After The Last Full Measure (AU)

[Poohbah]

03 January 1990
HQ, Joint Task Force 251
Fort Bragg, NC

Sophie came to attention and saluted. "Good morning, sir."

Josh returned the salute. "Morning, Sophie. What's this 'sir' shit?"

"I hear Uncle Sam Actual commissioned you as Regular Air Force."

"You heard correct. Is it true his call sign is Rolodex?"

Sophie nodded. "He always knows somebody."

* * *

The hangar was filled with officers, some conversing, some looking around with curiosity.

Mantell stepped into the hangar, and a voice from behind him called, "Group, a-ten-SHUN!"

Everyone shut up, faced towards Mantell, and came to attention.

Mantell walked up and said, "At ease, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Major Joshua Mantell, United States Air Force. I recently transferred in from the Marine Corps; I was an aerial gunner on Day One, and subsequently served as an infantry squad leader, platoon sergeant, platoon leader, and infantry company commander. I am a fully qualified JTAC and have served as one for the past year in addition to being a company commander."

He turned slightly and gestured to the man behind him. "This is Chief Master Sergeant Kowalski. He's been an Air Commando roughly as long as I've been alive, so I am going to be listening closely to him, and I urge you to do likewise. He answers to me, and only to me.

"Now, I hope you people like training, because me and Chief Kowalski absolutely love it. Amat Victoria Curam."

Mantell noticed the confused looks on some of the men and women, and the smiles on others.

"For those of you who don't know Latin, that means, 'Victory Loves Preparation.' So, get ready to star in your very own Rocky training montage, everybody."

* * *

04 January 1990

Mantell smiled. "Well, now that we've had a bracing round of PT, let's do some of that JTAC shit."

* * *

Mantell noticed Kowalski keeping a stoic expression.

"Say it, Chief."

"Sir, that was shit."

"Indeed it was, Chief. Let's get really precise as to what flavor of shit it was, whether it had sprinkles on it, and let's start fixing things."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

12 January 1990

Kowalski said, "Sir, you didn't make a proper set of pre-arranged calls."

"So I noticed. I completely missed that bridge to the west."

* * *

28 January 1990

Mantell looked over the exhausted, bruised, and (in a few cases) lightly bleeding JTAC officers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am not entirely dissatisfied."

There was a tired round of laughter.

"All right, back to quarters, clean up, get supper, and then everybody get some sleep. Take care of what needs to be taken care of tomorrow, because tomorrow night at 1800, we will be on Green Ramp, getting ready for the graduation exercise. After that, we will be preparing for actual operations with your Tactical Air Control Parties and the assault teams."

* * *

01 March 1990
NAS Key West, FL

Colonel Nicholas Fury grabbed Mantell's shoulder. "Major, I need to know right now if your people are go or no-go."

"We are go, sir."

"Good. Tomorrow night."

"What the hell?"

"Radio Havana announced that the POWs are going to be tried for war crimes beginning March 15th. BUCCANEER FURY just got the green light to begin early morning on March 3rd, we jump on our objectives tomorrow night."

* * *

02 March 1990
NAS Key West, FL

The hangar was full of men and women organized into chalks for aircraft loading.

The PA system came alive.

"This is General Downing. You've heard the news, you know the mission. You should also know there is only one way that this mission ends: and that's with the successful rescue of our people from Cuba. Look around you."

Mantell looked around, wondering where Downing was going with his speech.

* * *

Ramey Air Force Base, Puerto Rico

Sophie looked at her assaulters, then at Lieutenant Barton and his tactical air control party, then around the hangar.

Downing continued.

"Take a good look at the men and women that stand next to you. Remember their faces, for one day you will tell your children and your grandchildren that you served with such men and women as the world has never seen."

* * *

NAS Key West

Mantell felt a surge of strength and determination flow through the assembled assaulters and TAC parties.

"And together, you'll accomplish the feat that will be told and retold down through the ages, and find immortality as only the gods once knew. I'm proud to serve with you. Good hunting."

Mantell called, "Five minutes for the padre."

He then went down onto his right knee, and bowed his head.

"Lord, as usual, my choices have brought me to the wrong place and time. I don't want to be a hero this night. Grant that I might render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and unto Thee what is Thine. Amen."

