Chapter 11
"I'm really worried about him, Pop," Eddie admitted in the kitchen the following morning when the two were alone again after Jamie and Eva's Friday morning departures. "All this is dredging everything back up. He's been doing so well the last month or so since Joey came… his PT is really helping, I mean he barely needs his crutches anymore unless he overdoes it, and he's been okay about switching over to work at 1PP. I know he misses patrol, but he feels like he can make a difference here in the NYPD instead of with the FBI in Washington, so I think he'll eventually accept that. Last night though after telling me about Rigs he had nightmares again over and over… that he and Quincy were out in a little paddle boat alone in the middle of the ocean with a bunch of sharks circling. He was afraid, Pop… terrified. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he was shaking," she revealed sadly. "I don't know how to help him. He's still holding back in front of Danny, and I've never really lost anyone so close to know how that feels or had anything happen to me like that unless you count that perp I shot in the quad," she frowned. "It's not the same."
"No, it isn't, sweetheart," Henry agreed. "What he went through that night on the hill and the months before that after he got hit by the car changes a person. I've seen it myself. Sometimes it takes years for it to come out, just look at Danny… that boy's still keeping something locked in too. Their father would understand after what happened to him in the war, maybe more than even Francis would admit to this day because he never talks about it either, but I think you should invite Quincy over for Sunday. He'll be able to help Jamie. Rigs put the two of them together for a reason… he wanted them to look out for one another when he was gone, and they're going to need to lean on each other to get through what comes next."
"That's a good idea," Eddie nodded. "I'll call Annabel right now. Quincy's probably a wreck too. At least he has her; they've really hit it off. I was trying to tell Jamie the story about Gerry and Frank, but I only got to the part where Mary came to dinner the first time. He doesn't know the rest."
"You mean about how Mary was put off at first? Because that girl was no fool… she could read my wife like an open book from the get go no matter how polite Betty was on the outside or how well she thought she was hiding her feelings. Mary figured if his mother held that opinion of her and Francis didn't stand up against it, well, then things would never work between them, so she called it off the first time. He was so miserable and broken-hearted after that even Betty had to admit she had been wrong. It took that McLaughlin boy to put them back together again though…"
###
"C'mon, ask her out again or I will."
"Like she would go out with you, Gerry," came the expected frustrated, indignant huff by Frank Reagan followed by a defeated shoulder shrug before he slumped onto a bench near the path in the small park they were walking through at his friend's insistence the following Saturday. "I've tried calling all week; she won't even talk to me. She thinks I let my mom get the wrong idea about her, and then I didn't do enough to make it right."
"Well, did you?"
"What exactly was I supposed to say in front of her? No, Ma, this wasn't the girl I was kissing in the backseat of the car at the drive-in, that was Lizzie Kepner's easy cousin Patsy something-or-other from Brooklyn Heights who was looking to round second and get to third base on a blind date before I got out and took a walk. Mary Margaret was the second one I picked up that night... 'I'da had two frying pans flying at me head,'" he mocked in Betty's thick Gaelic accent. "I had no idea my mother knew about that or would get all judgmental at dinner. By the time I figured out what was going on and tried to explain it was all a mistake to Mary on the way home, she was so embarrassed my parents thought that about her, she cried and shut me down… hasn't said a word to me since."
"And your mom?"
"Hasn't stopped talking," Frank admitted with a crushed sigh and a heavy heart. "By the way, she knows it was you that set this all up, so be prepared to duck the next time you're over at the house."
"Crap," Gerry mouthed as he collapsed against the backrest in an equally defeated manner and considered the formidable Irish woman with high moral standards that was one Betty Reagan. "Guess if my mom was still alive she'da been dragging me over by the ear to apologize… I gotta make this right," he decided. "I can't have my best friend be miserable and miss out on all those home cooked meals for the rest of my life."
###
"So, he got them back together after that, right?" Eddie clarified. "I know you said yesterday that Frank and Mary dated before he left for the Marines, but I assumed it was more than those first few weeks."
