The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  “So, Utah has grown on you it seems,” Teresa said, continuing her subtle probing into the details of Seby’s life.

  “As New York seems to have favored you,” he smiled in return. “Do you find it agreeable, living a public life?”

  Teresa laughed out loud. “It’s not as glamorous as it seems. This crowd can turn on you in a moment, and in the next evening edition of the New York Times, your fall from grace will be headline news. It’s a very fickle business, Seby. Better you depend on the cows.”

  “There is a certain sameness to cattle,” he said, shifting down and passing a slow-moving truck. “All in all, though, surely you must be pleased with what’s happening—with regard to your career, I mean.”

  Teresa brightened considerably, turning in her seat to face him. “Seby, it’s the most exciting place I’ve ever been.”

  “Really?” Seby said.

  “Well, there are some rather pretentious people of course, onstage all the time would be an apt description.”

  “Phony, you mean?”

  “Exactly. Compared to my dad, for instance. He usually comes straight out and says what he’s thinking. Momma says he would be better off thinking less or talking less.” Teresa laughed again. “But I always know where I stand with my dad, and so do those people who deal with him. Here, in the theater I mean, with some people, I never know what ­they’re really thinking. What they expect. It’s all so ... so, calculated. But the others, goodness, Seby, I’ve met the governor, the mayor of New York, members of the president’s cabinet—it’s a whole new world.”

  “And?” he asked, quickly glancing at her and smiling.

  She smiled back. “Well, it ­isn’t all fun,” she admitted.

  “Then why do you stay?” Seby asked straight out, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

  “Sort of like my father, aren’t you? Right to the heart of the matter,” Teresa said.

  “I admire your father, Tess. He is an honest man and a banker. The two roles are not always compatible.”

  Teresa just nodded her head, and they rode in silence for several minutes.

  “I don’t know why I stay, Seby,” Teresa finally answered. “It certainly ­isn’t like Utah. I think you know that Dad made certain we were all financially secure, so I’m not struggling to earn my living. I do enjoy the challenge, perhaps the struggle even, to achieve something. Playing to the audience is ... kind of a fulfillment of sorts, and I know the thrill of it all is growing on me,” she said, her voice now softer as she looked out the open car window at the passing countryside. “They say it gets in your blood, but as I said, it’s not ... uh, Utah.”

  “And that means ... what?” he asked, giving her a quick smile.

  She looked over at him, suddenly aware that he had successfully turned the conversation to an exploration of her.

  “It means, Mr. Stromberg,” she said, sitting up straight and folding her hands properly in her lap, “that I’m hungry, and before I sit down to listen to several hundred names called out for graduation honors, I need something to eat.”

  “And in that, Señorita Callahan....” he said, having gained more insight into Teresa Callahan than she had intended, and having affirmed that she had matured considerably since their last meeting a little less than two years before “...we are in agreement. Next stop—food!”

  Chapter 3

  Over three hundred midshipmen were seated in ranks on the open parade ground at the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. In the guest seats, Katrina and Teresa sat side-by-side, between Tom and Seby. Hundreds of other parents, relatives, and well-wishers filled the seats above and behind the graduates, who were seated in front of the temporary raised dais that had been built on the parade ground.

  Tommy sat among his classmates, outfitted in dress whites, his mind racing with the excitement of the moment. As Admiral Wallace Kensington completed his opening address and began to introduce the keynote speaker, Tommy flashed back in his mind to a similar ceremony. Some six years earlier, he, along with Frank Borello and nearly two hundred recruits, had graduated from the Marine Corps Recruit Training Facility at Parris Island, South Carolina. With the horrible events he had experienced in World War I intervening, it seemed almost a lifetime ago.

  Now, as then, the keynote speaker was Edwin Denby. Formerly a United States congressman, Mr. Denby now served in President Warren G. Harding’s cabinet as secretary of the navy. Denby rose to speak amid polite applause. Vaguely listening to the speaker, Tommy thought again of Borello and the ultimate sacrifice his friend had made—a sacrifice made in the trenches in France that had saved Tommy’s life.

