Lucky Jim 3 Cajun and GatorChapter 10
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Sunday
Someone did laundry yesterday, so I packed the clothes I would take to Fort Bragg tomorrow. I had a feeling that things with the military would start happening quickly now and warned Sally. With my stuff stored aboard my grav sled, I went back inside for breakfast. With so many women working in the kitchen, I veered into the living room and found Don, with Giselle curled up happily on his lap. I almost said something, but as soon as I sat down, Caitlin claimed my lap.
“Mom, can I stay here?” she asked.
“Have you been invited to stay?” Giselle asked, her face showing that she was highly amused.
“Not yet,” Caitlin replied plaintively.
“It might be a good idea to wait until you’re invited,” Giselle suggested. “Besides, you won’t have any place to wear your fancy dresses, and I don’t imagine there’s a mall nearby where you and your girlfriends can show off for the boys.”
“I don’t need fancy clothes and I won’t be showing off for boys. I found a man I want to show off for,” she replied confidently.
“I second the motion to stay here,” Louis said from the door. The poor guy looked like the girls had run him through the wringer last night.
“Would that sudden sentiment have anything to do with these three gorgeous young women?” Giselle asked teasingly.
“Mom, they may be almost two years younger than I am, but they’re taking the same courses in school that I do and all three are taking at least two college courses. They’re smarter than anyone I know from school. Aside from that, they know how to shoot a rifle, ride a horse, drive a tractor, dress and smoke the game Jim and the other hunters bring home, cook, and plant the crops they grow,” he explained.
“So if you know a crazy girl...” went through my mind, making me laugh.
“Sorry, not laughing at you,” I told Louis when he scowled at me. I had to explain about “Crazy Girl,” and about using it when they asked me to call cadence during the run. I explained how his comment that the girls could hunt and cook reminded me of it.
“Besides, if I’m here, maybe I can train and get better before I turn eighteen,” he suggested.
“You may not need to worry about it by then,” Don commented causing everyone to look at him.
“The SEALs thought it would take six months to finish in Nicaragua. I told them two weeks, tops. Jim took only five days. Who knows what will happen in the next year?” he explained.
“Do you really think the war will be done in a year?” Louis asked me hopefully.
“I have no idea,” I replied. “I gave my CO a couple of ideas to think about, but they were only ideas. It would require people who understand planning, logistics, and contingencies much better than I do to pull them off.”
“I sure hope so,” he sighed. “Still, it would probably be a good idea for me to get into better shape and learn as much as I can, even if I don’t get drafted.”
We were summoned to the table just then. Caitlin squealed in surprise when I stood up, still holding her.
“Showoff,” Don teased.
The seating arrangement was almost identical to the one at dinner for us late arrivals last night. The one difference was that Heather and Janice had swapped seats so Heather sat next to Louis. Like all meals, breakfast went quickly. With so many people in the family, you learned to eat quickly before all the food disappeared.
Caitlin and Louis only protested a little when Giselle told them to dress for church. Neither of them had brought church clothes. Sally quickly sized up Caitlin and hurried her off to try on clothes belonging to Heather, Janice, and Audrey. “You’ll have to wear your dress white suit,” Mom told me while she looked at Louis. A few minutes later, she was back from the downstairs storage area where we keep outgrown clothes. Despite being almost a year older than me, my last year’s suit fit him like a glove.
Being more experienced than her kids, Giselle had packed a church dress and had hung it up last night. We all piled into the two buses again and headed for church. I left my grav sled cloaked near the house in case something happened and I needed it. I wore the clicker on a chain around my neck so I could call it to me.
I was surprised at the size of the turnout when we got to church. Usually, only Christmas and Easter were so well attended. Once inside, we found that the four rows we usually sit in were still empty. As usual, I ended up sitting in the middle of one row. However, instead of having wives on either side of me, I was the designated babysitter for Juana’s four kids. Zoe sat on my lap, and the other three sat beside me where I could rest my arm along the back of the pew right behind them.
Even the balcony seating was almost full today. Shortly before the service began, several men were hurriedly setting up folding chairs in the open area at the very back of the sanctuary.
Everyone stood when the door opened and both Bishop Thibodeaux and Father Marceaux entered. That was highly unusual as usually one or the other presides over the service. We recited Entrance Antiphon as they proceeded to the altar.
Once the service started, I was surprised when Father Marceaux stepped forward as they usually just continued with the Mass. “Today we celebrate,” he said excitedly. “We celebrate an end to the fighting and bloodshed in Nicaragua and pray for a swift end to the other conflicts still continuing in the world.
