Don Brown: The Malacca Conspiracy

Two marines opened double doors on the West Wing. The president stepped out onto the grass, flanked by Admiral Roscoe Smith to his right and Secretary of Defense Erwin Lopez to his left. They were followed by another naval officer, Rear Admiral Jeffrey Carl Lettow, a Southern Baptist pastor currently serving as the chief of navy chaplains.

The four men walked across the grass to a podium featuring the Presidential Seal. “At ease,” the president said as he reached the podium, the three others behind him. The audience relaxed slightly.

“Our nation has been hit.” The president began his speech with somber tones. “One of our great cities, Philadelphia, has had its heart ripped out. One of our ships, USS Port Royal, has been attacked, and many thousands have died.

“But though the Islamo-fascists may have temporarily bruised Philadelphia, evil cannot, and shall not ever, quench the heart and the spirit of America. We are grateful to God Almighty that we still live as a nation, and that as a nation, we have survived this brutal and criminal attack.”

The president reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter. His eyes met Diane’s; then he looked at the SEAL team. “This is a private ceremony. Though certain members of the press corps have been invited, there will be no live television cameras. Photographs and excerpts will later be released to the press. But this is a sacred occasion. This is an intimate time. You have saved our country.” He took the letter out and unfolded it. “I’d like to begin by reading a brief note from the president of Indonesia.”

He placed the letter on the podium and began to read. “To members of the US Navy SEAL team, to the US Navy pilots, to the US Navy JAG officers, and to members of the USS Ronald Reagan carrier task force-the government and the people of a democratic Indonesia are eternally grateful. You have saved our nation from a despotic tyranny, and while Indonesians grieve the loss of lives in America, we salute and commend you for having saved the lives of millions of others in your country. May God bless you all of your days, and may God bless the United States of America. Signed, Muhammed Magadia, president of the Republic of Indonesia.”

The president folded the letter and put it in his pocket. “And now, I’d like to ask a very special lady to come forward.” The marines swung open the double doors again. The First Lady of the United States stepped out first. Then another woman stepped out. The two women walked across the lawn toward the podium, but it was not until they had nearly reached the podium that Diane recognized the second woman.

The president spoke again. “The Presidential Medal of Freedom is this nation’s highest civilian award. The medal was first established by President Harry Truman to honor civilians for distinguished service in time of war. On February 22, 1963, the 231 stbirthday of George Washington, President John F. Kennedy expanded the eligibility for receiving the medal when he signed this executive order. Presidential Medals of Freedom shall be awarded to persons ‘for especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, or world peace, or cultural or other significant public or private endeavors.’

“Past recipients of the medal include Pope John Paul II, Martin Luther King Jr., President Ronald Reagan, and Mother Teresa.

“Today, I have the pleasure of presenting the Presidential Medal of Freedom to a woman, who, facing fear and death, courageously put her life on the line and in doing so, saved the lives of millions.” He turned around and looked and smiled at the woman standing next to his wife. “The Presidential Medal of Freedom is hereby awarded to Kristina Wulandari.”

Applause broke out as the pretty young Indonesian woman stepped forward. She sheepishly bowed. President Williams put the medal around her neck. He kissed her on the cheek, and then gave her a long hug. “Thank you,” the president could be heard saying over the applause. “Thank you so much.” Photographers stepped forward and snapped photographs to commemorate the historic moment.

The applause subsided, and Kristina walked over and stood beside Mrs. Williams.

“There are others to be thanked for the fact that we are standing here today…Other members of the United States military to whom many of us owe our lives”-he looked at the SEAL team and at Commander Belk-“and to whom I personally owe my life.”

The president pulled another letter from his coat. “On August 7, 1942, Congress made the Navy Cross a combat-only decoration with precedence over the Distinguished Service Medal, making it the navy’s second-highest-ranking award, ranking only below the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

The president looked up from the podium again. “To Captain Noble, and to each and every member of SEAL Team One, Platoons Alpha and Charlie; to Lieutenant Commander Belk, to Lieutenant Commander Brewer, and to Lieutenant Commander Colcernian, your nation is grateful for your heroic actions in defending your country during the Indonesian operations of this past winter. To each of you, you are this day being awarded the Navy Cross.

“Please step up as I call your names.” He looked first at Captain Noble. “Captain Buck Noble.” Captain Noble marched sharply to the podium, saluted the president, then stood erect as the president lifted the medal from a silk pillow being held by the chaplain. “Congratulations, Captain,” the president said, as he pinned the medal on the SEAL’s chest.

“Thank you, sir.” Noble shot a sharp salute, pivoted, and returned to the line.

“Lieutenant Commander Billy Belk, front and center.”

The process continued, until finally, “Lieutenant Commander Diane Colcernian, front and center!”

Despite facing down death on multiple occasions over the past few years, this moment flooded Diane with a strange nervousness. She came to attention, stepped ten paces forward, stopped in front of the podium, and saluted her commander in chief.

The president stepped out to her, along with the chief of chaplains, holding the silk pillow with her Navy Cross.

President Williams picked up the medal, and as he was pinning it to her blue uniform, he spoke softly. “Diane, I know your dad would have been so proud of you.”

Emotion overwhelmed her when the president mentioned her father. “Thank you, Mr. President,” she whispered.

“He was a fine naval officer and a great man.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her voice was beginning to tremble.

“There.” He finished pinning the medal on her lapel. “That should do it.” He looked into her eyes. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fall back into line.”

“Yes, sir.” She shot him a final salute, then pivoted and walked back to the line of navy blue, where one officer had yet to receive his medal.

“Lieutenant Commander Zack Brewer, front and center.”

Zack stepped forward, by far the best-looking man in the Rose Garden, in Diane’s opinion. Just the subtle swagger in his step still made her melt. At that moment it hit her, suddenly, after all these years…the confidence, the swagger, the handsome dimple contrasted against his gentleness. Zack’s many traits were those of the man she had loved first and loved the most, her father. How could she not have seen it until now?

Zack snapped a sharp salute at the president, who stepped forward with Admiral Lettow to pin on the Navy Cross. They were all conversing privately for a moment, as the president had done with her and several other officers.

She knew that the president had a special fondness for Zack, but this conversation was lingering noticeably longer than any of the others.

The president stepped back behind the podium, motioning Zack to stand beside him.