New Administration
The rain drizzled down the tall windows of the Cabinet Room as advisors sorted papers and waited around for the president. The room was still dark despite every electric lamp being illuminated. The old structure was built in a time before electricity and relied heavily on sunlight to brighten the rooms, but with the latest rainstorm the whole building felt dark and damp. Outside, the rose garden was in full bloom and each plant was appreciative of the rain. Perhaps the white house staff would have been appreciative too if they had seen the state of Oklahoma at that time.
Surrounded by security covering each entry and exit, each man mumbled and conversed in hushed tones. Their usual meeting was earlier in the day but Roosevelt called them back for a special meeting about one topic in particular. One set of doors were opened by a pair of security officers and through the gap walked a tall cat in uniform. Perched on his head was a field cap with an emblem of an eagle pinned to the center. Sunglasses were already neatly hung from a vest pocket as the man puffed on a corncob pipe.
Behind him a Whitehouse aid rolled in the president and right behind him was Eleanor. Greying hair, a square jaw, reading glasses resting across his face. Behind both men was a small entourage of aids with folders and other documents. Rolled into position at the end of the table, every other member of the cabinet rose to their feet and acknowledged Roosevelt.
FDR adjusted his glasses and acknowledged each member of cabinet in return before beginning the meeting. "Gentlemen, we have a problem."
"With respect, sir, we have many problems to deal with. Some veterans returning from last year isn't high on our priority list." Vice President Garner argued.
"No, John, the fact we have these doughboys back here again makes them a high priority." Roosevelt said in return. "We can't afford a repeat of last year, it will make this administration into a villain just as it did for Hoover."
"All the same, Mr. President, we can't afford to give out the bonuses early. The government is flat broke and there's already a hundred other fires to put out." Will Woodin said, handing out papers. "This report is a summary of our nation's financial health. We can scarcely afford to keep the government open, and all these programs you want to implement are going to cost a lot of money."
"Besides that, any major reforms are going to require an act of congress." Cordell Hull added. "We might have congress on our side for some things, but one misstep or misuse in funds could make us enemies right when you need allies the most."
"Gentlemen, we can't afford to give them nothing either." Roosevelt said as he looked through the paperwork. "But you are right, Hull, my hands are seemingly tied. If we start handing out bonuses right now then there will soon be an endless line of people waiting for their own payout for one thing or another."
"Just say the word, sir. I can move these commies out before their numbers swell." MacArthur said, puffing from his pipe.
"And how did that go last time? Dozens injured, two dead, and a nightmare for the previous administration. No, MacArthur, we must try diplomacy before we use force. Maybe I should go out there and talk with them myself…"
"Absolutely not, sir. We can't guarantee your safety." MacArthur said in return. "Should anyone become violent, you would be their first target."
"There's also the matter of your physical abilities." Garner said, gesturing to the wheelchair. "If everyone sees the president bound to a wheelchair…"
"They'll think this administration is weak and me as invalid." Roosevelt said. "I'm aware of these issues, but I can't let my damn legs be the reason these people weren't heard. Should the public become aware of my mobility issues then this will blow out of proportion quickly."
"I will go, sir." Frances Perkins said as she stood up. "If I can mediate a union dispute then there's no reason why I can't talk to some of these veterans."
"The boys out there would be less likely to become aggressive if they felt they were being heard." Garner postulated. "Doubly-so if it was Miss Perkins instead of someone from the military like Patton."
"Perhaps, but few people know who Miss Perkins is." MacArthur huffed. "If you want to discuss terms with these treasonous bastards then they should at least be facing someone with the same recognition as yourself."
"I'll do it, Franklin." Elenor said as she put a hand on her husband's shoulder. She looked back at Perkins and smiled. "Perhaps all that's needed to diffuse the situation is a woman's touch."
"Are you sure?" Roosevelt asked his wife. "I would not risk you even if this matter is important."
"If we risk nothing, then we gain nothing, dear husband. These people may become strong allies in the future."
"Unlikely." MacArthur said, shaking his head. "These people are a threat to national security and should be dealt with as such."
"Which is exactly why you will be going with the women." Franklin said, turning to his top general. "All things considered, you have kept peace in Washinton and I expect you can continue to do so."