The chaplain's voice cut across the hangar:

"And shepherds we shall be.
For Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand.
That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee.
And teeming with souls it shall ever be.
In Nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

Every voice repeated, "AMEN."

A voice called, "BOARD PLANES!"

[jemhouston]

Not everyone is coming home. Hopefully Cuba will be caught napping.

[Wolfman]

The Red Dawn version of Operation DOWNFALL…

[jemhouston]

The Red Dawn version of Operation DOWNFALL…

That's what worries me. Cuba announces they're trying the POWs knowing the US will respond. The only response that saves the POWs is a rescue operation. The Cuba rings the camps to ambush them.

Flight of the Intruder (7/10) Movie CLIP - Let's Go Downtown (1991) HD
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wOJBjpLTBA

The WOK Battle stations montage doesn't work.

[Poohbah]

A musical interlude for Joshua Mantell:

[Wolfman]

The Red Dawn version of Operation DOWNFALL…

That's what worries me. Cuba announces they're trying the POWs knowing the US will respond. The only response that saves the POWs is a rescue operation. The Cuba rings the camps to ambush them.

Flight of the Intruder (7/10) Movie CLIP - Let's Go Downtown (1991) HD
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wOJBjpLTBA

The WOK Battle stations montage doesn't work.

Love that scene.

[Poohbah]

[Poohbah]

03 March 1990
DIA Headquarters
King of Prussia, PA

Ana Belen Montes parked her car close to the entrance and climbed out.

The recall said this was urgent, but hardly anyone's here beyond the standard night shift. Wonder what's up?

* * *

Inside, she was met by Lieutenant Colonel Valerie Morgan. "Ms. Montes? It's a hot one. We're in the Director's conference room."

Montes noticed that the usual civilian armed guards had been replaced by camoflauge-wearing soldiers with body armor and M16s.

"What's with the guards?"

"The THREATCON went up this evening. Part of why you're here tonight--aw, hell, this morning."

* * *

The Director's conference room had a map of Cuba covering one wall. Military unit symbols cover the island from end-to-end; Montes recognized the crossed-spears symbols of special operations units . . .

Wait, those are friendly symbols!

Colonel Fargo was there with a smirk that threatened to tear his face apart, as was General Lodge.

Lodge said, "Welcome to GABLE COTTONMOUTH, the opening of BUCCANEER FURY. The Special Ops folks are liberating the POWs as we speak, and the Marines are going into Havana Harbor in just a few hours, while the 82nd Airborne is grabbing Jose Marti Airport."

Fargo said, "We're cutting the head off of the communist chicken."

Montes felt as if she was about to throw up. "That's not what I was briefed."

Lodge said, "I took the liberty of bullshitting you."

Montes turned toward the conference room door to see Major Barzanian leaning against the wall, wearing a .45 in a cross-draw holster and a serene smile that seemed to say, Go for it, moron.

Barzanian said, "We've been using you to feed disinformation to Cuba for over two years, Ana. Tonight is the payoff."

* * *

03 March 1990
Camp 32, Holguin, Cuba

A thump in the hallway woke Air Force First Lieutenant Kelly Ray up.

She sat up and barely made out the face of Ensign Stacey Davis, who'd been taken prisoner after her ship was sunk at Guantanamo Bay.

Suddenly, Kelly realized that it was too quiet. Normally, the sentries didn't worry about making noise as they made their patrol rounds--but tonight, the camp was silent as a tomb.

She shivered.

Why is that phrase so unnerving now?

"We are Americans, we've come to bring you home!"

A woman's voice, with an American accent.

The cell door opened, and a tall woman in NVGs and camoflauge, carrying a wicked-looking suppressed carbine, was in the doorway.

She asked, "Chief Warrant Officer Sophie Lodge. Can everyone in here walk?"

Kelly said, "Yes."

"All right. When I call move, start moving, and follow the directions of my operators. We're taking you home."

* * *

03 March 1990
Ministry of Defense Secondary Interrogation Center
Santiago de Las Vegas, Cuba

The drop had gone about as well as could be expected, considering that it was only a nautical mile from Jose Marti International Airport and that for some reason, the Navy was plinking every goddamned revet on the airport property, less than a mile away.

There's always someone who doesn't get the word.

