My wife told me that I had to let the incident between Gates and me go, or I might potentially ruin everything. My argument against that was simply one of trying to live in a state of helplessness. Following Vietnam, I was being made to feel like an important man by the department, the Western White House and even Tom Thorkelson and Chuck Bartok with the insurance business, but my importance was tied neatly to a sense of impotence and helplessness when it came to controlling either the sourcing or the true direction of any of the things, I was involved in. I didn’t, and couldn’t, tell her that Gates’ little arm-wrestling bit of deliberately applied violence wasn’t something I could tolerate down in the very core of my being. I had run or hidden three times in combat. I learned that running in combat might keep me alive for the short term, but the long term was another matter entirely. On top of that, or at the very foundations of that, the definition of living had totally changed inside my very being by the time I was carried out of the valley.
I couldn’t continue my work with the police department without somehow resolving the relationship that had formed between Gates and me. I couldn’t run as I had no place to run to. I couldn’t avoid him. I had to go right at him, yet I couldn’t seem to be able to think of a plan that might accomplish what I was trying to accomplish that had any chance of a happy ending, for he or me.
My sleep was an unsettled tossing and turning experience to the point where my wife had to retreat into the spare bedroom and stay on the couch located there. In the morning I got up early, before the sun came up, and got dressed as quietly as I could. My left hand was bruised but not too deeply. I could still button my shirt and tie my own shoelaces. My center incision had cracked open during the Gates altercation, but the small leaking was gone. I bandaged the scab that had formed overnight. I’d have to be gentle in handling myself simply to avoid having the disability noticed. I wore my compound costume with my blue sport coat. The lined wool material provided extra protection. There was no pain, but the result could be that I’d forget and bump into something by accident.
I slipped out of the apartment, checking both my wife and daughter’s rooms. Both were sleeping quietly. I drove to Galloways restaurant on Del Mar, knowing that they lived in a small unit tucked into the back of the business. Living that way was against the city’s building code but nobody ever checked or complained, at least not that I knew.
The door was open, as it always was. I sat at my usual front window table and worked on coming up with a plan. There was no question in my mind that I was going to have to confront Gates about his conduct and then ‘change’ him, as June Cobb might say, into something either more malleable or more inert. I couldn’t post him out on patrol and call in an artillery strike or any of the other night and day dreams that the arm-wrestling incident had conjured up and I was having trouble getting rid of them. Lorraine appeared from behind me, somehow producing a vapor-shrouded cup of hot coffee even though the hour was well before the opening time.
“I sold another policy,” I announced proudly, causing Lorraine to square her shoulders back and stare at me, the pot balanced in her right hand, extended out like she was going to pour it on me. Without thought my torso turned almost by itself to only allow my right side to be exposed.
“One of mine?” she asked, her expression almost a bit more than hopeful.
“You need it to be?” I asked back, my eyebrows going up.
“We’re behind on the rent and the owner is not a nice man,” she whispered, glancing behind her to see if her husband Tom might be close by and listening.
“How much?” I replied, keeping my own voice down.
“How much what?” She asked.
“How much are you behind?” I whispered back to her.
“About a thousand.”
A thousand dollars would sadly diminish the amount of cash I’d hidden away in my shoebox or eat up entirely the coming two year’s commission on the policies I was about to write on Butch and his family.
I needed the coffee shop restaurant to be exactly what and where it was located in my life. I needed Lorraine to help me with the insurance side of things, as well. Mike Manning was also involved; in that he was the real reason I’d come to the restaurant so early. That I couldn’t sleep was just a part of it. I needed Mike’s kind of combat advice. He’d been through the humiliation mill that combat really was, and I wanted his counsel about what to do with or to Gates.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up.
“Where are you going?” Lorraine asked, totally surprised.
I walked around her still position, standing there like her shoes were glued to the floor. There was no point in saying anything. My mind was already on my wife before I made it to the car. If she was up what would she have to say about what I was about to do. Giving a thousand in cash, almost half what a new car costs, wouldn’t be easy to explain, if I told her the truth, and I was so trying to not lie to her. I flipped the Volks around and headed down Del Mar Avenue, the thoughts I was thinking more about Tom and Lorraine than my wife. A thousand behind on the rent, rent that could not be more than three or four hundred dollars a month, was a different thing than being late or a bit behind on the payments. It was nearly full dawn by the time I pulled into our driveway.
