| Subject: Full Circle C3/6 |
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fananicfan
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Date Posted: 19:24:15 08/17/07 Fri
In reply to:
fananicfan
's message, "Full Circle...Next in the series" on 17:55:08 08/16/07 Thu
Chapter Three – Who’s on ZNN?
MONDAY, MARCH 20, 2006
NAPLES
Since my injury, I’ve knuckled under to doctor’s orders and let a duty driver pick me up in the morning to take me from my quarters on one side of the base to my office on the other side.
With my knee all wrapped in an ACE bandage, the bulge in my pant leg makes the knee look more swollen than it was when I went to the doctor, but the swelling has gone down. Thankfully, the pain is minimal in the mornings, so I should be able to get through my visit with the general with no problems.
In the car on the way to the office, I wonder what kind of case Mac could be on that has kept her from returning my calls all weekend. I tried to call her on Friday to say ‘Happy anniversary, we’ve made it six months,’ but I never reached her at the house or on her cell phone. On Saturday, I tried several times to reach them for the regular Saturday call. I did finally talk to Mattie on Saturday when I called her on her cell phone. Mattie said that Mac was working on a case and, as far as she knew, Mac hadn’t been at the condo since Friday morning when she left for work. I didn’t think that Mattie would have much knowledge of the case that Mac was working on, so I spoke with Mattie for a few minutes before I called Mac’s cell and left another message. Sunday went by without any word from Mac either, and now it's Monday.
Since General Cresswell is scheduled to arrive for our meeting at 0900, though I suspect he’ll arrive early, I have time to go through my normal morning routine before he makes his appearance.
On Mondays, I like to watch the ZNN weekend recap on the monitor in my office. They usually replay some of the human interest stories that aired over the weekend. It leaves me with a feeling of good will about our world before I start reading reports and assigning cases concerning crimes of varying degrees.
I take my first sip of coffee and prop my right leg up on another chair that was placed there strictly for that purpose. I reach for the remote and click on the TV.
I’ve watched for several minutes when the news anchor gives the teaser. “Up next, we’ll be bringing you the story that first aired yesterday. It's the story of a stateside mother and daughter reunited with the help of the United States Marines.”
Okay, they have my attention with that. I want to hear what Mac’s little mean green friends have been doing to show their soft side.
I turn up the sound so that I’ll hear the story start when they get to it. They give you the tease that the story is up next, but when they return from the commercial, it’s never the next story they do.
I listen to a story about Iraq and the lives lost over the weekend there. Then I hear the lead words to the story that I’ve been waiting for. “While some Marines were part of the casualties in Iraq this weekend, a few select Marines stationed at San Diego’s Marine base at Camp Pendleton were on a mission closer to home yesterday. We have the complete story from a ZNN affiliate in San Diego.”
The lead words have gotten me to look up from the papers that I've been reading to focus on the screen.
I see a man in his late thirties or early forties holding a microphone, but I don’t read the little block showing the reporter’s name, the affiliate station’s call letters or his location because, in the background of the shot, I see a very familiar looking form. I stare, trying to be sure that I’m seeing who I think I’m seeing. Yes, I’m sure it's her. It’s Mac.
While I was straining to make the image of the person in the background clearer, I must have missed part of the report because, once I’ve decided that I’m indeed looking at my wife on the screen, the reporter is in mid sentence.
“…that’s when a team led by Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie…”
'I knew that was her,' is my thought while I continue to listen to the reporter.
“…went into Mexico to retrieve Marine SSgt Antonio Vaughn and his daughter. SSgt Vaughn is the suspect in the hit and run of his wife, Navy Petty Officer Linda Vaughn, and fleeing with their daughter, Peggy, Wednesday. Col. MacKenzie, who commands the Joint Legal Services office here in San Diego, called for NCIS cooperation to help pinpoint the location of the suspect and his daughter on Saturday.”
I watch as the figure whom I’ve identified as Mac helps a little girl from a van while I listen to the reporter continue.
