Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [25]
He came to a sitting position slowly, sipped some water, and lit a cigarette. He was weak and haggard and dizzy. “Father,” he croaked hoarsely, “I don’t want to listen to any Jesuit double-talk.”
“The spiritual aspects can be explored later. I’m thinking of something more practical, like eating a decent meal. If you don’t come out of here you’re going to be taken to the hospital and fed intravenously.”
Sean flopped back on the bed again and returned to his reverie.
“It would be a lot better for you if you sent your brother off in good Irish style. Let’s go out and get drunk and split open a couple of heads.”
“Father O’Brien, go to hell.” Sean trembled awesomely. For the first time, a tear fell down his cheek. “Oh Timmy! Timmy! This will kill Momma and Poppa.”
The priest sat beside him quickly. “You’ve lost your belief in God, haven’t you? We’ve all waged that struggle, Sean. Even Jesus.”
“I believe in God all right, but he is not a loving God. He’s a monster. He allowed His only son to get lynched and now He keeps killing those who love Him the most. God has destroyed my family.”
“This murder that was committed in God’s name is not His doing. It is the folly of men who wrongly claim to do murder in His name.”
“Why didn’t I die instead of Liam and Tim!”
“Sean! So long as you lie flat on your back, you debase the memory of your brothers. Stand up, Sean!”
General Hansen was distressed at the weary appearance of Sean. After days of harrowing grief he looked like a combat soldier who had just waged a terrible battle.
“I’m ready to return to my command. I’m ... sorry I put such a burden on everyone.”
“There is a matter that has to be thrashed out. Are you up to it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are the sole survivor of three brothers. Your family has given more than its share.”
“I don’t want to go back to the States.”
“The matter is out of your hands. It is up to your parents. You realize that they have this right.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I contacted an old buddy of mine who is stationed at the Presidio in San Francisco. I asked him to call on your parents and explain the position.”
“How are they ...”
“As well as can be expected.”
“What ... did they decide?”
“I don’t know. Your father wrote a letter. It was flown here and handed to me by personal courier.” The general held the envelope. Sean read his name spelled in a tired and shaky hand. “Will you abide by your father’s decision in peace?”
“Yes, sir ... would ... would the General please read it to me?”
“Very well.” Hansen adjusted his specs, bent close to the uneven writing, and cleared his throat.
My Beloved Son:
My heart cries out for you in this time of your great need! I am so sorry I am not close by to comfort you. It is needless to say that a terrible darkness has fallen upon this house. I have always been honest with you, Sean. I will not lie now. The truth is that I do not know if either your mother or I can live long after this.
It is for you I sorrow now for you must go on living. You are the last of our seed. You are the one who will either carry our name on beyond us or forever put it to rest.
Your mother and I have no tears left. Our pain can be no deeper. I cannot in all honesty say that the death of three sons can be more terrible than the death of two. If you must join them, then you must.
I would give my life to embrace you once more, my son. I have sat for many hours to put upon paper the words that will force you to come back to us safely. Yet, I cannot do this thing. I have tried to teach you all your life that you must follow your own conscience. I cannot deny you that pursuit now. You cannot live for Tim and Liam. You must live for Sean.
You have served our name longer and more faithfully than a boy ought to. You have denied yourself for us so long ... you have worked for us, so hard.
You are free.
I beg you, Sean, do not be consumed with hatred for it will destroy you as it did Tim. And