The toughest assignment had gone to Charlie Flight; they'd jumped onto the roof of the interrogation center, and they'd landed dead on the numbers. Alpha and Bravo flights had been a little disorganzied, but they'd assaulted the building with bloody-minded enthusiasm, and Mantell had heard that the commander was, before he was shot dead, complaining that the Americans were two weeks early.

They were moving prisoners down to the motor pool, where BTR-70s were waiting to move them to the evacuate.

"Oscar Six, this is Oscar Three, there's a car approaching, fast."

Inspiration hit Mantell. "Act like you're a normal roadblock."

Five minutes later, there was another call, this from Captain Isaac Morgan, who was usually imperturbable.

"Six, this is Oscar Five. Sir, you'd better get over here by Three."

Mantell jogged five hundred yards and saw what looked like an old-school Cadillac convertible, 1959 by the crazy tailfins . . .

And then he saw the prisoner.

Well, Mantell, you've really done it this time.

"He got out and started shouting orders--"

"Later. Right now, keep him secure. Get Jenkins and the Hammer Ace kit, we're headed upstairs. I need to make like ET and phone home."

* * *

On the roof of the prison, Mantell heard jet engines.

Starlifters. A lot of them.

He looked north and in the early dawn light, saw parachutes.

Jesus, did they just drop the entire 82nd on Jose Marti?

Technical Sergeant Arlene Jenkins said, "Sir, the SATCOM is up."

Mantell took the receiver and said, "COTTONMOUTH, this is Oscar Six, I have flash traffic for SOCOM Actual, how copy, over?"

A bored voice replied, "Oscar Six, copy you fivers. Send your traffic."

"Sir, this is for SOCOM Actual, and he's probably going to have to talk to November Charlie Alfa Actual once he gets it."

"Seriously?"

"Serious as a heart attack, Colonel. If I'm lyin', I'm dyin', now get the boss on the horn, please, sir?"

* * *

General Downing set the handset down, then said, "Colonel, please get a line to Philly."

"Sir, what happened?"

"Our recovering crayon-eater Mantell just fell into a manure heap and came out covered either with shit or diamonds, and I'm not exactly sure which one it is just yet."

* * *

Mantell looked south and froze.

He got on the tactical radio. "All Oscar elements, get up here now-now-NOW!"

* * *

Colonel Jorge Guerrero looked at the POW compound a mile and a half distant. He heard radio chatter indicating that the prisoners were being moved, apparently toward the extraction site.

Thanks to political connections, he'd managed to spend the war in Cuba, helping apprehend downed American pilots. Guerrero knew that his T-54s had no business being in a real fight, but American light infantry was meat on the table. He'd get decorations and a promotion out of this.

He keyed the radio. "Yanqui bastards, you're staying here in Cuba. You see my tanks? All you fools have is light weapons."

* * *

Mantell had been working on the encrypted SINCGARS with the FAC(A), or Forward Air Controller (Airborne), in an A-10B, who was deconflicting target assignments as fast as the JTAC elements could pass them to the individual flights.

Mantell heard the radio call from the Cuban commander, and grabbed the other handset.

"Outstanding, mi commandante! That's the spirit! Damn, I guess I'm really screwed now."

He paused, then keyed the handset again. "Unless, of course, I've already thought of that."

* * *

ARBY Lead
Over Santiago de Las Vegas

"Got your strobe, got the targets, Arby Flight is coming in hot with a side of bacon!"

* * *

Guerrero heard the call, "AIR ALARM!"

Nobody could have air support up that fast!

And then he heard the first explosions from the rear of the column, followed by the low moan of turbofan engines. A-10s flew overhead, and his blood ran cold.

His machine gunner suddenly bailed out of the tank and went into the bushes beside the road. Guerrero tried to follow, but his headset cord picked that moment to wrap around his leg and stopped him where he was . . .

And then his world exploded in fire.

[Matt Wiser]

They fed her an updated version of the 1962 invasion plan... (OOC: if you read The Fires of October, by Blaine Pardoe, you can see a lot of that-especially the Marine side from 2nd Mar Div and the landings proposed for Tarara Beach, east of Havana).

[Matryoshka]

[facepalm] Goddammit, Mantell. You and your weird-ass luck.
Reassuring to see he had the sense to pass this one up the chain. I know that some sport-fishermen who go after marlin or swordfish practice tag-and-release with the really big specimens, but when you hook a fish that big, the whole situation instantly mutates to the point where it’s no longer your personal call....