“Twice before when our country faced dire times, a special man has stepped forth to champion the cause he felt was just. Now, at a time when so many of our young men and women have to face the grim realities of wars around the globe, and when so very many of them never return to their loved ones again, another man has stepped forward to champion the cause he feels is right. Today, we celebrate the young man we witnessed yesterday as he was presented to the country, as well as to the rest of the world. We celebrate not the battles he will have to fight, rather, we celebrate the peace we hope he brings,” he said emotionally.
“Was that really what was happening?” I wondered briefly.
“Did Lucky Jim make an appearance when he was needed, or was it just a coincidence? Once or twice, I could call a coincidence. Three times was a pattern.” I suddenly felt a great weight on my shoulders as tears rolled down my cheeks. As Father Marceaux finished speaking, my wives and mothers suddenly stood and moved to the front of the church.
I recognized the tune the organist began after the third note and the tears flowed harder. I couldn’t even sing when everyone else started singing Battle Hymn of the Republic.
The pride on the faces of my wives and mothers steeled my determination to make sure the President’s sons didn’t have to go to war.
I was shaken from my reverie by the distinctive sound made by dozens of boots striking the floor in unison, marching. Turning towards the back of the church, after blinking several times so I could see, I was stunned. Two columns of SEAL Team 17 were marching in, with two columns of Marine Raiders in their distinctive black uniforms marching right alongside them.
Well, shit! Now the waterworks really started, and I hoped God would forgive me for thinking a cussword in church. When everyone reached the refrain, I heard the chilling descant part in stereo and found that Helga was the second descant, her voice joining her cousin’s in the rarified atmosphere of the upper ranges above the usual treble clef.
As they neared the end of the song, one line that I had never paid attention to before jumped out at me. He is wisdom to the mighty; He is honor to the brave.
I was soon going to need both, in spades.
While my body went through the rest of the ritual of Mass, my mind was elsewhere, dealing with such a variety of thoughts and feelings that I barely remember any of them. All I know is that, at some point, I felt the strength I would need to shoulder my new burden enter me.
By the Rite of Communion, the tears had dried and I felt much stronger mentally and spiritually than I had before church. I don’t mean to imply that I felt I was fighting a religious war. That kind of crazy talk and thinking already cost nearly a billion lives in the MEW. Nor did I think that “God was on my side,” or that “God would protect me.” I think the only thing God does during a war is cringe, cry, and try to comfort the families of the men and women who die in the wars.
No, what I felt was that my moral compass was firmly in place. I don’t know what sort of things Father Marceaux witnessed and did in the MEW that were bad enough that he felt the need to do penance, and hoped I never did anything like that. The strength I experienced was from the faith or the hope I felt people had in me. Whichever it was, I was determined not let them down.
After church, it was time to smile and shake lots of hands again. Father Marceaux gave me an emotional hug. “I sense that you’ve found an inner peace,” he commented questioningly.
“I have,” I replied. “I thought I was ready before. I was mentally and physically strong. Now I feel strong emotionally and spiritually as well. The words in the song that I never thought about before jumped out at me today. He is wisdom to the mighty; He is honor to the brave. I intend to seek both regularly.”
“You’re ready,” he agreed.
After greeting the members of the SEAL Team, I met the Marine Raiders. Don introduced me to the CO of the raider platoon, Major Reese. “Ken was a non-com Strike Team leader in our platoon when I first joined the Marine Raiders,” Don explained.
“I hope to get a chance to work with you,” Major Reese told me as he shook my hand. “Although I may have to go mano-a-mano against Commander Ferguson to get the chance,” he chuckled.
When I was finally clear of the throng of well-wishers, I handed Don my suit jacket. “I’ll be home in a while, probably not more than an hour. I just need some time alone,” I told him. Between the buses, I climbed aboard my grav sled which I had summoned, and flew out to the spot where Don had performed the ceremony expanding my consciousness. Sitting on a blanket, I let my consciousness expand and examined the area around me in minute detail.
I watched ants struggling as they carried loads heavier than their bodies. I watched birds carrying sticks, twigs, and dried grass for their nests. I watched the drama of life and death unfold several times as fish, insects, birds, and smaller animals lost the battle to live and fell prey to larger fish, insects, birds, and animals. Like our farm animals and the animals I hunted, their sacrifice meant that the victorious predator lived to prey another day.
“Such is not the case with men,” I sighed as the thought zipped through my brain. “Men prey on those they perceive as weaker than themselves out of greed. They want power, and wealth. Sometimes, as with bullies, they want to conquer to prove themselves in the eyes of others. That’s what China is doing. The devastating and debilitating nuclear strikes by the tiny island nation of Taiwan against their capital, population centers, seaports, and manufacturing centers, as well as the conventional strikes against their dams that had swept away entire cities and towns, as well as the tens or hundreds of millions of people living in them. It made China look vulnerable.