"Oh, yes, if nothing else that McLaughlin boy was true to his word," Henry nodded. "Ruthann and Mickey always had their hands full with him, Mick more so after he got hurt because Ruthie had passed a few years before that from gallbladder surgery complications, but he was a good kid at heart even if it was rough around the edges. He pestered Mary for weeks after that telling her how broken up Francis was about the whole thing and finally got her to agree to go to the winter dance as a double date with him and another friend from her high school. When they came over to the house for pictures beforehand, Betty took her aside and apologized. She knew this girl had good character if she wasn't about to stand for having her reputation questioned, and we watched as the two of them got close over the next few months before the boys left for basic training after graduation. That was the last time we ever saw Gerry," he frowned at the memory. "Still owe that kid everything. If it hadn't been for him, none of us would be sitting here right now…"
###
"Reagan! McLaughlin! You two boys are on six!" Lieutenant Daniel Carpenter ordered as he began to reveal the details and set up his USMC recon patrol during a briefing for the next day's insertion. Frank paid sharp attention as there were literally hundreds of things to be covered for the nine-man team—who was PL, on point, in the body, and on tail, how many days, call signs, the departing and fallback LZ's, what the water situation was on the ground and how many canteens were required, who would carry the M-79… the list was endless. Six months into their year-long tour in Vietnam and the stress would start to hit at that point like a hammer—fear and worry about what was to come. This time they were going out for four nights into the dense jungle northwest of Cam Lo where things had been very active as of late. He could almost smell the anxiety rolling off his best friend in waves as they were abruptly dismissed and told to go ready their gear before the choppers came the next afternoon.
The evening remained quiet between the two men and was filled with packing, unpacking, and packing again. Cans of food were then organized and put into spare socks in their rucks to keep the noise down.
Dog tags were wrapped together with green tape also for that noise thing.
The stress became quite an issue at this point. Some good and some not-at-all good stress… the latter of which had started to break Gerry down as of late. Frank found his buddy isolated and alone later that night, sitting by a lantern, cross-legged on his bed while paging through the worn, now dog-eared copy of his mother's bible that he had brought with him.
"Thought you were done with that once we graduated."
"Yeah, well… maybe I was wrong about that too," Gerry smirked sadly as he glanced up. "You know, Xavier, I'd give anything right now for Father Campion's thousand acts of contrition to make this all go away," he admitted before carefully closing the book and sliding it underneath his bedroll.
"At least we're not on point this time," Frank noted and tried to bolster his friend's confidence. "And yesterday was our six-month anniversary; we're over the hump."
"We'll be doing a lot of humping the next four days with Grimshaw in charge," Gerry observed with a telling sigh as he lay back on the bunk and crossed his hands behind his head while staring up at the ceiling. "You get a letter today?" he asked with more than a mild jealous twinge in his voice.
"Yeah," Frank admitted as he pulled the envelope out of his shirt pocket and tapped it thoughtfully. Like clockwork, twice a week, he could always count on that now-familiar feminine handwriting to anchor him as a reminder of what he had to look forward to. Most nights, if not forced to succumb to total exhaustion, he would reread each one captured in his eidetic memory and smile as he lay in the darkness while thinking of his beautiful Mary Margaret waiting for him at home.
Gerry never had such a distraction unless you counted the companion pieces from Betty Reagan praying for their safe return and keeping them abreast of what was happening back in the city and the various cases her husband was working on as he cemented his position as a top-level chief in the NYPD. Those were always shared with the closest person to a brother Frank had ever known.
Six months' worth of a whirlwind courtship before they shipped out had been enough to convince him that he had indeed found his soulmate, and while his friend still professed a grand plan to plunk down all uncashed pay on a flashy sports car upon their return, he had already mentally allotted a good sum to a very special purchase he intended to make at Gillespie's Jewelry store the moment they were back in New York, with the rest to be used to start their married life together.
First, of course, was the matter at hand, and that meant surviving the next four days.
For two of the nine men boarding the pair of choppers the next afternoon and gazing down at the thick jungle carpet below as it whisked by in a blur underneath their feet, that was not going to be a reality, and had it not been for the heroics of one, it was likely at least three more names if not all would have been added to the list and eventually a solemn wall, including that of Francis X. Reagan.
The boy that had professed his resolve to keep his head down and not put his ass on the line for anyone had become the man who had done nothing of the sort when push came to shove.
Things had started quietly late in the afternoon as they always did. There had been no talking as they waited. Everyone was deep in their own thoughts until the birds landed and within minutes they were on their way.