[jemhouston]

Colonel Jorge Guerrero, you forget the US perfected doing the impossible in close air support. We can screw you up five ways from Sunday before we have our morning coffee. After coffee, well, find out.

[Wolfman]

Colonel Guerrero? It wasn’t nice knowing you for all of five minutes…

[Poohbah]

03 March 1990
Holguin, Cuba

Kelly Ray stared at the YFC-130H Hercules, sitting in the middle of the soccer field.

"How in the hell are they getting us out of here?"

Stacey Davis snorted. "How did they get it IN here, that's my question."

"All right, people, the meter's running and the locals are probably getting itchy trigger fingers! Get aboard, as far forward as you can go, and strap in!"

They all hustled inside and got seats. A loadmaster made sure they strapped in.

The crew chief yelled, "This is going to be the most fun anyone's had with clothes on!"

The engines spun up and roared, the brakes released . . . and then a new roar sounded, and the Hercules lurched skyward, then steadied into a climb that impressed the hell out of Kelly Ray.

We're accelerating while going practically straight up!

She realized they were using rocket assist to get airborne and up to speed.

The aircraft gained forward motion, and there were bangs and thuds as the rockets detached.

* * *

03 March 1990
Ministry of Defense Secondary Interrogation Center
Santiago de Las Vegas, Cuba

A company from the 82nd Airborne reached the prison, and soon the liberated POWs were being escorted back to Jose Marti. Mantell was wedged in the company commander's Humvee with his prisoner.

Mantell said, "A lot less shooting than you'd expect."

"Out here, it's pretty quiet. Nobody's been told what to do, and every political officer understands that you aren't going to get shot if you're waiting on political guidance from Havana before doing anything. The 101st is downtown, and it's a shit show."

"Heavy resistance?"

"Not directly. It's just that every senior leader in the Cuban government thinks that, with Fidel out of pocket, he's the next El Jefe, and they're all shooting at each other. Someone said that we've cut the head off of the communist chicken, and they're absolutely right about that. Problem is, they forgot that decapitated chickens tend to make one hell of a mess. The Dopes on Ropes get to be the cops responding to a domestic violence call, and they can damn well have that."


* * *

03 March 1990
Presidential Situation Room
Ritz-Carlton Hotel
Philadelphia, PA

Secretary of Defense Carlucci came into the room. President Bush asked, "Any word on Fidel Castro?"

Carlucci sighed. "Mister President, he was apparently visiting a mistress in Santiago de Las Vegas." He paused, then said, "When things started happening, he started driving back to Havana . . . and managed to get captured by the operators that were hitting the prison at Santiago de Las Vegas."

Bush's jaw dropped.

"Sir, nobody's in charge right now, downtown Havana is one continuous firefight by people looking to be Castro's replacement, the 101st is trying to restore order before the various contenders completely destroy the government offices, and the officer who captured Castro asked instructions. Said the whole thing was above his pay grade."

"What's the plan if we keep him?"

General Colin Powell said, "We're going to fly him out to the Enterprise. Best that he's on a ship for the time being, sir."

Bush nodded. "Do it."

* * *

Over the Atlantic Ocean

"Starbase, Valkyrie 710, requesting full stop, over."

"Valkyrie 710, Starbase, understand full stop, you are cleared into Spot 2, over."

Mantell looked out the starboard hatch as they approached the USS Enterprise. The ship looked . . . tired. But she was still in the fight.

Like me, I guess.

They landed, and Marines from the ship's detachment took custody of Castro.

* * *

Captain Jonathan Archer looked down at the flight deck, then looked through binoculars.

I'll be damned.

He then said, "Officer of the deck, please have the messenger of the watch intercept that Air Force officer on my flight deck, extend my compliments, and bring him to my at-sea cabin."

"Aye aye, sir."

* * *

An impossibly young man in dungarees came up to Mantell. "Sir, Captain's compliments, and he requests your presence in his cabin."

"Lead on, sailor."

* * *

Mantell marched into the cabin and worked to control his surprise.

He saluted--technically correct by Navy standards, as he was still under arms--and said, "Sir, Major Mantell reporting as ordered."

Archer nodded. "It's good to see you again, Josh. Although I imagine you weren't expecting to be bringing us this notable a prisoner. Must be one hell of a story."

