to a
military base at all. He wasn’t going to HQMC or 8th and I or anywhere else. He
had to report to the National Security Advisor to the President, which could
mean only one thing: the White House staff.
6
Wednesday, March 12 th – 1400 hours
Camp Lejeune, North Carolina
Parks sat alone
in his office. He still could not believe what he had just read. His mind
couldn’t register it. How could everything turn out so badly? Five minutes ago
he was dreaming about the cool mountain days of Montana, hoping he’d be
fortunate enough to be stationed there, and now this. He’d read the PCS orders
over again just to be sure that he was reading things correctly. Unfortunately
he was. Nothing had changed, except for a rising sense of dread over the duty
station where he’d be working in less than five days.
At last, Parks
shoved the papers back into the folder and set it on the edge of the desk. His
work phone began to ring, and he answered it immediately. “Major Parks, 4th MEB’s Anti-Terrorism Battalion.” It felt weird to say “major” instead of
“captain,” but he’d get used to it.
“Hey Keith, it’s
Colonel Johnson. You busy?”
“Not really,
sir,” he replied, hoping that the colonel wouldn’t want to see him. He was in
no mood for a conversation with anyone.
“You got a
minute then?” Johnson asked.
“However many
you need, sir,” Parks offered, not wanting his CO to sense that he didn’t want
to speak with him. “Would you like me to come over to your office, sir?”
“That’d be fine.
See you soon.”
After hanging
up, Parks headed for the colonel’s office. When he arrived, the office door was
open, so he stepped in and stood at attention. After Johnson told him to relax,
Parks greeted the colonel who was flipping through an Outdoor Life magazine. Johnson was a big-time outdoorsman. He loved to get out in the fall to
camp, hunt, and fish, for weeks on end. He rarely took leave during the spring
and summer; he was saving it all for his mega hunting expeditions. Parks was
also a hunter, but he rarely seemed to have time anymore to do anything like
that. He was always busy with work and whatever else popped up. He hated seeing
the pictures Johnson hung up in his office every fall. They consisted of the
big bucks he’d shot, and the monster fish he’d managed to hook, and the animals
he’d trapped. Parks was jealous. Jealous over how he never had time to
do anything leisurely. Why was he always so busy? He needed to make some time
to get out and do outdoorsy things once in a while. But how would he be able to
do that in Washington D.C. of all places?
“Have a seat,
Keith,” Johnson offered.
“Thank you, sir,”
Parks acknowledged, pulling up a hard leather chair opposite Johnson’s desk.
“I imagine it
was quite a shock for you to hear about your next duty station?”
“It was sir.”
“Let me tell you
Keith, there are a lot worse places you can go, and for a lot worse reasons. D.C
ain’t such a bad place anyhow. Are you looking forward to going?”
“No sir.”
“Hmmm. How
come?”
“I’m not a big
fan of large cities, sir. It’ll just be a big change going to the capital and
all. You know, sir, the crowds, the traffic, the crime rate.”
“Yeah,” Johnson
agreed. “I understand.” He swatted at a fly that was buzzing around and
mumbled to himself about how the creature had gotten into the building. “You
nervous about going?” he asked.
“Not yet sir,”
Parks said. “Once my shock wears off I’m sure I will be though.”
Finally, Johnson
closed his magazine and stared squarely at him. Johnson stood at around 6’, and
was about 185 lbs., and had a shaved head that always looked sun burnt. His
personal awards for bravery in combat consisted of the Navy Cross and Bronze
Star, and he often joked that his achievements were one step behind Parks’. It
was all in good fun though. Parks and Johnson were great friends, and it was hard
to find a better