At that point, the stress seemed to lift as the thinking about the what if's ceased and their minds switched over to a sort of autopilot. The choppers dropped in a dummy landing first to disguise their actual location before the patrol leader, CJ Grimshaw, offered those infamous words, "Lock and load, boys," and in the next instant they were dumped on the ground in the middle of a field of very high grass. Frank remembered the directions to exit and crawl towards the tree line in case they had been observed. He followed directly on Gerry's tail until the group reached cover and started off quickly once more after an initial headcount.
At first, they were purposefully sent off in the wrong direction from their intended route and traversed a steep hill with rucks and gear so heavy it nearly dragged them to their knees. Cursing their leader's direction under their breaths, the unit skirted sideways for a bit before going back down the slope and into the thickest patch of vegetation available... all in an effort to avoid the inevitable. Soon pops were heard in the distance before enemy shells covered the hillside they had just exited. The VC or NVA had indeed seen what direction they had taken initially and had decided to kill them up there.
Frank could have kissed the PL on the lips at that point for his good intuition and planning, but there was little time to think about that.
They had advanced only a few hundred more meters before being brought under intense enemy small-arms and automatic weapons fire. The platoon reacted quickly and got on line as best they could in the thick terrain, returning fire almost immediately while their location was called in and air strikes were ordered. Frank and Gerry found themselves bunched together tightly behind the cover of a small berm alongside two other members of their squad only twenty or so meters away from enemy positions. As the firefight continued, several of the men to their left were wounded in the deadly assault, their cries of pain adding to the sensory assault on their bodies and minds as adrenaline surged and mixed solidly with fear. In that defining moment, Frank had pinpointed the exact position of the opposing muzzle fire and prepared to lift himself up above the safety of the mound to fix his own aim on it, willing to sacrifice himself for his team as he pulled back on the rifle's trigger to blanket the area and return the favor. Suddenly though, a grenade was lobbed into their midst and landed with a muted thud in the soft earth centered directly between the four men before it rolled alongside Gerry's leg.
In a singular flash of time that was both brief and endless, his best friend's eyes locked on Frank's and exchanged a lifetime of memories... from their first early recollections of childhood play dates together on the swing in the backyard through kindergarten, years of football, little league, and high school graduation, the latter shared as a threesome with a very special young lady who would eventually become Mrs. Francis X. Reagan due in no small part to Gerry's efforts.
In that brief half-second, they expressed their love as blooded brothers while saying thank you and goodbye to one another in the same instant.
Without further hesitation, and with complete disregard for his own personal safety, Pfc. Fitzgerald McLaughlin bravely reached out and grasped the grenade, pulling it into his chest and curling around it as it went off. Although Frank and the two other Marines on either side of him received tour-ending shrapnel injuries from the device, the rest of the wounded soldiers, minus Grimshaw, their patrol leader who had been gut shot multiple times defending his men and would also eventually succumb en route, were all safely evacuated after air support arrived and annihilated the remaining enemy opposition in one strafing run. Gerry's body had absorbed the major force of the explosion, and in that singular heroic act saved not only his comrades but an entire future line of blue-blooded cops from Brooklyn.
The image that had been seared into Frank Reagan's brain at that moment, however, would take much longer to muffle and fade, and the broken spirit that returned home to Mary Margaret and Betty Reagan's waiting arms was a far cry from the one that had left.
###
"Gerry was a hero," Eddie concluded softly as her blue eyes grew wide and filled.
"Yes, and a highly decorated one at that… they gave him the Medal of Honor," Henry nodded, and his voice was rough and thick as he recited some of the words that were attributed to the young man as he was posthumously awarded the citation reserved for only the bravest our country had to offer. "For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty… His personal heroism, extraordinary valor, and inspirational supreme self-sacrifice reflected great credit upon himself and the Marine Corps and upheld the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service. Without regard, he gave his life for his country."
"Wow."
"Someday soon if I have the privilege to see him again, I'm going to shake that boy's hand," the eldest Reagan offered even as his granddaughter-in-law's heart ached at that revelation. "When I think what this family owes him, and all the others… it makes me sick inside when people disgrace them."
"Pop," Eddie chided softly. "Please don't say things like that. Not everyone is that way."
"Hard to remember that sometimes in this day and age, sweetheart."
"I know," she agreed with a bit of worry over his current state. "How's your chest? Any pain?" she prodded, although by all accounts Henry had been looking and feeling much better in recent days than before his pacemaker procedure as his doctor had ensured he would.
