The Reunion (21 page)

A
aron opened his eyes, but he could have sworn he was still dreaming.

He normally awoke to the dusty rafters in his storage room at Bentley’s, the pine knotholes from the underside of the roof staring back at him. What his eyes beheld now was more like a palace. He lifted his head and scanned the room, even more amazing in the daylight than what the lamps and chandeliers had revealed last night.

He lay in a king-sized four-poster bed, big enough for three people. A whole living room sat right there inside his bedroom. But that was nothing compared to the even bigger living and dining area just outside his door. This hotel room was as big as a house. A whole family eating Thanksgiving dinner could fit around the dining room table. Dave said it was an antique made of mahogany.

The whole place was decorated for Christmas, but not like the things he set out at Bentley’s. Seemed more like the set of a Hollywood Christmas movie. Not just in this room but in the hotel lobby, even the streets downtown. And it was much colder here than in Florida, but Aaron didn’t mind; made it feel even more Christmassy this way.

He sat up and looked over toward the bathroom door, smiling as he remembered soaking in the whirlpool tub last night. Like nothing he’d ever experienced. Dave had to help him figure it out, but he insisted Aaron had to take a bath in it. Not because he smelled bad. Dave said people took baths in these things just to relax, for no other reason than how it made them feel.

It felt very good.

Dave called this the Governor’s Suite. They were staying at the Four Seasons Hotel on the twentieth floor. Dave stayed in a smaller second bedroom at the other end of the suite. But even that room was bigger and nicer than anything Aaron had ever slept in. Aaron looked over at the clock. Felt like he’d slept till noon, but it was only eight-forty.

He got up, put on the terry-cloth robe that came with the room, took a moment in front of the mirror, raking a brush through his hair, then walked into the next room. Figured they must have a coffeepot somewhere in a place this nice.

“You’re up.” It was Dave, sitting in one of the fancy armchairs in the living room. Looked like he had a Bible open and a nice cup of coffee sitting on an end table beside him.

“You fixed a pot of coffee?”

Dave smiled. “Didn’t have to fix it. In a hotel like this you just call room service. Over there on the counter, there’s a carafe of coffee. They just brought it about twenty minutes ago. I already had breakfast. I didn’t know what you’d want, but there’s a menu right next to the coffeepot. Just mark down anything you like, and I’ll call it in for you.”

“Room service,” Aaron said. Hard to imagine. He’d never had room service. He looked over at the dining room table, a big basket of eats sitting in the middle. All kinds of nice stuff in there. Beef jerky, made right here in Texas, pretzels, cashews and peanuts, little packages of crackers and different cheeses in fancy wrappers, some chocolate bars. Aaron had thought he’d be eating breakfast from what he saw sticking out of that basket. Maybe he should get some nice scrambled eggs and bacon then. As he walked through the room toward the coffeepot, it felt unreal.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Dave was standing by the window now, looking out.

“So high it makes me dizzy.” Aaron poured his coffee.

“Did you read the note John left you last night? It was in that basket on the table. He was very apologetic that he couldn’t meet us when we got in, said he had a bunch of details he had to nail down yesterday. But he said Allan and Paul got in okay, and they can’t wait to see you.”

Aaron couldn’t fathom why. “I’ll give it a look right now.” He took his coffee cup and the menu and sat at the table. He reached over and slid the beige envelope out of the basket and opened it up. Inside was a note and a photograph. He smiled as he looked at it. There they were: Tex, Hammer, and Redman, smiling at the camera. Three old men. Just like him. Hammer—Allan—might even have more wrinkles on his face.

He picked up the note and read:

Dear Aaron,

I’m so glad you agreed to come. Allan, Paul, and I have said it so many times over the years when we’d get together. “Aaron should be here.” I can’t believe the four of us will finally be together again. This will be our best reunion ever. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you. Sounds like Dave’s doing a great job in my place. Hope you enjoy this basket of snacks. It’s the stuff we always munch on at our reunions.

Feel free to hang out at the hotel today, or if you want, Dave can take you around the city, show you the sights. Whatever you do, eat a light lunch. We’ve got a big dinner planned. I’ll meet you and Dave in the lobby around 4:30, then take you up the elevator to meet the others. Thought we’d have more privacy, so I’ve arranged for us to eat in a separate room instead of a restaurant.