"And meet with them? A bunch of commies?"
Eleanor smiled at the general. "A general unwilling to go where women will? I never thought I would see the day."
MacArthur growled. "Watch your tone, ma'am. I've been through a hell most of you can't imagine. I know what that does to men and the devils they can become if left leaderless."
"Many of those men have been through the same or worse." Miss Perkins retorted. "And many weren't lucky enough to keep their jobs or find consistent work after the war. If they need leadership, then this administration should be more than willing to provide it."
"Fine. I'll have three companies at the ready just in case." MacArthur said. "And a detachment of security to accompany us."
Here We Are
The rain came pouring down around our tent as we huddled by a small fire in between our cots. Being late arrivals, we were near the edge of the camp. Unable to stand being confined under canvas for hours on end, I stood up and grabbed my old campaign hat.
"Where are you headed off to?" Abe asked me.
"I need some air. There's also something I'd like to do while we're waiting around."
"Oh?"
I sighed, realizing I wasn't going to get very far without explaining myself. "I need to go to Arlington. There's someone I need to find there."
"We'll come with." Abe said as he and the third member of our party, Jeb Ansel, stood up. "In fact, I think if we asked around, we might be able to get a streetcar full of people who would like to see the place."
On our way out, I ran across Hauck as he stood in the open smoking from a cigarette. "Sergeant Hauck!"
He turned and smiled. "Private Kelly. I was wondering if we'd cross paths again."
"You should wear a hat out in the rain, sir." I said.
"Nah, I'll be fine. Cigarette?"
"I guess I could use one." I said. He offered me one from the carton and a took it in hand before lighting it up with a match. "So, sarge, what's got you looking out through the mist."
"See that building over there." The cat pointed. I could barely make it out through the fog.
"I guess."
"That, Ethan, is the Whitehouse. And the one behind us there is the Capitol Building."
"So the president lives down there?" I asked. "Huh, I thought it would be bigger."
"I was in there once. Still an impressive residence. Nothing like Buckingham Palace though."
"Perhaps that's for the best, sir. We don't need kings in this country."
"Indeed. Now, where were you off to?"
"Arlington Cemetery." I said. "Anyone you know there?"
"Not off the top of my head."
"Private Derrick is buried there." I said. "I want to go find him."
"Well, shit. I might as well come with." He said. "Nothing happening here right now."
Boarding a streetcar, the vehicle took us as far as the tracks would go. From there we hiked across the Potomac and into the city of Arlington. Rain came down on us the whole time and the air was chilly for May. Even so, I was happy to experience coastal rains. It had been so dry in Missouri that the trees were struggling to produce leaves. I had completely given up on planting anything, but at least our soil wasn't blowing away with the wind.
Working our way through town, we found the cemetery with the gates open wide for visitors. Of course, in this weather there weren't many visitors. Entering through the gate, I stopped and looked in awe at what was in front of me. Thousands upon thousands of white tombstones stretched out. In the distance were monuments of wars past including the Civil War and the Spanish-American war. I remembered how Rocky treated his mother's grave with such reverence and it occurred to me that someone, somewhere thought the same for every one of these headstones. This was hallowed ground not just for a smattering of people across the country, but the nation itself.
An infantryman guarded the entrance, rifle in hand. Besides a poncho and jacket he was still as sharply dressed as any man in uniform. While the other members of our party dispersed to different areas for their own personal tour, I had to find Derrick.
"Excuse me, sir?" I asked.
The soldier turned to me. "Yes?" I looked at his shoulder and noticed unique regimental patch. He was a member of the old guard, the 3rd Infantry Regiment.
"Where can I find graves from the Great War? There's a soldier I'm trying to find."
The soldier pointed in a Southwesterly direction. "You'll want to go to the other side of the cemetery. They are all buried in sections 18 and 19 by the Hobson Gate."
"Thank you." I said before making my way along the pathway that lead in the direction the soldier had pointed toward.
