Charles and Titus didn’t stay friends, and his sister did move to Seattle. The world of martial arts opened up a world of friends, mentors, and competitors that gave Titus confidence, self-reliance, and allowed his natural charm to flourish.
His senior year he was voted Most Likely to Get the Girl. Titus found this a strange designation since he didn’t have a girlfriend and still hadn’t been on a date. His grades were solid. He didn’t apply for any colleges or take the S.A.T.s in the spring.
His mother’s mental state made living with her a struggle that often led to arguments and her hurling objects across the room. Titus installed a deadbolt on his bedroom door in a failed attempt to get a little peace. Headphones almost kept the pounding of his mother’s fists on the door from his head when he tried to study.
“You need to fight the Prince of the Air! Repent!” was a recurring theme of her rants brought on by the slightest comment Titus made in innocence. Another of her favorite rants would begin when he would return home from a martial arts class and try putting his white karate gi pants and jacket into the washing machine. “You study the way of the heathen! It is a cult that teaches violence. Repent from this godless Asian philosophy!”
At times Titus pushed her away in order to slam and lock the door. These were times of great despair and anger for the young man. More than once Titus crawled out the window to go to school in the morning without having to face his mother’s interrogation.
His cries of “Why do you have to be this way!” yelled at the door fell unheard under the mad rantings of his mother. “Just leave me alone.”
Two days after his eighteenth birthday on a bright spring morning, a handsome young soldier and an older man in crisp khaki uniforms visited Titus’ Civics class. It was no secret they were there to recruit young men, and girls as a politically correct afterthought, for the United States Army.
“I am a proud graduate of West Valley High,” The younger man began. “I knew I wasn’t cut out for college, but I wanted to do something with my life. Something important. I’ll admit I was a cocky SOB when I left here. Can I say that?” The class erupted in laughter. “The Army took care of that, in a good way. That was four years ago. Since then I have learned a trade. I am a first-rate welder and fabricator. If it’s metal and broke I can fix it. When I get out, if and when I decide to, I’ll be able to get a top paying job just about anywhere I want.”
“What Perry is saying, is there is a place for you in the Army. Next week we will be giving The Armed Services Classification Tests, the ASVAB. You may have heard of it. I think some of you here took it last year. It is a way to determine what job you are cut out for. It helps you recognize your skills, aptitude, and interests. We, in turn, take the information and help guide you into a fulfilling military career. Even if you’re not interested in the Army, which I can’t imagine”, the class chuckled, “We will share the data with the branch of service you are interested in. Perry and I will be on campus all day in the counseling office if you want to sign up or have any questions. Thank you, Mr. Powell, and thank you class for your patience.” With that, the two men left the room.
The class fell into a loud chatter. Some smart remarks and anti-military comments could be heard, but Mr. Powell soon brought the focus back around to the lesson for the day. Titus didn’t hear a word of the lesson. His mind raced with the possibility of escape. College was so ingrained in him and his classmates from day one the idea of the military never entered his mind. The comments and stories of his karate instructors about their lives in the military were like some distant adventure, not so far removed from the Three Musketeers, Beau Geste, or Lawrence of Arabia he read in his beloved classics.
Faraway lands, battles, strange people, food, and customs were the stuff of myth and legend, not what happened to people like him. When the bell rang, shaking Titus from his thoughts, he asked Mr. Powell for a pass to the counseling office.
“They kill people you know,” The teacher said under his breath handing him the slip of goldenrod paper.
“Sorry?” Titus asked.
“The army, I don’t invite them here, I am made to. I don’t want my students to become fodder for their mindless wars over oil,” The teacher replied louder and more indignantly.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Titus replied, looking down at the paper.
At a small table in the rear of the counseling office common area sat the two soldiers. Mrs. Silveria saw Titus arrive and motioned him into her office.
“I’ll print you a copy of your transcript,” she offered.
“Not yet,” Titus replied.
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure about this. Mr. Powell was angry I was coming over. What’s he know that I don’t?”
The counselor laughed, “Oh, Titus, he’s an old school anti-war UC Berkeley guy. He shouldn’t have said anything. You listen, think about what they say, and decide for yourself. It isn’t for everyone. But, for some, it is a way to find direction. If you want to go to college later, they pay for it. Kind of a win, win.” The counselor stood silent for a long moment. “How is your mom doing?”
“She’s mom.” Titus smiled and shrugged.
“This may be a solution to a problem that has very few.”
“Is that a coward’s way out?”
“Cowards don’t join the army, sweetheart. I believe in you, Titus Crow, you just remember that whatever you decide.” The counselor stepped forward and gave the young man she spent four years watching grow beyond his years a big hug. “You’re a winner, Titus.”
An unfamiliar lump came up in Titus’ throat. He swallowed hard and softly said, “Thank you. For everything.”
As Titus approached the table the two men looked up from their conversation.
“Have a seat,” The older of the two said.
“I’ll stand if you don’t mind,” Titus said. “I just have a couple of questions.”
“Shoot,” Perry said with a big grin. “Army joke.”