So looking forward to this,

John

Dave and Aaron sat on a couch in front of a massive Christmas tree in the hotel lobby. Elvis Presley sang “Blue Christmas” through the house speakers, reminding Dave that Karen had not called him before they’d left for Houston. He’d hoped she might have watched the video he’d made, that it might have softened her heart toward meeting Aaron in Fort Worth after this Houston trip, and that he might still have a chance with her.

It didn’t happen. He was still in exile.

He did a pretty good job blocking such depressing thoughts, most days. If it weren’t for all these depressing Christmas songs on the radio, he might have this situation licked. He looked at his watch; John should be here any moment. “You look real nice in that new suit, Aaron.”

Aaron looked up, attempted a smile.

“You nervous?”

He nodded. “Not sure why. Everyone’s been so nice to me. You especially. I want to thank you for that, Dave, before we meet the others and I forget to say it.”

“You’re welcome. But really, I’ve enjoyed every minute. No reason for you to be nervous. You’re going to like John, I can—” Dave looked up. John had just stepped out of the elevator. “There he is.” Dave stood up; Aaron did too.

John looked around by the tree, saw them both. A big smile came over his face. He walked right to them. As soon as he recognized Aaron, tears welled up in his eyes. He picked up his pace. “Aaron, I can’t believe it. It’s really you.”

Aaron smiled, put out his hand. John took it, used it to draw him into a big Texas hug. He was almost a head taller than Aaron. Dave smiled but nearly laughed out loud at the expression on Aaron’s face. Especially as John’s hug went on a bit long.

John pulled back but now had both hands on Aaron’s shoulders. “Thank you so much for coming all this way. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long.” He let go and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Good to see you too . . . John.” Aaron smiled. “It’s going to be hard calling you and the others by your real names.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John said. “You can call us whatever you like.” He turned to Dave, held out his hand. “You did it, Dave. You brought Aaron to us. I knew you would.”

“Thanks, John.” Dave shook his hand.

John turned back to Aaron, a puzzled look on his face. “Aaron, you’re not wearing your medal.”

“Well, I . . . I uh . . .”

“I’m sorry, John,” Dave said. “I texted you, guess you didn’t get it. Aaron didn’t feel comfortable wearing it around his neck. But he did bring it, right?”

“Got it right here.” Aaron held out the metal box in his left hand.

“Well, look,” John said. “We better get upstairs, the others are waiting for us. Don’t worry about it, Aaron. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Follow me.” He turned and headed back to the elevator. “It’s just on the third floor.”

The three men walked through the lobby then headed up the elevator.

“So what’s for dinner?” Dave said.

“Three choices. All of them good, you ask me,” John said. “A nice filet mignon, broiled lobster tails, or some fancy chicken dish. Can’t remember what just now.” He looked at Aaron. “But Aaron, you can have some of each if you can’t decide.” The elevator door opened. “It’s just down this hallway here, a couple of doors down.”

“You lead the way,” Aaron said.

When they reached the door, John stopped. “Dave, can I have a brief word with you?”

Dave nodded. They walked a few steps away, just out of earshot. “Aaron’s about to get quite a shock in just a moment. I should have mentioned it to you before now. Got so busy I just forgot. You stay close to him tonight, all right?”

“Sure, John . . . I can do that.” Dave had no idea what he was talking about. They walked back and joined Aaron waiting by the door.

“You ready, Aaron?”

“Guess so.”

John put his hand on the door latch. Aaron spoke up. “John, before we go in . . . I just want to say, thanks for all you’ve done for me here. The clothes, the suitcase, the airplane ride. Then this fancy hotel room. I really—”

John looked into Aaron’s eyes, and the tears welled up again. “Aaron, all that? It’s just . . . stuff. I owe you my life.”

T
he door opened.

Before it reached the halfway mark, Dave knew something was up.

He’d expected a room the size of a small suite, but the back wall was at least fifty feet away. On the left, a stage had been set up. Two men in suits were standing on it, off to one side. Two familiar photos shone on a movie screen hanging from the ceiling. On the left was a grainy photo of a young Aaron lying in a field hospital bed. Around the bed, younger versions of John, Allan, and Paul stood in military fatigues. The other picture was of President Nixon draping the Medal of Honor around Aaron’s neck at the White House.

