Broken Borders, page 9
“Bobby,” Boom said firmly, “I don’t have time to fly across the country and waste my time on losers who won’t help themselves. Let’s go. I have a plane to catch.”
Bobby’s temper flared, and he hopped in the car, slamming the door, and peered straight ahead.
He said, “Fine, let’s go!”
Boom started the vehicle and put it in gear, but Bobby suddenly stepped on top of Boom’s foot on the brake.
Softly, he said, “I’m sorry, man. I’ll go, and I won’t whine. Please, let’s go in?”
Boom again turned off the car, and the two men got out and found the way to the church basement. They heard laughter coming from a room off the hall, and Bobby asked a man where the restroom was. He went in there and splashed water in his face while looking in the mirror.
He said to himself, “How did you get yourself in a predicament like this?”
Just then a toilet flushed, and a tall man with red hair walked out chuckling, and walked to the sink, nodding at Bobby.
“Probably drank too damned much. That’s how.” He laughed.
He walked out the door chuckling at his joke.
Bobby looked in the mirror again, and noticed his face was red with embarrassment. He laughed at himself and went out the door.
Bobby was glad this was a smokeless AA meeting. He looked around at faces, people drinking coffee and all smiling, it seemed. He did not want to be there. He always figured AA was where losers went. Some guy who seemed to be in charge identified himself as “Tom, a grateful recovering alcoholic, thanks to this program and my higher power.” He seemed to be telling the rules or how the meeting would be conducted. Bobby wasn’t sure, because he really wasn’t listening closely. His mind was racing too much. Then, Bobby noticed men and women around the room were telling their first names and each one said they were an alcoholic, and some were saying how many days, months, or years they had been sober. Before he had time to figure out what to do or say, it came to him.
Bobby did not know what to say. He looked down at his feet.
Tom said, “Friend, this meeting is voluntary and you do not have to share if you don’t want to. We were just hoping to learn your first name so guys would know what to call you.”
He looked up and said, “It’s okay. My name is Bobby. I guess I’m an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink for two days, I guess.”
Everybody clapped. The man next to him shook hands with him.
Inside Bobby’s head was where the real turmoil was going on. Had he copped out? He had called himself an alcoholic. How could he? he wondered. He’d earned not one but two Silver Stars and a Purple Heart in the Gulf War. He was currently waiting to be awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, or a third Silver Star if the DSC got downgraded. He had earned his Green Beret. He had been with Delta, and was a cadre member of the HALO Committee. He had been captured by al Qaeda in Iraq and was going to be beheaded, and he’d escaped. How could he be an alcoholic, one of those guys in a trench coat and a paper bag that sleeps under bridges?
Bobby looked up as people clapped. General Roget was in civvies standing at the podium. He was a lieutenant general, a three-button, who worked in the Pentagon. Bobby had been in meetings with him, had lunch with him along with General Perry one time, and had attended several parties with him. A West Point graduate, he was known as an outstanding officer, who’d been an airborne infantry officer and commanded a Ranger Company, a battalion of the 101st Airborne Division, and was the commanding general of the 82nd Airborne Division. He was at the Pentagon serving at the pleasure of General Perry and waiting for a fourth star. How could he be there? Bobby wondered.
The general spoke. “Hi, my name is Carl and I am an alcoholic. In fact, through the grace of my Higher Power, who I choose to call Jesus Christ, and the men and women and twelve steps in this great program, I have been a recovering alcoholic for exactly eleven years today.”
Everybody applauded, and the three-star general smiled and winked at Bobby. He winked. Bobby became glued to the man’s story. During the talk, Bobby noticed people were getting up all the time getting cups of coffee. He did, too.
The general talked about how he first got sober, and Bobby was fascinated.
Carl said, “By profession, I am in the military, and my job is fairly important, I think.”
Bobby laughed out loud and subconsciously looked around, embarrassed.
