Charles Henderson - Terminal Impact

“Hell if you don’t look like a regular war hero,” Freddy Montoya crowed, and grabbed Jack’s hand first. He shoved his large-breasted trophy doll up for the Marine to meet, and she couldn’t help herself but give the still-flushing gunner a red-lips smack on the cheek that left a mark. That didn’t help Jack’s embarrassment one bit.

“Good to see you, Sergeant Montoya.” Gunner Valentine smiled. “You, too, and thanks for the kiss. What’s your name?”

“Lolly.” Freddy grinned. “My little Lolly Pop.”

Jack had finished his tour in Iraq, waltzed through a short psych-eval at both Walter Reed and Bethesda, then endured six months of housebreaking and paper training in his Warrant Officer Basic Course at The Basic School at Quantico. On graduation day, Gunner Valentine drove nonstop to Camp Lejeune and dusted out his home on the waterfront in Swansboro. That Monday, he reported aboard at Marine Special Operations Command.

It took Elmore Snow’s best efforts and a good dinner from June to convince the new gunner that he owed it to himself and the men he led to include his family as a priority with God, Country, and Corps.

“Family makes a Marine a more balanced leader,” June had said at the table that night.

“I made a command decision and cut you a set of leave papers. June bought you a plane ticket. We think you need to take some time off,” Elmore told his newest subordinate officer over glasses of Jameson’s best Irish nectar.

“Colonel Snow,” Jack said, “I need to get settled here first, then I will take the time off. I promise. We have a lot going on. The surge, and then my platoon going downrange to Afghanistan. Ten months is not much time.”

“You’re not the only Marine in the Corps, Gunner Valentine,” Elmore reminded him. “Despite what those Army shrinks said about you, tough skin and all. I think you need a little time with your feet up.”

When Jack had come off the Zarqawi mission back-to-back with his ordeal with Abu Omar, two Air Force psychiatrists, a Navy doctor, and a female Army contract Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder specialist did their best to analyze the newly selected Marine warrant officer. They felt certain he would need long-term care in a German hospital. No normal human can endure what he did and still have all his marbles.

Jack Valentine sent them screaming out of the interview rooms, pulling out their overeducated hair, at three hospitals. He laughed at all the right jokes, felt sad at all the right sob stories, and told them he would love to hang out at a crowded shopping mall or go see a movie like Saving Private Ryan with any of them, anytime.

He didn’t flinch. And all the Rorschach ink blots looked like butterflies, wild flowers, angel wings, his mother’s apron, or a leaf on a peaceful stream.

“You’ve been prepped!” the Army shrink accused him. “You’re a dangerous man, Mr. Valentine. I can’t prove it, but I know it!”

“Put it in your report, then,” Jack said, and left.

When he saw Giti Sadiq, and his dad holding her baby, Jack’s heart leaped. Liberty right there with her, and his mom. Elmore was right. He always was, and Gunner Valentine told himself he needed to listen to the old man more often. At this moment, he was really glad that he had tossed the flight attendant’s calling card in the trash, too. That kind of temptation did him no good, and right now he swelled with love.

“Hello there, baby sister,” Jack said, and gave the girl from Iraq a big hug and a kiss on her cheek.

Then he held his arms open for Liberty. She came around and locked her lips on his mouth hard and long, in front of her parents and his.

“Saving best for last,” Jack told his sweetheart since high school, and she smiled, seeing the gold-and-red bars on his shoulders and the black bursting-bomb insignia inboard from them on the epaulets. Then she put her finger on the black bursting-bomb insignia pinned on one side of his shirt collar and looked over at the warrant-officer bar pinned on the opposite side.

“So this is a Marine gunner.” She smiled.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack answered.

Darius Archer came close to Jack, his voice nearly gone from age and surgery to remove polyps off his vocal cords.

“You far exceeded all my expectations,” the old judge said.

“We got that girl you saved on the road to full citizenship. And her baby couldn’t be in a better home than with your mom and dad.

“I am proud of you, Jack. My years on the bench, putting people in prison. You made all the bad days worth that good one, when I sent you to the Marine Corps.”

“That girl and her sisters saved me, Judge Archer.” Jack smiled and pulled Giti close to him, her self-proclaimed big brother. Liberty kissed the girl on the cheek, then kissed Jack once more.

Special Agent Cruz had resigned from the FBI, just as she had planned, but a few years ahead of schedule. Her torture episode with Cesare Alosi and the CIA drew heat from one particular United States senator. He wanted her head but couldn’t have it since she had departed government employment.

As for the CIA boys, Chris and Speedy, they walked on water, had Teflon underwear, and kept their station in Baghdad rocking and rolling.

“I’m headed back to Washington, DC. Have my own security business now, Judge Archer. A contract with the Drug Enforcement Agency, Treasury, too, and a little something going on the side with the CIA,” Liberty said, adding to the conversation.

“Going to hire Cesare Alosi to run your shop?” Jack joked, and the long cool woman gave him a mean knuckle shot to the arm.

“Not funny, Gunner Valentine. And I still outrank you.” She laughed, with the family and friends circled around them.

She took Jack’s hand. “I have two more days here, and I intend to make the most of them with this Marine.”

“We have a fiesta waiting at the house,” Harry Valentine said, holding the baby. “Instead of standing in the airport for the rest of the day, let’s get home and celebrate!”

The Marine gave Liberty a kiss and turned to Giti, close to his side. “A senior at Coronado High School, I hear. Top of your class.”

“I tested up.” The girl smiled. “I want to go to college now. University of Texas at El Paso, and study law.”

“Just what we need.” Jack laughed. “Another lawyer.”

“I want to help people, like Mr. Cruz does,” she said, and Liberty gave Jack a look and pointed a thumb at a smiling Paul Cruz walking behind them, listening.

“Miriam Amira Sadiq, such a wonderful name for your daughter,” Jack said, but then paused, thinking about what he wanted to say next. The hesitation stopped them from their walk. He looked at Giti and took a cautious breath, then spit it out of his craw. “Don’t misunderstand me. I love this child without exception. She’s my family, like you. But does it ever bother you that her father was such a monster? Like it or not, she is still Saddam Hussein’s cousin.”

“Miriam Amira is none of those things, big brother,” Giti said, and squeezed his hand. “She is my daughter. A child of God. He put her in my belly and saved her from all the horrors we saw. He brought her here to be born an American citizen. Our Lord has something special planned for her. You wait and see.”