Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (8 page)

DR
.
HADLEY
: Here’s my card. If
you need anything call me. I’ll be right down the hall. I’ll stop
by a couple times a day to check in. For the rest Brian will take
care of you.

CAL
: You’re
staying here too?

DR
.
HADLEY
(grinning): Are you
kidding? Have you had the bread pudding here? If your cousin is
going to employ me I will be happy to take full advantage. Besides,
my place is thirty minutes away and Travis’ instructions were for
me to be immediately available.

CAL
: Thanks
for doing that, Doc.

DR
.
HADLEY
: Don’t thank me.
Thank Travis for paying my enormous bill.

The good looking doctor smiled and left the
room.

Cal turned to Brian.

CAL
: I’ll
bet he’s not even charging us. The good doctor tries to play the
part of the money-hungry surgeon but it’s obvious he enjoys this
cloak and dagger stuff.

BRIAN
:
Yeah, I got the same vibe. Seems like a pretty good guy. You know,
for a doctor.

CAL
:
Yeah.

BRIAN
:
Alright. So now you’re gonna tell me what the hell is place is.
What does your dad’s company do? They must be making
millions!

CAL
: You
want the long or the short version?

BRIAN
:
Where do I have to go? I’m your babysitter, remember?

CAL
: Don’t
remind me. Ok, I’ll start at the beginning.

+ + +

Cal’s father, Calvin Sr., was a rising star
in the Marine Corps during the first Gulf War in the early
nineties. He’d first been commissioned in 1971 just as the Vietnam
War was in full swing. After attending The Basic School, he’d been
shipped first to Okinawa, Japan, and then to Vietnam.

He’d commanded a platoon and earned a Purple
Heart and a Silver Star during his two tours. Cal remembered how
his father had described those times patrolling the paddies and
jungles of Vietnam. It was also where he’d learned the importance
of two things: completing the mission and taking care of your
Marines. It was a lesson he carried on in all aspects of his life
up until the day he died.

Throughout the seventies and eighties, Cal
Sr. moved up through the ranks while at the same time moving his
small family all over the world. There were stints in Camp
Pendleton, Monterey, Okinawa, Camp Lejeune, Nashville for
recruiting duty, and more. Along the way he and Cal’s mother,
Denise, bore a healthy and rambunctious little boy.

Cal had enjoyed his early days on Marine
Corps bases. Living on a military base had its perks: a high level
of security for family, a large number of young children to play
with, good prices for food and a solid school system. It was a life
you could get used to.

Needless to say, over the years Cal Sr. did
more deploying than fathering. That wasn’t to say that he was a bad
father. Actually the opposite was the case. He cherished his time
at home with his wife and son and took full advantage of being on
leave.

As Cal closed in on his teenage years,
tensions increased in the Middle East culminating in Iraq’s
invasion of neighboring Kuwait. He remembered watching the footage
with his mother, both knowing that it was only a matter of time
before Col. Stokes would lead his Marines into battle.

Sure enough, orders were quickly passed down
through the ranks and Cal Sr. headed to war commanding his regiment
of Marines.

Left at home, Cal’s behavior took a nose
dive. In retrospect, Cal understood that the way he’d acted was his
method of dealing with the possibility that his father could die.
First it was talking back in school. Then it was a fight with one
of his classmates. Finally Cal was arrested by the Camp Lejeune
military police when he got caught breaking into the PX at two in
the morning trying to steal cigarettes.

Cal’s mother was devastated. Not only was
her husband at war, her only son was now a criminal.

Word travels fast on Marine bases and this
was no exception. Mrs. Stokes soon received a request by the base
commanding general to come for lunch. The wives of Marine colonels
do not get invited to lunch with generals. If anything it would
have been the general’s wife doing the inviting.

Again, not so in this case. Mrs. Stokes
arrived at the commanding general’s quarters the next day. She was
ushered in by the general’s aide.

General Willard met her at the entrance to
the dining room.

GEN
WILLARD
: Nice to see you again,
Denise.

MRS
STOKES
(demurely): Thank you for
having me.

GEN
WILLARD
: Why don’t we have a seat.
Gunny Fred is about to bring out some club sandwiches. Does that
sound OK?

MRS
.
STOKES
: That would be
fine.

The two moved to the dining room table. The
leaves had all been taken out and what could at times seat twenty
officers and wives now could only seat six diners total.

They both sat down and the food followed
shortly. The general made small talk as they ate. Ten minutes later
they were both finished and Gen. Willard began.

GEN
WILLARD
: Denise, I just wanted to have
you by so I could make sure everything’s going OK at home. I know
how trying it is to have Colonel Stokes overseas. Add to that the
mischief Cal Jr’s been getting in and I know you have your hands
full.

More than anything at that minute Denise
Stokes, a proud southern woman and wife of a Marine colonel, was
embarrassed and frightened. She’d always enjoyed the evenings at
the Officer’s Club mingling with the other wives. This was
something entirely different. To be summoned to the throne room was
unbearable.

MRS
STOKES
: General, I know there’s
nothing that can fix what my son has done. I only ask that he be
given the punishment he deserves and maybe he’ll learn his lesson.
I will say that I have tried my best but sometimes teenage boys
don’t want to listen to their mothers.

GEN
WILLARD
: I appreciate you saying that,
Denise. You do, however, realize that Cal Jr. is part of the Marine
family and as a Marine I have a duty to help.

