He nodded and turned to his aide, a full colonel. "Set that up, please."
There was a mumbled, "Sir"', in response.
"Secondly,", I continued, "I simply want to make sure that you, and through you the Marine Corps, understands that Lance Corporal Buckman is to continue being treated as Lance Corporal Buckman. I mean no disrespect, but I know it would be tempting for some officers to change his assignments or how he is treated because of who his father is."
I received a smile at that from the General. "Understood, sir, I will take care of this."
I then turned to Charlie and said, "Charlie, I can't promise that people won't know who you are or who I am. This is the best I can do. As for anything else, you're a Marine, and I expect you to suck it up."
My son came to attention and barked out, "Aye, aye, sir!" which made me roll my eyes and the Commandant chuckle.
"General, thank you for your time. I'm sure I'll be talking to you soon.", I ended things.
"Of course, sir. Thank you." He shook my hand, and then reached out and shook Charlie's hand before heading out.
I turned back to my family, and saw that Marilyn was standing away slightly, her cell phone to her ear, and one hand over her other ear, so she could hear the conversation. She had a look of horror on her face, and tears were forming. She looked to be in shock, and she hung up the phone and stared at me. "What's wrong?", I asked.
"It's Harlan! He's dead!"
"WHAT!?"
"That was Anna Lee. She's been trying to reach us, but couldn't get through the switchboard. She finally found a number for Tusker and Tessa and got a number from them. It's Harlan! He was at the Pentagon Tuesday. He's dead!" She began crying.
The blood drained from me. Oh God, but my sins were piling up fast! "Sweet Jesus!", I exclaimed lowly.
I led the family over to a bench on the side of the hallway and sat down with them. Marilyn and the girls were crying and Charlie was muttering curses under his breath. Several people were staring or trying to get my attention but I ignored them. I pulled out my phone and turned it on, and called the switchboard. A minute later I was talking to Anna Lee.
"Anna Lee, it's Carl. What happened?"
"Carl, it's Harlan. He was at the Pentagon when ... when ... they just notified us. They couldn't ... couldn't ... Oh God, Carl! How could this happen!? He was just going over there to meet somebody!", she wailed.
"Where are you at? Are you at the house? When can we come over?" Marilyn reached out and took my free hand and nodded at me.
"We're at the funeral home. We're just about to leave and go home.", she told me.
"We'll meet you at the house."
"Thank you!"
I hung up and slipped my phone back in my pocket. I stood up and helped Marilyn to her feet. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were puffy and wet. The kids looked confused and hurt. They might not have been as close as Harlan and I, but they had played with their children and been on vacations with them. I turned to the nearest Secret Service Agent and said, "Change of plans. We are heading over to the Buckminster residence in Alexandria, not the Naval Observatory."
He looked shocked and said, "Mister President, we can't..." Then he stopped as he saw the look in my eyes. "Yes sir, understood." He began speaking into his mike. "Jumper is on the move, diverting to..."
Jumper was my Secret Service codename, taken from my time in the 82nd. I recalled when it had been assigned to me that it was a name taken from one of Clancy's books. Marilyn's codename was Jelly Jar, after the jams and jellies we made together, and it irked her to no end. I had damn near died laughing when I first heard it. The kids were Biker, Trouble One, and Trouble Two at my suggestion. They actually liked their codenames.
There had been some plans to go over to the White House at some point and meet some people, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be put off. The Buckminsters had bought a split level in a fairly typical upscale suburban development in Alexandria. Anna Lee had commented to me at the time that it was the first place they had lived that she didn't have to plan for their next move. We had a convoy of lead and chase cars and my limo and a dummy limo to act as a decoy. When we got there, a lead car had already arrived and 'secured' the area. With my luck they had probably shot the neighbors. The Secret Service had a level of institutional arrogance and chutzpah beyond anything I had ever run across.
After we got out, I ignored my protectors and simply walked to the front door and knocked. An agent was already inside, and he opened the door, and looked around, then allowed us in. Anna Lee and Mary Beth were sitting on the couch together, and Tyrone was off to the side. Marilyn immediately sat down next to Anna Lee and they hugged. The twins sandwiched Mary Beth between them. They were just a year or so younger than Mary Beth, who was a college freshman at Virginia Tech. Tyrone was still in high school, a freshman or sophomore, I thought.
Tyrone was the only one by himself, so I went over to him and reached out and shook his hand. Charlie followed along behind me. Tyrone was like a robot, moving on remote control. I went into the dining room and grabbed a chair and brought it back and sat down next to him. "Tyrone." He didn't say anything or even look at me. I put my hand on his knee and nudged him. "Tyrone, Earth to Tyrone."
Tyrone smiled and turned his head, and then got serious again. "Sorry about that, Uncle ... Mister ... what do I call you now, Mister President?"
I chuckled at that. "Whatever you want, Tyrone. If you want to call me Uncle Carl, go ahead. If you think you're too old for that, just call me Carl. I won't mind. Tell your brother and sister the same thing." He nodded at that. I looked over to the sofa, where all the women were crowded together hugging and crying. "I'm not ready for that. Where can we talk?"
"Yeah. Let's go in the family room." Charlie and I followed him down a half flight of stairs into their finished basement. He plopped down on the couch and I sat down in an old armchair next to him. I sent Charlie off to find a few cold cans of Coke. "I don't know which is worse, the not knowing for the last few days, or the knowing, now.", said Tyrone.
"Tell me what happened, Tyrone."
"I mean, it was just a normal day. Dad said he was going over to the Pentagon to meet some people, and then after lunch he was going back to his office, but after the plane hit, we never heard nothing. Mom tried to call him but had to leave him a voicemail and he never called. He never came home and we couldn't get anybody to answer our calls when she called over there. A cop showed up today and told us!"
"Oh, shit!", I muttered lowly. "What'd he say?"
"Oh, man, it was awful. He said they had a body, with Dad's wallet and identification, at the morgue. He wasn't a soldier anymore, so they had the police tell us.", he answered.
"Oh, shit!"
"I mean, he wasn't rude about it or nothing, but ... I mean, how do you tell somebody something like that? Do you have to take lessons or something?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, in the Army you do have to take lessons in it. They have special teams to do that."
"Man, that must suck."
"I don't think I could do it, Tyrone.", I told him. "Have you guys gotten in touch with Roscoe?"
"Mom called, but they're on lockdown. She left a message with somebody."
I sighed. "Maybe I can do something about that. Let's go talk to your Mom."
Roscoe Buckminster was a first class cadet at West Point, what everybody else would call a senior. Roscoe had wanted to follow in his father's footsteps in the Army, but decided to apply to West Point. Since their official address of record was still in Mississippi, when Harlan had asked me for a little help, I spoke with one of their Senators and did a little horse-trading for his appointment. It was actually really routine Congressional back scratching, but the Buckminsters were suitably impressed. It wasn't a college lifestyle I would have enjoyed, but Roscoe seemed to like it.