"Nothing that you and my gg's can't cure," he added before reaching over for Joey who was now stirring in his bouncy seat between them. "Gerry, or what was left of him, is buried at Arlington," he added before adding the rest from memory. "Section 52, Grave 2447."
"That's where Rigs will go too," Eddie revealed sadly. "Or somewhere near there at least. I guess he had enough pull somehow to reserve a spot on a hill that overlooks some of his men. When I talked to her earlier, Annabel said that before he went to Arizona with Kenzie, he sent Quincy some letters to open at this time and put him in charge of all that. She said it takes a while to arrange a service with honors down there, so he wanted him to get started right away. Since he had no other family, he's leaving everything to Quince so that he can start a new life or go back to school and get a degree for whatever he wants, not just the cupcakes," she added with a small smile. "He really loved him like a son."
"Well then, when the time comes this whole family will have some respects to pay," Henry vowed. "We all have our own to honor down there… Francis, Danny, and now Jamie… lots of my old friends too."
"So, did Frank propose to Mary right after he came back like he planned?" Eddie asked with a sniff as she wiped her eyes and quickly sought to move away from the topic that was choking her with emotion.
"No, it took a long time for Francis actually to come back from the war," Henry revealed as he thought back to that dark time in his son's history. "Physically he healed pretty quickly although he was given an honorable discharge and had his time cut short. I guess they figured what he saw… well, after that he had changed. He went directly into the next academy class and honestly struggled more than a bit… didn't finish anywhere near the top where he should have been, in fact, he was within spitting distance of the bottom and barely made the cut. He and Mary kept dating through that, but it was rough, and then it was off again once he was out on the street as a rook and got mixed up with Lenny Ross, his old partner, and the crew that he ran with at the 2-5 out of Harlem. That Lenny was a piece of work, even wrote a tell-all book a few years back about the bad old days. They were young, single cops throwing themselves into their work at a time when this city might as well have been the Wild West... Broadway Frank Reagan and his merry band of head-knocking, hard-drinking, stewardess-banging mad dogs," he huffed. "My boy… and I thought Betty was beside herself before all that."
"Seriously? I can't imagine what she was thinking..." Eddie trailed off as she looked at Joey in a new light. "I just want him to stay my sweet, little baby boy forever. Gosh, this mommy thing is gonna be a lot harder than this when he gets older, isn't it?"
"You can go to the bank with that, sweetheart… not to mention he's a Reagan and you of all people know we've all got that pig-headed gene," Henry reminded with a huff. "Betty was so disappointed in the way things were going for our boy, and well, she wasn't shy about speaking her mind about it so the three of us had a drop down, drag out fight here one Sunday at dinner when he told her what he had finally done to make Mary walk away. It was the first time in his life Francis ever raised his voice to his mother out of disrespect like that, and I couldn't stand for it so I kicked him out of the house and told him not to come back until he realized what happened to him over there was no excuse to be a son of a duckie to everyone that loved him and to stay away until he was ready to have a real conversation with us," he admitted with heavy regret. "I know now that it was probably the worst thing I could have done… he needed our help, and we're lucky that things didn't go another way, but I didn't know what else to do, and he didn't speak to either of us for months after that… didn't even call on her birthday. Betty thought we lost him."
"FRANK?!" Eddie gasped in surprise at the notion of her ethically solid-as-a-rock, stalwart, Jesuit-educated, church-going, family-first father-in-law behaving in that manner as she tried to wrap her head around it. "I can't imagine… really?"
"Really," Henry assured with a slow, sad nod of his head as he gazed down at the tiny great-grandson laying on his lap and lovingly tickled his chin before being rewarded with a smile… and another copious bit of spit up. "Now, Joseph," he scolded lightly in his wife's way as Eddie quickly helped him wipe up. "Promise Pop Pop that you'll never give yer momma any grief like that. Believe it or not, your Grandpa had a bit of a chip on his shoulder back in his day…"
So much for Saint Francis Xavier, right? Stewardess-banging mad dog, indeed. RIP with honor, Pfc. Fitzgerald McLaughlin, although a bit of your spirit came home to live it up and cash in on that car, anyway… and that's about to cause big problems for a disillusioned Frank, a broken-hearted Mary who would hold a lifelong contempt for a particular Chevelle, and a set of disappointed grayhairs, to say the least.
