I had every intention of getting this story out before Memorial Day, or at least have it posted by that day. However, my good intentions did not put the words down as I wanted them and so I ask for your indulgence.
This story just begged to be written, especially after I had three little boys, who saw me in my Air Guard uniform, call me a policeman. Many times we only think about those who served in WW I and II, the Korean Conflict, Viet Nam and most recently Desert Storm. While it is very important to remember and pay respect to those who have fought and died to defend this country's freedom and ideas, we should also remember those of us who have served and are still serving during peace time. Jim will say the rest of what I feel.
Disclaimer: Same as before, nothing has changed... RATS!
Big thanks to Zerena, who has proven time and again that she is an awesome beta and faster than a rocket when it comes to getting back to me. Any errors found are not her fault, but through my own stubbornness or sloppy fingers.
Shallan
Thursday Morning, 25 May
A loud knock on the loft's front door broke Blair Sandburg's concentration away from the computer screen of his laptop. He was working at the kitchen table; papers spread across the surface in what looked to be no semblance of order, and was surprised by the sound.
"Jim?" he called without raising his voice, knowing his sentinel would be able to hear a whisper as well as a shout if it came from his roommate. When there wasn't a reply from the other side of the door, Blair glanced quickly at the kitchen clock to see that it was only 7:30 a.m. A second series of knocking forced him into action.
Stepping up to the portal, Blair grasped the doorknob and opened the door, stepping back and away as a precaution. Having a door smashed into one's face was not a way to start the morning. It was unnecessary. Standing on the other side of the opening, his hand raised to knock again stood an older African American man in an Army uniform.
The military man's eyes widened in surprise at the vision in front of him; a long-haired young man with wire-rimmed glasses wearing an oversized Jags sweatshirt, sweat pants and no shoes on his sock covered feet. Glancing over at the door, he read the numbers, glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand, then back up at the individual staring at him.
"May I help you?" Blair asked keeping a straight face, almost able to read what was going through the man's mind. It was obvious that the soldier was here to see his roommate and had not expected to see him answering the door.
The man glanced back down at his paper before speaking. "I... I was told that Jim Ellison lived here." There was a questioning tone in the statement.
"You're at the right place, uh," Blair looked at the bright yellow-striped patches on each of the man's sleeves. Each contained three upside down 'V's' sitting over top of three curved lines on top of each other. There appeared to be two branches with leaves in the middle cupped around a star. "I'm sorry. I really haven't learned how to read..." Blair pointed at the man's sleeves.
"Sergeant Major Frank McClellan," the soldier offered, pride evident in his voice.
"Blair Sandburg. Come in, please." Blair stepped back further from the entrance. "Jim's downstairs with the laundry, but he should be up in a couple of minutes."
Clearing his throat, the Sergeant Major straightened unconsciously before accepting the offer. Stepping through the door, he glanced around the interior of the apartment. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but was pleased to find nothing that would confirm the wild ideas flinging around his mind. He was interrupted in his inspection by the door closing firmly behind.
"Could I get you something to drink? Coffee, juice, water?" Blair moved around McClellan and gestured toward the living room.
The Sergeant Major shook his head, stepping around the couch to stand by the love seat. "I'm fine, thanks." The man looked Sandburg over again before quickly turning his gaze back to the apartment.
Blair smiled surreptitiously when the soldier's gaze was turned away from him. The man was obviously starting to think the worse about his partner and Blair couldn't wait until Jim came back. Walking back to the kitchen, he didn't have very long to wait.
Before Blair got to the kitchen counter, the loft door opened and Jim Ellison entered with an empty basket. "I was just able to beat Mrs. Pulaski, Chief. We might get the laundry... done..." Jim hesitated when he saw his friend point toward the figure standing in the middle of the living room. Turning his attention, he saw the glare of the morning sun streaming through the window put the man's front in a shadow. Automatically, he adjusted his vision to filter the light and see clearly.
"This is Sergeant--" Blair started but was interrupted by McClellan.
"Been a long time, Mr. Ellison," McClellan voiced quietly, taking a step forward.
A small smile appeared on Jim's mouth. "It must be since you made it all the way to sergeant major."
McClellan tipped his head slightly and gave an answering grin. "I caught the Army at a weak moment and they were desperate. Sort of think it is a farewell gift since I'm retiring in a couple of months."
