O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [145]
Brigid O’Hara was such a domestic. Although she never married, she placed herself well as a head maid of the second floor in a Fifth Avenue mansion owned by German Jews. The Germans were inclined to be demanding and stingy but capable of loyalty to those loyal to them. Further, they were nowhere near as class-conscious as the newly rich Americans.
For Paddy O’Hara, choices were simple. He replaced the neighborhood gang leader. In a year or so Paddy was on the well-worn path that ended up in the state penitentiary at Ossining.
Fortunately, Paddy caught the eye of Corporal Gilligan, the local Marine recruiter who trolled Hell’s Kitchen for prospects. That day Paddy took the oath was a grand day for himself, and for the Marine Corps as well.
In a manner of speaking, Paddy O’Hara was born to be a Marine. Of obvious value, he did well at a time when promotions in the Corps were rare. In a matter of a few years, he was a sergeant in the detachment at the Philadelphia Navy Yard.
The soft side of Paddy was never far behind. The death of his family brought on an abstruse search to replace them, and in the Corps, he found some of it.
A little brother came to him in the person of Wally Kunkle, a boy who lived as a sewer rat and fought for pennies at the yard. The day Paddy carried the battered boy out of the ring, took him to the barrack, and mended his wounds was the beginning.
Wally was taught to read and write and ultimately got sworn in to the Corps as a drummer boy at the age of thirteen.
During the Civil War, Paddy saved Wally’s life at Bull Run and again at Fort Sumter during the creation of his legend.
The war done, Marines went to faraway posts, but the friendships stood firm, particularly those in the special order of the Wart-Hogs.
Peace brought Paddy into contact with his softer side again. He had risen to top major and was one of the most honored Irishmen in New York, useful for ceremonies and recruiting. The recruiter was himself recruited.
Brigid pulled him by the ear to church for Sunday mass, where he was introduced to Maureen Herndon, recently out of County Meath, and a member of her staff at the mansion.
The great warrior melted, and after a proper courtship, they married and left church under a canopy of drawn sabers.
Unknown to either, Maureen had contacted the consumption, a scourge of post-famine Ireland. She was soon with child and the illness raced into her lungs as she gave her entire strength to her pregnancy.
Maureen died three days after Zachary was born.
Never was a man so crushed as Paddy. The sweetness fled. Giving his son to Brigid to raise, he sought duty in places far away, where he could drink, fight, and fornicate. For over four years he evaded the child. Then Brigid tired abruptly, wore thin, and her own demise could clearly be seen.
By command of the commandant, Paddy was awarded the highest enlisted rank, sergeant major of the Corps. The commandant suggested he take care of his son, who had spent his first five years in Hell’s Kitchen.
Zachary proved hardly a trouble. Marine wives on base mothered the lad even though he preferred to fend for himself. Father and son lived together in a civilized manner, enjoyed the ceremony and color. As long as Zachary was a little Marine and so long as he stayed clear of Paddy’s moods, it went smoothly.
But not inside them. They seemed on good terms at times, then Paddy would go into a long and brooding silence that shut out the world, including his son.
Zach never knew if he was truly wanted.
The place they seemed to come together was in Paddy’s moments of pride over his son becoming a self-taught scholar and a voracious reader.
They were friendly indeed, later sharing the end of a bar, but untouchingly so. Zachary did not fear his father or back away from a point he needed to argue.