A Tyler ChristmasChapter 4 free porn video

Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland

“Lieutenant Paulson, thank you for meeting with us. I’m Pamela Hawthorn, James Cavanaugh’s mother, and this is Cassandra Cavanaugh, my daughter, and Dillon Chandler.” She paused. “Dillon is my assistant and he takes care of us.”

“I’m happy to meet you, Ma’am, and you Ms. Cavanaugh, and Mr. Chandler. I owe your son my life – anything I can do to help you or help him is my pleasure.” The lanky, fair-haired aviator then introduced the pretty dark-haired woman standing next to him. “This is my wife Rachel.”

Commander Lewis had arranged for them to use the Deputy Commander’s conference room. The room was bright with the late afternoon sun and was dominated by a large rectangular polished wood table.

Once everyone was seated in comfortable arm chairs at one end of the table they sat silently as Dillon poured water all around. He examined the earnest-looking young man. He had looked very young when he walked into the conference room with the equally young woman on his arm. The blue uniform was nicely tailored and he wore it with pride. The ribbons on his chest denoted two awards of the Purple Heart, and there were awards for valor. For one so young, he had served with distinction, and despite his efforts to mask his injury, the young man was favoring his left leg.

As he sat across the table from Paulson, Dillon realized his first impression was in error. It wasn’t that Lieutenant Paulson wasn’t young, it was that he wore the look of a man who had seen combat and been injured in the service of his country. Dillon recognized the look – he’d seen it enough in his life. He’d also seen it on young James Cavanaugh’s face in the video from the previous Christmas. Paulson had been aged by his experiences. Commander Lewis, of course, could not discuss Paulson’s injuries, but Dillon guessed they were severe.

“Lieutenant Paulson...”

“Ma’am, I’d be pleased if you’d call me Jeff.” He spoke with just a hint of a southern accent.

“Thank you, Jeff, and please call me Pamela.” She paused, and leaned forward. “I don’t know how much Commander Lewis explained about our visit, but in brief, our family has been estranged from James for the last four and a half years. That was my fault, as well as the fault of my ex-husband.”

“And mine,” added Cassandra.

“I want more than anything to have my son back in my life. The reasons for the family rift have been resolved, but since we’ve had no contact, I’m not sure he knows that. We didn’t even know he was in the Marines until some months ago and didn’t know he’d been hurt until a few days ago. We discovered he had been treated here until the end of September and then simply disappeared.”

She took a sip of water. “Cooler heads might have just spent time on the telephone trying to get information from Walter Reed, but I’m involved in several business ventures in California and I know that bureaucracies are the same whether they’re military or any other government organization. It’s been my experience that there is nothing better when dealing with bureaucracies than showing up and pounding on some desks.”

Lieutenant Paulson smiled briefly.

“Fortunately when we got here yesterday we said the magic words, James Cavanaugh, and we were quickly introduced to Commander Lewis. She’s been very helpful. Commander Lewis told us yesterday that not long ago she was called by a nurse friend who was involved in treating James at a hospital in Tyler, Texas. He had pneumonia. Her friend, an Army reservist, recognized combat wounds, and wondered if he had been treated here, and if Commander Lewis could give her more background.

“The upshot is that we now know James is living in a town in Texas, and has since October. My first inclination was to get on a plane and fly to Texas. The reason we’re not doing that right this minute is because Mr. Chandler convinced me we should talk to you first.”

Puzzled, Lieutenant Paulson looked first at her and then at Dillon. “Pamela, I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can, but I don’t understand how.”

“Jeff, James had not been discharged from the hospital or from the Marines when he left.”

“Oh.”

“There are mitigating circumstances, apparently his enlistment was over back in June, but no one caught that. On top of that, when his enlistment ended so did his pay. We don’t know if he brought these facts to the attention of anyone here before he left, but one day he just disappeared. Apparently, he bought some clothing and a suitcase at the Exchange, walked out and caught a bus and kept going until he reached Texas.”

Jeff nodded. “I’m a little surprised, but I can understand how he feels about this place and hospitals in general.” He didn’t elaborate.