MRS
STOKES
: I understand.

GEN
WILLARD
: How about I have a little
talk with the boy? Maybe even give him a tour of the local juvenile
detention facility. I know the warden pretty well and he’s always
happy to help me keep our kids on the straight and
narrow.

MRS
STOKES
: If you think that would help,
I’d be much obliged.

GEN
WILLARD
: Consider it done.

He turned to the door and yelled for his
aide.

GEN
WILLARD
: Captain Nelson!

Capt. Nelson walked into the room.

CAPT
NELSON
: Yes, General?

GEN
WILLARD
: Please schedule to have my
driver pick up young Calvin from the Stokes residence tomorrow
morning at 06:00. Bring him to the PT field and then I’ll ride back
with him to the office.

CAPT NELSON
: Yes, sir.

He turned back to Mrs. Stokes.

GEN
WILLARD
: Well then, Denise, please
don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Anything at
all.

MRS
STOKES
: Thank you, Sir.

She sincerely hoped she would never have to
call the General. She picked up her pocketbook and made her way to
the door.

The next morning, right at 06:00, Calvin
Stokes Jr. was waiting with his mother on the front step of their
two-story home. He wore his best Sunday khaki slacks with a white
button-down shirt. His hair was buzz cut as he’d worn it during the
past year and the look of anger and dejection was evident on his
face.

The night before when his mother had arrived
at home, she’d delivered the news. A screaming match ensued ending
with Cal slamming his bedroom door in her face. Temper tantrum or
not, he was ready for the General’s driver at 05:30. He knew the
alternative.

Without an appetite, he waited quietly,
glaring at his mother as she’d casually eaten her own
breakfast.

A government vehicle pulled up at 06:00 and
what looked to be a six foot five Marine sergeant stepped out of
the driver’s seat. He was dressed in firmly creased utilities and
marched smartly to the door.

SGT KRAUS
(in a deep baritone): Mrs. Stokes?

MRS STOKES
:
Yes, Sergeant, I’m Mrs. Stokes.

SGT KRAUS
:
Is the young Mr. Stokes ready to go?

MRS STOKES
:
He sure is, Sergeant. I appreciate you coming out here to get
him.

SGT KRAUS
:
Not at all, ma’ am. You ready to go son?

CAL
(nervously): Yes, Sir.

SGT KRAUS
:
Don’t call me Sir, son. You can call me Sergeant Kraus.

CAL
: Yes,
Sergeant Kraus.

SGT KRAUS
:
Well let’s get going. The General’s waiting.

He walked back to the car and held the back
door open for Cal. Cal slid into the back seat and fastened his
seat belt. Sgt. Kraus waved goodbye to Cal’s mother and walked
around the car into the driver’s seat.

Kraus started the car and they began their
trek. Cal looked back to see his mother still standing on front
step. Too mad and embarrassed to move, he didn’t even wave
back.

The next eight hours were torture for Cal.
Sgt. Kraus picked up the general at the PT field and then took the
pair back to the Headquarters building. The whole way not a word
was spoken to Cal who sat sullen in the back. All his bluster from
the night before had evaporated.

After a stern talking to while standing at
attention in front of the general’s huge desk, he was taken by the
ever-present Sgt. Kraus to the juvenile detention facility just off
base in Jacksonville, NC.

There the warden, stone-faced but cordial,
instructed his staff to get Cal dressed in a prison jumpsuit. He’d
changed into the oversized outfit under the disapproving glare of
two male and one female guard.

Then the warden, followed closely by Sgt.
Kraus and the three prison guards, gave Cal a careful tour of the
entire facility.

Cal saw the looks on the faces of the kids
serving time. Some looked scared. Some looked resigned. Others just
looked like career criminals. By the end of the two hour tour, Cal
knew he never wanted to return.

Although the shock of the prison tour seemed
effective for the short term, Cal soon fell into his old routines.
This go-around, however, he did a better job covering his tracks.
He no longer committed outright mischief; instead he skirted the
rules and bent them to his will.

Even at a young age, Cal excelled in
academics. He’d enjoyed a challenge and far outpaced his
classmates. He now used his mind to mold the rules as he saw fit.
He was never again caught for any overt acts of fighting or
stealing, but he would return home with smoke and beer on his
breath. His mother could never prove it.

His behavior remained poor until Cal’s
father returned from war. The homecoming was more of a relief to
Mrs. Stokes than to Cal. He waited with a mixture of fear and anger
as his parents discussed his fate.

Looking back, Cal knew his disruptive
attitude was a kid’s way of coping with an absent father, but even
in the midst of the turmoil, deep down he knew he’d crossed the
line. That did not, however, mean he would beg for forgiveness. It
wasn’t HIS fault that his father had gone off to war.

Col. Stokes received the news with a strange
calm. He’d already been tipped off by a friend on the Commanding
General’s staff so he knew the majority of Cal’s infractions.
Coming home from his second war, Cal Sr. understood the actions of
young men. When given the chance, they could excel beyond anyone’s
imagination. Left alone without proper guidance, young boys could
just as easily fall on the wrong side of the tracks.

Col. Stokes understood why Cal had
misbehaved. It didn’t make it right, but it was what it was. So
although his star shined bright within the Marine Corps, Col.
Stokes personally delivered his retirement papers to the commander
of Second Marine Division the next day. The general did his best to
set Cal Sr. against his chosen path, but the Marine and more
importantly, the father would not be dissuaded.