“How high do you have to get on the test to get a really good job?” Titus looked the older man straight in the eyes. “No offense, but I don’t want to be a welder.” Titus glanced at Perry before he continued. “What are important jobs in the Army? How do you get to be an officer?”
“Well,” the old recruiter was a bit taken aback by the young man’s directness. “To be an officer you need education, expertise in your field, and recommendations of those above you. As to important jobs, leaders always find the higher ground. It all depends on what you are good at or what really gets your juices flowing.”
“So, you always wanted to be a welder? Did you always want to be a recruiter?”
“I didn’t know what I wanted.” Perry broke in. “I had some real crap jobs, then I was assigned cleanup crew in the machine shop. I liked the smell of the place, the stuff they made and asked to be trained.”
“I got injured in a transport accident. I’m giving back by being a recruiter until I retire in two years. Light duty, you see?”
“Yeah, I see. So, this ABSCAM test.”
“ASVAB.”
“ASVAB, it points you where you should go?”
“Most of the time. It’s a pretty good indicator of your skills, intelligence, and aptitude. So, yeah.”
“And from that, you’re assigned a job, or training or something?” Titus pressed.
“Most of the time,” Perry said.
“Yes.” The older man said a little too forcefully.
“Which is it? I don’t want to get put somewhere I’ll hate.” Titus didn’t like the two men much and trusted them even less.
“Well, sometimes there isn’t room where you would like to be. So, you are assigned another duty,” Perry explained, trying to put a positive spin on things. “It’s all good. You’ll see.”
“Sounds like an awfully big gamble. If I don’t like it can I quit? I mean if you tell me I can train as something and there’s no room?”
“It’s not our call.�
� The older man shot Perry a dirty look. “Look, take the test first. We might not even need your skillset, who knows. Then decide.”
“Is this the sign-up list?” Titus pointed to a clipboard on the table.
“That’s it.”
Titus spun the paper around. Saturday 8:00 am Library was scrawled across the top of a sheet of copy paper. Two names were already ahead of Titus. Topher Emanuel, a stoner in his math class, and Shareesa White, a quiet girl from Civics. Titus signed the paper.
“There you go. See you Saturday,” Perry said.
Without a response, Titus turned and started for the door. “Smartass,” He heard the older man say behind his back. Titus turned and waved.
Several times before Saturday Titus looked up ASVAB on the internet. The information wasn’t what he hoped. Somehow, he thought there would be a flashing light, a lightning bolt, or a sign telling him what to do one way or the other. It is just a test he thought, just like the State testing we do every year.
For the first time in a long while, Titus thought about his father. He needed a father. He needed someone to talk to, someone who would know him and help guide him. His Senseis from Karate were strong male role models, but they were all about discipline, technique, and performance. None really knew him, or it seemed, cared to. He never felt so alone. As much as he rejected his mother’s crazed religious views, and terrifying visions of The Almighty, Titus even found himself praying. After several attempts, he decided there was no one above his ceiling listening, let alone answering. Friday night, late in the evening he found himself face down sobbing into his pillow.
“I am the only one who can save me.” He screamed into the pillow. “I will do it! I don’t need anyone!”
Puffy-eyed and exhausted, Titus arrived at the test. He was hungry. Not wanting to wake his mother and have to explain where he was going, he left without breakfast or a shower. A long drink from the fountain outside the library cooled his mouth and he splashed his face trying to clear his foggy head.
The test, it turned out, was far less complicated and frightening than he thought. The reading, word problems, and evaluation of information were almost silly to Titus, it was so simple. The technical portion was not one of his strengths but even it has words so simple he was able to choose answers to the multiple-choice questions he was confident were correct.
As he looked around when he finished, he realized he was first to complete the test. He didn’t want to be the first to hand in his test. He sat for the better part of a half-hour and still no one stood to turn in the test. Finally, he stood and made his way to the front.
The older recruiter wasn’t there. Perry and a small dark woman not in uniform sat at the front table.
“You finished over a half-hour ago. Why didn’t you come up with your test?” The woman asked.
“I don’t know.” Titus shrugged.
“I think you do.” Her words signaled her demand for an answer.
“I didn’t want to be first to finish.”
“But you were. Never lie to yourself or hold back. Leaders are always first. Don’t forget it.”
As Titus looked down at the woman, he saw she bore insignias much more important looking than either of the recruiters.
“I’m Titus Crow.” He extended his hand to the woman.
“Lieutenant Mary Huon. I will remember you. I hope you did well.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Nice to see you again.” Perry offered, but Titus still was looking at Lieutenant Huon.
He found himself wanting to talk to her away from the library. She would tell him the truth. He saw it in her slightly almond eyes. He sensed it in her demeanor. Titus left the library without another word.
Senior Ditch day was a non-event in Titus’ world. Although he was encouraged by a group of friends to go to the lake, he chose instead to work out at his dojo. Since the ASVAB test, he walked around like he swallowed a baseball. He hoped the workout would calm his anxiety. He sparred, with two students and his instructor. The time of the student equaling and possibly surpassing his master arrived unnoticed by Titus until he found himself standing over his shocked Sensei. Titus Crow would soon graduate in more ways than one.