Pamela watched Rachel squeeze his hand. Earlier, when they had arranged themselves around the table, Pamela noticed the young woman sat very close to her husband with her hand in his on top of the table.

Lieutenant Paulson had arrived for the meeting at the hospital in his Navy blue uniform, decorations and bright gold wings above the breast pocket, with Rachel in a dark suit, clinging to his arm. Pamela wondered if that was because he was still recovering from his injuries, evidenced by his use of an ebony cane, or because she wanted to prevent him from ever going in harm’s way again. She knew the feeling.

“Jeff, I’m trying very hard to know my son again – what kind of man he is. Commander Lewis used words like selfless and heroic, but I’d like to hear from you about what happened after you picked him up and about how he was ... wounded.” She blotted her eyes. “I’m told James suffers from survivor’s guilt because he lost so many of his men when the helicopter, your helicopter, was shot down. If it will not cause you and your wife too much pain, would you please tell me about what happened in Afghanistan?”

Paulson looked at her for several seconds, then at Rachel, and then back to Pamela. “Ma’am, you understand I didn’t even know your son had survived until yesterday, when Commander Lewis called about meeting with you. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I never got a chance to thank him for all he did. Commander Lewis was not engaging in hyperbole when she described Sergeant Cavanaugh as selfless and heroic. During that trek through the mountains of Afghanistan he was fearless, but he’s no Rambo. With the death of each of his men a piece of him died too, because he cared about his people. Once he was well enough I expect he wrote a letter to each of the families...”

As his voice trailed off Pamela got the feeling he was also talking about himself when he talked about the death of his men and the letters. Commander Lewis had said he was the sole survivor of his flight crew.

During the silence, Pamela was surprised when Rachel reached over and took her hand. Tears in her eyes, she said, softly, “Ms. Hawthorn, we have a son too. He’s three, and his name is Andrew. I want to thank you for raising a son who would sacrifice himself for others. I’ve never heard the story from Jeff, but I know enough, and the only reason Jeff is here today and Andrew still has a daddy is because of what your son did for him.” She looked at her husband and then back. “I pray Andrew will never find himself in that situation.” She paused, blotting tears with a tissue. “But if he is, I hope we would have raised him to do what your son did.”

Pamela grasped the young woman’s hand tightly, her own tears flowing. Dillon handed her his handkerchief. He’s been doing that a lot lately. After Rachel’s tearful words of gratitude, Pamela finally got herself together, but her own tears were not far from the surface.

Paulson looked toward the windows, seemingly gathering himself for an ordeal. Finally he looked back at Rachel. She gave him a slight smile of encouragement, still holding tightly to his hand.

“Ma’am, I mean Pamela, I’ve only told this story once before – that was when I was interviewed by some Naval officers while I was at the hospital in Landstuhl. I’m not quite sure who they were, I was pretty groggy from surgery. A few days later they had me sign a transcript. I hardly looked at it before signing. Even Rachel has never heard the whole story of what happened those days we were trying to survive after the crash.”

Pamela watched Rachel, wondering how she would react to the story. She seemed prepared for the worst.

Paulson gazed out the window again. “It was May – now that seems so long ago. I was assigned to a helicopter unit in Afghanistan. There’s no reason to go into classified stuff like where we were stationed, but we supported special operations troops, including Marine reconnaissance. We flew a special version of what the Army calls the Black Hawk.

“I remember that day vividly. It was cloudy and very windy and there was a threat of rain. I was the executive officer of the unit at the time and the skipper called me in and said there was a six-man Marine recon unit that needed pickup. He wanted to know who should go considering the weather and the mountainous terrain. I had the most hours at the time flying under the difficult conditions in Afghanistan, so I volunteered.” He looked at Rachel and gave a little shrug as if he were a little boy who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. She shook her head slightly with just a hint of a smile. She knew her husband.

“Anyway, we - by we, I mean Lieutenant j.g. Adams, my copilot, and our crew chief, Petty Officer Daniels - lifted off about 0900 local time. It was supposed to be pretty routine – we’d done extractions many times before and even though the weather was bad at least it was in the daylight, plus the Marines we were to extract were in pretty good shape with only some minor wounds, and had not been in contact with the enemy for at least twenty-four hours.”

