GRATEFUL HERO

It takes a remarkable person

Not just to say a Creed

And memorize a Creed,

But also to live by a Creed

-S. Shughart

Found on the home page of the

Night Stalkers-Army's Special Operations Aviation Regiment

GRATEFUL HERO-Chapter Two-July 1st

"Half the city turned out for Tony's funeral," Blair fingered the black armband on his flannel shirt.

"Sometimes people just show up at funerals just to show up." Jim stared out the truck's windshield. He thought of his father. It bothered him more than he could admit that his father had shown up at Tony's funeral. He'd always managed to keep his father at arms' distance since he'd returned from Peru. Even thought they were working on healing their relationship Jim still didn't want his father showing up around his police friends. His father seemed to be upset that Jim had chosen to be a police officer. Jim shook his thoughts away.

The streetlights were coming on in the wake of the setting sun. Most of the foot traffic in this area of Cascade was either vagrants or the working poor. Poverty bred crime. Jim kept an eye out for any signs of drug dealing or prostitution.

"In Wilson's case it seemed that almost everyone knew him and liked him." Jim shifted his attention back to his younger partner.

"Tony was a good guy," Blair agreed. "I heard some really great stories from people who knew him."

Jim nodded as he stopped for a red light. "Speaking of stories, Chief, one of the young ladies at Tony's funeral mentioned that you were being harassed for wearing the black armband. I know that you want to show your support. You don't have to wear it at school. We all know that you and Tony were friends. You don't have anything to prove.

Blair shrugged trying to play it off. "A couple of the students seemed to think that I had turned into something other than a teacher." Blair had his eyes on a man dressed in faded but neatly pressed army fatigues limping down the street. A duffle bag bumped against his legs as he ambled down the street.

"You mean that they thought that you turned into the Man, a pig," Jim ran through the derogatory names tacked onto police. His light eyes swept the street ahead of them. He frowned as he spotted several teenage boys half hidden behind an enclosed bus stop. It might have been the start of July but it was still cool enough in Cascade for the long black trench coats to be appropriate wear. Still, Jim's frown became thoughtful; there was something about their tense body language. Jim didn't like the hungry/scared looks on their faces. Mental warning bells born of being an experienced officer went off in Jim's head.

Jim's heightened sight zeroed in on the tip of a metal bat that was visible from the bottom edge of one of the boys' long coats. Following their line of sight he realized that they were watching the old man weaving along the sidewalk. Jim's enhanced hearing caught every word of their whispering. His mouth went taut.

"You know how kids are," Blair had heard the tight anger in Jim's voice. Unaware of the drama Jim was watching start to play out Blair's concern was 'calming' his partner and friend down. "It's all right," Blair said lightly. "I explained Tony to the students I teach. I've been explaining that police aren't just punishers but are also present in society to be helpers."

The light changed. Jim didn't answer. Instead he stepped on the gas pedal with force. Sweetheart leaped through the intersection. Jim pulled the truck close to the curb slamming on the brakes. Blair's eyes were wide. He gripped the shoulder belt tightly.

"Yeah," Jim snapped. "I know how some kids are." Tersely Jim spat the words out.

"Hey, Jim, what's the problem," Blair still couldn't believe that Jim who was a police officer drove like a maniac. Jim was already out of the truck. It was then that Blair saw the teenage boys. He looked from the old soldier to the boys. "Wait for me, Jim." Blair was out of the truck following Jim up the sidewalk. Blair hit speed dial to the police department dispatcher. Blair looked up for a street sign. "We need back up."

Jim's longer stride put him at the old soldier's side in a few quick steps. He glared at the advancing boys. "Do we have a problem here?"

Scowling the boys looked from their intended victim to Jim. "There are four of us, Creep."

"You're the ones who beat up Tim and Bill." The old soldier snarled. Anger was barely contained in the deep gravelly voice.

"Yeah," the obvious leader smirked. "And now we're going to add a girly boy and Mr. Nosy here to our score cards."