Carl went on. “I hosted a large formal party at my home in Falls Church, and there were some real bigwigs in attendance. I was nervous about the party, because I had been hoping to get promoted to a higher rank, and this get-together had people way out of my league as far as rank is concerned. I was so nervous, I decided I needed a martini to fortify myself.”
People in the room laughed, and Bobby could not figure out why.
Then Carl continued. “I have been the same rank in the military for over a decade. Do you know why, boys and girls?”
Somebody chuckled and yelled out, “Booze!”
Carl laughed and said, “Partially, but the real reason is because I am an alcoholic, and I cannot sip on a martini all night long like others. I don’t eat one chip. I eat the whole damned bag! It is my personality. I am a creature of excess, a perfectionist, I am highly sensitive, I am prone to depression.
“I have been the same rank for eleven years, because a normal social drinker would never have told the wife of the secretary of defense that she had great tits and legs and she should be ridden like Secretariat.”
The room roared and howled. Tears flowed down the cheeks of everyone, but Bobby’s were not from laughter, although he masked it that way. All he thought about was how he’d betrayed Bo.
It took five full minutes before Roget could speak again. People were laughing and murmuring with each other.
“You see,” Carl continued, “I don’t even know what the woman looks like. I don’t remember saying anything. All I remember is the first martini to calm down, but there must have been a bunch of them. I was told later what I said, and that was not the only thing I did that night. I have the sweetest, most loving wife in the world, and I embarrassed and disrespected her publicly by calling her a nasty bitch in front of others, because she tried to get me to stop drinking!”
This time he winked at the other side of the back of the room, and Bobby saw Carl’s wife, a beautiful classy woman, Bobby had met before. She smiled at Carl and blew a kiss.
“The next day, my wife got into Al-Anon, because, you see, our family members and loved ones are the ones with the real scars. For years, they become our victims and our enablers, and they end up as sick as we are. Because of the selfishness of this damned disease,” Carl added, and Bobby heard a sniffle behind him.
Carl continued. “You know what is weird? The army encouraged my alcoholism but never meant to. If you are an officer in the army, you will be toasting, you will drink to everything, and after work, you will head to the O-Club to schmooze and try to deal with the fact that you control to a great extent the lives and sometimes deaths of young men and women.”
When the speech ended, Bobby jumped to his feet with the others applauding, and he realized tears were running down his cheeks. They all sat, and then different members would stand and thank Carl and each seemed to try to drop a pearl of wisdom. Bobby felt like the whole meeting and all the comments had been set up specifically for him.
When Boom stood up, he said, “Hi, Carl,” and Carl answered back, “Hi ya, Boom. Glad you could make it. He lives in Colorado, folks.”
Then Bobby spotted a woman he knew from the Pentagon. She was a major who was a JAG (Judge Advocate General) officer, an attorney, but today she wore her hair down and was in a sweatshirt and culottes. She actually was quite pretty, Bobby noted.
Looking around the room, he also recognized a sergeant first class he knew who was an MP at the Pentagon.
Boom said, “My name is Boom, and I’m a drunk.”
People chuckled.
Boom went on. “Carl, thanks for your lead, your story. It is an inspiration to me and others. We always have to keep a little crack open in the door to our past, so we never forget where we come from, and always remember we cannot take that first drink, ’cause it’s not the caboose that kills us when the train runs over us. It is the engine.”
After the comments, people stood and held hands and said the Lord’s Prayer together, then kept holding hands and raised everybody’s hand up, all saying, “Keep coming back. It works, if you work it.”
Then people mingled and hugged each other. There were a few handshakes, but mainly hugs, and Bobby could tell these people genuinely cared for each other. Many came over to him and hugged him and greeted him.
Finally, Bobby saw Boom coming toward him carrying two cups of coffee. He handed one to Bobby, and they drank. They gave each other knowing looks, and Boom never said a word.
Bobby walked over to Carl and shook hands.
Sheepishly, he said, “General, this is my first meeting.”