Pamela watched Cassandra shake her head as she mouthed the words, ‘minor wounds.’

“The Marines had a good pickup location on a barren mountain top and their locator beacon was easy to find. We got a handoff from an Air Force surveillance plane that had been overhead monitoring, so the pickup was relatively easy. The winds had come up a bit and chased some of the clouds away before our approach and there was no enemy activity.”

He paused to take a sip of the water.

“The problem was visibility. Right after pickup, clouds closed in again and the ceiling was very low – basically below the tops of the mountains - and there were rain squalls all around so instead of being able to climb out of there, I had to hug the terrain through the mountains. We call it nap of the earth flying. It takes a lot of concentration, but I’d done it several times before. About twenty minutes into the flight we came over a ridge and I flew into a valley below, but right there in the middle of that valley was a large insurgent camp. They were as surprised as we were and most of the ground fire was ineffective. Just when I thought we’d make it through someone opened up on us with an antiaircraft gun from the side of one of the hills surrounding the valley. Whoever was on it knew their business or was just lucky, because we were raked by cannon fire.”

Pamela watched Rachel wince. Dillon sat stone-faced.

“My port side engine started smoking quite badly and Lieutenant Adams went through the procedures to shut it down while I tried to keep us in the air. Unfortunately, the starboard engine had also been hit. Turns out, I had just enough power and altitude to get over the next ridge and through the next small valley, but by then the starboard engine caught fire and my gauges were in the red. When I saw the treeless ridge at the end of that valley I decided I’d better set it down while I still had some power. Over my headset I could hear Lieutenant Adams sending a distress call while Petty Officer Daniels was making sure everyone was strapped in good and tight.

“I had slowed and was making a controlled approach when the starboard engine quit. I was able to keep her almost level but we hit pretty hard, nose first. Suddenly we were down and things were very quiet. I remember Petty Officer Daniels yelling for everyone to get out. That was easy in the back since we didn’t have the sliding doors installed. I unbuckled and looked around. Thankfully there was no fire. I tried to open my door but it was jammed so I pulled the emergency release and it popped open.”

He paused and looked at Rachel. “That’s when I discovered I was injured. I couldn’t get out.”

Rachel gripped his hand, her knuckles white. “His left leg was broken in three places plus he had wounds from shrapnel.”

Paulson sat stone-faced, then added, “Eventually Daniels and Adams and at least one of the Marines got me out.” He didn’t elaborate. Pamela thought it must have been agonizing being moved with those injuries.

He drank more water and looked out the window again. “One of your son’s Marines had been killed by the canon fire and another injured. Once they got me out one of the Marines put a dressing on my wounds and splinted my leg – that’s when I first met Sergeant James Cavanaugh. He said we needed to get out of there quickly. They stripped the helicopter of anything usable, and then set some explosives and a timer and we left. I was in a make-shift stretcher. We kept on the move until dark. I’m really not certain about who was doing what, or how much ground we covered since they gave me morphine and I was pretty much out of it.

“That’s pretty much how things went for the next few days. I drifited in and out, but the Taliban were on us much of the time, usually just small detachments maintaining contact and keeping an eye on us. About the third day, maybe the fourth – as I said things were a bit hazy for me at the time, but the Taliban attacked in force. Fortunately we were on the high ground. That kept us from being overrun, but there were a lot of them and they had RPGs and mortars.” He looked down, fighting his emotions. “That’s when Petty Officer Daniels and Lieutenant Adams were killed.”

He looked up again, clearly distraught. “My crew, they were my responsibility and there was nothing I could do.” Then almost to himself, “I couldn’t even manage to get their bodies home.”

He struggled to get himself under control and then took a long drink of water. Rachel held his upper arm and put her head on his shoulder.

Dillon refilled Paulson’s glass.

Paulson shook his head. “It seemed like the next thing I knew it was just your son and a Marine Corporal named Jones and me.”

