General McClintock saw that the room was decorated for me holiday season. The decorations, however, might seem somewhat eccentric unless one saw them through the eyes of an officer like this one. The patient had obviously visited the Post Exchange Branch, where he had purchased not only a plastic model of the HU-IB Huey, but four adorable little dolls. One of them was Santa Claus; two were dressed as nurses and one as a doctor.
The Huey was hanging from the central light fixture. The adorable nurse and doctor dolls were hanging, their necks realistically broken, from pipe cleaner nooses attached to the Huey's skids. Santa Claus straddled the tail boom of the helicopter, cradling a machine gun in his arms.
The patient was a captain, a Negro male, twenty-six years old, five feet eleven and one half inches tall. At the moment he weighed 144 pounds, which made him twenty-one pounds lighter than he had weighed at Ellis last annual physical examination.
Dr. McClintock noted quickly, professionally, that the whites of the patient's eyes were clear. When they had brought him in, he looked likely to bleed to death through the eyeballs. And he had been ten pounds lighter then than he was now.
His visitors were two Negro males. McClintock confidently identified them as father and brother, although they didn't really look very much alike. The younger of them, the brother, was a tall, light-skinned, thin-faced man who was elegantly dressed in a superbly tailored glen plaid suit and a white-collared, faintly striped blue shirt. The father was short, squat, flat-faced, very dark, and what Dr. McClintock thought of as "comfortably crumpled." He wore a tweed jacket, rumpled flannels, rubber-soled "health" shoes, and a button down-collar tattersall shirt without a necktie.
"How do you feel, Captain?" Dr. McClintock asked.
"Frankly, Sir," the patient, whose full name was Captain George Washington Lunsford, Infantry, USA, said, "not quite as happy as I was an hour ago when I thought I was being turned loose."
Dr. McClintock raised his eyes from Lunsford's chart and smiled. "All things come to he who waits, Captain," he said. "We're still going to turn you loose. But not just now. Soon."
"Today?"
"Today," McClintock said. "Shortly."
"May I see the chart, Doctor?" Lunsford's father asked.
When McClintock looked at him in surprise he added, "I'm a physician. "
"Excuse my manners, General," George Washington Lunsford said. "Doctor, may I present my father, Doctor Lunsford? And my brother, Doctor Lunsford?"
"How do you do, Doctor?" McClintock said, handing the elder Lunsford the chart.
"Dad is a surgeon, Doctor. My brother is a shrink," Lunsford said. Then, when McClintock smiled, he added, "Before Charley became a shrink, Dad used to say that shrinks were failed surgeons. "
"George, for Christ's sake!" the younger Dr. Lunsford snapped.
"I've heard that," Dr. McClintock said, smiling, "but rarely when one of them was in the same room."
"My God!" the elder Dr. Lunsford said. "I have never seen a case of that before." He extended the chart to McClintock, pointing at a line with his finger.
"It's pretty rare," McClintock said. "Your son has been regarded as a gift from heaven by our parasitologists. I understand he has his own refrigerator in their lab. "
I'll bet he. does," the elder Dr. Lunsford said, and showed the chart to his other son, who shook his head in disbelief.
"And they are going to give him his own glass cabinet in the Armed Forces Museum of Pathology," Dr. McClintock said, smiling. "Several of our intense young researchers suggested more or less seriously that we just keep him here as a living specimen-bank. "
"Do you realize how sick you were?" Dr. Lunsford demanded of his son. "For that matter, still are?"
"I didn't really feel chipper, now that you mention it Dad," Captain Lunsford said, "but there is a silver lining in the cloud. I have been given so many different antibiotics that it is not only absolutely impossible for me to have any known social disease, but I may spread pollen, so to speak, for the next six months or so without any worry about catching anything."
Dr. McClintock and the elder Dr. Lunsford chuckled. The younger Dr. Lunsford shook his head in disgust.
"We think, Doctor," McClintock said, "that everything is under control. We were a little worried, frankly, about the liver, but that seems to have responded remarkably" He stopped in midsentence as the door to the room opened suddenly and two men in gray suits walked briskly in. One of them quickly scrutinized the people in the room, then walked quickly to the bathroom, pulled the door open, and looked around inside. Then he stepped inside and pushed the white shower curtain aside.
The other went to the window and closed the vertical blinds, then turned to Dr. McClintock.
"Who are these people", General?" he demanded.
"Who the hell are you?" Captain Lunsford demanded icily.