My wife was up, and coffee was brewing. Neither Mrs. Beasley nor the electric scooter were making any noises, so I presumed Julie was still asleep.
“You’re back,” Mary said, coming around the corner from the kitchen. “Where’d you go and what was bothering you last night?”
“I’m going to talk to Gates today, I hope,” I replied. “Tom and Lorraine at the restaurant are behind on the rent so I need to advance her a couple of hundred against the help she’s giving me selling the insurance.”
I turned toward the stairs and went up, taking three at a time. I did not need my wife watching me get the money, although knowing her as I did, it wasn’t unlikely she’d know exactly how much I pulled out within minutes of my leaving again.
I counted out ten brand new hundred-dollar bills from the shoeshine box. I had twenty-four left for whatever else came along, which still seemed like a lot, although it certainly wasn’t if I kept burning through it the way I was.
My wife waited at the bottom of the stairs, and I knew she’d not followed me up on purpose, thereby giving her agreement to what I was going to do.
“Don’t hurt him,” she said. I understood right then that she had bigger fish to fry than the money going out to the Galloways. “It’ll hurt you more to do that then it will ever hurt him.”
I nodded, but didn’t stop, heading right out through the front door. I made it to the car, but she was right behind me, standing in front of it at its right front fender.
“Talk to your new friend, Mike Manning, before you do anything,” she said, as I started the Volks and drove back down the street, wondering how it was that she could pinpoint so exactly what I was doing at the Galloways and that I also had come to the conclusion that Mike’s advice might help me.
Was she that smart, I wondered, or did she simply know me that well?
There was still nobody on Del Mar when I parked in front of Galloways.
As soon as I shut off the ignition Lorraine was outside the door and almost fully leaning into the open window.
“You went to get the money, didn’t you?” she said, but not really as a question. “How in the world would someone like you come up with money like that?”
I pulled the folded stack of hundreds from my right front pocket and held it low, by the bottom of the steering wheel. Lorraine immediately reached down and grabbed the pack, scrunching it up in her left hand.
“New hundred-dollar bills, probably all serialized one after another,” she whispered, pulling herself a few feet from the car. “There’s only one place at this hour you’d come up with money like that.”
I sat watching Lorraine’s mind work, her brow furrowed deeply, bringing her right hand up to shield it as the rising sun reflected strongly off the many huge windows built into the stores up and down the street.
“I can’t give these to Tom,” she said, the frown still on her face. “He’ll never buy any of what’s just happened. I’m not sure I do. What might you want for this favor?” she asked.
“Some insurance deals, I would hope,” I replied, being totally straight with the smart expressive businesswoman.
“All men are not alike,” she said, a smile creasing her lips, her forehead furrows disappearing instantly. She then turned and went inside the restaurant, leaving me to think about what her last sentence might possibly have meant.
I looked down at my cheap Seiko watch to check the time. It was just past six-thirty, which meant the drug store on the corner would be open and it would likely already heve its supply of L.A. Times newspapers. I was reminded of the expensive and high-quality Rolex watches so many of the officers in the hospital had been able to buy through the international PX system. I didn’t want a Rolex, nor could I have afforded one while in the hospital. I wanted the American Omega Speed Master Professional, like the astronauts took to the moon. The Times didn’t have home delivery in the San Clemente area, so I always had to get it from the drug store, anyway. The place was open and the Times waiting for me to purchase.
When I got back to the restaurant Mike Manning was having coffee at my table, my own cup steaming again. Lorraine had watched for my return, I realized.
I sat with Mike or tried to. Lorraine approached as I was about to pick up my cup and asked to talk to me. I followed her out the door.
“My husband wanted to know where the money was from so, I told him,” she said.
I waited for whatever might come next with a bit of trepidation.
“I told him that we’d sold a really big policy to Mike Manning, who has a whole lot more money than anyone thinks.”
I looked through the window and smiled, as Mike sat sipping his coffee and waiting for my return. Mike was himself, I knew, barely paying his own rent, and some of that was only being paid with my considerable help. I knew the lie could be very quickly and explosively revealed, but Tom being silent and withdrawn might also never bring the issue to Mike’s attention.