Finally, he looked at his wife with tears in his eyes. “They took turns carrying me, even though it slowed them down. At one point I begged them to leave me so they could get away.” Rachel, tears unchecked, hugged him. “I’m sorry Rachel, honey.” She just hugged him tighter. “But Sergeant Cavanaugh wouldn’t give up. He told me that he would get me home if it was the last thing he did.”

Everyone was silent as they waited for him to go on.

“Late one afternoon we had stopped for the day and they had dug a shallow trench for me to lie in. I was pretty sick with a fever at the time, and I began to wonder if it would be my grave. Sergeant Cavanaugh took off his body armor and covered me with it. After a while he said a rescue chopper was on its way and he had to get up the hill to scout the LZ. He left Corporal Jones with me. I must have dozed because the next thing I knew all hell broke loose.

“The Taliban had come after us again. Sergeant Cavanaugh must have come back because I could hear him on the radio coordinating strikes from some gunships overhead, and I could hear Corporal Jones firing his weapon. About that time mortar rounds started hitting just down the hill from us and whoever was controlling them began walking them up the hill toward us. Sergeant Cavanaugh yelled it was time to go and the next thing I knew he and Jones were lifting me out of that hole. There wasn’t time for him to put his body armor back on, so it got left behind. Then he lifted me in his arms like I was a baby and we started up the hill toward the LZ. I remember seeing our rescue helicopter approaching. It seemed like a miracle.

“We were probably less than one hundred meters from where the helicopter was supposed to land when the mortars caught up to us. I never even heard the one that knocked us down. At first I thought maybe Sergeant Cavanaugh had stumbled, but then I was on my face on that hard ground and your son was on top of me protecting me. More rounds landed close by and, and...” He covered his eyes with his hands as if he could make it go away. “He never said a word or cried out but, I could feel him twitch every time a piece of shrapnel hit him.”

No one said anything for a long time. The only sound in the room came from the sobbing of the women.

Paulson looked around and then went on in a flat voice, “And then the mortars stopped and Sergeant Cavanaugh rolled off me. Corporal Jones came out of nowhere and Sergeant Cavanaugh yelled, ‘Get the LT first.’ I tried to protest but Jones just picked me up and took me to the helicopter. I was told that the helicopter had to circle while the gunships took out the mortars. Jones must have gone back for your son too because the next thing I knew I was on the floor of the helicopter with a corpsman working on me and Sergeant Cavanaugh was lying next to me. I tried to tell them that he needed attention more than I did, but they gave me a shot and that was the last thing I remember until I woke up in the hospital.

“Until yesterday, I really did believe getting me out was the last thing he did.” He looked at Pamela, with a terrible sadness. “I’m glad he’s alive. I’ve lived with the guilt of losing my crew and your son, who I thought gave his life for me, for the last seven months.”

Paulson put his head down on his folded arms. A sobbing Rachel leaned over and half covered him.

Without thought, Pamela moved over and sat on Dillon’s lap with her arms around his neck as she cried on his chest. Cassandra stood and went to them and put her arms around both of them.

Pamela didn’t know how long she sat on Dillon’s lap. Eventually she calmed enough to realize where she was. She felt safe and comforted with his strong arms around her.

He had started as her employee, but over the three plus years he had been in her life their relationship had evolved to the point where she increasingly looked to him as a confidant, as a help-mate, and as father-figure for her daughter.

She had not dated much after her divorce from Tom. Most of the men in her social circle were cut from the same cloth as Tom, and saw her as a trophy and someone who could increase their wealth and stature. After Dillon had put Tom in his place and after a couple of other incidents where he had to step in because some moneyed drunken lout tried to paw her, including a memorable incident on the golf course, she had given up dating altogether.

She didn’t miss it and she came to realize that men like Tom and his cronies paled in comparison with Dillon. A close relationship with her butler? Horrors! What will people think?

