half. “I know that Jericho has been found dead. Officially, she committed suicide. Now, the whole truth of the matter can still come out. The Army will take its lumps and it should. The deaths of the women, your mother, Jericho, everything. You say the word and all of this comes out. I’m not putting any pressure on you one way or another. I mean that. The Army royally fucked up.”
He sat back and looked at the pair.
Robert and Puller exchanged a single glance, but a lot was communicated during those few moments.
Puller said, “I think the appropriate parties have been punished adequately, sir. And I think the Army has learned a valuable lesson. So, no, it need not be made public.”
Coleman nodded, his face not revealing whether he agreed with this decision or not. He opened his desk drawer and took out a file. He slid on wire-rimmed glasses and looked at the pages.
“As I understand it, your father was not considered a suspect in your mother’s disappearance because he was out of the country. Recently, though, this was found to be incorrect. And then he became a suspect thirty years later.”
“He came back a day early,” noted Puller.
“And this is the reason why.” Coleman slid the file across.
Both brothers looked stunned. Puller turned the file around and the two began to read down the pages. When they were done they both looked up.
Puller said, “He came back to confront Ballard and Jericho?”
Coleman nodded. “This super-soldier program was highly classified but not entirely a secret. Your father was a one-star stationed at Fort Monroe where this program was operational. Now, he was not the commandant of the fort, but that didn’t matter to a man like Fighting John Puller. Wherever he was stationed was his turf and he would defend it with his life if need be.”
Puller said, “So he found out about the program? Jericho told me that she knew my father. And they didn’t exactly see eye to eye on things.”
Coleman said, “Oh they knew each other all right. And eye to eye? Let me put it a little more bluntly. Your father personally thought her work was horseshit, using his term. He told me that war needed to be fought by real men. Real men had to bleed and die. Only then would we not want to fight wars. If we could create robots to do our fighting, he thought, we’d be at war all the time.”
“There’s a lot of wisdom in that philosophy,” noted Robert.
“Your father had seen more combat than just about anyone I knew. He knew how terrible it was. He thought Jericho was a cancer that the Army should just cut out of itself.”
“But he didn’t win that battle?” said Puller slowly.
Coleman shook his head. “Only battle I know the man to have lost. Ballard and Jericho were too well entrenched. They had too many connections. They managed huge budgets that got many an officer promoted up the ranks. It was wrong. It was cronyism at its worst. And it still happened.”
“And our father?”
“He never let it drop. Fought it for years.” He eyed them closely. “And it finally cost him. It cost him dearly.”
Robert got there faster than Puller.
“It cost him his fourth star.”
Coleman nodded. “They couldn’t very well deny him the second and third stars. He flat-out earned those. But when you get to four, there’s more politics than merit. And the stand your father had taken came home to roost, because he had pissed off a lot of people who would determine if he got the fourth star or not. And he didn’t get it. And he was basically forced to retire.”
Coleman stopped and tapped the fourth star on his shoulder. “When I got this pinned on, do you know who I was thinking about? Your old man. He deserved the fourth star far more than I ever did. And ever since I got it part of me has been ashamed that I walk around with it while he never had that honor.”
Coleman sighed and sat back. “I know his current condition. But I want to propose something to both of you.” He paused, seemingly to marshal his thoughts. “We’ve never done this before and it carries no official weight. But I’ve run this up the flagpole and got nothing but salutes from both the brass and the civilian side.” He paused again. “We want to award an honorary fourth star to your father. I wish it could be the real deal, but that’s not possible now. But we want to do this. Out of respect for your father. We want to try to make this, if not right, at least better.” He leaned forward. “What do you say?”
“I say it’s about time,” both Pullers replied simultaneously.
Chapter
76
THE CEREMONY WAS carried out in Puller Sr.’s room at the VA. Dignitaries both military and civilian were in attendance, including the Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. General Coleman presided over the presentation of the honorary fourth star.
Puller Sr. at first did not seem to understand what was going on, but as the ceremony continued and Coleman whispered some words to him and he saw the star, he seemed to grasp the enormity of what was happening.
When it was over and everyone left, though, Puller motioned for his sons to take off his uniform jacket. They helped him out of it and then he tapped the cassette recorder that was on his bedside table.
Robert quickly turned it on and Puller Sr. sat back on his bed, turned to face the recorder, closed his eyes, and smiled as he listened to his wife singing.
They left him there and headed out.
“I don’t think the fourth star meant as much to him as hearing her voice does,” said Robert.
“Not even close,” said Puller. He hesitated.
Robert noticed this and said, “What?”
“Coleman said Dad confronted Jericho. Do you think he ever thought Jericho was responsible for Mom’s disappearance?”
“It was inscribed with a phrase, For the greater good. And it had the initials CJ. Claire Jericho.” He looked at her. “Rogers wore a ring.”
“That’s right, he did,” said Knox. “I remember seeing it.”
“What I can’t figure out is how Rogers found out where Jericho lived. It was classified.
Bobby couldn’t figure it out either.”
“Well, he was a resourceful guy. I guess he found a way. But what does it matter now?” Before Puller could say anything Knox added, “Now, let’s move on to something else.”