“If a tiny nation like Taiwan could devastate them, they were worried that other nations, probably Russia, might try to take advantage of their weakened state. To counter the appearance of weakness, they attacked Mongolia and then Myanmar like a bully lashes out at someone much weaker than themselves, hoping to give the impression to everyone around them that they’re tough.”
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that China’s leaders were fighting for their political lives and were fighting in hopes of keeping Russia at bay.
The only flaw in my theory was that Russia was selling weapons and ammunition to China. Either they weren’t really interested in China, or they had some sort of devious plan. My vote was on a nefarious plan. Were they waiting for the U.S. to weaken China enough that they felt they could almost walk in as they did in the former Soviet Union era “-stan” republics? Or did they want China and the U.S. to weaken and wear down each other?
Back then they had waited, refusing repeated requests by the U.S., Israel, and European allies to help in the MEW. Instead, they sat on the sidelines, stockpiling weapons and ammo while training troops. They waited while most of the fighters from those republics headed west to fight against Israel and her allies. The U.S. would have been smarter to drop troops into the capitals of the -stan republics and capture the whole country before the fighters in the western part of the Mideast could react and return to their home country to defend it.
Drawing many their fighters away from the active front would have weakened the front enough that Israel and her allies could have probably broken through much sooner. Damn, now I was positive that was what Russia had planned to do. Just like the comment about Nicaragua wanting to hold peace talks sent shivers through me like someone playing two discordant notes simultaneously, the thought that Russia was waiting until they felt China was weakened enough that they could invade and capture vast portions of the country triggered a harmonic note.
Russia had to know that the U.S. would already control some of the southern part of China. The task of pushing the Chinese out of Myanmar, Bangladesh, Vietnam, Laos, and parts of Cambodia was nearly complete and parts of southern China bordering Myanmar and Vietnam had already been captured.
The possibility of a Russian invasion added yet another wrinkle to the idea I had proposed to Commander Ferguson, one I hadn’t considered. My proposal would now need considerable tweaking to account for and prevent that possibility. It had also just become even more urgent.
With a deep sigh of resignation, I boarded my grav sled and turned it towards home.
Don was outside waiting for me when I got there. I’d felt him checking on me periodically as I contemplated life in general, my future, and China.
“You okay?” he asked concernedly.
“Yeah, I felt a new sense of responsibility today in church and it worried me at first. I felt better by the time church was over, but needed some time alone just to digest everything,” I explained.
“You look like you have something on your mind,” Don commented questioningly.
“Yeah, I realized that Russia is supplying arms and ammunition to China hoping that the war weakens China enough that they can rush in and take over large parts of China like they did in the Near East the end of the MEW. They sat back and waited for Israel and her allies to weaken the Arabs enough. They stockpiled arms and ammunition and trained troops while they waited. When they determined that the -stan countries were mostly undefended, they swept in and captured them, claiming that they had finally decided to help Israel and her allies.
“They’re doing the same thing in China. While supplying weapons for China, I’ll bet they’re stockpiling their own weapons and training troops again. I don’t know how they will determine when China is weak enough to invade, or what parts they will invade, but they will invade. Do you remember the feeling I had when the Nicaraguans said they wanted to discuss a surrender?” I asked. Don nodded.
“I had the opposite feeling when I realized what Russia intends to do, like when two parts of a song’s harmony blend together perfectly. I also felt several new danger vectors appear,” I explained.
“Can you tell if the danger is imminent?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. The danger I felt from the subs grew in intensity as the subs got closer. These danger vectors aren’t anywhere near as intense as the first time I felt the subs.”
“It will hold until tomorrow then,” he said. “Both Commander Ferguson and Major Reese said that all the bigwigs would be at the base tomorrow. I get the feeling they’re hoping to talk you into helping with Colombia next,” he explained.
“I’ll help, but not with Colombia.” Don gave me an inquisitive look. “You are thinking that Colombia is next, the military is thinking that Colombia is next, the Colombians think they’re next, and I’ll bet the Chinese and the Russians think that Colombia is next.
“If we finish Colombia next, then the Chinese will know it’s their turn and the leaders will scatter and hide. I want all the top government and military leaders together in Chongqing, their new capital, so we can take them all out in one night. Then, I’ll record a broadcast in Chinese, capture their central broadcasting studio, and start the recorded broadcast playing. I’ll warn them that the son of ‘Demon Dragon’ has come to finish what his father began. I’ll show the captured government and military leaders and dare anyone to take their place.”
“Where did you learn about my other nickname?” Don asked. “I’ve never mentioned that to anyone in the family.”