Truthfully, many of her acquaintances were envious. One confided that she’d swap her husband for someone like Dillon in a heartbeat. They saw Dillon as a tall, ruggedly handsome man, who was always around, unless she desired privacy, and who had no obvious bad habits, carried her golf clubs without complaint, would fetch and carry, and drive her where she wanted to go. That was all true, but she also knew that he would lay down his life for her and her daughter without a second thought. Her cynical acquaintances took pains to point out that, unlike her ex, he could be dismissed permanently without a divorce.

There was only one problem with the entire scenario – she had inexorably fallen in love with him. She just could not imagine life without Dillon.

Social gulf? She had not grown up wealthy. Her mother was a scientist and her father an engineer. They were decidedly upper middle class and lived in a nice home north of San Diego. Her parents collaborated on the first of a series of micro-chips that found applications in most mobile devices, and that catapulted them into the status of mega-wealth. Pamela went to the University of San Diego and got a business degree. Not long after graduation she met Tom. He was ten years her senior and she was flattered that such a world-wise, up and coming man would be interested. Tom did a great job in convincing her that he saw her as a partner. For a while she concentrated on her children but as they got older there was less and less to occupy her time. Tom’s scorn and his disrespect colored her relations with him and the children. Instead of fighting she gave up.

Her parents had been supportive, but they were both plagued with ill-health from an early age, and they died relatively young. Looking back she was convinced the death of her mother had tipped her into alcoholism.

Now she was with Dillon and she vowed that was never going to change.

After a few minutes Pamela reluctantly got off Dillon’s lap.

Pamela moved around the table and leaned over and hugged Jeff Paulson. “Thank you Jeff. I’m sorry to have put you through that.”

He shook his head. He was very pale. “If it helps you know the kind of man your son is then it was worth it.”

She turned and hugged Rachel. Nothing needed to be said.

They exchanged contact information. Once Jeff had completed therapy he would go to Norfolk to try to requalify for flight duty, and if all went well he would rejoin his squadron in San Diego. Jeff was excited to get back to flying, but Pamela caught the look of concern from Rachel as he talked about returning to flight status. For the most part she hid it well, but to Pamela it was clear that what had happened to Jeff in Afghanistan had shaken her to the core.

They walked out of the main entrance of the hospital complex together, and Jeff and Dillon went to retrieve their cars.

Pamela turned to Rachel and took her hands. “It’s obvious you love him a lot. He’s fortunate to have you, especially now.”

Rachel nodded. “I’ve loved him since the day we met.” She gave a brief smile. “I was a student at Emory-Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, and some of us came to Washington DC during spring break. I learned early on I did not want to be in Daytona Beach during spring break.”

She paused with a far-away look. “I was standing inside the main entrance to the National Air and Space Museum just enraptured by the sight of the Wright Flyer and the Spirit of St. Louis hanging from the ceiling, and I heard a voice next to me. It was Jeff, and he said, ‘It’s a miracle we still have them isn’t it?’ I turned to look and there was this handsome young man who was also staring at those two amazing pieces of aviation history.

“Jeff was a Midshipman at the Naval Academy who had already been accepted into flight training after graduation, and already had his private pilot’s license before the Navy. He’d grown up in North Carolina and had visited the site of the Wright Brothers’ first flight several times and, like me, wanted to be a pilot since he was a child.”

Now she smiled broadly. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love right then.”

Pamela smiled and squeezed her hands. “And did he realize what was going on?”

She had to stifle a laugh. “I think Jeff realized we were destined to be together as soon as he discovered I was already qualified to fly multiengine aircraft and planned to have a career as a pilot.”

“That’s good. Some men are a little slow on the uptake.”

Rachel looked across the parking lot in the direction Dillon had gone. “If you’re talking about Dillon, and thinking that man doesn’t know you love him then he must be really slow on the uptake, but he doesn’t strike me that way. Somehow I think he knows, and it’s obvious that he loves you.”

This time it was Pamela’s turn to look in the direction Dillon had gone. “Obvious?”

“Pamela, you introduced Dillon as your personal assistant, but he adores you. I saw how he looks at you. Now who’s slow on the uptake?”

“It’s complicated...”

“Pamela, life is too short. You need to grab hold of all the happiness you can get when you can.”