His smile broadening, Jim didn't pay attention to the fact that Blair had moved forward to take the basket he was holding as he moved into the living room. Extending his right hand, McClellan also had his extended and the two men clasped hands. Ellison noticed McClellan flick his eye to something behind him, then quickly return to his face. He could feel Sandburg's presence nearby and understood the soldier's expression.
Stepping back, Jim gestured to his younger friend. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We both work for the Cascade Police Department. Chief, this is Sergeant Major McClellan. I met him at the University of Washington when he was just a sergeant first class. He was the one who finally convinced me to join the Army."
McClellan almost visibly relaxed when he heard the words 'partner' and 'police department'. That explained a lot about the smaller man's appearance Probably works in Vice and his presence in Ellison's home. "Well, I'm not sure if I was the one who really did the convincing. It seemed to me you had other reasons for not wanting to take the path laid out for you. I just gave you a clearer understanding of your options. Besides, the way you seemed to always be hanging around the ROTC cadets almost told me you were leaning towards a career in the Army."
The two men, current Army and former, chuckled over obvious memories they shared. "What brings you here, Sergeant Major? The military hurting so much for recruits that you're reduced to searching out old dogs like myself?"
"Not quite. Although we do need good soldiers like yourself, I'm here for... another reason." McClellan glanced at Sandburg again.
Almost reading the man's mind, Blair understood that it was a delicate issue the black man wanted to bring up. To prevent any awkward situation he spoke up. "Hey, Jim. Why don't I leave you two alone to reminisce and head down to the grocery store to pick up the supplies for the cookout at Joel's on Monday." Walking over to the coat rack, he slid his feet into a pair of sneakers, grabbed his jacket and reached for his keys in the basket by the door. "I'm almost positive you two are going to tell some stories you don't want me to learn about, so I'll be back in an hour or two. Okay? Nice to meet you, Sergeant Major."
Before the other two men could say anything, Blair had the door open and was out of the loft. Surprised at his friend's actions, Jim stared at the closed door for several long seconds. Not very subtle, Chief. Remembering the man in front of him, he turned his attention back and looked closer at McClellan. There was some obvious graying in the short, neatly trimmed hair and more wrinkles to the strong face than he remembered. However, it had been almost fifteen years since he last saw the soldier.
"I was surprised to learn that you came back to Cascade after getting out. Especially with what you had told me about your family life and all."
"It's my home. My last tour sort of convinced me of that fact. You still screaming at college kids and weeding out those who aren't officer material?"
McClellan smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. He looked out the loft windows, an almost wistful expression on his face. "Time's changed. We don't weed out as many as we used to due to the shortages. Hell, I wish I'd been offered as much money and incentives to join as the kids today are getting. Why they don't take it, I don't know."
"Economy is just too good right now. Say, what ever happened to Major Pipkin? He was always hassling me for not being in the ROTC," Ellison spoke up, bringing McClellan's attention back to him.
"Desert Storm. One of the few we lost and it was because of his own arrogance. Didn't want to wait for a mine sweep team to give the once over of this route he wanted to take. The blast took out his jeep. The other three with him were injured pretty bad, but he was the only one who bought it."
"And I bet they gave him a medal for that. Posthumously, of course."
McClellan chuckled. "Yeah, they did. He wasn't a bad officer. He just wasn't the caliber you are... were. It hurt when I heard about your helicopter going down in Peru, but I wasn't surprised when they pulled you out later. You always were like a cat, Ellison. Able to land on your feet no matter what the situation."
Jim smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His memories of Peru were still hazy despite some of the techniques Blair tried to teach him to use. Deciding to change the subject, he asked, "What dragged you all the way over to Cascade? It couldn't be just to see me." Jim held a hand out, indicating that the soldier sit down, then he sat on the edge of the couch, his arms resting on his knees.
"Actually, it is. You know about the dedication of a statue downtown on Monday. It's Memorial Day and there is a ceremony of remembrance planned. It's for all those who have served in the military, but were not a part of any of the major operations. The unsung heroes of yesterday and today who serve through the times when there haven't been any wars. Since our ROTC program is the biggest in the state, I'm a member of the committee setting up the whole event. I know I sent you an invitation to be a part of the ceremony, but the speaker's list with your name had no indication of you confirming or declining the offer."