  In recognition of that friendship, Tommy had also sent an invitation to his graduation to Mr. and Mrs. Frank Borello in Staten Island, New York. Almost immediately after he posted the invitation, he had wished he hadn’t done it, thinking that it would only open old wounds and renew their sorrow at the loss of their only son. They had not responded, and Tommy had not seen them among the guests prior to commencement of the ceremonies.

  Most of Secretary Denby’s remarks were lost amid Tommy’s rambling thoughts, but then a phrase about the current insurgency in Haiti and the Dominican Republic caught Tommy’s ear. He instantly riveted his attention to Denby and listened closely. Three days earlier, when initial postings had been received by the graduating class, 2d Lieutenant Thomas M. Callahan III, had received his orders assigning him to the Second Brigade, 4th Marine Regiment, presently serving in the Dominican Republic.

  Through several shifting policy decisions by U.S. presidents, the U.S. Marines had been stationed in Haiti and the Dominican Republic for well over a decade. It was President Harding’s decision to keep marines in the beleaguered nations, where they were serving as policemen, rather than front-line troops, a function vehemently opposed by marine commandant General John Lejeune. Supported by the State Department, Lejeune’s position was that the Marine Corps was intended to be a fighting unit and should not be involved in a host of civil and political responsibilities in faltering nations. But he had been unable to change the mission assignment, and more marines had been assigned to police duties in the troubled Caribbean West Indies nations.

  Enthusiasm over such a controversial posting was hard to come by, and Tommy was not thrilled at the prospect of becoming a policeman. Some of Tommy’s classmates had also been assigned to Central American nations, such as Nicaragua, where rebels under the command of General Augusto Sandino were running rampant over Nicaraguan government troops. Lacking a clear-cut foreign policy, three successive U.S. presidents had followed a somewhat nebulous practice of somehow making a stand in defense of these weak nations. Marines had been put in harm’s way, and some had been called upon to pay the ultimate price.

  It seemed, Secretary Denby said as he concluded his remarks, that the United States was destined to intervene in other nations’ politics whenever it was deemed necessary to sustain and support democratic governments in the Western Hemisphere. The Monroe Doctrine, Denby added, provided great latitude for the president to act in situations that threatened peaceful coexistence with our neighbors.

  Denby took his seat to a polite round of applause, and Admiral Kensington once again took the podium. In a prearranged movement, the Class of 1923 stood. The first two rows executed a smart right face and began to file out of their seats toward the dais. When both rows of midshipmen were aligned, the admiral nodded toward a navy commander standing at a separate microphone off to the side of the stage, near the first graduate in line.

  “Midshipman Michael James Adamson,” the parade ground speakers boomed.

  A round of applause greeted the young man as he adroitly mounted the podium and accepted his rolled parchment from a naval captain standing next to the commander reading the names. Adamson executed a smart salute, turned to his left and took two steps, saluted Admiral Kensington, shook his hand, and then departed the far side of the stage. The procession of graduating midshipmen continued in this man
ner until all graduates had crossed the stage and filed back into their seats. As the last midshipman in the last row reached his place, on signal, the Class of 1923 took their seats. Admiral Kensington remained behind the podium.

  “Mr. Secretary,” he said, gesturing toward Secretary Denby, “honored guests and ladies and gentlemen. It is my honor to present to you the United States Naval Academy Class of 1923.”

  In one swift movement, the midshipmen once again came to their feet.

  “Gentlemen,” the admiral said, pausing momentarily and looking over the new naval and Marine Corps officers assembled before him, “welcome to the United States Naval Service.”

  The air was instantly filled with a flurry of white hats as the young men threw their service caps high into the air, shouting and beginning to hug one another. In the guest stands, Tom, Katrina, Seby, and Teresa also stood among the hundreds of guests and proud parents as they too, applauded the scene below. Teresa clung to Seby’s arm, and he noticed the tears running down her cheek.