I was a long walk but I made quick time. Getting the attention of other members of our group, I pointed to where I was headed so they knew where to look for me. As I walked, the silent tranquility of the cemetery enveloped me in a cold embrace. The only sounds I could register were my footsteps and the rain as it hit grass and pavement. Turning west, I traveled down McClellan Lane and through his monumental arch. I finally came to an intersection with a name I recognized. Going down Grant Drive, I looked around and realized I had fallen back in history. Members of the Union Army of the Potomac surrounded me as I continued on my journey.
But moving from one section to another, I found more recent graves. The headstones were still polished and the grass lacked strong roots. I had found the more recent sections. Beginning my search in earnest, it took the better part of two hours. However, I finally saw a name familiar to me.
"Derrick O'Connell.
Pvt. 1st Class
United States Army
b.1900 – d.1918
77th Div. 308th Reg. Co. B.
Meuse-Argonne Offensive"
There he was, or at least what was left of him. I never did get the full story from his living family about how he ended up here, but I suspected being a member of the Lost Battalion had something to do with it. I remembered our childhoods together, the days when we would get up to trouble in school, the long days of working down in the mines. Life was never the same after the war, and a big reason why was that Derrick wasn't there. He was my optimist in life just like I was his realist.
My mind turned back to the woman he had left behind. She and I were friends for a long time, but Roselyn had always loved Derrick. Had he returned from the war they would have gotten married. Anyone who knew them could predict that. His family would have thrown a fit though because after high school she became a mistress of the of the night down Wyoming Street. It never bothered Derrick and I since we knew her personally, but to colleagues and acquaintances the whole affair would have been taboo. When I left in 1927 Roselyn was managing much of the underground business. I stayed away but once or twice, though I always made sure Roselyn had what she needed. After Derrick died it was our way of honoring him. At least now I could tell her where her lover is buried.
"Is that him?" Hauck asked as he walked up behind me.
"Yeah. And I think a couple of the boys are buried nearby." I said, pointing to tombstones with the same unit. Hauck recognized one as well. We both stood there in silence for the longest time, remembering all those we lost.
"You ever think about how many of us are left?" Hauck asked.
"More often than I'd like." I said. "So few of us lived anyway."
"I'll tell you what, seeing our friends here and knowing others out there are boasting about being in the action when they've never picked up a rifle makes my skin crawl."
"Me too." I said before sighing. "But there's not much we can do about that. One day we'll be in the ground too and what we did will fade until we're all forgotten men."
"That's not necessarily true, Ethan. Every nation has its heroes. We might be right there too."
"For Washington, Grant, Sherman and the others that might be true. For you and me? Well, we better make sure that our families are taken care of because they'll be the only ones to remember us." I teared up at the thought. "And even then, it isn't perfect, you know? I can't even remember Derrick's face. Not completely. I can remember how he talked, what he thought, and who he was as a man but I can't recall his face anymore."
"Here, this might help you." Hauck said as he pulled an old photograph from his pocket. Opening it up, it was a picture of my company.
"Where did you get this?" I asked.
"Well, I had to do some digging yesterday after getting off the train but I found photographs of the 308th in the national library. A librarian kindly made a copy of your unit's picture. I lost my own unit's photograph when going to Chicago and this was the only place I could get a replacement."
Scanning each face, I saw Derrick again! He was standing next to me, both of us new additions right before the company's next deployment. His face so thin and young yet full of life. I had once looked the same though now I had filled out and work had worn me down some. It was eerie knowing he was forever eighteen yet I had to keep up with time.
"Thanks, Sarge." I said, wiping a tear away.
"Gentlemen, we need to get back to the camp. I just got a phone call." Corporal Ansel said.
"What's wrong?" Hauck asked.
"We're going to have a meeting shortly with the White House. I put your name in, Ethan, and it was agreed that you should be one of the people to be our representatives."
"I'll be right behind you." I said before looking down at Derrick's grave. I noted the row and how many graves in from the road he was. While the rest of my party walked back toward the main entrance, I looked up and saw a tall, plain marble cross at the edge of the field. A simple dedication was inscribed at the base of the monument.
"In memory of our men in France."
One day we would be forgotten, but today I could make sure that those who needed to remember us the most would come to the aid and rescue of those suffering. Bella had been right, I needed to be here. Not for Derrick and the others we lost, but for those still with us.