Carl interrupted. “Not here. Call me Carl.”
Bobby said, “Yes, sir,” and then they both laughed.
“So what do you think?” the general asked.
Bobby said, “I’m overwhelmed. It’s not what I thought it would be. Eleven years. I have two days. I feel like a private E-1.”
Carl smiled, “Yeah, but when you were out there drinking, you were a draft-dodger.”
Bobby laughed.
Carl added, “Bobby, the reason I have been sober eleven years is because I did it one day at time, not a year at a time. You get a big book and learn the twelve steps and start working them. Here is my card with my home number. If it is three A.M. and you are having an anxiety attack, you feel like you’re going to have a drink, anything like that, just give me a call.”
Bobby was overwhelmed.
“Thank you,” was all he could mutter.
The ride away from the meeting was very quiet. Bobby was deep in his thoughts, and Boom turned Rush Limbaugh on and listened to his broadcast.
Bobby suddenly said, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee somewhere?”
“Sure,” Boom replied.
They pulled into an IHOP and got coffee and talked about the meeting.
Bobby finally said, “I really started drinking after Arianna died. Most of it was alone.”
Boom said, “Many of us get started that way, trying to drink away a hurt or pain.”
“I have a big problem, Boom,” Bobby said, leaning forward in a whisper. “The AQ are smuggling terrorists into the U.S. as Mexican illegals, and they want to sneak backpack nukes in and blow up New York and Miami with ’em.”
Boom didn’t change expression, “Gee, don’t I look shocked, just like any other Specops guy that would hear that.”
Bobby said, “We are just now forming a task force to deal with it.”
“Task force?” Boom said. “Isn’t that politispeak for a cluster fuck?”
Bobby laughed and replied, “Probably, but I will SF around the obstacles. I may be calling on you for help.”
Boom took a sip of coffee and kind of toasted Bobby with his cup, saying, “When it positively, absolutely has to be blown up overnight, call me.”
Bobby said, “What about my brand-new sobriety?”
“Well, old son,” Boom responded, “did you manage before to get drunk even though you were swamped with trying to save the planet?”
Bobby thought for a second and started laughing. Then he got serious. “This is scary, Boom.”
Boom said, “Nukes are just bombs that are real grown up.”
Bobby explained, “No, I mean getting hit with sobriety right now.”
“Well, it always is. The real question is how are you gonna handle it?”
Bobby said, “I’ll try the best I can.”
Boom replied, “Your sobriety must come before everything. It must. Only way the program works. No matter what, you cannot ever take that first drink.”
“I got that point clearly today,” Bobby said.
“Yeah, but hearing it is one thing,” Boom came back. “Living it is another.”
Bobby pondered this a moment and responded, “Well, Boom, I guess I’ll just have to do it one day at a time.”
Boom took a healthy swallow of coffee and nodded for more.
“That-a-boy,” he said, “I’m going to stay a couple days, and we’ll get as many meetings in as possible.”
“Thanks,” Bobby said, “I know I’ll be in meetings all day tomorrow.”
Boom said, “There are midnight meetings. We’ll catch up on sleep after we’re dead. Don’t worry.”
Bobby and Bo were told to meet in the SECDEF’s briefing room the next morning at 0800 hours (eight A.M.) in Class A’s. They met ahead of time outside the Pentagon and talked, both in uniform, which was unusual. Bo saluted and Bobby returned it.
Bo smiled. “You are looking strac today, except your shaggy civilian haircut.”
Bobby grinned. “You are standing tall yourself, Captain, but I think you should get yours cut high and tight.”
She chuckled.
Getting serious, Bobby said, “Bo, it is going to take me a long time making it up to you. I just can’t put into words how sorry I am for what I did. You are my partner, and I want you to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can always count on me.”
Bo smiled. “Bobby, I have always known you were there and that has not changed. It is just that, when you drink—”
“I know,” Bobby interrupted. “That is why I do not drink anymore. I am an alcoholic, and I can never take the first drink.”