“Tom’s making Mike a special breakfast for helping us out,” Lorraine concluded, before saying, “No, life’s not fair at all.”
I sat with Mike, making small talk about how bad the tourist season really was, the traffic increasing on Del Mar, so shop owners had no place to park and more.
Tom personally delivered the special breakfast and set it before Mike like it was some sort of meal a king or queen might eat. Eggs, hash browns, toast, sausage links, bacon and other unrecognizable stuff covered the plate.
“Thanks for being one of our best customers,” Tom said, before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Wonder what qualifications are necessary for that title?” Mike absently asked, staring down upon the plate piled high with about two pounds of food.
“I’ve got a problem,” I said, hoping Mike would not offer me some of his breakfast. Eating was about the last thing on my mind.
“Spit it out,” Mike said, filling his mouth with bits and pieces gathered from all the assortment before him.
I told Mike the story about how Gates had set up the arm-wrestling competition and then the wounds I was still suffering from.
“No wonder you’re not hungry,” Mike replied, still filling his mouth with one forkful after another, like he wasn’t eating at all in the Borgward Isabella by the side of the highway in Capistrano Beach.
“What should we do?” Mike asked, making me feel warm inside. He’s said ‘we’ and not you.
“That’s why I was waiting to talk to you,” I replied.
“You realize he’s acting the way he is because you are the man, he thinks he is, or should be, or should have been allowed to be?” Mike asked.
“You read Max Brand?” I asked back, amazement in my tone.
Max Brand was a popular novelist of a long series of cowboy paperbacks. I’d read every one of them while working aboard an iron ore carrier during my college years.
“Who?” Mike asked, his always moving fork finally coming to stop in midair.
“Max Brand, Evan Evans, wrote that line in a western ten years ago,” I replied.
“So,” Mike said, delaying for a few seconds before going back to consuming his monster breakfast special, “What did the guy do who used those words in the book?”
“Eventually, he shot him,” I replied.
“Don’t suppose we want to go down that road,” Mike said, “but you’ve been looking at that phony gold Japanese watch there, time after time, so to speak.”
“Yeah,” I replied, not getting what Mike was trying to say.
“Who are you waiting for, or what?”
“Gates is the watch commander on the eight to five shift,” I finally said, “He’s never late and never calls in sick. I’m going to talk to him about the incident.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, being completely honest. I couldn’t not talk to the man, but I wasn’t sure I could talk to the man.
Gates presumed himself, and proven himself in non-combat life, to be a predator of his fellow humans, of which he presumed me to be one. That I was a predator of unimaginable magnitude, disguised as a young creature of prey appearance, was incomprehensible to a man in his position and with his long experience in life.
“Sit before him and don’t say anything,” Mike said. “Make him state what it was that caused him to act like that.”
“What if he doesn’t say anything at all?” I asked.
“Time is on your side,” Mike replied. “You are a premier world-class predator, who doesn’t want to be a predator at all, so allow your resistance to killing and violence pervade the scene. When people like you talk the kind of talk that only people like you can do, then there’s an effect. Your silence is merely the waiting for you to talk, which he will know, and not want to hear what you might say. Remain silent. He will eventually fill the void. He’ll have to, even though you, who are not built like that, will never really understand.”
I looked at my Seiko once more. It was eight in the morning. The squad bay would be filled with the guys ready to go out on patrol. Gates would take no more than twenty minutes to clue the new shift in on what had happened in the shifts before, as well as other more local junk.
Thanks, was all I could think to say. I got up to leave, knowing that there would be no bill for either my coffee nor the exaggerated super breakfast Manning had mostly consumed.
“You know where I am if things go south,” Mike said, standing to shake my hand.
“I don’t have any idea where ‘south’ is,” I replied, laughing.
“That’s why you came here this morning,” Mike replied, gripping my hand firmly.
“You’re a war hero and I’m not, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time and trouble to listen to my advice. If our positions were reversed I’m not at all certain that I’d be what you are proving to be with me. I don’t think you are the man I believe I am, like I said, but I do believe we are both rather exceptional men cast out over a sea of trials and troubles that most American’s have no clue about. You make me feel like a U.S. Marine again and I owe you for that, even if it means we have to do something serious about Gates together.”
