The Grantville Gazette - Volume 4 Part 18

"They're talking. Just barely. But . . ." Lulu's reply was preempted by a familiar voice calling from the

living room. "Duke, I'm home. Where are you?"

"In the kitchen, Claire," Duke called out. He heard his wife talking to someone and wondered who had dropped in.

"Ah, there you are," Claire said. "Hi, Lulu. I see you're loafing around my kitchen and drinking my beer instead of working hard. Let me guess, my compactor is dead, right?" Claire, a short and plump, but attractive, middle-aged brunette took off her woolen watch cap and mittens before kissing Duke.

"Well, girlfriend," Lulu answered with a grin, "unless you want to pay me a lot for handcrafted parts, I think you'd better call for a burial detail and the Wilson kid can play taps on his bugle. How's Mrs.

Hoffman?"

"I guess Duke told you about our new neighbors," Claire answered. "She's about ready to pop, I think.

But after three live births and two miscarriages, Ilse is pretty much matter-of-fact about the whole thing.

Let's hear it for Teutonic phlegmatic practicality." Claire rolled her eyes a bit when she made that last comment and moved toward the sink and the coffee pot. She took the pot off the heating element and rinsed it out, saying, "And Duke, you have a visitor. John Simpson is waiting for you in the living room."

Lulu almost gagged on her beer. Duke's face was a study and he appeared to be speechless for a moment. She and Duke exchanged puzzled glances and then looked at Claire, who continued making coffee. Claire was apparently totally without a clue as to the bombsh.e.l.l that she just dropped on her kitchen. Duke finally managed to clear his throat. "Come again?"

"I said that John Simpson is waiting for you in the living room. I found him at our doorstep, ready to push the bell, when I got home. I told him I was going to make some coffee and that I'd find you. Will you tell him that it will be ready in a couple of minutes?"

"Sure, love," Duke replied. He stifled a laugh when he saw Lulu making signs to ward off evil in the direction of the living room. He made a severe face in her direction and rose to go see what John Chandler Simpson wanted.

* * * Duke entered his living room to find Simpson carefully looking at his "love me" wall. This was the first time Duke had seen Simpson up close. The older man was tall and distinguished looking, regardless of his secondhand coat and clothes. Simpson looked to be at least in his late fifties or early sixties. Surrendering to the inevitable, Duke cleared his throat, catching Simpson's attention.

Startled, Simpson turned around. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Hudson," he said. "You caught me unaware. This is quite an impressive collection of awards and recognitions, sir. We haven't actually met, I'm afraid. I'm pleased to meet you. I'm John Simpson." Simpson advanced with his right hand extended to shake hands.

Duke was put a little off guard by John Simpson's unexpected friendly demeanor. He shook Simpson's hand automatically, noticing the firm, confident grip, and stammered a response. "Thanks, Mr. Simpson. My wife asked me to tell you that coffee will be ready shortly. Would you like to have a seat?"

"Don't mind if I do, Mr. Hudson," Simpson said. "And I'll gladly accept a cup of coffee. It's a little chilly out there at this time of year." As Simpson sat down, Duke noticed an unnatural stiffness in his left lower leg. A stiffness that was familiar to anyone who had been around military hospitals. Two purple hearts had gained Duke a somewhat regretted experience with those inst.i.tutions.

Simpson noticed his gaze and replied to his unspoken question. "I lost my lower leg to an RPG in Vietnam. I was with the Navy's riverine forces. The boat section under my command was ambushed by the NVA as we tried to relieve a South Vietnamese battalion. I lost a lot of good men that day." A shadow of sadness swept over Simpson's face. A veteran combat leader himself, Duke didn't need to be told what was going through this man's mind and he didn't have to wonder which loss was more important to him. That spoke volumes about Simpson, the man. Embarra.s.sed and oddly intrigued by this revelation, Duke could only offer his apologies. "I am sorry, Mr. Simpson. It was rude of me to stare." "I don't mind it too much," Simpson said. "I saw by your wall that you're in a good position to understand. In fact, that's the reason I'm here. Mike Stearns has asked me to head a new project. When I started to look for people who could help me with it, your brother was kind enough to tell me about your qualifications."