“What is this?” Aaron’s eyes opened wide, trying to process the scene.

“I’m not sure,” Dave whispered. As the door opened the rest of the way, Dave saw that the right side of the room was filled with people sitting at round banquet tables set for a fancy dinner. Like the rest of the hotel, the room was fully decked in Christmas décor. The lights were dimmed over the tables. At first glance, he didn’t recognize a soul. No one said a word.

John led them inside. “Sorry to do this to you, Aaron. This part of the reunion’s a surprise.” He leaned over and whispered, “People wanted to jump up and yell ‘Surprise!’ when you came in, but I told them not to. Wouldn’t do to have our guest of honor drop dead of a heart attack.”

“Who are all these people?” Aaron asked. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else right now.

“I’ll tell you in a minute, Aaron. But first, let’s go up on stage here and see Allan and Paul. Dave, would you join us?”

Dave nodded. They led Aaron up three steps on the side of the stage. The bright lights made it even harder to see the crowd, but Dave noticed they all stood as Aaron reached the center. Dave recognized Allan and Paul from the picture. Both men’s faces were filled with emotion. They rushed toward Aaron then all four men shook hands and patted each others’ backs. Paul pulled Aaron into a bear hug. “I can’t ever thank you enough, Aaron,” he said, tears filling his eyes.

The crowd erupted in applause.

John stood back from the others as the applause continued. He walked up to a microphone and motioned for everyone to let him speak. “Thank you all. You can be seated . . . at least for a few moments.” He turned to Aaron. “We’ve set some chairs over there on the stage for you men. Please have a seat. Aaron, we’d like you to sit on the chair closest to the front, please.”

Dave looked at Aaron, unable to read his face. He seemed a little better, but he had tears in his eyes. He squinted and leaned forward, trying to see the people sitting at the tables.

“I don’t think you know most of the folks sitting out there, Aaron. But they know all about you. Allan, Paul, and I told them who you are. Especially what you did for the three of us that day back in February of 1969, in a muddy creek in South Vietnam. They know what the three of us knew that day . . . it was the day we were supposed to die.”

John paused to regain his composure; a few started to clap again. John lifted one hand to quiet them, wiped the tears from his eyes with the other. “If you all clap every time I say something nice about Aaron, I won’t be able to get through this.” He took a deep breath. “But see, we didn’t die. Bullets were flying not ten inches over our heads. Mortars blowing up all around us. Paul over there—we called him Redman then—was all shot up. We couldn’t move. We just lay there out in the middle of that creek, covering our ears, waiting for the end to come. But . . . it didn’t come.”

There wasn’t a sound in the room.

“In the middle of that nightmarish scene, one man pushed past his fears and rushed in to save us.” He got choked up again, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “Tell you what, I’m just going to let Paul come up here and read what the U.S. government said Aaron did that day.”

John and Paul nodded and exchanged seats. Paul came up to the mic, holding a sheet of paper up with a shaky hand. He looked over his shoulder at the photograph of the four men at the field hospital. “Until this evening, that moment was the last time I saw the man who’d saved my life.” He turned and looked back at Aaron. “Aaron, I was grateful then. But now?” His eyes filled with tears. He wiped his face with the napkin. “I’m so much more than grateful for what you did for me that day. There aren’t . . . there just aren’t words to explain . . .” Paul blinked back a new onset of tears.

He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I’m just going to read this or I won’t make it through.” He held the paper up again. “These are the words from the official citation read aloud the day Aaron Miller was given the Medal of Honor, this nation’s highest award for bravery.”

Dave looked up at the picture of Aaron with Nixon.