I walked out of the restaurant without further comment. I was a thousand dollars poorer but sitting in a pretty solid position when it came to friends, even if it was unlikely, I could bring those friends into action. The drive to the police station took only a few minutes. There was no traffic and no harsh weather to worry about. The parking lot at the department was all but empty, only the eight to four officers inside getting briefed. Bobby would be manning the radio, but the Chief and Pat Bowman wouldn’t show up until nine, the normal starting hours for the department personnel who were not sworn field officers.
Gates’ office was empty, as were all the others, as I walked the halls. They all had to be in the conference room for the pre-shift briefing, I knew. Rather than reveal my presence, I decided to wait in Gates’ office. I noted the range-derived shooting target behind his chair, framed and mounted to the wall. It showed a shooting target, competition, not one of those strangely human shaped combat things, with ten holes in it. The holes in the paper were large, probably made by .45 caliber bullets. All ten were in the 10-score center, but only three were in the smaller “X” circle made for direct entry. The 10 score for each round was still the same but the “X” derivative was vital for considering a real master shooter over one who’s just very good. If Gates was the shooter who’d shot the target, he’d had a very good day, depending upon the distance to that target and the time allowed for firing. Competition pistol shooting was an extremely analytical pursuit.
I checked my watch just as Gates walked in though his wide-open door.
“You,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, but not rising to my feet as would have normally been the case for greeting a superior officer. I was dead set on not killing the man or hurting him, at least not too badly.
The door closed with a quiet ‘snick,’ as if Gates didn’t want anyone else to notice that we were now in private.
“You got hurt in the war,” the big broad and very muscular man said, taking his seat behind his desk.
“Purple Heart, and all of that,” I replied, wondering why he’d brought my war injuries up but believing that the man was probably heading toward filing to disqualify me from police service based upon my injuries and potential of disability.
“Had to dig pretty deep to find all of that,” Gates said, opening his center desk drawer and taking out a thick file. “Your medical records from Camp Pendleton, although not from all the other hospitals and clinics you’ve probably been to since coming back from the Nam.”
The medical records were bad news, I knew. I’d had a lot of treatment, on and off, between the time I’d left Oak Knoll Hospital in Oakland, and finally at the local Camp Pendleton Hospital. When I’d joined the compound players at the Western White House and then the San Clemente Police department, nobody had asked me medical questions. My application had been informal, and I’d had to sign nothing.
“You’re listed as an active-duty Marine Officer, which isn’t really possible,” Gates said, “and you’re apparently a charmed ‘Beach Boy’ character to Pat Nixon, of all people on earth. What am I supposed to do with you?” Gates picked up the file and slammed it down on his desk.
“Here’s the deal,” he said, his voice being loud enough to penetrate the cheap wooden panel door to the office. “This is all going away, all of it,” he exclaimed, once more opening the center drawer to his desk.
“You’re the real deal,” he said, pulling a Camel cigarette hard pack from his front shirt pocket. He lit the cigarette, using a stainless Zippo lighter.
“My dad’s lighter, from World War II,” he said, puffing out a great cloud of smoke.
“I didn’t get to go,” Gates said. “He did, like you, and he came back, like you, all screwed up.” At that point he stopped talking but continued to take deep inhalations from the cigarette.
After a full three minutes I couldn’t take the suspense anymore.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, feeling a deep and almost tiring sense of relief that I wouldn’t have to either kill or badly disable the man in front of me.
“I want to apologize,” the man said, between mighty puffs on the Camel. “I was wrong, about the situation and about you. You got hurt in the war and then I hurt you some more by not realizing that. I’m a Marine, like you, for Christ’s sake and my conduct, with respect to you, was unacceptable, so I’m sitting here asking you to forgive me.”
I didn’t know what to say so I remained silent.
“Well?” he asked, the cigarette between his lips and with his hands outstretched.
“I forgive you,” I said, nodding my head, trying not to let him know that he’d been in any danger from me.
“What are you doing today, since you’re not scheduled for Beach Patrol, which of course is your very own schedule.”
“You won’t say a word to the department about my medical situation?” I asked, voicing the most important part of what the man had been all about in pursuing me to whatever end.