"He was driving back to Havana when we raided one of the interrogation centers, and he managed to drive right into one of my roadblocks, sir. It's good to see you as well, sir. Congratulations on getting Enterprise."

"Thank you." Archer paused, then said, "And please accept my condolences on your father's passing."

"Thank you, sir, that does mean a lot. He spoke often of you."

Archer smiled. "I wouldn't be here without his mentoring me. Back in 1964, I got orders to Third Fleet staff. To say I wasn't happy was an understatement. I was flying Crusaders back then, and I suddenly got posted to a no-flying billet--I wanted to be posted to VF-124 as an instructor. Your father challenged me to stop being a fighter pilot who happened to be a naval officer, and to become a naval officer who happened to fly fighters. He then helped me learn the skills I needed. By the time I got posted to VF-211, I'd made the transition. And 26 years later, here I am." He sighed. "This may be the old girl's last hurrah--we're scheduled for refueling and overhaul once Cuba's over--but at least we're going out with a bang."

"Well, sir, she lives up to the legend. All of it."

"All of the legend?"

"Not just the World War II legacy, sir. But also to her namesake that boldly goes where no man had gone before."

Archer nodded. "Speaking of living up to the legend . . . you're, what, 25 and a Major?"

"24, sir. And I transferred to the Air Force because General Gray tried to revert me back to Lance Corporal halfway through the training for this mission."

Archer winced.

"Well, I'm going to challenge you: I hope you'll be the kind of officer your father was. Develop your skills as a leader and as a staff officer, seek to pass those lessons on to those who come after you, and always seek to do the right thing."

* * *

03 March 1990
Downtown Havana

First Lieutenant Timothy Bass leaped out of the Blackhawk onto the Plaza de la Revolución. His platoon was dismounting the other aircraft, and he led his chalk towards the Biblioteca Nacional. The odd bullet pinged off of the concrete as they ran east.

"All right! We grab the library stat!"

Platoon Sergeant Lisa Sullivan said, "Yes, sir."

They jogged up to the library. A middle-aged man in a frayed linen suit was unlocking the front door when they came to it.

He held his hands up, a fearful expression on his face.

"Staff Sergeant Mendez!"

Staff Sergeant Carlos Mendez came up and spoke calmly in Spanish to the man, who nodded, then replied.

"Sir, he's worried that the library's special collections will be damaged."

Bass nodded. "Tell him We're here to secure the library. I want you to hand your squad off to Sergeant Norelius, and grab four guys who speak Spanish for a working party. You're going to help this guy do what he needs to do to protect his collection."

Mendez translated, and the man nodded again. "Gracias, Senor! Gracias!"

"And we're going to let people into the library. It's theirs, not ours, and this might be the only shelter they've got now that things have gone bonkers. We're here to safeguard the library--and its patrons."

* * *

An hour later, Bass was on the roof, occasionally directing fire from AC-130 gunships onto groups of Cuban military and paramilitary forces.

Sullivan's voice came over the radio. "Delta Three Lima, this is Three Sierra, over."

"Sierra, Lima, go."

"Sir, we have a guy who just showed up in the lobby. He's got two small duffels, one looks kind of heavy . . . and he's sweating now that he realizes we're here. Might be worth investigating."

"Who we got who can get close?"

"Specialist Jimenez, but he says his Spanish is more like Spanglish."

"Best we can do."

* * *

"Hola, Senor!"

Specialist Eric Jimenez walked up to the nervous, sweating man. "You don't look well. Can I get you some water?" Maybe a place to lie down?"

"I'm fine. Really. When can we go?"

"Oh, it's going to be a bit. Things are still kind of crazy. I hate to ask this, but can I search your bags? I want to make sure there aren't any weapons in them."

Jimenez watched as the visitor turned several shades paler.

"Listen, I'll take my chances outside--"

The man shut up when he noticed a private casually leveling his M249.

"I'll be just a second, sir."

Jimenez unzipped the heavy bag and saw clothes. He reached under them and felt some booklets.

He pulled out four passports.

"Now, let's see. We have Senor Jorge Arbusto from Argentina. 'George Bush.' You're a really funny guy, you know that, senor?" Jimenez opened the remaining passports. "Carlos Perez of Ecuador, Enrique Castile y Fernandez of Peru, and Jose Venendor of Paraguay."