"My brother may be exaggerating a bit there, sir. And frankly, I don't know if I can be of any help to you." Duke immediately got the impression that his low-key answer provided the right tone. Simpson smiled at him.

"I doubt it, Gunnery Sergeant Hudson. I think you're the right man for the job. And, I have a proposal for you."

The Hudson Residence City of Grantville Thuringia Region, Germany Tuesday, 7 December 1632 AD 0230 hours local Claire Hudson woke up suddenly and realized that her husband was not beside her in bed. She raised her head and looked around the darkened room until she saw him sitting in one of the recliners by the window. He was staring out into the night, deep in thought. She then looked at her nightstand clock and almost cursed at the early hour, before continuing to stare at him. Even after more than twenty-five years of marriage, he was still occasionally an enigma to her. Tonight, though, she had a pretty good idea what was on his mind. d.a.m.n John Simpson, she thought.

Claire still felt as much in love with Duke today as she had when she was seventeen. Through all those years Duke had been a gentle, caring husband and truly her best friend. Now, as she watched his not-quite ominous presence in the darkened room, she couldn't fail to think of that other aspect of his persona, the warrior. It was an aspect that he had struggled to keep hidden from her and their kids through his time in the Corps. Unlike other Marines she knew, he seldom raised his voice or tried to run his family like an extension of his unit. Watching other women struggling with husbands who, unlike Duke, couldn't keep their lives in the Corps separate from their lives at home had made her feel truly blessed.

Still, she was very much aware of his potential for, and expertise in, applied violence. Not from him, of course. She had tried early in their marriage to get him to open up and confide in her. But that was before she learned from older and more experienced Marine spouses to let sleeping dogs lie. In an organization of close-mouthed professional warriors, her husband set unbeatable standards for that trait.

However, other Marines and occasionally their wives had slipped up and told her of his exploits. The stories were usually told with a strange measure of admiration, awe and wonderment at his courage.

Sometimes they seemed to describe a legend in the making. Even when the Corps deigned to recognize those exploits, like his Silver Star after the Gulf War, it had come as a total surprise to her. That day, darn the man, he just told her that they were giving him some kind of award and it would be nice if she and the kids could dress up and attend. The presentation and the divisional parade that followed managed at the same time to annoy her with his discretion and make her feel truly proud as she stood with the wives of the other men receiving awards.

Now, once more, the warrior aspect of his persona was being summoned. After Simpson and Lulu left, Duke had told her about Simpson's proposal for a new Marine Corps. And then he had refused to discuss it any further. She knew that he was conflicted and had an inkling of the source of that conflict. She had hoped he could resolve it on his own. But, Claire chided herself, she knew full well that, in a roundabout way, it all depended on her. She was no longer the innocent girl who was unaware of what the love of her life did for a living.

Claire thought hard for a few moments. Was she strong enough to demonstrate that she was a warrior's wife? Claire had never been either horrified or frightened of Duke's feats. She knew, all the way to her core, that as long as he and his brothers stood guard against all enemies, she, their children and their nation would be safe. So, maybe she was a warrior's wife after all, she thought. There was only one way to find out.

Clearing her throat, Claire said, "Duke, it's too early. Come back to bed."

Her husband, startled, broke from his introspection and looked at her for a long time before replying.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you up."

"I know, Duke. Come back to bed, please. It's too cold to sit up like that." She watched as he reluctantly

got up from the chair, shed his robe and slid in beside her. Claire immediately spooned against his back, ignoring the chill from his skin and clothing. "Why you don't tell me what the problem is, Duke?"

"I don't know if I want to discuss it, Claire.""Well, why I don't start then?" She felt his surprise as his body stiffened. Don't chicken out now, Claire Louise, she admonished herself. "You're concerned about me and my feelings, right? Don't be. Do you remember why I originally got you to promise to put in your twenty and move back to this town? Did you forget?"

Duke turned around under the covers to face her. "Claire, I think that you lost me there."