“I’m a Marine, retired but through and through, like you,” he replied, finally killing the cigarette in a worn and stained clamshell holder, piled high with butts.
“I’m headed over to Dana Point to see the construction manager there because, after some negotiation, he’s buying a life insurance policy from me,” I answered, almost being completely truthful.
Gates had no need to know about Cobb or any of the Mardian restaurant stuff, in my opinion.
“Oh, the Massachusetts Mutual Life Insurance Police thing,” Gates said, a smile coming to his face. “I suppose I have to buy one of those to stay alive like the rest of the guys you’ve forced into submission.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.
“You can’t exactly sell someone a life insurance police and then kill him, now, can you?” Gates said, laughing out loud. “Who’s supposed to be my beneficiary, since nobody on this planet likes me at all.”
“I like you, from the first day,” I said.
“What, you had a brutal bad father?” he replied, “maybe went to military school and got a bit abused or bullied. What the hell happened to you to make you into Junior and all of that?”
I realized that Gates’ file contained a lot more than medical data about me.
“I like you because you’re honest about your feelings and you really are a great American patriot.”
Gates laughed out loud. “You are a great stand-up comedian; I’ll give you that. Go up to Dana Point and scare that clown to death. I’m not afraid of you and I’ve never been afraid of you.”
I nodded at the man, knowingly. That he had to tell me he wasn’t afraid of me, twice, was a ‘tell’ that Gates was unaware of. Men who didn’t experience fear in my presence had no need to mention that word.
Went to New Mexico last spring. A couple of days in Taos satisfied the boss ladies, we stopped at an RV park in Eagles Nest. Our friend that drove us is a NG Iraq War vet and served with a friend camped at the RV park. This fella had close to 30 years service with the National Guard 45th Infantry, retired as a colonel. He told me the biggest disappointment of his life was spending all those years, keeping himself and his unit trained and prepared. Came the chance and his orders were to keep the stateside support functioning. Said he didn’t share that with just anyone, but figured I might understand since I was on the “other end” of that kind of a situation. I believed him.
I understand that, too. I volunteered for Vietnam, for a lot of wrong reasons. A big one was I didn’t want to be like this guy. It was the big deal of our generation and I didn’t want it said that I’d sat it out.
Turns out, that was just one of the foolhardy things I’ve ever done.
Great story, LTee.
Thanks Neil, much appreiciate your experiences thrown in with my own. I went to the New Mexico memorial erected by that lieutenant’s dad in his grief.
It Was something. I went back for the dedication and grand opening. Thanks for the great compliment too.
Semper fi,
Jim
Would have loved to send a two Tweetybird sortie, fully locked and loaded with 5.56mm nose Gatling and two napalm cans….. just to show Mr Gates what could have happened! Best chapter yet LT
Now, now, Joe, we can’t kill all the ‘golfers’ or there’s going to be trouble…to quote a great line from Caddyshack.
Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well Jim, It looks like maybe you should have done some research on the company you were keeping and found out about Gates. I wonder where else this is going to lead!
Leo, I had few tools with which to work. I sure as heck couldn’t run Gates through NCIC or any police system without him knowing.
My contacts at the compound ordered me and sometimes rewarded me but I was never privy to the decision making or effective at getting
explanations for what I was doing.
Semper fi,
Jim
Good writing, Lt. I’ve followed you through the Valley and up to this point. In the ‘Lion’, I think this is the best written chapter. It seems you have a way of making a non-combat Marine feel like he is still a Marine. I have talked with a lot of non-combat soldiers who are almost apologetic for never being in a fight. I tell them not to feel that way, everyone had a job in the Army. As long as they did their time honorably, they should be proud. I’m glad Gates turned out to be a Man.
Thanks for the compliment Rick. Miliary service isn’t generally easy, comfortable or, in so many casing, rewarding. The greates reward for me is
being a Marine and the brotherhood that has developed across the spectrum of this site. Thanks for being one of the the ‘guys.’
