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Dark midnight tales of two retired veterans in a society that has never known peace …
“I was reflecting in my mind, trying to find a time in history when all people in this nation have been able to live together peacefully without somebody feeling they had the right to kill somebody else to get their way,” Capt. Ludlow said. “It was a humbling experience, Sgt. Trent. Of course, men like you have been trying to tell men like me this for about 400 years, but it took walking into a house-to-house battle today in the middle of Big Loft, VA for me to truly to understand the war in the hearts of citizens of this nation.
“You've seen the news, but here is the starter: the eviction moratorium from the CDC won't let landlords evict, but it doesn't stop them from making renters' lives miserable, and it doesn't stop renters from retaliating.
“So, the Veteran's Lodge got a call from an army officer in the building – Lieutenant Stetson, disabled veteran. He wasn't the tenant, but he explained the situation: get a mediator out here in a hurry, because his Navy Seal neighbor was fed up.”
“Oh, no,” Sgt. Trent said. “Somebody turned lights and water off on a Navy Seal?”
“Yes, Sergeant, such levels of stupidity exist,” Capt. Ludlow said. “Here's the thing about it: it's late spring. Days are long and hot, and nights are warm. Water? Summer thunderstorms and creeks galore in Lofton County. Solar chargers? Easily available as surplus military gear. No Navy Seal is going to be bothered by that except that he is likely to be pushed back into believing he is under siege in enemy territory.
“But here is the payoff, Sergeant, the part even Lieutenant Stetson did not know: the landlord is a retired SWAT team leader for the Big Loft police.”
“You can't see me on the phone,” Sgt. Trent said, “but I am shaking my head in chagrin. Navy Seal versus actually decent paramilitary officer.”
“And, that's where the news came in,” Capt. Ludlow said. “Imagine driving up, stepping out of your car, and suddenly having Braddock, Missing in Action type of options – you're going to figure out how to end the foolishness, or you're not going to make it home. Live action, real bullets, and your own PTSD kicking in.”
“I can imagine it,” Sgt. Trent said. “I worry about it whenever I think of my relatives near my own age in drug situations, and knowing that as the veteran, I'm pretty much the only person with the skills to deal with what might go down.”
“I never imagined I would see with my own eyes, in a city in America, what victims of mass shootings have been seeing – but I tell you what else I saw with my own eyes. As a 33-year military veteran I think I know how bullets are supposed to work, and those two fools should have killed each other and a whole bunch of other people today while shooting at each other.
“But God, Sergeant – the providence of a ridiculously strong cross-wind today. It is better to dig bullets out of buildings than people! That cross-wind also covered my footsteps as I got behind that Navy Seal – he was so focused on he and his landlord trying to kill each other that he didn't notice me gaining on him.
“Meanwhile, Lieutenant Stetson had been at work since calling the Lodge; he evacuated his building and went back to evacuate those nearest to it. In his wheelchair he could not intercept either combatant effectively at that time, but he got the majority of people that would have been in the way, out of the way.”
“Lieutenant Stetson doubled back one more time and followed the action up the street; he saw that the SWAT officer was going to try to gain the high ground … so he took one elevator up after the man he was pursuing, ran him down from behind with his wheelchair, and held him down with his superior upper body strength until more police arrived.
“I had my army pistol and got close enough to knock my target in the head with it just in time – the police arrived and had their guns out, and I covered my target with my body to keep him from being filled with bullets in the next instant.”
“I wouldn't have done all that,” Sgt. Trent said.
“If I had been thinking, I wouldn't have either,” Capt. Ludlow said, “but here is the situation: we all know what would have happened to a lBlack man in that situation. The man had painted his face, and he looked enough like you to be killed at once. I saw three Black man killed in the street when I was five years old. I wasn't about to see a fourth man killed – I would rather have died myself. That was the wounded five year old in me, doing what I couldn't do when I was five.
“Well, the police weren't going to shoot a marble-statue type of old man such as myself, so they stood down on the ground, and at about that time their colleagues got up to the roof to relieve Lieutenant Stetson. Situation over.
“I got through all that, Sergeant – I mean, that was every day at work for 18 years of the 33 years of my
military career, and the only difference was location and the fact that the Lord allowed me to pass through as a soldier of peace. That was a lot to realize once I got back to the car. My cousin Colonel H.F. Lee talked about this change in his life even as a police officer, so I called him, and he was willing to talk with Lieutenant Stetson and I as I drove the lieutenant in for treatment for his injuries at the Lodge clinic.
“But then I got to the Lodge, Sergeant, and my colleagues were laughing about the news when I swung by the office to drop off my initial report. They greeted me like I had made their entire day – they had no more understanding of how serious the thing had been than they would have if they were watching Braddock: Missing In Action and Chuck Norris just walked off the set on the way to the bank.”
“Yikes – we expect civilians to act like that, but fellow veterans? That had to hurt, Captain.”
“I was devastated – but, humans are humans. None of us can afford to be further desensitized than we already are.”
“Ain't it the truth – my therapist always reminds me to be careful with not only what my children watch, but with what I watch even when checking out military history documentaries.”
“The caution is warranted, because as I said before, my colleagues see me as their favorite entertainer – an actor, a circus performer in this three-ring thing called real life. They pressed me for all the gory details and I had to get out of there quickly because I still had my army pistol and was ready to use it. I saw red, Sgt. Trent – I nearly went to where those two other men had gone. That was why I thank you for reminding me about the fine print in the jobs we are offered by the Lofton Trust … it took the burden off of me to know I never have to see those individuals again.
“About five minutes after I got home, I received the call from my actual boss, Major C.L. Gordon, who of course enjoys my exploits but is of serious mind about it, and has been deeply supportive of me in leaving the job on the old plan.
“Major Gordon had already read my report, and called to dismiss me from the job, citing a definite triggering experience that meets the qualifications. He already had forwarded my report to HR for processing for three months' severance pay and also three months of incident-specific counseling service free of charge. He assured me it would be approved, since the news of what I experienced is public knowledge, and that Lieutenant Stetson will also receive three months of said counseling free of charge if he wishes it. So, Sergeant, by the hardest and most necessary path, I am free of that burden, and as you said, you and I can focus on building Ludlow Bubbly Inc. without distraction.”
“Sgt. Tito Gonzalez will be coming by tomorrow,” Sgt. Trent reminded, “so the timing is perfect.”
“Sgt. Trent, I had totally forgotten,” Capt. Ludlow said. “It is a good thing you are the vice president of the company, because the president is exhausted and PTSD'd out right now. I'll go on to bed now – thank you for listening, because it will help me sleep – so I can get myself together for the morning. Is Major J.P.P. Dubois coming in in his secretary role?”
“On Zoom, yes – he and his father Jean-Luc.”
“We still need a treasurer for the company – think Sgt. Gonzalez might want the position?”
“He is fairly maxed out running the vending machine company, but I heard you mention Colonel H.F. Lee, your cousin. I served with him.”
“Really?”
“If he's still over at the Blue Ridge precinct, he has a lot of time on furlough from being a police officer. Why not ask him?”
“Brilliant, Sgt. Trent. I will. Thank you.”
“Good night, sir.”