They stood quietly for a few minutes, lost in thought. At some point Pamela noticed Cassandra was missing. She was about to go back into the building when Cassandra came out, accompanied by a Marine officer in his green dress uniform. He was on crutches. She could see an ACE bandage on his left foot below his trouser leg. Cassandra was carrying a satchel and a large military looking duffle. She was an athlete and pretty strong, but even she struggled a bit with those bags. Pamela wondered how the Marine intended to travel to wherever he was going, considering his leg and the luggage.

The way he’s looking at Cassandra he’s probably decided she should accompany him to his destination. And the way she’s looking at him that would be fine with her.

She watched as they approached the taxi stand. There were no taxis right then and Pamela could see them talking. The Marine was probably an inch or so taller than Cassandra’s six feet, but Cassandra was wearing low heels with her skirt so they were almost eye to eye. The Marine didn’t look a whole lot older than Cassandra’s twenty-one. She watched her smile at something he said. She remembered those days. Let the flirting begin.

At that point Rachel broke their silence. “Jeff got a medal for what happened in Afghanistan. He said he wasn’t going to accept.”

“Oh?”

“I convinced him it wasn’t just for him but it was for his crew. They had a ceremony at the base commander’s office where he’s temporarily assigned. I was shocked when I heard the words of the citation – words like ‘refused morphine despite serious injuries, ‘ and ‘constantly exposed himself to enemy fire to aid wounded comrades, while providing leadership and encouragement to his men.’ The citation went on to say that at one point he crawled out under fire and brought Lieutenant Adams back to where he could be treated, for his wounds. I just can’t imagine what that particular act cost him. He had to have been in agony as he crawled, using only one leg and pulling the other leg which was shattered and in a makeshift splint, and then somehow dragged Lieutenant Adams back.

“Jeff never wanted to talk about it, but apparently the award was based on his after action report to those officers at Landstuhl, and that of Corporal, now Sergeant Jones, and as it turns out, Sergeant Cavanaugh. Today was the first time I heard him tell his version, which was seriously edited.

“I’ve lived with his wounds for months – through the surgeries and the rehab. The pain must have been excruciating the entire time.”

Rachel looked into the distance. “I just can’t imagine how he managed. The citation said that Jeff provided the leadership that accounted for anyone surviving at all and that through his ‘conspicuous gallantry, ‘ he helped inflict heavy casualties on the enemy. I’ve never known the Jeff Paulson in the citation. He’s always been the cautious, by-the-book pilot, and that pretty much describes him as a person, at least I thought so. Jeff isn’t dull by any means. He has a great sense of humor and he’s a wonderful husband and father, it’s just I had no idea he was capable of, of those things...

“I was shocked, and hurt, when I heard the words in the citation that he volunteered to stay behind to provide covering fire so your son and Corporal Jones could be safely evacuated. I’ve never told Jeff that.” She began to sob. “He was going to leave me a widow and Andrew fatherless because he saw two Marines who he could save...”

Pamela watched the young woman draw into herself as the tears streamed down her face. She took her in her arms and held her as she cried.

Finally Pamela asked, “You don’t want him to go back to flying, do you?”

Rachel shook her head. “I pray he won’t be restored to flight status, and considering the damage to his leg I doubt it will happen.” She dried her eyes on a wad of tissues from her coat pocket and then looked at Pamela. “At least James is done. He won’t ever have to go back.”

Pamela nodded. She’d been thinking along the same lines.

After a period of silence, Pamela asked, “What’s Jeff doing now, other than getting physical therapy?”

“He has a temporary assignment pushing paper at NAS Pax River.”

“NAS?”

“Oh sorry, that stands for Naval Air Station, and he’s stationed at the air station at Patuxent River which is about eighty miles from here in Maryland. Jeff is assigned to the Helicopter Test and Evaluation Squadron. They evaluate new helicopters that the Navy is considering and also new equipment that might be installed onto current helicopters. It’s an important job but Jeff is frustrated because he can’t fly, although he gets to ride along for evaluations. I would be surprised if he doesn’t get some unofficial flying in though. He really wants to get back to an operational squadron. I think he’s done enough.”