Epilogue
In peace, sons bury their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons. – Herodotus
1520L, 15 August 2021, The Pentagon
Percy watched the screen. Afghanistan was a goddamn clusterfuck. He reached for the glass of bourbon. He was the J-3 - Director, Operations. The operations officer for the entire DOD and he spoke his mind in the staff meetings. He had warned them, he had been told to stay in his fucking lane and work operations, not policy. Most if the country had enough and Kabul soon would despite the scrambled Marines and Airborne inbound. His phone pinged and he looked at the screen. It read "BFH." He opened the message from Kahale.
'Admiral, did any of it fucking matter?'
'Fuck if I know.' The only think Percy knew was what his youngest son texted him earlier. 'Dad, they're sending us in.' Charles currently belonged to 1st Battalion, 8th Marines. Unlike his siblings, he had no desire to fly aircraft. Charles wanted to jump out of them. Enlisting at seventeen, with Percy's permission, he decided to become a Marine grunt. Now a year into his contract he held the orders that would put him in Assessment and Selection for Marine Corps Special Operations Command, or MARSOC. Instead of executing them right away, he chose to deploy with his unit to the Special Purpose Marine Air Ground Task Force, Crisis Response Central Command, SPMAGTF-CR-CC. And now he's going to Afghanistan. I went in at the beginning, he's there at the end.
0934L, 26 August 2021, Arlington, VA
"We interrupt this broadcast," Zoe's head snapped to the television. It had been nearly twenty years since that phrase broke through her morning coffee. These days, morning coffee was a little later and meant fewer cups, but morning coffee was morning coffee. Zoe disliked American news networks, so she watched the BBC's midday report as her morning news.
"We have reports out of Kabul that a massive explosion has occurred along the perimeter of Hamid Karzai International Airport. We here at BBC are attempting to reach out to our sources on the ground to confirm this report."
1741L, 26 August 2021, The Pentagon
Percy's head hurt. Dozens of reports had filtered in and out of his office and the gossip areas of the Pentagon about the attack. Eventually he had decided there was nothing he could do and disappeared into his office. Just four minutes of rest followed. There was a knock on the door.
"Enter," Percy said tiredly as he looked at the Keurig on a side table. Zoe forbad him caffeine after 1700, but it might be worth it. A single man in uniform entered the room. His three stars pressed tightly against the khaki collar of his shirt. Gold wings shown above a ribbon rack showing operations from the Gulf War to the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. Percy's awards matched the Marines, but in addition to the aviator's wings he still wore the jump wings from his time with the SEALs.
"Lee," Percy said as he stood and extended a hand. Fletcher took it and shook it firmly. He had been confirmed as the next Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps and in three weeks would put on his fourth star for what would be the final tour of his career. As their hands separated, Percy took his chair and motioned for the one opposite him. Instead, Fletcher came to attention. Percy could see in his eyes what was coming before the words were audible.
"Admiral Jackson, The Commandant of the Marine Corps has entrusted me to express his deep regret that your son, Lance Corporal Charles Jackson was killed in action at Hamid Karzai International Airport, Kabul, Afghanistan on 26 August 2021. Lance Corporal Jackson was manning a post and assisting in the safe evacuation of noncombatants when a suicide bomber struck. Lance Corporal Jackson was severely wounded but used his final moments to secure the medical dressing on a fellow wounded Marine. He expired before medical attention could be provided. The Commandant extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss." Lee took a deep breath and looked at the still seated Percy. There were tears in his eyes. His voice shook when he spoke. "He wanted you to know first, Percy. Specifically written out in his Record of Emergency Data. Tell my father first. He'll take care of the rest."
Percy quivered, unwilling to let the tears fall. He looked around his office at the memorabilia of a lifetime in the Navy. Challenge coins and patches from dozens of ships, squadrons, or commanders filled shelves. Going away gifts from units stood tall. Photographs of clean-cut pilots in their whites and dirty men who had been in Afghanistan within months of the Towers. A picture of Percy and Jake Mason helping Chris Rodriguez from an airplane upon their return. All things that his children had grown up with. The tears fell as he looked back to Fletcher. "Was he there because of me?"
1900L, 26 August 2021, Alexandria, VA
She heard the vehicle pull into their driveway. Zoe crossed the comfortably designed living room and stopped before the large bay window. She leaned against one of the large oaken bookshelves. Percy sat in the front seat of his doorless Wrangler. Smoke hung in a halo around his aviator sunglasses covered face. She watched him light another cigarette. His shined brown leather shoes struck the concrete. She was puzzled, his khaki cover remained in his belt and in accordance with regulation, he always placed it on his head upon leaving his vehicle. The butt of smoldering tobacco violently hit the ground and he was at their door.
The Secretary of Defense requested that all officers wear their full awards and a request from the now retired Frederick Chase qualified as an order. That included even the Joint Staff's J-3 Director, Operations, her husband. The left side of her husband's chest hid behind the large stack of ribbons, jump wings, and pilot's wings. He opened the door, and she looked down to her hands, suddenly ashamed. Blood leaked from the edges of her thumbnails where she had nervously picked at them since the morning news. Her near black eyes met the sea storm that were his. And she knew. She knew the words she would not force him to utter. Zoe moved toward him before any other response processed. She felt his arms encase her and as he had long been, Percy stood as the silent pillar upon which she wept.