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Private Aaron Miller, as part of the 3rd Battalion, 9th Marines, distinguished himself during the defense of Fire Support Base Cunningham. Members of his company were on patrol in the Song Da Krong Valley looking for enemy units that had attacked the base the night before. A firefight erupted in a creek below. The patrol had walked into an ambush. One Marine was instantly killed, three others were cut off from the rest of the patrol, pinned down in the middle of the creek. One of them was seriously wounded. The enemy attack intensified. Hundreds of rounds poured in from well-defended positions. A barrage of mortar attacks began falling into the area with increasing accuracy. Pvt. Miller ran through a hail of machine-gun fire toward his three brothers-in-arms. He was knocked down and wounded by a mortar round, got up, and began firing a grenade launcher with great effect at the enemy positions. More enemy mortars fell, exploding within a few yards of Pvt. Miller’s position. Disregarding his personal injuries, he made a one-man frontal assault, fully exposing himself to enemy fire, launching additional grenades which effectively silenced the enemy mortar units. Inspired by his courage, the entire patrol rushed forward, pouring effective fire into the enemy’s positions, causing them to fall back in full retreat. During this second assault, Pvt. Miller was shot in the abdomen. Ignoring this, he tended the wounds of a fellow Marine until relieved by a medic. Then he collapsed from his wounds. Pvt. Miller’s gallantry and extraordinary heroism are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the United States Marine Corps.

Paul dropped the hand holding the paper to his side. “I am here, alive and well, forty years after the events I’ve just described, because of this man, Aaron Miller.” He pointed toward Aaron, then looked back at the crowd. “I was that wounded soldier lying facedown in the creek that day. The one Aaron rushed out to save. But my wounds weren’t half as bad as the ones he sustained while coming to my rescue.” His voice began to crack and shake. “I was . . . so afraid. But Aaron came. Everyone else in the patrol froze, but Aaron came. Even after he was knocked down by a mortar round and received over a dozen shrapnel wounds, still he came.” Paul wiped the tears from his face. “Who does that?”

The words were so powerfully spoken, but no one even thought to clap or make a sound. Dave had experienced this before while interviewing a number of vets. But never in a crowd this size. Someone would say something, describe some moment in battle, and suddenly it was as if you were standing on holy ground. Dave felt it strongly right now. So did everyone.

Paul backed away from the microphone. Allan stood up, and they exchanged seats. Allan came to the microphone. He looked back at Aaron. “Aaron, would you stand next to me? I want to introduce you to someone. Well, to a lot of people.”

After Aaron came up, John and Paul stood and walked toward him. Dave got up last and stood behind them. He looked out toward the crowd. He still couldn’t see anyone’s face clearly beyond the bright lights.

“Could we lower the lights up here,” Allan said, “and bring up the lights over the tables? I want Aaron to see everyone’s faces when I tell him who you all are.” Allan turned to Aaron. “Aaron, these are our wives, our sons and daughters, their spouses, and our eighteen grandchildren. They drove and flew here from all over the country for one reason. To thank you. They know, and we know . . . none of them would be here if it weren’t for you. And none of us . . .” Allan started to lose it. “Tex, Redman, and I would not be here. We wouldn’t have lived the lives we’ve enjoyed these last forty years apart from the sacrifice you made for us that day in that bloody creek. Jesus said, ‘Greater love hath no man than he lay down his life for his friends.’ That’s who you were, what you did for us that day. But the three of us know, we weren’t friends to you.”

Allan wiped his eyes. “The truth is, we treated you pretty badly sometimes. But still . . . you came. In the moment that mattered most, you treated us as friends.” He put his right arm on Aaron’s shoulder and just cried.

John once again came forward. “Aaron . . . Allan, Paul, and I wish we could have been there the day the president gave you the Congressional Medal of Honor. But that didn’t happen. So, with your permission, would you grant us the great honor of placing the medal where it rightly belongs?” As John spoke, Dave stepped forward and presented John with Aaron’s little metal box.

Aaron’s eyes filled with tears again. He nodded, then looked down toward the stage floor. The three men gathered around him. Aaron lifted his head, allowing John to place the medal around his neck. As soon as he’d finished, John, Allan, and Paul instantly stood at attention and saluted. The whole room erupted into applause. Aaron’s eyes moved back and forth throughout the room, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Dave looked over the crowd and noticed many were crying too. Then he saw something that took his breath away. At the very last table, in the farthest corner of the room. It was Karen, standing, wiping her tears with a linen napkin. His heart instantly began beating fast.

A man about her age stood next to her, arm around her shoulders, crying. Had to be her brother Steve. He was holding a woman’s hand; Dave figured his wife, Aileen. Beside her, a young Marine stood ramrod straight in full dress blues.

She came. Karen came.

He looked at Aaron, who was crying, trying to take in all this attention. But it was clear to Dave, he had no idea who they were.

Dave’s heart broke. He could see nothing more through his own tears.