Bo could not help herself. She got tears in her eyes and leapt into his arms, almost, and gave him a big hug and a kiss on his cheek. She stepped back smiling, feeling as if a two-ton anvil had just fallen off her shoulders.
They went inside and headed to a big conference room. When he saw all the brass around, all Bobby could think about was Carl’s party and how he’d messed it up by simply having a martini. Now Bobby understood why everyone laughed when Carl said that. Once Carl had a martini, a second, third, and so on were inevitable.
Before he and Bo sat down, introductions were made around the giant shiny mahogany table. General Perry was there along with the other chiefs of staff and the chairman of the joint chiefs, the deputy director of the FBI, secretary of defense, the secretary of homeland security, the deputy director of the CIA, several National Security Council officials, Secret Service agents, two agents from the DIA, a DEA executive, the surgeon general, three officials from the Immigration and Naturalization Service, and of course a plethora of staffers. Bobby and Bo were going to sit at the table, but a homeland security official and senior FBI agent who had been talking crowded ahead of them and sat down in the last two seats.
General Perry spoke. “Mr. Defense Secretary, Mr. Homeland Security Secretary, ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today for an emergency meeting requiring tremendous cooperation and a real urgency to mission accomplishment on our part. The very security and safety of our citizens depends on our ability to operate together. By the way, his hair does not look like a soldier’s because he operates undercover frequently. I would like to introduce to you two of the finest members of our military, Major Bobby M. Samuels and Captain Bo Marguerite Devore.”
Everybody applauded while Bobby and Bo stood at attention and smiled.
General Perry spoke again. “As you all know. Major Samuels and Captain Devore identified and combated two al Qaeda terrorists, homicide bombers aboard a domestic flight, took them out, and it was later learned they were planning to explode the plane with a bomb as it flew over the streets of Los Angeles. The plane crash-landed in the very rugged Rocky Mountains during a blizzard, and the two of them took charge and successfully evacuated passengers, set up triage, and significantly reduced potential loss of life. They, in essence, were solely responsible for the safe and healthy escape of a couple hundred passengers, and their immediate survival in high-altitude blizzard conditions, and at the risk of their own lives.”
Everyone applauded again.
General Perry went on. “Come here, you two.”
Bobby and Bo walked forward and stood at attention before the general.
He continued. “Did I just sound like I was reading an award citation? Well, I wasn’t. I was expanding on the actual citations.”
He held up two framed certificates, then set them down and then lifted up two blue and red striped medals.
He continued. “Major Bobby Samuels and Captain Bo Devore are being awarded the Soldiers Medal for the action named, the U.S. Army’s highest award for heroism outside a hostile combat operation or environment.”
He pinned the medal on each of them, and they saluted; then he shook hands with them, handing them their framed citations. All the others stood applauding, and came up and shook hands with them.
A man came into the room and whispered to the secretary of defense, who called Perry over.
General Perry said, “You two stay right here.”
Bobby and Bo gave each other a quizzical look.
Two men, both in dark blue suits, came into the room. The surgeon general and both secretaries came forward and stood by Jonathan Perry.
The secretary of defense said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”
General Perry hollered, “Atten-tion!”
Heels clicked and locked simultaneously throughout the room. The President entered the room with an entourage, including many members of the press corps.
He yelled, “Carry on, please!”
Everyone stayed on their feet. The President went around the room shaking hands.
The President was introduced to Bobby and Bo, and just grinned and shook his head. Then, he got a serious look.
The President stood by Perry and summoned Bobby forward two steps.
The President said, “Mr. Secretary of Defense.”
The secretary of defense pulled a framed citation out of his briefcase and handed it to General Perry and nodded.
While the President pinned the Distinguished Service Cross, only the fourth one awarded in the Iraq War, on Bobby’s uniform, Jonathan Perry read the official citation.