  “Proud of your brother?” Seby said amid the tumult as he smiled at Teresa.

  “Oh yes,” she responded, beaming.

  “What say we go find him,” Tom said, leaning over Katrina to allow Seby and Teresa to hear him.

  Families and friends mingled with their loved ones as the foursome wound their way through the throng. They finally spotted Tommy as he stood talking with a man and a woman Tom didn’t recognize. As they approached, Tommy’s face brightened, and he turned to give his mother a quick hug.

  “Mom, Pop, these are Frank’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Borello from New York. Pop, Mr. Borello is Lieutenant Borello’s father—you know, the friend I wrote you about from France,” he said, hoping his father would remember.

  “Of course,” Tom said, extending his hand to the other gentleman. “My son has told us about your son many times, Mr. Borello. I’m in your debt, sir.”

  Borello smiled briefly and shook Tom’s hand. “You, too, should be proud of your son, sir,” he said.

  “Oh, we are,” Katrina responded. “And grateful to you,” she said, reaching for Mrs. Borello’s hand. Katrina pressed her cheek against that of Mrs. Borello in a gesture of appreciation. As she had leaned toward the other woman, Katrina had seen the glistening in her eyes and held her for just a moment as the two women shared an embrace.

  “Well,” Mr. Borello said, breaking the silence, “this is a fine day, Tommy. My Frankie would have been very proud of you.”

  “Thank you, sir. Would you consider pinning on one of my bars, Mr. Borello?”

  Borello stood silent for a moment, aware of the tradition involved in Tommy’s request. His wife slipped her arm into his and leaned into her husband, smiling up at him. The little clutch of people stood quietly as the older man contemplated Tommy’s request.

  “Son,” Borello said, “it would be my honor.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Tommy said, handing one small gold lieutenant’s bar to Mr. Borello and another to his father. Tommy gestured to the position on his right shoulder epaulet where the bar was to be positioned, and Tom pinned it in place. After that, Mr. Borello repeated the action on Tommy’s left shoulder and then shook his hand.

  “Mr. Borello, I know this is a hard occasion for you, sir. But I’d like you to know that I will honor the memory of your son throughout my career with the marines. He was, and always will be, my friend.”

  “And you were his, son. You were his.” Borello turned to Tom and Katrina, reaching for Tom’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Callahan. It was a pleasure to meet you and the missus. We both have reason to be proud of our sons, don’t we?”

  “Aye, that we do, sir,” Tom replied. “Indeed we do.”

  The four members of Tommy’s family, plus Seby, watched as the Borellos threaded their way through the throng of well-wishers and graduates, disappearing into the crowd. As soon as they were gone, Teresa stepped forward and threw her arms around her twin brother.

  “I’m proud of you too, old man,” she laughed.

  Seby raised his eyebrows, which Tommy saw over her shoulder as he returned her hug.

  “Don’t let it concern you, Seby,” he laughed. “She has this thing about our birth dates.”

  “It’s nothing, Lieutenant Callahan. You were born in the last century. It’s as simple as that,” Teresa laughed. “Seby,” Teresa said with mock sincerity, “while I am certainly proud of my older brother, he has always had this old-man mentality. It’s been difficult for me to understand his old-fashioned ways. After all he is a product of the nineteenth century.”

  “Whereas ...” Tommy started to say.

  “Whereas, I, on the other hand, am a thoroughly modern product of the twentieth century.”

  Seby smiled at brother and sister, standing arm in arm, and then he looked at Tom and Katrina, who were also smiling.

  Tom held up both his hands. “I told you when we first met, Seby,” Tom said, stifling a laugh, “that this family has its own problems.”

  “Yes, Señor,” Seby replied, “as I recall, you did. But Señorita,” he continued, looking toward Teresa, “my grandfather, Don Sebastian, and my grandfather Stromberg both taught me an appreciation for the old ways. Perhaps I can learn from both you and Lieutenant Callahan.”

