“Sailors and Marines of the Tarawa Expeditionary Strike Group, I wish to welcome you home, and to say to each and every one of you, Bravo Zulu!” Bravo Zulu was a two letter code group used by naval forces to mean ‘Well Done!’ “Your nation thanks you, and I thank you!”
The place erupted in wild cheering. I smiled and waited it out a bit, and when it quieted down some, I held out my hands for some calm. “All right, then, I have no intention to keep you long. I know a lot of you have family waiting for you, and I don’t want to keep you away from them.” With that, I praised them some more, commenting on the thousands of miles they had sailed, all that had been accomplished on their deployment, and thanked them for the lives they had saved in Liberia. I finished with, “You have made your nation proud, and you have made me proud! Thank you!”
There was more cheering. I was figuring to turn it over at that, but none of the officers were moving, and there were a lot of very suspicious grins. In fact, several of the Marines and sailors spoke up and seemed to be egging my wife on! “Go on, Mrs. B, you can do it!” was heard, and several of them were pointing to the podium. I stood there curious, especially when one very young looking Marine hopped up to the podium, knelt and did something with some wires, and then stood and handed something to my wife. He pointed towards the podium, and nodded, saying, “Go on, say it, just like we practiced!” He handed her something that looked like…
… a remote detonator! She took it from him gingerly, and then stepped up to me at the podium. She had to stand on tip-toes, but she sang out, “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” and then looked at the kid. He nodded and pointed, and she hit the button.
Suddenly, behind me, I heard a series of loud bangs! I whipped my head around and saw puffs of smoke on the side of the bridge, where a big steel panel was. I thought it was part of the ship, but it slowly tipped forward and it was hinged on the bottom. It fell open, banging into the ship loudly, and a string of fireworks went off inside. There, painted in bright white on the side of the bridge, was:
HEY DAD! THE MARINES ARE TOUGHER THAN PARATROOPERS!
I just stood there in disbelief, my jaw dropped to the deck, completely flabbergasted! Around me the entire ship was rocking in laughter, and Marilyn was leading them. Behind me I heard my son crowing, “YES!”
Vaguely floating through my mind was that this was still a whole lot better than George Bush and his Mission Accomplished banner, but really! I just shook my head in defeat. This was going to be all over the news, and Marilyn came up and hugged me, even as she laughed at me. “Charlie’s told me he’s been wanting to do that for four years!” she said.
“You and Charlie are about to be kicked out of the house!” I replied.
I stepped back up to the podium, and grinned as they quieted back down. I glanced back at the grinning captain, and asked, “Do they still have flogging in this man’s Navy?” Everybody began laughing again, and the captain replied in the negative, though nobody heard him. “No? That’s all right, Ensign Bowling. I am sure we will find something to reward your service.”
There was a lot more laughter at that, especially from Captain Bowling, the commanding officer. I waited a moment and continued. “Well, there is only one way to settle this! We’ll do this the old fashioned American way, this fall, at the Army-Navy game! Sound good?” More cheering, and then I finished, “But we are going to make this a little more sporting! The winners will be invited to a delicious five course meal at the White House, my treat. The losers, however, will be eating cold MREs at our newest base, Fort Frostbite, located somewhere north of the North Pole! How about that?” More cheering! “And may the best Army win!” More laughter and a few boos.
Well, I had nothing to say after that. What could I say? My wife and children had kicked me to the curb! I turned it over to the captain, and he said a few things, and then the crew and Marines were released and given leave. Sick berth attendants wheeled the wounded back below, and Marilyn, the girls, and the dignitaries followed them. I needed to thank each of them. Marilyn introduced me to all of them, including Private Bird, who commented that ‘a sucking chest wound is nature’s way of saying to take it easy.’ Very true! He was the worst hit of the men, and would take a bit longer to recover. The others were all going to be given a final checkup and then released to their families. Charlie would fly back with us. While that was going on, Tom and I spoke to Captain Bowling about the deployment. He was going to be visiting the Pentagon, I was sure, and we needed to make sure he and the Marine commander were properly recognized, along with their men and ships.
After Charlie was released, we went back to Marine One and flew back to the White House. It looked to me like half the staff was waiting for us, and when Charlie exited the bird, he got a big round of applause. Also waiting for us was Stormy and the medical staff. Stormy rushed up and tried to lick Charlie to death, but didn’t manage to knock him on his ass. Doctor Tubb and one of the nurses grabbed Charlie and dragged him off to the infirmary for a quick review. Charlie needed rest and recuperation, and a daily visit to the infirmary until he was completely healed up.
Chapter 155: Muddling Through
Charlie was supposed to stay with us for about three weeks before he headed back to Camp Lejeune. I took a look at him one day when he was swimming in the pool and had on just a pair of swim trunks, and there were a lot of scars and wounds all over. I still didn’t understand how he hadn’t died. He commented that it was the clean living, and I told him that must have been somebody else, since he didn’t know the meaning of the words.
Charlie mostly seemed the same old Charlie I had always known, but Monrovia had left some other scars on him as well. Every few nights he would get moody, and Marilyn commented to me that our son was going through a lot of beer. A couple of weekends after he got to the White House, I was directed to talk to him, and not by my wife, but by the Chief Usher. A few of the staff people were worried about him. I found him just sitting in one of the gardens on a lawn chair, and sipping from a bottle of Jim Beam, and just staring off into nowhere. I grabbed a matching chair and set it down to his left, and took the bottle from him. Charlie gave me a dirty look, but I took a sip from it myself, and then capped it and handed it back to him.
“How’s it going, Charlie? Still in any pain?”
He snorted and uncapped the bottle and took a swig. “This helps.”
“No, not really. What’s up, Charlie? I’ve seen you busted up before. You never took too many pills or drank then,” I said.
“I was still living at home. I was a kid then.”
I shrugged. “Maybe so.” I took the bottle back and drank a bit more, but this time kept holding it. It was the same old sour bourbon taste that wasn’t my preference, but I was not about to send for a different bottle. “I worry seeing you like this.”
“Afraid somebody will see me?”
“That’s not fair, Charlie. I might be the President, but I am still your father. Don’t try and tell me that I shouldn’t worry about my children.”
“Yeah.” He looked at the bottle I was holding, but didn’t demand it back. “I know.”
“It’s not just the pain, is it? That should be pretty much gone by now. What’s going on?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what to do anymore. I have to get out in a few months, but I didn’t want to get out, but now I don’t want to stay in, either. I don’t know what I want to do.” Now he reached over and took the bottle back, and had another sip. This time he closed the bottle and just stared off into space.