Ellison dropped his head and rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, I got the invitation. My caseload down at the station has been so heavy that I guess I just laid it aside and forgot it. I intended to call and decline the invite. I mean, why does your group want me to speak? I'm not important. Aren't there any generals running around who want someone to listen to them talk or need to air their views?"
"Hell yes, but we didn't want the glory hounds who are all talk and no action. They fought in Korea and Viet Nam and have had lots of ceremonies and statues created toward their memory. Today's military is all volunteers, who are serving their country because they want to, not because we're fighting a war or police action. Yes, we want the people to remember the sacrifices of those who served in the past to give us our freedom today. But we also want people to know those sacrifices are still being made today.
"We have a female warrant officer who saw action in Desert Storm and a couple of soldiers who have been involved with Bosnia and this Kosovo situation that are going to be there. But you were the lone survivor of a military mission that no one wants to talk about or even remember. You and the men you lost on the mission are the ones this memorial has been designed for."
Ellison stood up and paced to the windows of the loft. Silence reigned throughout the loft as he gazed out the glass into the bright morning. "I didn't leave the service under the best of conditions," Jim finally said quietly. "It was because of that mission I decided I didn't want to play the games anymore and got out before they could court martial me or bury me in some back country office."
Quiet filled the loft for a couple of minutes before McClellan spoke. "I understand Colonel Oliver's death a couple of years ago brought out the whole story of how the Intel was deliberately botched up by his office so you couldn't perform your mission. But despite that, you did your job and came home a hero." Ellison remained silent. He stood ramrod straight facing the windows, unconsciously with his hands clasped behind his back in the military position of 'parade rest'.
Sighing, McClellan stood up, reached a hand into an inner pocket in his uniform jacket and pulled out a card. "Think it over please. I'll leave my card here on your table and it has my home number on the back. You can give me a call either tomorrow, Saturday or Sunday." Walking over to the door, he paused with his hand on the knob. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd come, Captain. You're one of the good ones that we never should have let get away." With that, McClellan pulled open the door and exited.
Ellison continued to stand at the windows, waiting. He knew there had been someone standing outside of the loft near the door; had heard the person's heart beat. Not even checking their bond, he knew it had been his roommate.
After a few minutes, the loft door opened and Sandburg entered quietly. The young man paused when he saw the other in the living room. "The store wasn't open yet. Too early," Blair mumbled to explain his early return.
"I take it you were listening at the door and heard everything?" Jim asked, turning to look at his friend.
Dropping all pretenses, Blair walked over to his friend. "Well, duh man. No sentinel hearing and I have to have some way to find out what was said. I know you wouldn't have told me. Besides, you don't think I'm going to leave you alone in the loft with some guy in an Army uniform, do you? Every time you meet with an 'old buddy' from the past," Blair pantomimed quotes in the air in front of him, "I end up getting shot at."
"The second time was your own fault, Chief." Ellison stepped away from the windows and started up the stairs to his room. He paused at Sandburg's next question.
"So, are you going to attend? You don't have to give a speech if you really don't want to."
"You read the invitation?"
"Hell, Jim. You left it on your desk."
"In its envelope and tucked under the phone."
"So? Like any self-respecting cop who saw his partner stomp away in anger, I had to find out what caused the problem. Answer the question. Are you going?"
Jim stared at the steps in front of him, took a breath and blew it out before speaking. "I don't think so. I'm not in the Army anymore and really have no reason to step back into that world."
Blair stepped closer to the stairs and leaned onto the railing. "So you're going to walk away and keep repressing all your experiences. That's wrong, Jim. As much progress that we've made, this is one thing that you should be attending. Consider it the one thing you can really do to honor the men you lost. Make others remember their sacrifice."
Ellison stared down into his friend's dark blue eyes, reading the determination that filled them. With a sigh, he said, "I'll think about it, Chief." Then he continued up the stairs.
"That's all I'm asking," Blair's soft voice echoed up after him.
Monday Morning, 29 May
"Sandburg! They are not up here." Ellison's voice rang sharply from the upper floor of the loft.
Blair's exasperated voice easily carried out of his room and back up to his roommate. "Jim, you spent at least two hours shining them last night and I know that I would have suffered something worse than death if I even went near them after you were finished. What did you do after you were done?"
"I brought them back up here."
"Then that's where they are, man. Calm down, take a breath and think."