  “Well,” Teresa said, “I see that you could easily work for Uncle Anders—Congressman Hansen I mean.”

  “Enough,” Tom intervened. “Are you free now, Tommy? Are we able to go eat somewhere?”

  “I am, Pop, and we can. Just let me meet a couple of my classmate’s parents. And I’d like you to meet some of them as well. There are some very influential families here today. You’d be surprised at the well-known families who send their sons to Annapolis.”

  “Lead on, Lieutenant Callahan,” Tom said.

  Throughout the parade ground the graduation scene was being repeated as hundreds of midshipmen were being pinned by parents, girlfriends, and former marine or naval officers who were family members. Tommy’s small group wound its way through the people, stopping several times as Tommy introduced his parents to classmates and their families. Finally, they made their way to the hotel where Tom and Katrina had been staying for the past couple of days. A private dinner in the hotel dining room that evening provided congenial conversation and a chance for Tommy to learn a bit more about Seby’s ranch in Utah.

  “Six thousand head?” Tommy exclaimed.

  “Yes,” Seby nodded. “And I have a shipment of thoroughbred racing stock enroute from New Zealand,” he smiled. “Courtesy of PJ. He tells me the finest race horses in the world come from a little town called Geraldine.”

  Tommy looked toward his father and Tom nodded. “PJ’s raising race horses as well as cattle and sheep. He’s become quite the land baron,” Tom laughed.

  “Tommy,” Katrina interjected, “this Dominican Republic thing. Is it safe?”

  Tommy caught the quick look from his father. “Of course it is, Mom,” he nodded. “The 2d Brigade is actually serving as a police unit, and from what I’ve learned this past week, I’ll probably be involved in training new policemen from among the local citizenry.”

  “A waste of our military forces, if you ask me,” Tom said.

  “I agree, Pop, but we go where ­we’re assigned.”

  “You could still come into the bank,” Tom said.

  “Pop, we’ve ...”

  “I know, Tommy,” he smiled, “I just wanted you to know I still think about it.”

  “One day, Pop, perhaps,” he smiled at his father. “So, Seby, are you going back to New York?”

  “I’ll take Teresa home tomorrow, Tommy. Then I’ll fly back to Utah.”

  “Fly?” Teresa asked, surprise in her voice. “Did you fly out on one of the new airplane services?”

  “Ah, no, Señorita. I flew my own plane.”

  “Your plane?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Sí.”

  Tommy smiled. “You see, Tess, Seby respects the old ways, but pr
actices the new methods, it seems.”

  “My, my, Mr. Stromberg,” Teresa exhaled, “I’m impressed, and a bit in awe,” she laughed.

  “There’s no need, Señorita. It’s becoming more common these days. Perhaps you’d permit me take you up some time.”

  Teresa looked at her brother, who was smiling broadly at what amounted to a challenge from Seby.

  “I’m not that modern, Seby. That’ll take some convincing.”

  “And how about you, Tommy?” Seby asked.

  “Is it safe?” Katrina interjected.

  “The plane is very well constructed,” Seby said.

  Tommy sat for a moment, thinking. “If that’s an offer, Seby, I accept. I don’t have to report to my assignment till the first of August. And I’ve thought about the possibility of going back to Utah for a bit. It’s been, what, nearly six years since I was home. Pop, what are your and Mom’s plans?”

  “Up to New York for a few days, Tommy, to see Tess’s play and then back to Utah.”

  “How about a few days of ...” Tommy made a gesture of flicking a fly rod, suggesting a fishing trip.

  “Now that, son, is the best suggestion anyone has made to me in a long time. ­You’re on. We’ll be home in about ten days ... on the train,” he said, smiling at his wife.

  “Well then,” Tommy said, wrapping his arm around his sister who was seated next to him, “I think I could stand to see Tess’s play once more, and then, if ­you’re certain it’s no inconvenience, Seby, I’d love to fly back to Utah with you.”