O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [142]
Come ye home, home, home,
Come when the cruel war is done!
The grandmother’s clock croaked the hour . . . and another hour, another hour, and then it became so still, they could hear each other’s breath.
Now darkness outside and the fire burned low. A soggy rain tapped on the roof.
“Amanda?”
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Aye, I’m cold.”
“I put some logs on the fire. Are you after coming down?”
“I’ll come down.”
He was on the feather bed as the fire flared, and had spread some pillows about to make it an easy place to talk. He patted the feather bed and she came alongside.
“I’ll tell you now,” he said softly.
• 44 •
THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT
February 1892—Tobias Storm’s Mansion—Washington
This rite of passage gladdened the old men’s hearts like no other. Now they could take off their own kits and rest easy. The mysterious force that bound them was coming to a close in a perfect circle.
Paddy O’Hara had given them each their lives, and Paddy’s fine son had been nurtured. The future was now engaged by Zachary. It was a vague future, only a promise, but—in strong hands.
Tobias Storm formed up a second AMP class, then retired as a major but remained on hand as a civilian adviser. AMP’s first graduates were gaining attention. For the third class, a pair of midshipmen from Annapolis as well as a pair of West Point cadets were coming to study at the Marine barracks.
Master Gunnery Sergeant Wally Kunkle’s transfer to Zachary’s First Rovers, Fleet Marine Force, was a hell of a way to close out his own career.
Forty years before, at the Philly Navy Yard, Paddy O’Hara had pulled a bloodied-up little street urchin from a boxing ring and given him a place in the barracks on the deck near the stove to sleep. He was the drummer boy alongside Paddy at Bull Run.
He had been a kid brother to Paddy, in a manner of speaking, standing in for the four brothers who had been lost in the Irish famine. Perhaps the Gunny was a surrogate son to Paddy until Zach was born. He burst with pride to be Zach’s gunny on this important mission.
And Benjamin Malachi Boone? That peculiar piece of personnel was accomplishing what he had been ordained to accomplish. Although sixty-five years stared at Ben, there was no retirement parade in view.
Rumor had it that the new commandant would be a full colonel. If so, Ben, the senior major in the Marines, would be promoted to lieutenant colonel and stationed in place to protect the flanks of Zach’s mission to the Amnesties.
Zach was their pride.
When the front-door knocker was heard, their three faces smiled. What a hell of a picture the lad cut.
Toasts.
And came time for them to catch their breath.
Ben had a big surprise. The army had set up a warehouse in Colón, Panama.
“We don’t know what the political situation will be when we build that canal, so they’re loading supplies in for future use. It could be that a rebellion has to be staged in Panama to snatch the isthmus away from Colombia, or there could be a strongman at the head of Colombia who wants to play ball, or there could be some kind of democratic movement, or we may make a deal with banditos in the hills to guard our passageway. Whatever the event, arms to support whoever will be ready in Panama, ha, ha, ha, ha.”
Mischief of the highest order.
“In this cache, Krag-Jorgensen rifles and hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition. A hundred of these rifles will be ‘borrowed’ and sent to you. It could be ten years before the army even knows they’re missing.”
“Hey, we’ll drink to that!” So filled they were with their own glee that they had not noticed that Zach appeared to be ill. The Gunny saw it first.
“You all right, Captain O’Hara?”
Zach studied the patterns of the rug, then looked to one another and they grew apprehensive. Zach took an envelope from the high cuff of his glove and handed it to Major Ben.
“What’s this?”
“My resignation from the Corps,” Zach answered.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Ben asked.
“I am resigning. It is within my purview.”
Tobias cleared his throat. “We Wart-Hogs were