interest, Paul wrote out a string of letters and numbers that appeared to be about 16 characters long and gave it to him with the comment that the string was the only way he could be found.

That didn’t end our dealings with the Marines, though. To complete the story, several weeks later a Marine staff car drove up. There were two men in the back as well as the driver. The driver declined an invitation to come in, electing to remain in his vehicle. The two occupants were Sergeant Crawford and Captain Tyler. When Jim opened the door for them, it was apparent that it was not a social call. They asked if they could meet privately with Paul and of course I agreed. Paul joined them in the library and the door was closed.