Fleet Hospital. Anne Duquette Marie

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СКАЧАТЬ Michael backed away. “Daddy!” Michael screamed even louder.

      He dropped the toy truck and the Army men, ran into the house and hid under the kitchen sink, his spine jammed against the hard metal J-pipe. His father called him. He heard the front screen door slam, heard nothing for a while, heard the door again, then his father calling him over and over.

      Michael didn’t answer. He couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was shiver amidst the slightly rancid fumes of sacked potatoes and onions, the antiseptic smell of cleanser and dish soap, the commissary grocery bags stored in his hiding place.

      His father opened the cupboard doors, found him and pulled him out. He told Michael what he already knew.

      “Your mother’s dead, son. The night crew found her.”

      “At the hospital?”

      “Yes. The chaplain said she was…she got trapped in the refrigeration unit at the morgue.”

      “Dad, they’re lying! She’d never get locked in there!”

      Michael fought to escape from his father’s arms, his father’s words. He couldn’t escape either.

      “Listen to me, Michael! The next shift found her inside. They tried to revive her, but…” His voice cracked.

      “Where was everybody? Where was the corpsman?”

      “Gone home, I guess. She had her car keys and purse with her.”

      “Why was she in there?” Michael sobbed. “She hated that place!”

      “She wasn’t in her right mind.”

      “It’s because of Anna, right? She didn’t want to come home.”

      “Everyone says it was an accident,” his father said.

      “It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Michael forced himself to ask.

      His father looked away. “At least she had the decency to take off her uniform before she went in. She didn’t disgrace it,” he choked out. Tears rolled down Patrick’s cheeks.

      Michael had his answer. Mom was really dead. She’d killed herself. He started to cry, his sobs harsh and violent. Patrick picked him up and, on the kitchen floor amidst potatoes and cleanser, rocked him the way Mom used to rock Anna.

      THE SAME CHAPLAIN they’d had for Anna’s funeral droned on and on during his mother’s closed-casket service. With two deaths in the family, Michael thought he’d blab less. Then again, maybe the chaplain wanted to make up for Anna’s short sermon. Whatever the reason, his mother’s took forever.

      Michael’s whole Scout pack—minus rat fink Dennis Klemko—wore their uniforms to the second funeral. Michael flatly refused. He hated Scouts. He hated everyone who’d ever been a Scout.

      Without a uniform, he had nothing formal to wear. His father said he wasn’t up to taking him shopping and didn’t even know Michael’s new size. Michael had outgrown his old church suit ages ago, and the Scoutmaster’s wife couldn’t get off work to take him shopping, either. So the Certs lady—his Scoutmaster’s single sister-in-law with the silly name of Sunshine Mellow and sillier plastic go-go boots—guessed his size and showed up at the last minute with a new black suit and white shirt from the Navy Exchange. Apparently it was paid for by the Scout troop, which made Michael almost want to reject it.

      When the Certs lady dropped off the suit bag, Michael asked her if she’d sit with him at his mother’s funeral. Michael knew Sunshine didn’t meet his father’s standards. She wasn’t Irish, she wasn’t even Catholic and she had a “hippie” name, but Michael liked her, anyway. She said he had to ask his father; she’d wait in the car while he did. Michael ran back inside.

      “Please, Dad, can she? She brought me a suit. So can she?”

      His father, busy phoning relatives from both sides of the family, phoning Navy staff above and below him at the flight line, planning the second funeral and arranging for Michael’s make-up schoolwork, agreed. Once again Michael sat in the front pew of the Navy chapel, this time flanked by his father and the Certs lady.

      All through church, his father held Michael’s right hand, and Sunshine held his left—in between Certs after Certs. She adjusted his old bow tie, which made him itch and scratch. It was too tight for his neck, but the base exchange was out of new ones. Michael didn’t mind, really he didn’t. He wanted to be dressed right for Mom.

      At least his tie wasn’t some stupid neckerchief. Michael sucked on his candy, ignored the communion line Dad was in and leaned a salt-wet cheek against Sunshine’s Protestant shoulder. He wondered if Mom was rocking Anna in heaven. Mom had to be there—she was a good mom, and she hadn’t disgraced her uniform. He wondered who’d take care of him and Dad. He knew he’d never see Mom and baby Anna again, not even in heaven. If he hadn’t been such a baby himself and called out for his father when the boys were chasing him, Anna would still be alive. He’d gotten rid of the drawing; he should have taken the beating like a man. Now, he was damned to hellfire and worms forever.

      Unless… Michael slowly inserted another Certs into his mouth. Unless he got a new uniform, started over and never disgraced that uniform again. He was the son of uniformed parents. He knew about duty. He was no rotten quitter. Michael sat up a little straighter in the pew. He could wear a new uniform with a new Scout troop, and a Navy uniform later, like his mom’s.

      On his honor, Michael vowed to do his best…to do his duty to God and his country…to help other people at all times…and to never do another Bad Thing again. Starting now. He shoved the rest of the Certs into his pants pocket.

      On his honor.

      CHAPTER TWO

      MEMO

      TO: All Personnel

      FROM: U.S. Naval Training Program Office

      SUBJ: FLEET HOSPITAL Mission Description

      1) Is a Department of Defense standardized, modular, deployable, rapidly erectable, relocatable shore-based medical facility.

      2) Provides Fleet Commander in Chief with fully mission-capable combat medical treatment facilities in support of combat forces at risk.

      3) Deployed in three phases: Air Detachment, Advance Party and Main Body.

      4) Assembled rapidly at prepared sites in five to ten days with 100-bed or 500-bed combat zone hospital.

      5) Unlike Army MASH units, Navy FLEET HOSPITAL units are essentially self-sustaining.

      6) Once FLEET HOSPITAL facilities are erected and provided with 60 days of supplies, FLEET HOSPITAL is on its own.

      Naval Fleet Hospital Training, FHOTC (Fleet Hospital Operations and Training Command)

      Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base

       Day 1

      TABLOID WRITER Lori Sepanik, pen name Jo Marche, stepped outside into Southern California’s July sun and the noon heat of the fenced desert compound. It was the day’s СКАЧАТЬ