I stepped to the podium. I looked out at the sea of green, and realized I would never again be part of something like this. “I’ll keep this brief. We are all members of the finest division in the entire United States Army. The 82nd Airborne is respected by our nation’s friends, and feared by her enemies. You men are the reason for both that respect and that fear. Thank you for allowing me to serve with you. It has been an honor and a privilege. Thank you.” I stepped back from the podium and fought to keep my eyes dry again.
Lieutenant Colonel Small stepped forward carrying something small in his hand. He went to the podium and said, “Captain, I know you’re part of the 319th. From now on, this patch says you’re part of the 505th.” He held up a unit patch with four bendlets surmounted by a winged black panther and handed it to me, and the room erupted in cheers. I took the patch and held it upright, and then shook his hand.
I almost missed the sergeant major dismissing the parade. The colonels had me stick around for photos, and Marilyn and Charlie got in on it as well. Then I was cut loose and got off the stage. I was instantly surrounded by the men I had jumped into Nicaragua with. I also found myself with a few wives as well, although most of the men were single. The one I remember the most was Sergeant Briscoe’s (now Master Sergeant Briscoe’s) wife, who kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for bringing her husband back.
The civilian who had been standing with the men turned out to be Private Smith, now dressed in khakis and a dress shirt, and supporting himself on crutches. “I told you we all jumped in and we’d all get out, Private,” I said to him.
He smiled and nodded. “I hear you’re getting out, too.”
“As soon as I leave here, I’m history. How’s the leg?”
“Held together by three pins and a titanium plate, but otherwise okay,” he answered with a laugh.
“Maybe you should have let me cut it off and stick that peg leg on you after all!”
He reached out and shook my hand. “Thank you, sir.”
A much sadder moment was when I was introduced to an older man, about sixty years old, who had been standing to the side. Lieutenant Colonel Small brought him over, and said, “Captain, I’d like to introduce you to Colonel John Donovan. He was Captain Donovan’s father.”
I turned to face the father of the man I had jumped into Nicaragua with. He was wearing a civilian suit, but it didn’t matter. I came to attention and saluted. “I’m very sorry for your loss, sir. I got to know Bob in Honduras and he was a good man and an excellent officer.”
“Thank you, Captain, for bringing him home to us.”
“If it had been the other way around, sir, he’d have returned the favor,” I replied. “Sir, is Mrs. Donovan here? I should pay my respects.”
He shook his head. “Eleanor took the girls home to Kansas.”
“Well, please give her my condolences when you see her next.”
“I’ll do that, son. I just wanted to say thank you for bringing him home.”
I nodded. “We all went in, sir, we all came out. Bob believed in that just like the rest of us.”
Colonel Donovan moved off, and I turned to Sergeant Briscoe. “What about Private Masurski’s family?”
“He didn’t have any. He’s in Arlington now.”
It was a hell of an end to a young life. Would anybody notice when it was my turn to go? I just nodded, and turned back to Marilyn. “Let’s go, honey.”
“I’m very proud of you, Carl,” she replied.
I squeezed her hand in response. “Thank you.” I tilted my head towards the side door where we came in.
Colonel Featherstone opened the door for me. “So what’s in your future now, Captain?”
I looked at him for a second, and then turned to look at Marilyn. I had been avoiding this question for the last month. I turned back to the colonel. “I have no idea, Colonel. I have no idea.”
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