Charles Taylor: Show of Force

Now as he looked out the car window, he saw the boy running across the snow-covered yard. How much like his father, thought Gorenko. The Admiral had also arranged for his grandson to be released from his Nakhimov school to be with his mother. The Navy could do without him for a few days. He swung the car door open, and the boy leaped excitedly in, then, in respect to the other, extended his right hand to shake the old, gnarled paw of his grandfather.

It was then that Gorenko broke down. Tears came to his eyes silently. There was no sound. The boy did not notice it until they swung around by the front door. When he saw his grandfather sitting perfectly erect, face forward, the tears streaming down his cheeks, he ran into the house to get his mother.

Tasha Kupinsky bent slightly as she came out of the door to look into the car. She hadn't understood her son. But when she came to the open door and looked in at Gorenko, she knew.

She extended her hand to the suddenly very old man, whose shoulders were now slightly rounded. He looked up at Tasha. Her great sad eyes looked deeply into his and said they understood the pain, and she gestured with her other hand for him to come inside with her.

The moisture did come to Sam Carter's eyes. At first they were tears of rage as he stared at the picture before him in disbelief. The pencil in his hands snapped. One of his aides had just left the room, and for a moment he was alone with his terrible knowledge, the scene riveted in his brain. He rose from his chair, knocking it over, sweeping the papers on his desk to the floor as he strode across to a window.

With the realization of what had just occurred, the tears of rage changed to tears of anguish. The angry young ensign who had returned from a Cuban beach to shout at his captain was now gone. All of the emotion he had held back for years suddenly welled up from inside. He knew he was losing control, and he fought back.

At that moment, his secretary entered, following her usual method of pushing through the door as she knocked. Sam Carter heard the sound and turned. Stopping dead in her tracks, she mumbled an inaudible excuse and pulled the door shut behind her. She had never seen an Admiral cry.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had stared at that picture of horror. That instant was still vivid in his mind. Now, he was at Mafia's door in Virginia. He turned to look back and saw his car in the driveway, the chauffeur sitting respectfully at the wheel. He knew why he had come. He had to be the one to tell her.

He couldn't remember if he had pushed the bell. He reached for the button again, but the door was already swinging open, and there was Maria, looking as lovely as he always remembered her.

She looked out at Sam Carter and saw only the ghost of the man David had always loved. She saw it all in his eyes, and knew right away why he was standing on her doorstep.

"Please come in, Sam."

He removed his hat and stepped up into the foyer. He looked deeply into her eyes and opened his mouth to tell her, but nothing would come out.

She put both her hands out and grasped his, squeezing them tightly, and said, "I know why you're here." Then she stepped forward and put her head on his shoulder. She was crying for her sailor, who would not be home from sea.