"That's Detective Nosy to you. Now all of you up against that stone wall." Jim directed.

Two of the boys bolted. Everyone was surprised when the old man swung his duffle bag letting it fly at the fleeing boys. The duffle bag hit one of the boys in the back of his legs. He pitched forward hitting the second boy causing him to stumble and fall. Both boys ended up in a tangle of arms and legs. Their metal bats were bouncing with loud rings on the sidewalk.

"That was cool!" Blair chuckled. Jim in the meantime had the other two boys up against the pink wall of Hattie's Second Hand Shop. "Call for backup, Chief," Jim said over his shoulder.

A police cruiser pulled up to the curb with a screech. "I already did, Jim." Blair was relieved that help had arrived so quickly.

"Detective Ellison," Officer Sanchez was out of his patrol car. "We got a call that some men were harassing a bunch of kids." His dark eyes reflected concern as he watched Jim handcuff the leader of the group of boys.

"Didn't you get my call?" Blair demanded.

"Read those two their rights," Jim snapped with authority. "We have the Baseball Bat Stalkers."

The old soldier listened with some satisfaction as the teenage boys were read their Miranda rights and handcuffed. Sanchez and Jim separated the boys. Another cruiser pulled up. Jim pushed the leader's head down as he placed the angry boy in the back seat of the second police cruiser. "Keep them apart at the station," he instructed the police officer.

"Don't tell them anything!" The boy kept shouting. Jim slammed the door shut. "Get him out of here."

Blair retrieved the duffle bag giving it back to the old man. "I know you." He studied the weathered face. "You were at Tony's funeral."

Gnarled hands accepted the worn dark duffle bag. "Tony was a good man." There was a soft exhale of breath. A brief pain of sadness crossed his face. "Tony took me over to a church shelter last Thanksgiving. Tony was always on the look out to see that I had a place to sleep especially when the weather got bad."

"Tony was like that." Blair's smile was sad as he remembered his friend. He extended his hand. "I'm Doctor Blair Sandburg. I'm a socioeconomic anthropologist. I also teach at Rainer University. Everyone just calls me Blair."

"That's a mouth full of words, Blair." With a surprising grip in spite of his arthritic hands the old man shook Blair's extended hand. "I'm Chuck Reilly."

"I'm afraid that you're not going to make it to a shelter tonight, sir." Jim's eyes flickered over the Master Sergeant chevron on the sleeve of Chuck's army jacket. "Maybe we could drop you at a shelter I know. I'm sure that they can let you spend the night."

Chuck smiled a little embarrassed. "I've got a little place now. It's not much. It's just a room at a dive of a motel but it's mine. I keep it regulation clean." He patted his duffle bag. "I've been spending the better part of this past month hitting every thrift store and army surplus store in Cascade. I'm putting together a decent uniform for the Fourth. Cascade is going to open the Freedom Memorial this Fourth. You know with bands, a parade and speeches, the whole shebang," he smiled.

"You were in the Army, Chuck?" Jim smiled. "I was a Ranger. I'm Jim Ellison. I was a captain in the Rangers."

"Figured that you were an officer," Chuck remarked dryly.

"Hey, Jim, we haven't had dinner yet." Blair jerked his head in Chuck's direction. "We could spring for sandwiches. Maybe Chuck here could join us."

"Look, I don't want to impose," Chuck protested.

"Master Sergeant, consider it a Captain's orders." Jim smiled. He gestured to his truck.

"I like the way you boys think." Chuck paused. His eyes took on a thoughtful look. "You know I knew an Ellison once. Hell of a good guy. He had the ears of a bat."

Jim and Blair exchanged startled looks.

"You know if it weren't for Teddy Ellison my platoon would have had their asses blown off." Chuck shook his head. "Hell of a shame that he never got home to his little boys."

"Was his name Theodore James Ellison?" Jim quietly asked.

"Your grandfather," Chuck nodded. "I thought that you favored him a might." Chuck smiled. "Are you Christopher's or William's son?"

TBC