"The kids, Duke. I wanted them to know what it's like to grow roots somewhere. And we did that, in the few years that we had together before they grew up and left home. And, after the Ring, I am so glad that we did it that way. They grew up to be such wonderful people and friends. And, I hope, they have a great future ahead of them. Kathy, our wise little girl, found this marvelous young man and . . ." Claire

stopped as she read his expression. With an accusatory tone, she snarled, "Stop rolling your eyes, Duke.

I can see them."

Duke smiled and propped his head with his hand as he looked down at her. "But we are talking about the

long-haired freak, Tim?"

"Yes, the no longer long-haired freak. When are you going to admit that you love him as much as I do?

He says the same thing of you, by the way. Men, you have a funny way to show you care. I swear I'll

never understand you at all," she said, with feigned disgust.

"We like to be mysterious. Yes, I like the freak. He actually grew up to be a solid man and a good husband for Kathy."

"Yes, he did. And I'm sure that the fact that he got a degree, a good job and even joined the Guard,

helped. I'll remind you that without any prodding in your part, he went through their OCS and got commissioned as an infantry officer. Our Kathy is a warrior's daughter. She would never have settled for a lesser man. They had given us two beautiful grandchildren, well . . . three by now." Claire stopped and started sobbing as Duke hugged her tightly. They shared the pain for the grandkids that they could no longer watch grow up. It was a pain that time might ease, but never erase.

After a seemingly long time, Claire cleared her throat and looked up. "Thanks, sweetie. I'm better now.

Anyway, Jamie, excuse me, James. He's a grown man now and hated that nickname with a pa.s.sion. You told me that he was well on his way to following in your footsteps, right?"

"My last report from Patrick at Parris Island was that he was a shoe-in for honor graduate. By this time, I expect him to be well into his first tour." Duke smiled with pride at the memory and then chuckled.

"And yes, he hated to hear that nickname from everyone else but you, Kathy or Kim Chaffin . . . "Okay, sweetheart. I see your point. But what about you? I was also doing this for you."

Claire propped her head with her hand as she unconsciously imitated his stance. "What about me? Don't worry. We're more alike than you ever guessed. Tell me why you decided to join the Corps. And please don't tell me that you liked the uniform. I haven't been a teeny bopper for a long time."

Amused, Duke studied her face for a while. "I don't know, patriotism; perhaps? We lost a lot of guys in

the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut and I felt like I needed to do something."

"Well, I share those feelings, too. Or do you think I followed you around the world, bore your children and lived in accommodations that would shame any third world nation, only because of your ruggedly handsome looks?" Claire asked.

"No. I stood by you and made a home for you because it was my contribution to the common defense.

And now, once more your country is calling you. And I'm ready to do my part, just like you are. And, by the way, I know you got a call from Sergeant Major Overstreet when you announced that you were retiring instead of accepting your first sergeant stripes."

"d.a.m.n, I'm going to kill my brother," Duke muttered.

"No you aren't," Claire said. "I didn't hear it from him. You see, I entertained a wives' delegation shortly after you put in your papers. It was headed by Mrs. Division Sergeant Major. All the wives in your chain

of command came to see me. All the way down to Mrs. O'Rourke, your first sergeant's wife, even. Mrs.

Overstreet had called them from D.C. to give them a heads up on our situation."

"The dragon squad?" Duke grinned. "They sent the dragon squad? I'm sorry if they give you a hard time,

sweetie."

Claire giggled before laying her head back on the pillow. "Don't be silly. They were my friends and they were doing the same thing that I had done with the wives of the men in your platoon. I'm sure some of the wives of your lance corporals thought I was part of the dragon squad, too. Part of the unofficial job

description for a senior NCO wife is making sure that a subordinate's wife is receiving the proper support as she attempts to accomplish all the difficult tasks expected of a Marine wife."

Duke knew this. He just hadn't realized, consciously, that Claire knew it as well. After a moment's

thought Duke realized that at all those wives' soirees she had attended, more than diapers and husbands

had been discussed.

Claire went on, "In fact, I wasn't totally sure we were doing the right thing, back when you retired. But after they heard my reasoning, they backed me up a hundred percent. It's kind of funny, but I