The private with the M249 laughed. He spoke with a thick German accent. "Oh, that is wrong. Funny as hell, but wrong."

"Yeah, Fritz, what's so damn funny about it?"

"The closest translation of that name into German would be Josef Mengele."

Jimenez reached into the bag and pulled out several bundles of currency--American dollars, francs from France and Switzerland, and deutschmarks.

"Just who the heck are you, my friend?"

The man tried to punch Jimenez and got two solid punches in the stomach instead. He collapsed to the floor.

"Don't just let the Americans kidnap me!"

The other men and women present made a point of not looking.

Jimenez and Fritz patted him down and Fritz came up with a wallet. He handed it to Jimenez.

"Well, Colonel Caucillo Delgado, of the General Intelligence Directorate . . . today is your unlucky day, sir. Tomorrow ain't looking much better, either, bubba."

* * *

05 March 1990
Ritz-Carlton Hotel
Philadelphia, PA

"Mister President, the senior officer at large in the Cuban Armed Forces, Lieutenant General Gaspar del Arroz, has arrived at 2nd Marine Division Headquarters under a flag of truce. He wishes to negotiate a surrender."

* * *

05 March 1990
HQ, 2nd Marine Division
Ceiba Mocha, Cuba

Lieutenant General Charles Krulak stepped out of the Humvee and walked over to General del Arroz. A translator followed the American.

del Arroz said, "Sir, I wish to surrender my command--what remains of it." He paused, then said, "Whatever government we had in Cuba didn't survive the initial landings and Fidel Castro getting captured. I have received no less than eight sets of orders, all of them contradictory, most of them nonsensical, and none of them giving any hope of victory--only promises that I will be executed if I don't follow those specific orders instead of another contender's, along with anyone who follows me. I only ask that my men be given proper food and medical treatment."

"We'll do that. I need your men to identify any serious criminals--particularly those involved in mistreatment of prisoners of war."

del Arroz nodded. "I will pass that order, sir."

[Matt Wiser]

Looks like there's going to be quite a few trials of HVTs when this wraps.

So how did they make CREDIBLE SPORT work? The real-life trials had at least one crash.

[Poohbah]

Looks like there's going to be quite a few trials of HVTs when this wraps.

So how did they make CREDIBLE SPORT work? The real-life trials had at least one crash.

The crash was due to them trying to do it in manual mode instead of trusting the computer.

Serve the Computer! The Computer is your Friend!

Friend Computer wants you to be happy. If you are not happy, you may be recycled as reactor shielding.

[jemhouston]

CREDIBLE SPORT is proof any aircraft can be VSTOL if you apply enough thrust.

[Poohbah]

18 March 1990
Naval Air Station North Island
San Diego, CA

Roberta threw her arms around Josh and kissed him passionately.

After they broke for air, she smiled. "I told you to not be a hero."

Josh chuckled. "Wasn't trying. Fidel drove up and began issuing orders until he realized my people were all pointing guns at him."

"So, where are you getting stationed?"

"UCSD, with the AFROTC detachment. I get to be the executive officer and an ROTC student. So, right now I'm in makee-learnee status."

03 April 1990
San Diego, CA

Joshua Mantell woke up feeling like hell.

Roberta sat up next to him and placed a hand on his forehead. "Dear God, you're burning up."

* * *

03 April 1990
Balboa Naval Hospital
San Diego, CA

In the emergency room, Mantell's temperature monitor began screaming.

"ICE BATH STAT!"

Blackness took him.

* * *

09 April 1990
Balboa Naval Hospital

Mantell awoke, and an alarm began chirping. A nurse came in with some cool water.

"Sip, swish it around, don't try to swallow quickly."

Mantell managed to croak, "Please call my wife."

The nurse's expression told him everything he needed to know.

* * *

16 April 1990
Miramar National Cemetery
San Diego, CA

Pastor Greg Murtha opened his Bible and said,

"A reading from the First Letter of Paul to the Corinthians.

"Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed--in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.'"

Murtha paused, then said, "I had the privilege of knowing Roberta from her earliest steps in the faith as a child, to her baptism, and then in watching her come to a mature faith in God. She would be the first to admit she wasn't perfect; but she was always willing to try to do better. When she came home in January, we spoke for a while, and she talked about her experiences of war and about marrying Josh, her great love of nearly a decade. From her wartime service, she keenly understood that this life we live is a very temporary state of affairs, and she always sought to keep one eye focused on eternity. We mourn the loss of a dear and beloved wife, daughter, and friend; and yet, we embrace the hope that we will be reunited with her in the fullness of time. Until then, let us all trust in God's Providence and Grace, and seek to follow Him as our consciences command us."

