By R. L. Keller
The day was gray and cloudy, a perfect match for his depressed mood. While fairly warm, the approaching drizzle made him button his overcoat and cinch the belt as he walked through Arlington National Cemetery, glad that he’d thought to wear it as well as the clear plastic protection for his cover. Three stars signifying his rank of Admiral, he’d been allowed to drive into the cemetery, but still had to walk a ways through the growing dampness to the grave he sought. Circumstances had prevented him from attending the funeral* but duty as well as friendship dictated his presence as soon as he could arrange the trip.
The groundskeepers always did a masterful job of maintaining the area, but the ever so slight indication of recent disturbance led him to the right spot. Head bowed, prayers were spoken softly before he once more looked up, seeming to gaze into the horizon before bringing himself back. He glanced around and found himself nearly alone among the tombstones.
“I’m so sorry, John,” he started softly. “What happened…” His voice refused to continue and he coughed harshly. “You should never have been caught in the middle,” he started over. “I know. You felt it your duty to accompany me. I could have said no. I should have said no,” came out in a growl and he once more glanced around. The worsening weather had apparently driven away the few people he’d seen and he discovered that he was totally alone. Somehow, he actually found that comforting.
“We did it, John,” he finally continued, his voice husky with emotion. “You would have been so proud of them. Your crew. You trained them so well. Even though they weren’t sure what was happening, weren’t always sure that they wanted to obey, they dug in and completed the mission. Chip was a rock!” A small grin hit his face. “Even though there were a few times that he wanted to deck Lee.** His voice trailed off. “I wish you could meet him, John. You’d like him, I’m sure.” He was silent for several moments.
“I despise what happened,” and he reached out a hand to rest on top of the gravestone. “If I had it to do over…” Again he paused. “But we don’t get to choose, do we? We do what we can, and make the best of what happens. Whoever first said ‘life isn’t fair’ sure got it right!”
He raised his eyes to the heavens, letting the beginning raindrops blend with his sudden tears. “I would totally understand if you hated me. Your only dog in that fight was trying to protect me. This grave should be mine, not yours. You deserved a long life with your family. And yet…” He shook his head. “Without Seaview, without the crew that you helped handpick and train, without your giving Chip every bit of advise you could and make him the man, the leader, that he is…and yes, without Lee…it’s conceivable that none of us would have survived that madman. You gave so much…” His open hand turned into a fist. “You gave too much,” he growled before forcing himself to relax, and another small smile crossed his face.
“I know, John. You’d just shrug and say that you were doing your duty. No regrets. I wish I could be that confident; that sure of the decisions I made that day. After the fact, all I can say in my defense is that I did what I felt I had to do. And, I suppose, you’d no doubt say the same thing. I’m still so very, very, sorry…” Once more his voice trailed off.
“I know that they’ll come, John. Your crew. When they can. To say good-bye. They’re the best, and for that I can’t ever thank you enough. Chip and I will take care of them for you. Lee will help, you can be sure of that!” He straightened to Attention and saluted the gravestone that read ‘John Montgomery Phillips, Capt., USN. His last full measure of devotion was given in service to his country’ and included the years of his birth and death. “Rest well, my friend.”
* see episode “Eleven Days To Zero.”
**
see “TAD” and “TAD – Chip’s POV” by R. L. Keller