Chapter 34

'Damn! This day just keeps getting better and better, ' I thought as I saw that someone had parked their SUV in front of our trailer, in MY parking spot. I parked my Mustang along the side road, Lauren Chapin Boulevard. At that point I would have parked on Lauren Chapin herself. I never liked Father Knows Best, and Kitty was usually annoying.

I grabbed my equipment bag off the back seat and slammed the door. Then I went back and apologized to Sally. Yeah, I know, Mustang Sally is a cliche, but sometimes I like cliches.

As I walked in the door, I saw Dad in his chair and could hear Mom--or Traci, but probably Mom--in the kitchen. I tossed my equipment bag disgustedly in the hall.

"I'm quitting school," I announced loudly. "That damn Butz had..."

"Attennnnn-shun!!!"

Without conscious thought, I snapped straight. Shoulders back, chest out, eyes forward, and barely breathing. A few seconds later, a face appeared in my field of view. Though I was now an inch taller than him, he had no trouble getting nose to nose with me. Off to my left I heard a giggle and knew Trace was in the room, too.

Colonel Grandad stared at me. I wanted to blink but couldn't. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that. I think it was less than a week, but I wouldn't put money on it.

The Colonel finally stepped back. "What happened on June twenty-fifth nineteen fifty?" He asked without making eye contact again.

"Sir! North Korea crossed the thirty-eighth parallel, invading South Korea, Sir."

"And what happened on July fifth?"

"Sir! The Twenty-Fourth Infantry Division engaged North Korean troops at Osan and was forced to retreat to Taejeon, Sir."

"And on July twelfth?"

"An ROTC cadet received highly unusual and suspicious orders to leave college before his senior year and the completion of his ROTC and report via military transport to Pusan as a second lieutenant. The Marine Corps never did figure out who originated those orders, Sir."

I thought I saw the corner of the Colonel's mouth lift just a little in a hidden smile but sure as hell wasn't going to mention it.

"And despite not finishing my senior year before going to Korea..."

"Sir! Or starting it, Sir."

"Or starting it." This time I was sure that Gramps was hiding a smile. "What degrees do I hold?"

"Sir! You have doctorates in history and economics. You also attended the National War College, though I don't know if they give a degree or what it is. You're currently working on a masters in political science, which you consider bullsh..." I knew Mom was listening. "BS, Sir."

"So, are you quitting school, boy?"

"Sir! No, sir. Only a fool would quit school. Unless of course North Korea invades again."

The Colonel lost the fight to hide his grin.

"And there's only one fool allowed in this family. Grandpa John," I said naming my other grandfather. Dad's dad and the Colonel were friendly antagonists.

The Colonel's grin got bigger. "You got that one right, boy."

"Permission to speak, Sir?"

I'd been released from attention and was sitting on one of the dining room chairs. Trace was sitting next to Grandpa Doug on the sofa.

The Colonel smiled. "You're not in trouble, so you don't have to pretend to be in the Marines." Unlike some jarheads, according to Mom, when she was growing up, Grandpa left the Corps at the door and treated family like family. But I always enjoyed treating him like the senior officer he was.

"I just wondered where the smart half of the couple is?" The Colonel had two doctorates, Grandma Vickie had four.

"She's either in Tulsa teaching a seminar on the civil rights protests of the sixties or in Houston having a beer at her friend's restaurant."

"Actually, in between," said Mom's voice from the kitchen. "She called me from the airport an hour ago."

"Is that the restaurant that has beer from thirty countries," Traci asked.

"They were up to fifty-eight the last I heard," The Colonel answered.

"That reminds me," Dad said from his chair. When you were in Antarctica last year, did you happen to run into a marine biologist named Gerald Ken... ?"

"I didn't hang out with no namby-pamby scientists," Grandpa Doug thundered. Dad had always been a little intimidated by my favorite Marine, and the Colonel enjoyed rubbing it in. "I was with Marines."

"We were just asking because we just found out Gerry Kennedy's a cousin," Traci explained.

"Kennedy, you say," The Colonel mused.

"Fitzgerald or Gerry."

"Name sounds familiar, but I didn't meet any of the science staff ... There was a medic though. Something Kennedy. Kinda cute. If I wasn't a happily married man..."

I laughed. "That would be your niece once removed, you dirty old man."

The Colonel grinned. "Really?"

"Yep. Gerry is Aunt Millie's youngest son."

"I'll be. Now that you mention it, I think Vickie sent him something for his wedding."

"He mentioned that. Something Japanese. I figured it was when you were a major in Osaka."