"Calm down and think," Ellison mumbled as he straightened up the covers on his bed. "How can I calm down when I'm expected to make a speech in three hours." Shifting back over to his closet, he pushed aside the slacks hanging neatly in a row to again check for his boots. Nothing. Frustrated, he closed the door and trotted down the stairs to search on the lower level. "Sandburg."
"Hold your horses, Kimosabe. I'll be out in a minute to help you look. Jeez, and you complain about me," Blair voiced the last part quietly, but knew his friend could hear him clearly. "You at least found your hat, didn't you?"
"Yeah, my 'cover' was still in the plastic after the last time I had it cleaned." Jim breezed into the living room and looked around the couch and loveseat. A low whistle brought his attention around toward the kitchen.
"Still fits, huh? Sharp looking, man," Blair said in admiration of Jim's appearance. His partner was in his Class A uniform, with all its appropriate badges, ribbons and medals that once marked him as a member of the United States Army. The silver bars indicating his rank of captain gleamed in the defused sunlight streaming through the loft windows.
Straightening up, Jim tugged at the bottom of the coat to adjust it properly across his shoulders. It was tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and make him look like the professional soldier he had been. A member of a Special Forces unit, also know as the 'quiet professionals', Jim proudly wore the patches on his shoulders that distinguished him from other Army units. His cover, or hat, was in fact a deep red beret with his unit crest that was positioned over his left eye and the rest tilted jauntily over the right side of his head.
Jim looked down the front, ensuring that all the buttons were properly secured. "Yeah, well it's nice to know that I haven't changed that much after all this time."
"Jim."
"Yeah?" Ellison looked up toward his friend pointing toward the door.
"Your boots are over there." With that, Blair returned to working on his tie and walked back into his room.
"Thanks," Jim replied to his friend's departing back. Adjusting the Velcro straps that folded his pants neatly against his legs, Jim slipped each boot on and tightened the laces. Then, with long remembered ease, he tucked the laces around the inner edge of the top of each boot until they were hidden. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pant pocket, he gave each boot a final wipe to remove any smudges he might have caused
"C'mon, Chief. If we want to have a decent place to park, we better get a move on now. I don't want to have to walk a couple of miles," Ellison called out, checking his tie in the mirror near the door and giving his beret an adjustment to ensure it was sitting properly.
"First you drag your feet about even going to this thing and now you're champing at the bit to get there," Blair grumbled coming back out of his bedroom. "We have special parking since you're a speaker." He paused when he saw Jim staring at him. "What? Do I have something on wrong?"
Jim smiled at the clothing on his partner. Blair was wearing his dress uniform for the Cascade P.D.; his hat tucked under one arm and white gloves tucked into the belt. Jim could see that the younger man was a little uncomfortable at the scrutiny. "No, Chief. Nothing is on wrong."
Smiling, Blair could feel the pleasure emanating from his friend. "You didn't think I was going to let you be the only one dressed up for this occasion, were you? Hey, man. This day and the event is for you."
"And you also know that there are many women who are going to be there who love to see a man in uniform... any uniform," Jim interrupted.
Blair smiled self-consciously and blushed lightly. "Yeah, that too. But it's mainly my way to honor you. What do you think? Will I pass?" Blair held his arms out and slowly turned a complete circle.
With a laugh, Ellison turned toward the door to grasp the knob. "Oh, you'll do, Chief. Just remember to tuck your hair up under your hat." He opened the door to allow his friend to exit first. Blair rolled his eyes and, taking the offer, walked out of the loft with Jim following close behind.
The sun shined brightly overhead, belying the weather forecaster's prediction of possible showers that would mar the festivities of the dedication. Children ran through the crowds, American flags clutched tightly in their fists and laughter flowing from their mouths. Men and women dressed in a variety of uniforms formed small groups around the park: from service dress to desert camouflage, all branches of the military were represented. Interspersed around them were even smaller groups of mainly elderly men representing veterans of previous, foreign wars. Their uniforms were business suits adorned with medals and flight caps proclaiming when they served, where they served and other distinguished markings of their service.
Because it contained an individual scheduled to speak during the proceedings, the blue and white Ford was directed to a special nearby parking lot. Exiting the cab, Jim paused briefly to make the final adjustments to his uniform. Self consciously, he adjusted the beret to ensure it was properly positioned, then reached down and tugged at the bottom of his service jacket.
