Chapter 45

18:05 Saturday, November 9^th, 1991

1MARDIV Birthday Ball

South Mesa Staff NCO Club

20 Area, Bldg 202850

MCB Camp Pendleton, CA

The balls were all becoming the same, Meg Haverman decided. The red bunting, the red tablecloths over the NCO club's much-abused tables, the institutional feel of the event was the same year after year anymore. Looking at the decorations, and the décor of the club, she counted herself lucky she wasn't involved with the table decoration committee. She watched her husband scanning the crowd, looking for faces he knew.

These things truly were family reunions for the Marines, she knew. She'd been coming to them for the last thirty-eight years, missing the first two of her husband Augie's career while he was in Korea.

Along the twenty-nine years of his career, he'd made a lot of friends, and a lot of acquaintances. It was hard, sometimes, keeping them all straight, but she made the effort, because it meant so much to Augie.

Augie had this thing about going to the ball, though, unable, or unwilling to give up this last tie to the glory days. She would never tell him that she allowed it because it gave him the drive to stay fit, so he could wear his Evening Dress uniform. Wearing that uniform meant a lot to Augie.

Even though motherhood and years of desk-work had left her largely shapeless – it was a shame just how large and shapeless, she knew – seeing him in that uniform still did things for her. Apparently, being in it did things for him, too, and he'd always been a good husband in that department, she had no complaints. Tonight there was probably something to look forward to after returning to the hotel.

All in all, Meg enjoyed coming down to Camp Pendleton once a year for the damned Corps Birthday Ball.

But some years, you get stuck seated with real assholes, she reflected, and this year is one of them.

Leaving the limo and making an entrance was fun, Lenore decided. Walking past the Marines and their ladies with the Gunny's arm tucked in hers was a treat, the boatcloak swirling behind them.

Most of the other Marines were in Blue Dress, though there were a few in Evening Dress. Most of those were officers, though. "Only the ones with Embassy duty or on the Silent Drill team have better uniforms," the Gunny murmured. "When you get to a certain point, though, you kind of have to have Evening Dress."

Lenore nodded, and kept the light stole around her shoulders until they got to their table. That had been a production, waiting in line until a very harried NCO club staff member was able to find their table number.

To Lenore's surprise, the Gunny was amused by the whole mess. Unsure she was reading him right, she asked him quietly, "Why are you so amused by it all?"

With some seriousness, he told her, "Because I used to take it much more to heart. I have you now, and most of this just isn't important to me anymore. I think I've moved on a little, but it's good we're here."

Lenore nodded, and squeezed his arm a little tighter. "You'll come to my events, of course."

"Of course. I'd never miss out on all the looks we're getting," he said slyly. "Wait until you take the stole off."

"Ooh, you know me too well," she answered, pleased.

The Gunny held her chair out for her when they reached the table, and she sat, at a table for eight, with another, older couple. The man was in Evening Dress also, but without the cloak.

"I'll go check the cloak and stole," the Gunny said to Lenore, "what would you like to drink? Never mind, I'll see if they have a Chardonnay ... Good evening Sergeant Major Haverman, Ma'am. I'll be back in a moment," the last part directed to the older couple.

"Well, he didn't give us much of a chance to say 'Hi'. I'm Meg Haverman, and this is my husband, Augie." The lady smiled at Lenore, maternally.

Lenore stood, and shook her hand, then offered her hand to her husband. "Hello, Sergeant Major, I'm Lenore Collins, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

Before Lenore had a chance to speak with Meg Haverman, the arrival of another couple led to another round of introductions. Lenore stood and introduced herself to the wife, a slender black lady in a dark lavender pant suit with jacket, and shook the husband's hand, a Master Sergeant, wearing Dress Blues. Lenore didn't catch his first name, but read "Maugham" on his name badge. "I'm Ronnie," the wife said, and Lenore smiled, trying to put the lady at her ease at the table with the Sergeant Major.

Before the conversation could really get started, the Gunny returned, and introductions were made all around again.

And again, before they were done with the latest round of introductions, the newest, and last, arrivals to the table appeared. Lenore inwardly winced; the female half was wearing a black velveteen pant-and-jacket combination over a carnation-red leopard-skin pattern tube top with large garish gold hoop earrings under her bottle-blonde hair. At least she's not chewing gum, Lenore thought, unkindly, and then regretted it. You don't know her story.

"Master Sergeant Bowe," the newest arrival introduced himself, waving at the other occupants of the table, "and this is Cassie."

"Hi, y'all," she said, happily. Lenore smiled at her.

Ronnie Maugham was a nice lady, Lenore was learning, and her husband was jovial, claiming that this would probably be their last Ball, since retiring from South Carolina – Lenore was sure he'd meant from Camp LeJeune – and moving to the West Coast. "I plan on fattening him up," Ronnie had told Lenore with a straight face.

Master Sergeant Maugham nodded enthusiastically. "I'll let you all in on a secret," he announced to the table at large, "I hate PT."

After the laughter subsided, Lenore noticed the odd look Meg Haverman was giving her, and turned to speak with her.

"I hope the cake is better this year," the other lady opened, "last year it wasn't the best I could have hoped for."

Lenore smiled and nodded. "Institutional events like this one are often done under a budget, and things like cakes are fairly easy areas to control costs," she said, and the other lady looked at her even more strangely, then nodded.

"What do you do, Lenore?"

"I'm a Junior at Cal, taking Business," Lenore answered, simply.