“A statement released by NCIS a few hours ago states, ‘NCIS was asked on Saturday for its cooperation in finding SSgt Vaughn and his daughter. All facts pointed to the staff sergeant having fled to the home of a relative in Mexico. The Marine team was delayed in persuing their suspicions while they waited for approval to go into Mexico. After a call from Congresswoman Bobbi Latham to Mexican officials to secure the cooperation of the Mexican government, a small team of Marines stationed at Camp Pendleton, led by Colonel MacKenzie, entered Mexico for the purpose of extracting the staff sergeant and his daughter. Though our camera crew was held at the border by Mexican authorities, we understand that the suspect surrendered without incident. What you’re seeing behind me is two vans outside the Naval Hospital at Balboa. One van has SSgt Vaughn in it and the other has his daughter. They’ve been brought here for medical evaluation. At eleven, we hope to be able to bring you coverage of the reunion between the five year old and her mother and have some comments from Colonel MacKenzie. This is Bill Watkins for channel six news.”
No wonder Mac didn’t call. She had her hands full. I’ll try to call her after the general leaves.
My eyes are glued to the monitor, hoping to see her when they replay the other segment that aired at eleven last night in San Diego. The reporter didn't get any comments from Mac, but they said that the little girl was a little dehydrated and would be given fluids and kept overnight for observation as a precaution. The reporter's information on SSgt Vaughn was less detailed. He did report that Vaughn had been admitted for medical treatment, but had no details of what he was to be treated for or how long he'd be hospitalized.
I watch the rest of the ZNN recap and finish my coffee before taking my leg off the chair and returning the chair to where it belongs. I don’t want the general walking in, find me sitting around with my leg up and thinking that that’s how I run my office.
Just as I suspected, General Cresswell arrives at 0830, a full thirty minutes early.
I move around my desk to welcome him at the door. After proper military greetings, I walk back towards my desk, trying to keep from favoring my right leg.
“Captain Rabb, why are you limping?”
“I stepped down wrong and twisted my knee while running on Wednesday morning.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not bad, sir. The doctor put me on an anti-inflammatory med and a mild muscle relaxant for five days. The doc said that it was time that I learned that I was getting older, whether I liked it or not, and that five to ten mile runs was too much for my knees to take daily. He’s suggested that I take up swimming, bicycling, and gym workouts to vary my exercise routine and limit the number of days that I run...after I take three weeks off for my body to rest and my knee to heal completely.”
“Sounds like you’re going to live then, Captain, so let’s get down to business.” The general sits at my desk and opens his briefcase.
We spend the next forty minutes discussing the relocation plan and the time allowances that I'd built in and why. As our conversation continues, I’m getting the feeling that he’s been sent to scrutinize me more than to inspect the new offices.
At fifteen minutes to 1100, General Cresswell closes his briefcase. “I believe we have an 1100 inspection scheduled, so let’s get to it. We can finish this paper pushing after inspection and chow.”
“Yes, sir.”
I reach for the phone and push the button that will buzz Petty Officer Banks. When the petty officer responds, I tell him, “Petty Officer, tell Commander Manetti to prepare for inspection.”
As General Cresswell greets each of my staff, I walk with him, but my mind is trying to process what we could possibly have left to talk about this afternoon. I’d expected the general to come early, but I hadn’t anticipated him staying past lunch. This morning, we’ve talked about man hours, relocation plans, budget reports, staffing needs and case loads. What else could we possibly have to discuss during or after lunch?
After meeting my staff, General Cresswell requests that Commander Manetti give him a tour of the facility while I put my leg up for a few minutes before we go eat.
While Manetti gives the general the tour, I have Petty Officer Banks call for a driver to take the general and me to lunch. When Manetti returns to my office with the general, he asks her to join us for lunch. I’m a little surprised by his gesture simply because I was expecting more questions over lunch that I don’t believe that Cresswell would ask in front of my XO.
General Cresswell asks each one of us how we’re enjoying Naples. He asks Commander Manetti if she has any family here in Naples and, if not, does she have any relatives still residing in Italy. Since we haven't been here long, he inquires if, other than the sidewalk that got me, whether or not we've had enough time to gather inmpressions of how Naples will rate against London. He even asks if I saw my wife on ZNN this weekend.
