Jake just looked at me for a long minute and then continued as if nothing had happened or been said “They both lost a lot and had to sell all but the quarter section of land and the main house to pay all the debts off, but that quarter section was hers originally as she inherited it from her folks and her brother inherited the same size piece of land across the road from her.” “You met her brother by the way” he said.
“Jake, there’s only one person from this town I have ever met and that’s you” I replied.
“Nope” he said “think about it for a minute.”
Well I racked my brain for a couple of minutes when it finally hit me. “That State Trooper is her brother” I asked?
“Sure is” replied Jake. “He’s the one who came and got me because he saw you had been in the Corps and he knows I have a soft spot for my fellow Marines.”
“You were Corps” I asked somewhat astonished.
Jake unbuttoned his work shirt and took it off, then he pulled up the short left sleeve of his tee-shirt and there was the patch for the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines (2/5) with its motto “Retreat Hell.” There isn’t a more highly decorated Infantry battalion in the entire Marine Corps and they are considered to be the best of the best by those that would know. “I was too young to fight in WW II, but when I turned 18 in 1945 I enlisted right after I finished high school and served in the Corps from 1945 to 1953. My father and grandfather before me were Marines and I lost two toes at Frozen Chosen, but I made it back.” Jake paused for a minute and seemed to collect his thoughts.
“I don’t talk about this often and maybe I should” he said quietly, “my son, Jason was born in 1945, 3 months after I enlisted.” “His mother was my high school sweetheart and she and I were secretly married when we found out she was pregnant with Jason.” “From the time Jason was born all he wanted to be was a Marine Fighter Pilot and he learned everything he could about jets and flying.” Jake smiled and said “Hell, I think he spent more time at the county airstrip than at home after he turned 12 and I always knew that if I needed to find him all I had to do was go there and there he would be trying to cage rides from the pilots – and I’ll be damned if he didn’t get more than just a few.” “Jason was an exceptional child.” said Jake, “he was born with an extraordinary mind and lightening quick reflexes.” “School was a breeze for him and he finished high school when he was 16.”
“He went off to college and studied aeronautical engineering at Wichita State and really thrived.” “Of course,” said Jake “I am glossing over many of the obstacles both he and I faced but we overcame them all.” “When he turned 18 he went to the Marine recruiters and told them he wanted to enlist as a fighter pilot and the recruiters laughed at him.” “They stopped laughing when he maxed all the tests and showed them what he had accomplished so far.” “A week later I received a visit from a couple of Marine Officers who wanted to know more about my son because he was such a prodigy.”
He was 18 ½ when he finished all the course work for his degree and by the time graduation at Wichita State rolled around he had finished boot camp and graduated from OCS the week before.” “Watching him cross the stage in his Dress Blues brought a lump to my throat and tears to his mother’s eyes.”
Jake paused for a minute or so before continuing. “He went to NAS Pensacola for flight school and from the first day was at the head of his class” said Jake. “Nothing seemed to bother him and he said that there were rumors floating around that NASA was considering him for a slot in the Astronaut Corps.” “He went from NAS Pensacola to MCAS El Toro when he finished basic and advanced flight school where he was taught the finer points of flying the McDonell-Douglas Phantom II F4-B in combat situations.” “He finished his final polishing in August 1967 and after 30 days leave he shipped for Vietnam.”
Jake started to get choked up and when I asked if there was anything I could do he just shook his head no. We sat there for several minutes in silence and finally Jake said in a low, soft voice
“On October 7th, 1967 my wife and I were paid a visit by a Marine Corps Major and a Navy Chaplain” “They told me that on the evening of October 5th, 1967 my son, on his 3rd combat mission, was shot down by a SAM rocket near the DMZ.” They said that there were signs that both of them had ejected, but no sign of them was found on the ground nor did the VC parade them around as being captured like they usually did when they snagged a pilot.” “The hell of it is” said Jake with tears streaming down his cheeks “is not knowing whether he is alive or dead.” “My wife Caroline couldn’t take the stress and one day, just before Christmas 1967 took my .45, jacked a round into the chamber, and placing the pistol just below her left breast pulled the trigger.”
Christ, I didn’t know what to do or say and then, surprisingly, I found me on my feet walking around his desk to him. I didn’t know what had come over me, but I squatted down in front of him, placed my hand on his shoulder, looked him squarely in the eyes, and said “Jake, he’s alive” and he looked up at me. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why I do, but I just have this very strong feeling that Jason is still alive and that one day he will come home.”
Jake looked at me like I had lost my mind and perhaps I had. I got up and walked out to the truck and started it. I then drove back to my campsite and just sat sucking on a cold beer at 10 in the morning. Jack’s two stories impacted me deeply, especially the one about his son and the suicide of his wife. I tried to think why it was that I said to Jack that his son was alive and more importantly why I fully believed that one day his son would come home to him. I must have sat there for hours drinking beer before finally drifting off into a sleep that was plagued with flashbacks and nightmares.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke drenched in sweat with a foul taste in my mouth and a blinding headache. All signs that I knew from experience signaled another nasty flashback. I reached into my dopp kit and pulled out the bottle of pain killers one of the doctors had given me for my headaches before I got out. He had told me to use them sparingly because they could be addicting, but that if I needed a refill I was to take my medical records to the nearest VA hospital and they would refill my bottle for me. They really chewed up my stomach, especially when it was empty, but when I woke up from one of these episodes the last thing on my mind was food. I actually preferred taking a couple of shots to ease the pain, but then that led to taking more shots and then even more shots until I eventually passed out again. There were times when I felt my life was starting to spin out of control and I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
The pond looked really cool and refreshing in the late afternoon sunlight after I got my wits back and I decided to take a dip and scour off some of the stink. I pulled my shirt over my head and shucked out of my jeans and socks and grabbing my towel burst out of my tent at a dead run for the water. I had pitched my tent about 20 feet from the pond and had covered about half the distance when I heard a sharp intake of breath and a girl’s voice called out “are you Scott.” I looked back over my shoulder and was awestruck by the vision of perfect beauty I be held. I was so distracted that I didn’t see whatever it was that caught my left foot sending me sprawling head over heels into the water to end up with my feet on shore, my ass laying in about 6 inches of water while my hands stuck straight down below me and could find no bottom.