Semper fi,
Jim
What great writing! I connect with you – like you and Manning. I get it. Your generosity never surprises me and for us world class predators most people would shit it their drawers if they really knew that side of us. You handled the Gates situation perfectly. When I was nine or ten , there was an eighth grader bullying boys in our class. Never when the nuns could catch him. I asked my mother how to handle a bully. In her soft southern drawl she replied confronting a bully can be challenging. It’s best to stay calm, assertively communicate your feelings, and set boundaries. If the situation doesn’t improve, you must face a physically confrontation which you may lose. The point is not winning but standing up to a bully because they are cowards. A few days later he took our ball while playing in the school yard; I asked him nicely to give it back , he said make me. So i grabbed the ball back, he pushed me to the ground. I was a little third grader , he towered over me. I knew I was going to die. He tried to kick me and I grabbed his foot and he fell hard. He was dazed, I grabbed his head and began to pound it the cement sidewalk.
He was bleeding and he started crying. I continued to pound, Suddenly, I was pulled off him by a nun and told us to play , she would tend to his treatment. Had to send him to the hospital for stiches.
I got summoned to the principal office after school- I knew death was inevitable. Sister and the nun who witnessed told me they knew he was bullying people but had never observed it till that day. She told me she liked my approach of talking, and I did not initiate the fight but I had to fight back. Then the lecture about all violence is wrong is wrong and to pray for forgiveness. I did, but he never bullied us again.
My mother was not happy with my losing control and told me so.
You handled Gates like a Stradivarius.
All my life , people have mistaken me as kind loving man. Too nice I was often told. They rarely saw MY DARK SIDE AND WERE SCARED WHEN IT CAME OUT. I have learned to control it for the most part part occasionally the Marine comes out. You were around a Marine base in 1974, I wasn’t so I told no one about my being a Marine. In those days, even if you served stateside being a Marine made you a baby killer.
Different times. Great writing Jim Thanks for opening me up
As usual, Rich, your work here in commenting is kinda your work in creative writing. I read with great interest, although not in complete agreement, as it should be.
Your own experiences are revealed on here and that’s a great thing, simply because the storage of such emotionally moving stuff is like storing kryptonite or plutonium in the real
world. Thanks so much for putting this all down here.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Thanks for sharing your experiences, Rich.
I can relate so well to:
“All my life , people have mistaken me as kind loving man. Too nice I was often told. They rarely saw MY DARK SIDE AND WERE SCARED WHEN IT CAME OUT”
Well what a surprise that came your way. Question is how did Gates gain access to you medical files and even more information about you. Obviously someone else you’ll have to keep an eye on. Oh well at least you didn’t kill him because if you had you couldn’t write this story. A good chapter LT.
Gates and I went on to become friends, his own feelings about his military service, like Mike Manning’s eventually surfaced and were able to work through them. Through my life, in those places and times that people have known of my combat experience I’ve had a few problems on top of my own PtSD. Many males in our culture do not appreciate veterans who’ve been in the thick of it, sort of like what happened with McCain and all that.Thanks for the penetrating comment and compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Powerful chapter, to be sure. I commend you for your honesty and forth rightful analysis of yourself. There are few of us who give such an honest assessment.
You reacted to Lorraine’s rent statement was the same as if it were I she had commented to. Good people are hard to find, and it behooves us to “support and defend” if we are able.
Another splendidly written, and very thoughtful chapter. I’ll leave the small edits to Dan.
Agent Orange is rapidly increasing it’s toll. Not too sure how much longer I’ll be with you. Life has been a wild and interesting ride.
I am sure sorry about the health thing. Hard to believe that Ive remained so immune to its effects…at least so far. Glad as hell that they added that to VA disability for those not so fortunate. Thanks for the great compliments that you give me, and just how applicable they can be, probably for everyone else reading these as well as me. Tom and Lorraine own a restaurant in Oregon to this day, by the way. Always mean to get there but never do. Without Dan I’d be toast by the way…and guys like you who keep the goals warm on cold nights…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Feeling uneasy…somehow I think you wrote this how you wanted it to be; rather than how I wanted it to go!
As much as I admire and respect you my friend…on this one you are wrong. Gates and I eventually became friends. He resented that “guys like you get all the praise and decorations and guys who do all the work get nothing.” The Corps also turned him down for officer training. Also, killing people for your country can be explainable by most people but killing them because they are either your personal way or doing nasty things isn’t either acceptable or quite right.