For several days his mother was calm and almost normal. Twice the pair ate breakfast and dinner together. She dutifully cleaned up, washed the dishes, and planned for the evening meal. Breakfast began nicely enough. Then the bomb went off again.
“Mom,” the conversation began, “I have something I want to talk to you about.”
Miriam Crow looked up with a blank otherworldly stare. Titus wasn’t sure he should go on. He tried in vain to think of something else to talk about. She was slipping away again.
“Graduation is in two weeks. Would you like to go?”
“I didn’t graduate you know. School isn’t for girls. Isn’t necessary. Girls have babies and cook.”
“I’m graduating. It would be nice if you were there.”
“Liar!” Miriam screamed. “You are ashamed of me! You hated the babies, my girls!”
“That’s not true. I just wondered if you would like to see me graduate, that’s all.”
“What for? You’re going to hell. No matter how smart you think you are. You have been given over to Satan, you, and your Oriental gods.”
At that moment Titus Crow knew no matter what, no matter the score on the ASVAB, he would join the Army. He would join and ask to be sent as far away as possible. If he didn’t, he would go insane right along with the crazy woman sitting across the table. He was done, he could take no more.
The time of togetherness ended with the crashing of the table, broken dishes, and food thrown about the kitchen. Titus no longer used the front door. He climbed in and out of his window. He ate at school. Until now he was embarrassed about getting free lunch. He no longer cared. He got cinnamon rolls and milk for breakfast and always managed to get extra sandwiches, cookies, and fruit at lunch to eat later. He checked the mail after school as quietly as possible each day before circling round to his bedroom window.
Three days before graduation, a letter came from the United States Army. It read in part:
Congratulations on your excellent scores, on verbal skills and problem-solving… I would like to meet with you personally to discuss a future in Army Intelligence.
The letter went on to describe three sections of the Intel Division of the Army.
All-Source Intelligence: collection management/surveillance/reconnaissance and analysis of data.
Counterintelligence: Coordination and participation in counterintelligence and investigations, operations.
Human intelligence: Controlled collection operations and interviews of enemy combatants.
It is the belief of this department and myself you would be an excellent candidate for inclusion in the Intelligence Community.
Sincerely,
Mary J. Huon
Lieutenant Advanced Recruitment and Placement
United States Army
Titus stood reading and re-reading portions of the letter over and over again. He ran his fingertips over the signature and phone number. He must call. It was three-twenty, she would still be in her office. He moved quietly to his bedroom door and listened. Nothing, not a sound. Unlocking the door, Titus opened it ever so gently and listened again. Silence. He slipped from the room, and down the hall. From his mother’s room, he heard the sound of her soft snoring. He picked the handset of the cordless phone from its cradle and returned to his room. For a long moment, he stood listening, then bolted the door.
“Lieutenant Huon, please,” he said, facing the window screen.
“Huon.”
“Lieutenant, this is Titus Crow. I received your letter.”
“You are a very special young man,” the woman began. “You had remarkable scores on the ASVAB. I would like to talk to you about taking some additional tests. Would you be interested?”
“Yes, ma’am. Today?”
Mary H
uon laughed appreciatively. “No Titus, how about next week?”
“I am available sooner, Lieutenant. I would really like to get things going.”
“Alright then, you be at my office at two-thirty after school tomorrow.”
“We get out at twelve-thirty tomorrow. Senior stuff. I can be there by one. Would that be OK?”
“Young man, you are persistent, I can say that for you. One it is. See you tomorrow.”
The plan was set. If the Army wanted him, he would do whatever necessary to become a soldier. As he rolled and tumbled that night, he thought of the possibility of being killed. Could it really be any worse than the pounding on his door? His mother was on a tear, screaming, crying, and hitting his door with her fists. He avoided all contact with her. The least little thing set her off and his emotions were like static electricity just below his skin. Titus noticed a trembling in his hand two days before in chemistry class as he tried to pour fluid from one beaker to another. She was wearing him down.
The next morning after Civics, Jacquie Jepson approached him in the hallway. She was pretty, sweet and Titus was infatuated with her. He nearly started to cry as she made small talk. He feared she could hear his nerves crackle through him. Titus desperately wanted to ask her out. She wanted him to be her date to the Senior Last Dance. He made a thin excuse about leaving something in English class and turned away. He wiped tears from his cheeks as he made a dash for the staircase. This had to stop! He was going crazy, he knew it. There was only one route of escape, the army.
CHAPTER THREE
First Lieutenant Titus Crow left Army intelligence with a Special Access Program designation, the highest level of security clearances. In his last two years, he served as an investigator for Defense Security Service analyzing potential high-security clearance candidates.
Titus took to investigative intelligence with a passion and a natural affinity for the analysis of critical security data. It was apparent his aptitude for reading between the lines, interrogation, and applying logic to data was something of a gift. His hunches, if you can call them that, were beyond an educated guess. He quickly earned the nickname Sherlock from his colleagues.
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