The wide, glossily varnished wooden door to the corridor opened again.
The President of the United States walked in. On his heels was a small, slight, balding man in a rumpled and ill-fitting suit.
"You can leave, thank you," the President said.
"Mr. President." one of the Secret Service men began to protest.
"Goddammit, you heard me!" The two Secret Service men, visibly annoyed, left the room.
"How do you feel, son?" the President asked Captain Lunsford with what sounded like genuine concern.
"I'm all right, Sir, thank you," Lunsford replied, a tone of surprise in his voice.
"This your dad?" the President asked.
"Yes, Sir, and my brother."
"Well, you can be proud of this boy, Mr. Lunsford. He's something special"
"It's 'Doctor' Lunsford, Mr. President," Captain Lunsford said.
"No offense, Doctor," the President said. "I didn't know. Usually Colonel Felter tells me things I should know, like that. "
"None taken, Mr. President," Dr. Lunsford said.
The President turned to Captain Lunsford.
"I'm sorry I couldn't send the Peace Corps when you asked for them," he said.
"On the whole, Mr. President, I'll take parachutists over the Peace Corps anytime," Lunsford said.
The President ignored that. There was a suggestion that he was annoyed at being interrupted. He went on: "So I thought maybe this might make up for it." He held out his right arm, behind him. The small man in the rumpled suit put an oblong blue box in it. The President opened the lid and took out a medal.
"That's the Silver Star, Captain," he said. "I understand it will be your third. I can't believe the others are more well deserved than this one." He stepped to Lunsford and pinned the medal to the lapel of his coat. He did not do so properly, it promptly fell off.
Lunsford, in a reflex action, grabbed for it and the open pin buried itself in the heel of his hand.
"Shit!" he said, and then, immediately, "Excuse me, Sir."
"I understand," the President said, chuckling, "that it's the thought that counts." And then there was concern in his voice, as Lunsford pulled the pin free from his hand. "You all right, son?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I told the Chief of Staff to find out if there is some reason your name can't be on the next promotion list to major. I have the feeling he's not going to find any. "
Lunsford looked at him but didn't say anything.
"You're one hell of a man, Captain," the President said.
"I'm grateful to you. Your country is grateful." He shook Lunsford's hand, then punched him affectionately on the shoulder, nodded at McClintock, murmured, "General," and walked out of the room.
The small man in the rumpled suit handed Lunsford a 3-by-10 manila envelope.
"Citation's in there, Father," he said. "It's masterful. I wrote it myself."
"Thank you, Colonel," Captain Lunsford said.
"See you soon," the small man said, and left the room.
"Now you understand why we asked you to stick around awhile," General McClintock said.
"I certainly hope that someo
ne will explain to me what just happened," the elder Dr. Lunsford said.
"Who was that little man?" the younger doctor demanded.
"What did he call you? 'Father'? What's that about?"
Captain Lunsford ignored him. He opened the manila envelope and took from it the citation that went with the award of the Silver Star. He chuckled. "It's masterful, all right," he said.
"May I see that, George?" the elder Dr. Lunsford asked.
Captain Lunsford handed him the citation.
By Direction of the President of the United States, The Silver Star Medal is awarded to Captain George Washington Lunsford, Infantry, United States Army.
CITATION:
During the period 9 February 1964-25 November 1964, while engaged in a mission of great importance, MAJOR [Designate] [Then Captain] LUNSFORD performed extremely demanding duty in an outstanding manner, demonstrating extraordinary professional skill and knowledge, and inspiring his subordinates by the example of his impeccable character and devotion to duty, all in a manner which reflected great credit upon himself and the United States Army.
Entered the Military Service from Pennsylvania.
Dr. Charles Lunsford had stepped behind his father and read the citation over his. shoulder.
"What the hell is this, George?" he asked. "It doesn't say a damned thing. It doesn't even say where you were."
"I like the part," George Washington Lunsford said, "where it says Major Lunsford. You've got to admit, Charley, that has a nice ring to it."
"Put your brain in gear, Charley," the elder Dr. Lunsford said. He looked at his younger son. "I liked the part, George, where the President of the United States looked me in the eye and said, 'You can be proud of this boy. He's something special.' I just wish your mother had driven down with us."
"Yeah," Major [Designate] Lunsford said. "Me, too."
"Are we free to go now, Doctor?" the elder Dr. Lunsford asked.