* * *

After the last of the other mourners departed, Mantell stood there by the grave, head bowed.

Roberta's voice came to him. Darling, God said to me, "Come," and I came; and in turn He will command you to go, and so you will go. Until we see face to face again, I love you.

[Matt Wiser]

Armistice Flu.... Nasty one, that. On par with the first year of 1918...

[Poohbah]

25 April 1990
Sevier, UT

The single-wide trailer was well-maintained. Sophie climbed out of her brand-new Chevrolet CUCV Crew Cab--purchased on GM's "Heroes Back to the Highways" military layaway program back in 1986, and painted Air Force Blue (the other choices were Navy Gray, Army Green, and CARC Camouflage).

She'd sprung the extra $599 for the matching camper shell over the bed.

She looked it over. It had been bought in anticipation of marrying Adam after the war, and having children with him.

Nice to know it's still a good purchase.

She nervously fingered her blue armband--the sign that she'd gotten the Bakersfield Variant vaccine when the second wave had broken through the original vaccine.

Sophie walked to the door.

Rang the bell.

Waited long enough to get nervous.

And then the door opened.

Marianne was standing there in shorts and t-shirt with a blue armband. Her jaw dropped open.

Sophie's brain decided to not waste the opportunity. She stepped into the trailer, swept Marianne into her arms, and kissed her with all of the fire she'd denied herself since Adam's death.

Marianne's arms embraced her, and she kissed Sophie back.

Sophie swung her hip and closed the door behind her, then broke the kiss, swept Marianne off her feet, and asked, "Where's the bedroom?"

Marianne's eyes were glazed; she panted, "Uh . . . what?"

"Bedroom?"

"Oh. Yeah. End of the hall."

* * *

Marianne's finger traced the hollow of Sophie's throat as they lay together on her bed.

"So I take it this is what you want?"

Sophie captured the hand, brought it to her mouth, and kissed the fingers, then the palm. "Yes."

Marianne laughed gently. "And I was right. One tumble in bed with you, and I am ready to be domesticated."

Sophie smiled. "I love you. Will you marry me?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to have to insist on something first, though."

Sophie rolled onto her side and looked into her lover's eyes . . .

No, she's my fiancee now.

"What?"

"I want to meet your parents first."

"Good idea."

* * *

26 April 1990
Salt Lake City, UT

Sophie parked the truck in front of her parents' house.

Marianne was fidgeting in the passenger seat. "Sophie, this was a terrible idea."

"It was your idea, my love. And we need to do it." She sighed. "For good or bad, you're marrying my family. I love my parents. I'm not going to hide this from them, as if this is something shameful."

"What if they reject us?"

"I'd rather know now than let it spill out later and add a lack of trust to the problem."

"Okay." Marianne took a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly each time. "All right."

They went up to the door together, and Sophie rang the bell.

Her mother answered the door.

"Sophie! It's been so long!"

Her mother gave her a hug.

"Mom, this is Marianne Barnhardt."

"Welcome to our home, Marianne."

"Thank you, Mrs. Henrix."

Inside, her mother said, "Charlie, Sophie's here, and she has a friend with her."

Her father came out of the den. He hugged Sophie.

"Dad, this is Marianne Barnhardt. She's a nurse I met while I was in Vegas."

Sophie noticed that her mother's face had become serenely unreadable.

Sophie then said, "And she's my fiancee."

Her parents exchanged a look, and her father said "Marianne, would you like to see our greenhouse? We do pretty good with raising vegetables . . . "

Marianne said, "That sounds great, actually."

Her father led Marianne into the backyard.

After the door closed, her mother said, "Sophie . . . I read the reports from Vegas and Sheppard."

Sophie nodded.

"Mom . . . I was always bi-curious. Adam and I talked about having a threesome. Never did it, but just talking about it led to some very spicy sex."

Her mother sighed. "Did I really need to know that, Sophie?"

Sophie giggled. "In this case, yes."

Her mother nodded. "Did you sleep with her in Vegas?"