The lunch turns out to be more of a social event than I'd expected, and is very pleasant. Before standing at the end of lunch, I'm more relaxed about my after lunch meeting with the general. However, when I stand, pain shoots through my knee, and I want to scream. If I can't get this leg up soon, I may not be able to keep my military bearing.
I hobble to the car and I can feel the general's eyes on me. I don't know what he's thinking, but I'm once again not looking forward to our afternoon meeting.
I'm pleasantly surprised by the general's more relaxed demeanor when we return to my office. He removes his briefcase from on top of my desk and pushes one of the two chairs from in front of my desk to behind the desk and suggests that I put my leg on it to rest my 'bum knee.'
I decide that, with the knee now throbbing, I'm going to be thankful that he suggested it and put my leg up for at least a few minutes. He's seated, and there's no longer a reason for me to be standing. Once my six is in the chair and my is leg up, General Cresswell speaks.
"Captain...Harm, this afternoon, I want to talk to you about your request for relocation to be closer to Colonel MacKenzie."
I don't know where this conversation is going, and a lump forms in my throat as the general elaborates.
"I want to make it clear that you're doing very well in your position here. The SecNav is impressed with the precision with which you've completed the relocation and even more impressed that you finished the job a week early. A transfer now for personal reasons could stall any future advancement. I need to make sure that you understand what you might be doing to your career if you accept a billet in San Diego."
I move my leg off the chair so that I can sit directly opposite him when I respond. I swallow the lump in my throat and look him in the eye. "At one time, my career meant everything to me, but now, I'd dig latrines if I could dig them in San Diego." As soon as the words leave my lips, I know that what I've said is over the top, but I can't muster anything more than a "sir," to complete my statement. I stay focused on his face, waiting for a reaction, and his reaction surprises me.
He smiles and chuckles. He reaches into his briefcase, pulls out a manila envelope and drops it on my desk. "Captain, after you look over this paperwork, see if you can find some time to take some leave to let that knee heal."
"Yes, sir."
Soon after he's gone, my leg is back up on the chair and I'm more relaxed now that his visit has come to an end. I can read the contents of the envelope after I've talked to Mac. After calculating the time difference several times to be sure that it's a little after 0600 in San Diego, I place a call to Mac's cell phone.
This time, I reach her, and she explains her exploits over the weekend. She says that she'd planned on calling me when she got to the office in a little while to apologize for missing my anniversary wishes. Before we finally hang up, I've heard how she'd become involved with the case and how, once she'd enlisted the help of NCIS to help access Vaughn's credit card transctions, they'd been able to zero in on his trail to Ensenada.
When I voice my concern about her leading the team, I expect to hear the 'I'm a Marine' speech, but, instead, I hear the softness of the woman I married. "I had to lead the team. I didn't want a whole bunch of men scaring that little girl. I had to see that she was okay and get her back to her mother safely. I couldn't let that woman lose her child if I could stop it. I just couldn't."
"Mac, it isn't over yet. The committee doesn't meet for another week."
"I know, but I can't think of anything else to say to get them to understand that he belongs with us. We love him. That has to count for something."
"I know it counts to Tyler." I pause. "Do you think you could get away this weekend?"
"Yeah, but a weekend isn't time enough for me to fly to Italy and have any time with you before I have to fly back."
"I wasn't thinking about you flying here. I was thinking about meeting you in Blacksburg on Saturday. This Saturday is the 25th, Tyler's birthday."
"Oh, what a wonderful idea!"
We're on the phone a few more minutes while we agree who'd talk to whom to make the arrangments with Ms. LeMoine and Mrs. Potter to see Tyler.
When I get off the phone, knowing that I'm going to see her this weekend, my knee feels better. Why is that?
After getting off the phone with Mac, the next order of business is to open the manila envelope and find out what new project awaits me. I flip the flap up and pull the stack of papers out of the envelope. I spend the next ten minutes staring at the papers in disbelief.
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