"Absolutely," Dr. McClintock said. He put out his hand.
"I prescribe a rich protein diet, some bed rest, and reasonable amounts of alcohol. "
"That's all?" Dr. Lunsford asked. It was a medical question, between doctors.
"You saw what I prescribed, Doctor. If you don't think that'll handle it, I'd welcome your advice."
"All I meant to imply,. . . the speed of the recovery is amazing. "
Well, he's young, and he's tough, and he responded well," McClintock said. "And when he gets to Fort Bragg, they'll do a very thorough serology workup and some liver and kidney tests. But that's just a precaution. Our experience here is that the antibiotics and the anti parasitic toxins work very well; possibly, probably, because they've had no chance to build up an immunity."
"Anemia?" Dr. Lunsford pursued. "I didn't like that white cell count."
"It was really bad when he came in. We decided, finally, that it was a combination of everything, plus malriutrition and exhaustion." He smiled at both of them. "Feed him a lot of steak and eggs. "
"I'm sure his mother will take care of that," Dr. Lunsford said. He offered his hand. "Thank you very much, Doctor."
"My pleasure," Dr. McClintock said, then added: "If the answer to this is yes, I'm going to feel like a fool. Are you connected with the Medical College of Pennsylvania, Doctor? "
Dr. Lunsford nodded.
"I was right, I feel like a fool," General McClintock said.
"Doctor, I just didn't make the connection. Sorry."
"No reason to feel that way at all," Dr. Lunsford said.
"Thank you for the care you gave my boy."
"Now, that was my pleasure."
[SIX]
226 Providence Drive.
Swarthmore, Pennsylvania
1735 Hours 12 December 1964
"Charlene," Major Designate George Washington Lunsford said to Charlene Lunsford Miller, PhD, Allan Whiteman Professor of Sociology at Swarthmore. College, "you don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Major Lunsford offered this opinion of Professor Miller's assessment of the political situation in the Congo at an unfortunate time-two seconds after their mother had pushed open the door to his room, bearing a tray of camembert on crackers and bacon-wrapped oysters. "George!" their mother said, truly shocked. She was a slight, trim, light-skinned, gray-haired woman wearing a simple black dress with a single strand of pearls.
"Sorry, Mother," Father Lunsford said, truly embarrassed.
"You apologize to your sister!"
"Sorry, Charlene," Father Lunsford said, not very sincerely.
"It's all right, Mother," Professor Miller said, pushing herself out of an upholstered armchair. "I know what he's been through." Just in time, Father Lunsford stopped the reply that came to his lips: Screw you, don't you dare humor me.
"I thought you might want something to nibble on," Mrs. Lunsford said, setting the tray on Father Lunsford's desk.
There was an old blanket covering part of the desk. On the blanket were the disassembled parts of a Colt Combat Commander .45 ACP automatic pistol. Lunsford had been cleaning the pistol when his sister came up to welcome him home.
"Not for me, Mother, thank you," Professor Miller said.
"I'd better go keep my husband away from the gin." She walked out of the room.
Lunsford popped a bacon-wrapped oyster in his mouth and chewed appreciatively, mumbling his approval.
Mrs. Lunsford waited until she heard Charlene's heels on the wide wooden steps leading from the second floor to the foyer, then asked, "What was that all about?"
Lunsford shrugged. "It's not important, Mother. My mouth ran away with me. I'm sorry. "
"What was it about, George?" Mrs. Lunsford insisted.
"The professor delivered a lecture," Lunsford said.
"Apparently the collective wisdom of the faculty of Joseph Stalin U equates what we did in the Congo with some of the more imaginative excesses of Adolf Hitler." His mother looked at him with troubled eyes and then smiled.
"As a special favor to me, George, could you refrain from referring to Swarthmore as Joseph Stalin University tonight?
"He stepped quickly to her, put his arms around her, and lifted her off her feet. "You're my girl," he said. "Your wish is my command." She kissed his cheek as he set her down.
"If you mean that. No politics tonight, agreed?"
"I don't start it," he said. "They start it. They get so excited to have a real live fascist in their midst that they slobber all over themselves waiting for their chance to tell me off."
"I don't think you're a fascist," she said. "Neither does your father. And I don't think the President would have personally given you that medal if he thought you were."
"On that subject," Lunsford said, taking a camembert cracker, "I don't think we should bring up that medal tonight. Not with half the faculty of Swarthmore College" at table." She laughed, not entirely happily.
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