Sophie shook her head. "She turned me down, actually. We didn't do the deed until yesterday. She told me I was her type, an alpha female she could fall hard for. And I could feel the same attraction towards her. After Adam passed . . . General Lodge had us do a vacation together, to talk to each other--he had no idea of what had happened, he just had two people who worked for him who were in pain and needed a break. I needed some time to grieve, and she had some . . . trauma . . . to deal with."

Her mother's voice softened. "Trauma?"

"She had to triage one of the Lost Girls. In peacetime, she would have been first in line for treatment . . . but she was too far gone with what they could do for her."

Her mother said, "Oh, no!"

"She ended up holding that little girl's hand and telling her she was going to be okay as she died."

Her mother let out a quiet sigh. "I could see how that would chew anyone up."

Sophie nodded. "Yeah. But it was a moment of . . . mercy, compassion, even love for someone who needed it desperately. I don't know if I could do that . . . well, more than once. We exchanged letters for the rest of the war. She helped me grieve . . . I helped her cope . . . and we fell in love with each other."

Her mother was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "Well, you do what you believe to be right, dear. Times change, and I guess we need to change with them." She smiled. "And it helps that she's beautiful and feminine, too."

Sophie nodded. "That it does."

"So, what are your plans for after you're married?"

"University of Utah accepted me for their master's program, and Novell is hiring. I'm drilling in the Reserves with a squadron in Klamath, Oregon."

"What about BYU?"

"Mom, they're a religious school. Their honor code says sex is allowed only between a man and a woman who are married to each other. I couldn't sign onto that, so I passed."

"Good for you. What about children?"

Sophie said flatly, "Adoption."

"You know, I read in the paper that some lesbian couples are doing what they call 'the Heart Option,' and--"

Sophie shook her head. "God, I absolutely despise that song. It's about using another human being solely for your own convenience, and they try to dress it up as some kind of empowerment. It's . . . wrong. I'm not big on surrogacy, either. That's bordering on turning kids into consumer goods."

Her mother started tearing up.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Nothing. Just that my little baby girl is all grown up, making good decisions, and she knows right from wrong. Everything a mother could possibly hope for. Somehow you came out of the war without a hardened heart."

"I wish I could be so sure of that, Mom. It doesn't feel like it."

Her mother chuckled. "Sophie, remember when I told you to be patient waiting for the college acceptance notices, and you were quiet for a week, then said that you didn't feel patient? Patience isn't a feeling, it's a process. You were coping with the situation as best you could. A hardened heart doesn't wrestle with matters of conscience. You do. And you and Marianne seem to help each other with that."

"Mom . . . while I was in Vegas . . . "

"I know, dear. And that sonofabitch deserved a lot worse. Don't start none, won't be none."

* * *

Sophie noticed that there wasn't any wine in the refrigerator as they were working on dinner.

She raised an eyebrow, and her mother pulled a green coin out of her pocket.

"Six months sober as of last week. I'm in Alcoholics Anonymous." She put the chip away and said, "I realized that I wasn't in control, and that I needed God's help to stop drinking." She smiled. "At least you won't have to kill the rest of the bottle for me."

Sophie turned to her mother and gave her a fierce hug. "I love you, Mom. If you ever need anything--"

"Oh, Sophie, that's my line."

* * *

28 April 1990
West Wendover Courthouse
West Wendover, NV

Sophie held hands with Marianne.

The woman officiating asked, "Do you, Sophie, take Marianne to be your wife, from this day forward, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Do you, Marianne, take Sophie to be your wife, from this day forward, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, until death do you part?"

Marianne said, "I do."

They exchanged rings, Marianne letting out a soft sigh as Sophie slid the ring onto her finger.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada and before these witnesses, I do declare you wife and wife." The official smiled and said to Sophie, "You may kiss the bride."

Sophie lifted Marianne's veil and gave her a decorous kiss.

They held each other for a long moment, then left the office with Sophie's parents.

* * *

"So, what are your honeymoon plans?"

Sophie said, "Move into our place in Provo."

Marianne chuckled. "The place I worked at in Sevier Valley is used to people walking off with no notice--it's one of Uncle Sam's places. They had a replacement ready for me when I told them my plans. So now I'm circulating my resume in Provo, I have two offers already."

[jemhouston]

One happy ending.