Semper fi, my great friend,
Jim
As the plot thickens…… This seems to all coming to a head, and for once you are at the top, You’re quite a man sir!! Your heart seems to have grown ten times bigger since you “came home”. Thank you for the chapter and as I have said before, keep em coming!!!
My pleasure to serve the chapters up Bob, although the editing is a bitch. I do have DanC, however and A.I. is never going to replace what he does for the work. It will also never replace the depth and level of expressed emotion so many of the people righting on this site often and regularly display. Thanks for your very own and the compliments that help keep me going.
Semper fi
Jim
James, All’s well that ends well. That was a surprise.
Some minor editing suggestions follow:
I had to let the affair between Gates and me go
If just the arm=wrestling then “incident” might be better than “affair”
I had to let the incident between Gates and me go
OR If a continuing negative relationship, then maybe “bad blood”
I had to let the bad blood between Gates and me go
My argument against that was simple one of trying to live
Maybe “simply” rather than “simple”
My argument against that was simply one of trying to live
retreat into the spare bedroom stay on the couch located there
Needs something like “and” or “to” before “stay”
retreat into the spare bedroom and stay on the couch located there
Or
retreat into the spare bedroom to stay on the couch located there
I couldn’t sleep was just a part of it.
Maybe begin sentence with “That”
That I couldn’t sleep was just a part of it.”
I wanted his council
“counsel” rather than “council”
I wanted his counsel
half what a new car cost cars cost, wouldn’t be easy to explain
Extra “cars cost” delete
Change remaining “cost” to “costs”
half what a new car costs, wouldn’t be easy to explain
was a different thing on being late or a bit behind
Replace “on” Proper grammar is “from”. “than” sounds better
was a different thing than being late or a bit behind
it would likely already gotten its supply
Maybe add “have” before “already”
it would likely have already gotten its supply
reminded of the expensive and so quality Rolex watches
Replace “so”. Maybe “high”
reminded of the expensive and high quality Rolex watches
nor could have afforded one while in the hospital
Add “I” before “have”
nor could I have afforded one while in the hospital
The Time’s didn’t have home delivery
Drop apostrophe
The Times didn’t have home delivery
like he wasn’t eating at all in the Borgward Isabella by the side of the highway
/Previous chapter had Mike moving into an apartment. I have not looked it up./
“What if he doesn’t say anything at all? I asked.
Close quotes
“What if he doesn’t say anything at all?” I asked.
Your silence is merely the waiting of you to talk
Maybe “for” instead of “of”
Your silence is merely the waiting for you to talk
I got up to leave, knowing that there would be no bill
Immediately followed by: “I stood up to leave.”
Second sentence is repetitive. Drop
so …super breakfast Manning had mostly consumed.
“You know where I am if things go south,”
but sitting in pretty solid position when it came to friends
Maybe add “a” before “pretty”
but sitting in a pretty solid position when it came to friends
Gate’s office was empty
Move apostrophe after “s”
Gates’ office was empty
I decided to wait in Gate’s office
Move apostrophe after “s”
I decided to wait in Gates’ office
as would normally been the case
Add “have” before “been”
as would normally have been the case
/Grammar says have + adverb + verb/
as would have normally been the case
the big broadly and very muscular man said
“broad” instead of “broadly”
the big broad and very muscular man said
believing that the mean was probably heading toward filing
“man” instead of “mean”
believing that the man was probably heading toward filing
nobody had asked my medical questions
“me” instead of “my”
nobody had asked me medical questions
“Well,” he asked, the cigarette between his lips and his hands outstretched
Maybe add “?” after “Well”
Add “with between “and” and “hands”
“Well?,” he asked, the cigarette between his lips and with his hands outstretched
Mutual Life Insurance Police thing,
Add closing quotes after “thing”
Mutual Life Insurance Police thing,”
you really are a great American patriot.
Close quotes.
Might add “I replied.”
you really are a great American patriot,” I replied.
Blessings & Be Well
DanC. You don’t make ‘minor’ suggestions. Your edits are religiously followed and I can’t thank you enough, as I do every week.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Ah, good ol’ Spiro, originator of the saying “Nattering nabobs of negativism.” This is yet another GREAT chapter of a GREAT story.