The Colonel chuckled. "Yer a smart one, boy, but ya missed that by a few years. I got out of the Corps in seventy-eight. He probably hadn't even started high school yet. It was a few years later. I was a guest lecturer at Waseda University. Vickie has always been a smart cookie. In our travels she picks up dozens of knick-knacks from exotic places so that she has them on hand for weddings, birthdays, anniversaries and that sort of thing. She kind of overdid it in Japan. For years, everybody who got married got Japanese figurines.

I remembered that Mitch had mentioned a Japanese wedding gift too.

"So how did you find out about that side of the family?"

"It all started this summer," Traci explained. "Tony's girlfriend Tami decided to highjack everybody on a road trip and..."

"So, are you ever going to tell us just how you got ordered to Korea when you were a cadet?" I asked before taking a bite of my lasagna.

Gramps finished chewing. "I've told you. The orders came out of BUPERS, the Bureau of Personnel in the Navy Department, just like all orders. They just never figured out who initiated them."

"And you had nothing to do with it?" I asked skeptically.

Gramps took a bite of his garlic bread and chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "What was it you said was the favorite saying of that spice girl cousin of yours?"

"Cousin Cinnamon," Traci supplied.

"You can never have too many friends," I added.

"Let's just say she's not the first one in the family to figure that out."

"I want to hear Grandpa tell the story about Mommy and Daddy getting married,"

Traci, sitting next to the Colonel, kept a straight face as Dad turned a delicious shade of red. I was sitting on the floor across from them.

Mom chuckled. "I think we should save that for when Tami comes over later."

I'm not sure if Dad looked relieved or annoyed.

"Dad, why don't you tell Tony and Traci about the Philippine general."

The Colonel leaned back on the sofa. "Well, it's a good story, but it's classified."

"I don't think the kids are security risks," Mom prodded.

"Trace maybe. She can't keep a secret." The female half of my generation shot me dirty looks.

"Besides," Mom continued, "you told me and Patty the story years ago."

"Well..."

"Please," Traci pleaded.

"I don't know..."

"Pleasssseeee."

I didn't say a word. I knew how hard it was to say no to Traci's puppy-dog look.

"Okay. But bear in mind that under the National Security Act of nineteen-forty-seven, if you repeat anything I tell you, you could be finishing school at Guantanamo."

"Dad, you've told that story in every officer's club in the Western Hemisphere."

"But those were Marines."

"And these are your grandchildren."

"Okay." He looked at me first, then Traci. "How much do you know about the Philippines?"

"Traci can find them on a map," I said smiling, "but usually forgets the double-P."

The brat stuck her tongue out at me.

"The Philippines were run by Ferdinand Marcos from about sixty-five on. In the seventies, he declared martial law. He said to protect the country from communists, but others claimed it was to protect his power. In early seventy-eight, the Philippines held an election while still under martial law, and Marcos's power was reconfirmed.

"The election did not go completely smoothly, and there were a lot of charges of vote buying and election fraud. People in the United States were very critical, and as a result, relations between us and the Philippines were not happy.

"During that summer, the CIA discovered that one of Marcos's top generals and closest friends was being paid by the Soviets. The CIA's head man in the islands brought the evidence to Marcos and was thrown out of the office, and I do mean thrown." Grandpa grinned.

"That left us with the problem of the general. His name was Varata.

"The spooks wanted to have him killed, but the State Department boys thought if there was even suspicion by Marcos that we were involved, Marcos might throw us out of the country.

"The story happened to get to a friend of mine, a captain named Tommy Rawls. Tommy came up with a plan.

"It just so happened that I was doing a stint with G-2, that's intelligence, and got attached to Tommy's unit, so I was there when it all happened. I even held the camera most of the time.

"The general was head of the Philippines Special Forces. Someone at State suggested that the U.S. and the Philippines make a training movie about counter-insurgency techniques. The general loved the idea. It was a chance for him to showcase his troops and be a star.

"The idea was, the Philippine troops would do a jungle patrol and then set up a camp and the Marines would attack them. Then a narrator could explain what each force did right and wrong. Then the roles would be reversed and they'd do it again. There were supposed to be five attacks each, two on the patrol as it moved through the jungle and three against the camp."

I thought I could see the plan. "Let me guess, the Philippines special forces weren't all that special."

"No, some of them were very good," the Colonel corrected. "But the general had never bothered to learn the tricks of the trade, and he was in charge. Some of it's common sense and some of it's things learned the hard way in places like Korea and Vietnam. Little things. The first time the Marines hit the camp, there was a big silver sign with a four stars on it in front of the largest tent. That's like taking an advertisement in the New York Times: Big shot here, please blow me up.