"Quit fidgeting, Jim. You look fine." Blair's voice easily rose over the noise of the band playing patriotic melodies on the far side of the park as well as the voices from the people between there and the truck.
Checking the blousing of his trousers, Jim voiced, "Like you would know, Chief. I doubt you could tell the difference between the Air Force or Coast Guard uniforms."
"Hey! I'll have you know that I have studied the different military groups and can even give you some little known historical facts about any one of them. I just have a little problem distinguishing some of the ranks. With the exception of the Navy, you all seem to use the same officer ranks, but the, um, you know."
"Enlisted groups?"
"Yeah, them. Why didn't they set them up all the same?"
"Don't ask me. I'm not a military historian. All I know is that the Army was the first and every one else followed after. The differences are probably just their way of trying to set themselves apart from the real military." Ellison threw his partner a cheeky grin, then reached forward to pick a light colored hair off the smaller man's jacket. "Red head. Been wearing the uniform out to the bars to attract women?"
Rolling his eyes, Blair took the piece of hair and held it up to show the length. "I haven't worn this thing since I graduated. It's probably my mom's. Besides, I don't need anything special to attract women. My natural magnetism does well enough."
Jim gave out a hearty laugh. "I love it when you obfuscate, Chief." Blair joined in with the laughter and both men started walking toward the reviewing stand when they were interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Hello, Jimmy."
Stopping suddenly, Ellison jerked around to see his father, William Ellison, standing a few feet away. The elderly man looked pensive, not sure of his presence at the event. Slightly behind him stood Jim's brother, Steven. The younger Ellison looked more relaxed and sure of himself. He smiled at his older brother.
"Dad? Steven? What are you doing here?" Jim asked, surprised at his family's attendance.
"Blair called and let us know you were going to speak here today, Jim." The younger Ellison drew closer as if to provide support to their father.
The elder Ellison took a step forward and held out a hand. "I wasn't there when you came back from that last mission of yours, Jimmy. Didn't know if you would have wanted me then. But when Mr. Sandburg let us know about this, I..."
Jim gave a quick glance over at Blair and saw the concerned look on his face. This wasn't the first time his friend tried to set up little meetings between the Ellison clan. Jim and Steven had been able to meet for lunch a couple of times and Jim had even gone out to see his father once after the murder case a few years ago. But this was the first time that William had made the overture toward his oldest son.
Turning back, Jim gave his father a genuine smile and extended out his hand. "I'm glad you came, Dad, Steve. This really does mean a lot to me."
Taking the hand, William pulled his son forward and gave him a light hug, making sure he didn't disturb the uniform. Jim answered the hug, pulling his father closer. When the two released each other, Steven stepped forward and also gave his brother a hug. Stepping back, the three men smiled at each other, knowing that the walls that had separated them for such a long time were slowly being torn down. Blair clearing his throat interrupted their silent communion.
Looking over his shoulder, Jim saw that Blair had tucked his hair up under his hat and pulled on his gloves. He looked a little uncomfortable, like he'd just interrupted a very important moment.
"Sorry, but I think you need to get moving over to the platform, Jim. Sergeant Major McClellan is on the steps searching around for someone and I think it might be for you."
"McClellan. Isn't that the Army sergeant who talked you into joining up?" William asked, squinting to see where Blair had indicated.
"Well, he didn't exactly talk me into it, but he was involved with showing me how military life could be. He's the one who got me here today. And Sandburg." The later was said after a vigorous 'ahem' came from his partner.
"Well, we better not keep him waiting."
Jim smiled, hearing the familiar firm tones he remembered as a boy. But this time, it was different and he relished the strength and determination in his father's voice.
Ellison stepped up to the podium on the stage and looked down at the crowd before him. He was the last speaker to be announced and it looked like the audience was getting restless. To almost all who looked up at him, he appeared to be calm, cool and collected. But to his friends, who took up a decent sized area off to the side, they could see that Jim was not comfortable. He was not a man who took pleasure in standing in front of crowds giving speeches. That was a job for politicians, police officials and glory hounds. He especially didn't like to speak to the media, of which there were several representatives in front of and throughout the audience.