To my knowledge Spiro never made an appearance at the Western White House so I didn’t get to meet him. It was rumored that he and Nixon had been friends at some point but Nixon, of course, never discussed his personal relationships at all outside the residence.
Thanks for the ‘great’ compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Pat Bowman wouldn’t shoe* up (*show)
Real friends and wanna be fake friends all in the same day, Hmmm…!!!
Still very intriguing happenings going on here and there 🙂
Keep ’em coming James.
Semper Fi
Thanks for the much needed help and adjunct to DanC’s help.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Cliff Hanger, LT, Jim,
A GREAT and uplifting chapter.
–Shedding some light into the darkness…
–has good vibes as things appear to be progressing positively for you…
–some questions getting resolved…
–your wound reopening getting better…
–more people becoming your friends rather than your enemies…
Thanks for feeding my addiction for finding out “the rest of the story”.
I will wait impatiently for my next serving from you.
(I appreciate the photo. I thought the photo of the newspaper headline about Agnew was going to be a part of the dialogue within this chapter)
Thanks a bunch Walter! Means a lot to me, as you know. The times were certainly different back then and I somehow
got placed in a perfect position to participate as well as closely observe and record.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
some typos:
I couldn’t run as I had no
spare bedroom to stay on the couch
Both were sleeping
what a new car cost
Gates presumed himself, and proved
so allow your
I don’t think I am the man you believe I am
sitting in a pretty
wouldn’t show up
the big bodied and very muscular man
that the man
Camel cigarette
Camel
great American patriot.”
Thanks for the help, Matt, and the way your provide it.
Semper fi,
Jim
“but the Chief and Pat Bowman wouldn’t shoe up until nine”. Assume you meant “show”
You are most accurate and correct my friend, and thank you.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, I can’t even imagine how difficult this must be to have to relive this and put it out here. On the flip side of that, I also know how cathartic it can be to share with others. Especially when the others are kinda messed up too. Thanks for allowing us to be a part of this, it’s been a heck of a journey and I for one can’t wait to see where else you’re going to take us. Semper Fi.
When I was fresh home from the hospitals so many years ago working with the material began, but I could only get about 40 pages written before quitting for almost fifty years.
We survive on a sea os deception, much of it self-deception and the truth of some circumsane can bit like hell when and if it comes out.
The more I write of all those circumstances the easier it has become to continue…and because of what happens right here and you are a prt of.
These comments, and I never expected or had seen anything like them, shocked the hell out of me. So many people that cared while all along through the years
I kept from my veteran brothers and sisters because I was afraid or feeling bad about so much of it. Thank you and all those like you who
display a wisdom on this site I am simply amazed at.
Semper fi,
JIm
Wow! Not much more needs to be said. Just wow.
Nice one word compliment. Short but powerful. Thanks!
Semper fi,
Jim
Typos aside, this is probably one of the most powerful chapters I have read of yours and I have been reading them since you landed at DaNang. This kind of wisdom comes with age, we are too full of other stuff when we are younger to realize these truths. Well said, Jim.
A bit of developed wisdom in your comment Michael and much appreciated. Thanks for the great compliment too…
Semper fi,
Jim
Camel, not canal. Good writing from you this time!
Thanks for the help and the neat compliment John…
Semper fi,
Jim
Question- I couldn’t continue my work with the police department without somehow resolving the relationship that had formed between Gates and me. I couldn’t run as I had not place to run to. I couldn’t avoid him.
Should that be ‘no place to run to”
Thanks most kindly for the help in editing Jimmy.
Semper fi,
Jim
Still here hangin’ on ever chapter ..
Couple of points
” I’d have to be gently in handling ” ….maybe ‘gentle’
“Bot where sleeping quietly” …Both
“so allow you resistance”…your
Sure glad you are still with us and hanging on, so to speak…and thanks most sincerely for the editing help.
Semper fi,
Jim
Finally a bit of humor to fill in the gaps? Where are we going next ! Again thank you for keeping us on thhe edge!
Thanks for the compliment Joseph and the encouragement.
Semper fi,
Jim
Give em hell James!!
Yes, I have had one hell of a ride in doing exactly that, Harold.
Thanks for the compliment inherent in your wording.
Semper fi,
Jim