“Cooper was telling me how they interrogate Chinese prisoners,” I laughed. “They warn them that if they don’t talk, they’ll fly them to the U.S. and let Demon Dragon interrogate them. Rather than die out, the stories about you have reached epic proportions. They even think that you can really spit fire and that you eat any prisoners you interrogate. If they talk, you kill them quickly, but if they don’t, you keep them alive and hanging on for days taking small bites until they finally tell you or die.”
“Hmmmmm,” Don mused, and then got his com unit.
“Hey, Fred, I have an idea and wonder if it’s feasible,” Don said, evidently talking to Fred from his work.
“Would it be possible to mount a holographic projector on the tender sled? And if so, could you mount a high-pressure nozzle beneath the bow of the grav sled?” Don asked.
“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s for an idea Jim had. I’ll explain it in more detail the next time I see you,” he promised.
I was surprised when next he commed Dorothy Shaw. “Hi, Dorothy, this is Don Reynolds. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I wondered if you knew anyone in the military with a top-secret clearance who works with video. I need someone who can make a 3-D projection of a man morphing into something, and vice versa,” Don explained.
“Perfect, Jim has to be there in the morning. I’ll go along and talk to him. Let him have my com number and have him com me after 0600 Eastern or he can even com me tonight until about 2200 hours Eastern. Thanks,” Don said as he finished the com.
Then he commed one more person. “Hey, Torch, it’s Cajun,” he said excitedly.
“No, I didn’t fall into the swamp. I dive in, but only when I’m hunting for alligators,” he laughed. “Remember that Greek device you made when you were in high school?”
“How long would it take you to make one?”
“Great, where do you live now?”
“Heck, we’re practically neighbors. How about I meet you there in half an hour or so?”
“Okay, see you then,” Don said and finished the com, grinning.
“This will be fun,” Don laughed. “Torch is an old buddy from my Strike Team. When scientists finally figured out how the ancient Greeks made Greek fire, he made a unit in high school and even improved on the Greeks’ formula. I’ll get him to make fuel tanks that fit inside the lower compartment of a grav sled and in the lower compartment of the tender. I want to enhance his formula by adding a small tank of microencapsulated phosphorous to the mix.
“Imagine what it will look like when you fly over a bunch of Chinese troops in your grav sled with a hologram of a large dragon obscuring the sled. If we position the hologram correctly, the nozzle I want added to the sled should spout Greek fire from far enough inside the mouth of the dragon that the nozzle won’t be visible.
“Then, we incorporate a clip of you morphing from a dragon to a human in the vid you want to broadcast,” he laughed. “That will have the Chinese troops shitting themselves.”
We were both still laughing when we went inside, and Don said that Fred told him he’d just gotten home from work. They were pressing to finish building the four thousand new grav sleds the government ordered right after our successful raid against the tankers. Rather than hire a lot of extra help they would have to lay off in a short time, they were using soldiers who had just finished boot camp. Heath and the others in the fabrication department had been working shifts of twelve hours on and twelve hours off for nine days now.
“I take it you’re feeling better?” Mom commented when she saw us laughing.
“Much better,” I replied, giving her a hug.
“Giselle is waiting for you in the studio,” she reminded me. “Take your white jacket. She decided that she wants you in that instead of in your fatigues.”
I stopped and gave each of my women a hug and kiss to show that I was feeling better, and then headed for the studio. “Oh, good, you’re back,” Giselle exclaimed happily. Trudy was sitting on a tall stool that she sometimes has people sit on when she does sketches of them. Giselle hadn’t wasted any time. She had an easel set up and already had one rather detailed sketch of me.
She had me stand behind a straight-backed chair and hold the top of the chair back. “You should have seen yourself today,” she said as she began posing me. “Today in church, you had the most determined look on your face that I’ve ever seen on anybody.” After several unsuccessful attempts to pose me the way she wanted me, I made a suggestion.
She stood back, her camera at the ready looking at me quizzically. Expanding my consciousness, I looked at the picture she’d taken in church with her com unit and compared it with the way I was standing. Within a few seconds she exclaimed, “Perfect.” The facial expression wasn’t quite the same, but I doubted that I could consciously copy it.
She walked around me taking probably a hundred photos from different angles and then from a different elevation by standing on another chair. About an hour later she said happily, “Okay, all done.” I even posed without my shirt so Trudy could do the sketch she wanted. She took photos, too, so she could get the shadows and skin pigmentation correct.
We got downstairs and found the remnants of lunch on the dining room table. Fortunately, it was a buffet style lunch. Buffets were uncommon on Sundays, but normal every other day since people were going in all different directions. Sunday was usually reserved for a sit-down family dinner.
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