"Good for you. My daughter's at Cal Davis. Do you know a lot about baking?"

Lenore suddenly grinned, remembering. "I used to bake cakes and brownies for my Daddy's ranch on Sundays. I used to have to do it at four in the morning ... in the summer it was too hot, and in the winters, everyone was in the ranch house by six, and I couldn't use the kitchen after that."

Meg seemed genuinely interested in the brownies Lenore made, and the two compared notes on how best to cool melted chocolate before mixing. Lenore was sure the other lady had been surprised that Lenore would cook from scratch, instead of making brownies from a box, and was about to ask what cookbooks the other lady used, when she felt Ronnie nudge her ankle, firmly.

Lenore looked up to see a frown on Cassie's face, but the other woman quickly looked to her date. Lenore looked, and sure enough there was no ring on the other woman's finger. With a slight shake of the head for the silliness of having checked in the first place, Lenore's attention was drawn to Cassie's date.

"I thought you'd have been back before this," MSgt Bowe was saying, and Lenore didn't care for the tone in his voice. Ronnie must have been paying more attention to the deteriorating conversation than Lenore had, and she resolved to thank the woman later. "We're not good enough for you here, Hebert?"

"Sergeant, when I left, you were a buck sergeant in Hotel Company, Fourth Platoon. You had an automatic mouth then and a chip on your shoulder. I guess no one's really taken the time to teach you manners, a job I left unfinished." The other began to interject, but the Gunny pitched his voice and carried right over him. "For your general fund of knowledge, I'd spent a number of years at Oak Knoll working with the Navy enlisted, providing good young men with guidance. I went to the various events up there for years."

"Gunny Hebert, what are you doing now?" This came from Sergeant Major Haverman, on Meg's right side, next to Master Sergeant Bowe.

Lenore watched the Gunny, sure he wasn't as angry as he'd sounded, and relaxed. "I'm a corporate manager for BayMed. I still haven't figured out why they pay me."

Meg gave him an interested look. "That's a Fortune One Thousand company, Gunny. You must have been doing better at Oak Knoll than we thought."

The Gunny looked sheepish. "Well, there's a lot of old friends I've been meaning to keep up with," he said. "Kostowe keeps telling me that," he said to Lenore, apologetically, and she chuckled, nodding, and patted his hand on the table.

There was a loud sniff from Cassie across the table. Lenore frowned at her, and pointedly turned to Ronnie.

"What line of work are you in, Ronnie?" The conversation flowed for a few minutes while the wait staff began placing salads and dinner rolls.

Lenore scanned the crowd idly as conversation around her lulled, and thought she saw someone familiar across the hall, in a crowd of senior officers and their wives standing near one of the bars. That can't be Junior, she thought, but the swirl of the crowd near the bar kept her from being sure. Lenore saw bright reflections from some epaulets. And at least one of those officers over there is wearing stars.

From off in the corner, where a live brass-and-string band had been playing soft chamber music, there came a trumpet flourish, and then everyone stood as the Marine Corp's Hymn was played. A color guard with the flags of the United States, the Marine Corps, Camp Pendleton, and the First Marine Division marched in and presented the colors to the Commanding General. As they were seated in their sconces, an honor guard of enlisted Marines in white-and-blues carried in a very large cake, iced in white with red-and-gold piping on it, carefully setting it on the center table, presented so the globe-and-anchor piping on it was visible to all. The honor guard stepped to the sides, and then there was a stir as a young officer stepped into the ballroom.

There's no mistake, that's Junior, Lenore thought, as he marched to a position between the cake and the Officer's table, came to a precise halt, and saluted. "Major General Ivano?"

The General acknowledged his identity, nearly silently, the room quiet, watching the theatre.

"Sir, I have orders from the Commandant, delivered into my hand yesterday. Sir, it was his wish I deliver this to you personally." With that, Junior Harding approached the table, and handed an envelope to the General.

Lenore heard the word "Dismissed," float across the room, and Junior backed up a step, performed an about face, and headed to the corner of the room.

There had been no surprise in the General's voice as he had received the envelope, confirming Lenore's belief that Junior had staged the show, prior to the start of the ceremonies. And then, the General did sound slightly surprised after opening it and reading it.

"To the Commanding General, First Marine Division. Please convey the appreciation of the Commandant for your outstanding achievements of this year in Operations Desert Storm and Desert Shield to all Marines under your command. I look forward to attending the Birthday Ball in person next year, when I anticipate the whole Division will be in garrison. In accordance with Commandant LeJeune's wishes, I charge you to read the following text to your Command."

The General took a sip of water, and then read. "Marine Corps General Orders, number forty-seven of Nineteen-Twenty-one. From Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, dated 1 November, Nineteen-Twenty-one.

"Paragraph Seven-Fifty-Nine: The following will be read to the command on the tenth of November, Nineteen-Twenty-one, and hereafter on the Tenth of November of every year. Should the order not be received by the Tenth of November, Nineteen-Twenty-one, it will be read upon receipt.

"First, on November Tenth, Seventeen Hundred and Seventy-Five, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of Continental Congress. Since that date many thousand men have borne the name "Marine". In memory of them it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the birthday of our corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history.

"Second, the record of our corps is one which will bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world's history. During ninety of the one hundred and forty-six years of its existence the Marine Corps has been in action against the Nation's foes. From the Battle of Trenton to the Argonne, Marines have won foremost honors in war, and in the long eras of tranquility at home, generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres and in every corner of the seven seas, that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security.