Reaching into his jacket, Jim pulled out some folded pieces of paper, carefully straightened the pages and placed them onto the wooden surface in front of him. On the white sheets were words he'd jotted down, but now he didn't think they were appropriate. Blair had told him he needed to speak from his own heart and not try to use fancy words that came from other people's minds. He knew he should learn to listen to his friend more, since the young man definitely knew more than he did when it came to people.
"I, uh, had taken some time to write a nice speech and was prepared to try and impress you with my eloquent speaking ability. But as I only made it to Captain, which means that I did not achieve the appropriate rank to have the ability to make long and impressive speeches, I'll spare you all and just tell you a short story." Light laughter spread across the crowd and relief could be seen on many faces.
Picking out his friend and partner in the crowd, Jim relaxed slightly at the confident smile Blair sent his way. Looking at the people surrounding his friend, he noticed that Blair wasn't the only one giving honor to the day and what it represented. Along with his partner, both Banks and Rafe were in their police dress uniforms. Jim remembered Simon commenting that there was no way he could fit into the same military uniform he'd worn as a na‹ve 19 year-old. And Rafe had never been in the military, due to his youth and going straight from high school to college and finally to the police academy.
On the other hand, Taggart looked splendid in his Army uniform; proud that he could wear the same uniform he'd left the service in. Brown was wearing desert colored BDUs, the same ones he had worn when he had ridden into Kuwait City with his unit. Connor was attired in the customary police dress uniform of Australia. It's uniqueness as much a part of the crowd as all the other variations of uniforms.
What Jim appreciated the most was seeing his father and brother sitting between Blair and Simon; his family by blood surrounded by his family of choice. The elder Ellison sat straight and tall in his chair, a gleam in his eyes and a quiet look of pride on his face. The younger Ellison was more relaxed than his father, with a more overt expression gracing his features. All were looking at Jim, waiting for him to speak.
Looking back down at the papers before him, Jim shuffled the pages until he came to the last one. Clearing his throat carefully, he began. "When I was a child, Memorial Day was celebrated differently than the way most of us treat it now. I remember my father making my brother and me get into our good clothes and driving downtown to watch the parade. We would have flags in our hands and waved them at the different military groups as they passed by, honoring them for some reason that we didn't really understand.
"My father would talk about this thing called World War One and a larger one that they gave the same name but called it number two and how so many men went across the ocean to fight bad people. He would tell us about how they gave us freedom and kept this thing called democracy alive. But we were young boys and had a hard time understanding what he meant." Jim paused and looked into his father's eyes. His mind flashed back to standing on the side of the street, Steven holding onto his hand, and his father pointing out what uniform went to which military organization. Coming back to the present, he saw his father nod and the gleam of what looked like a tear in the elderly man's eye.
"When I was going through college, I noticed a group of people on campus who wore Army uniforms. Curious, I started watching their gatherings and tried to get close enough to hear what they were talking about, but not noticed. Once day, an Army sergeant walked up and started talking to me. He didn't try to get me to become a part of the ROTC program, nor did he try any selling tactics to get me to enlist." Jim turned his attention to Sergeant Major McClellan and gave the man a broad, toothy grin. It was answered in kind. "All he did was talk to me and answer any questions I had about what was going on with those people at the college and what was life like in the Army.
"After I graduated, I decided that I could make a life in the Army. With that same Army sergeant at my side, I went to a recruiting office and joined up. The rest, as they say, is history. But during the time I served, there weren't any wars that matched the ones my father told me about. Thank God. And when I came home from Peru, there wasn't any parades or speeches to honor me or memorialize the men who had traveled with me, but didn't return.
"Now as I look back at the time I spent with the Army and the reasons I became a member, I realize it wasn't for the parades or speeches or medals. I did it because I felt it was my duty to find some way to pay back the country that allows me so much freedom. And that is what is being forgotten by many on this day. Today's military is an all-volunteer force. It is men and women who feel some call to become a member of the Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, Coast Guard, National Guard or Reserves and serve the United States. That is what the celebration of today should evolve into.
"We must remember the sacrifices of those who went before us and paid the ultimate price or came home with mental or physical scars that will never go away or came home whole and healthy. I can't at this moment remember who said it but it is important to remember the past or else we'll be doomed to repeat it. But it is equally important to remember those who are serving in the military now, who joined not for the glory and honor that might come, but for some mysterious call to serve."
Taking up the papers, Jim stepped around the podium so that he had nothing separating himself form the crowd. "I'd like to read a poem I found while I was researching on the Internet for material to impress you with. It was written by Del Jones in 1991 and came from his book of poetry entitled 'The World, War, Freedom, and More.' It's called 'Memorial Day.
"A time for picnics, time off work-
Vacations and the "Indy"-
A holiday, too often times
We forget what, it should be.
A time to pay respect to those
Who rallied to the battle cry-
Who gave their lives for liberty-
Those freedoms for you and I.
Such a waste of brave young souls-
Some still struggling through their youth
Who faced and fell willingly
Before wartimes' awful truth.
So as we share this holiday
With our friends or family-
Take a moment to give thanks to
Those who died so we'd stay free.
Let us strive for world peace-
For the end of greed and hate-
For next time, after "the war"
It just may be too damned late."
Folding up his papers and tucking them back into his service jacket, Ellison performed a tight facing movement toward the American Flag sitting on the side of the stage. Solemnly, he presented a sharp salute. Then, after dropping his hand back to his side, he did a smooth 'about face' movement, turning him back around to the stairs, and walked off the stage. As he started down the steps, a thunderous applause rose from the crowd and as one the group surged to their feet.
The Major Crime group, plus two, moved as a group toward Ellison as he tried to walk away from the platform. Several of the elderly veterans were thanking him and shaking his hand.
When the gentlemen departed, McClellan stepped forward and paused, gave Ellison a long look, then presented a salute. Smiling in gratitude, Jim returned the gesture, then shook the black man's hand. "I think you spoke better than any seasoned general ever did," Frank finally said.
"I don't know, Sergeant Major. Right now, I don't think I could repeat a single thing I said. I wouldn't want to do this on a regular basis," Ellison replied, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Oh, I don't know, Jim," Banks interrupted. "I think any future requests for speakers from the department should be referred to you."
"You were a natural, Jim. I told you, man. From the heart. It works every time," Blair piped up before Jim could reply.
"No thanks, Captain. You're being paid the big bucks; you can be the official speaker for the department. I'm just a dumb, old detective who needs help filling out his reports." Ellison slapped a hand onto Sandburg's back with the last statement, then shifted it to rest onto the smaller man's shoulder. He felt like he was drawing strength and comfort from his friend.
"Well, I do thank you for coming. You made it a memorable day. And I can expect you at my retirement party in September, can't I? You can bring your partner, if you want." McClellan nodded toward Sandburg.
"I'll make sure he's there," Blair answered for his friend. Not seeing Jim nod a yes, he did feel a confirming squeeze from the hand on his shoulder. With a wave, McClellan departed.
"That was a great speech, Jim," Steve Ellison voiced. "When you started talking about watching the parades, I started remembering it all as if it was yesterday."
"For me too, Jimmy. I didn't think you'd remember all that," William Ellison chimed in.
"The human brain remembers everything that is put in it, Mr. Ellison. It all comes back to the capacity of the individual to recall it all. We selectively tend to remember those things that we think are the most important and forget those that do not mean all that much." Blair unconsciously sank into a teaching mode of speaking and was pleased when William nodded in understanding.
"Well, this human brain is remembering that there is a cookout at my house this afternoon. Can I expect you and Steve, Mr. Ellison?" Taggart asked, turning to the Ellisons. Both men looked over at Jim and, after seeing his smile and nod, accepted.
Spreading his arms as if to herd the group forward, Simon ordered, "Great. Jim, make sure your family has the address. Move it out, people. I hear the grill calling my name and I'm not one to keep it waiting."
Laughing, the group split up until only Blair and the three Ellisons were left. Giving his father another hug and handing Steve the hastily scribbled note from Blair with the address to Joel's house, Jim led the way back to his truck.
"How do you feel, Jim?" Blair asked when they reached the parking lot.
Ellison took a deep breath, let it out and smiled. "It's strange, but I feel at peace. Thanks for pushing this, Chief."
"Hey, man. It's part of the job. I take care of you and you take care of me no matter how much bullying it takes." Reaching the truck, Blair climbed in on the passenger side.
"And asking my Dad to show up, is that part of the job too?" Jim opened his door and climbed into the truck.
"Was there a problem with that?"
Looking into his partner's eyes, Jim saw a challenging gleam along with the raised eyebrows. Smiling, Jim started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. "No, Chief. Not at all."
The End