Jurassic War

Forty-Six

A few months later, Dawson sat in a chair by the window of his room in the Naval hospital located in San Francisco. The Navy had treated him on board the Nautilus, then brought him to a hospital at Pearl Harbor for surgery. He tolerated the operations well. A couple of weeks after surgery, the Marine Corps sent him stateside to convalesce.

His room was located on an upper floor of the hospital. It smelled antiseptic. He longed for the outdoors and could see the shimmer of San Francisco Bay in the distance. The sun reflecting on the water reminded him of the moment when sailors heaved him up the side of the submarine. Reminiscing about the ragtag flotilla heading towards the submarines made him long for the camaraderie of the Raider battalion.

Dawson also thought about the men left behind. The brass hadn’t realized that a unit had kept to the original plan. When Lieutenant Peterson’s unit veered off to the right, nobody had seen it in the dark. No one understood the implications. Even the shooting from around the island could have been attributed to combatants fighting with the indigenous dinosaurs. The evacuation from the atoll had been haphazard. Raiders had piled into rubber boats and were taken to the most expedient submarines. Men traveling to the island on the Nautilus were taken aboard the Argonaut for the return trip and vice versa. Nobody realized men were missing until they had gotten to Pearl Harbor.

Mary stood near the big window several feet away. She remained quiet after a lull in the conversation. Dawson glanced at her while she gazed out the window.

Somehow, she had aged in the last year, maturing into a woman. Mary fingered her engagement ring. She sighed. Continuing to stare out the window, she didn’t contribute anything further to the conversation.

“You’re upset with me,” Dawson finally said.

“Why on earth would I be upset with you?” Mary turned to face him.

He looked into her eyes. “You seem down. Is it the wedding?”

“The wedding?” She furrowed her brow, confused.

“Are you having doubts about the wedding?”

“Doubts about the wedding?” She canted her head. “No! Of course not.”

“What’s wrong, then?” He forced a smile.

Mary shook her head and paced back and forth. “You signed up to defend our country, volunteered for the Marines. And then you volunteered for an elite unit.”

“And?”

“And you served on the front lines, helping to win a major victory.”

“Well, aren’t those all good things…”

“Yes.” Mary stopped a couple of feet from his chair.

“But there’s something else, right?”

“They promoted you to corporal. You’ve been in the press.” She started to cry. “People are calling you a hero. All over the country.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying…” Mary sobbed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Dawson considered her comment. This all began with him disclosing to her that he’d prefer returning back to his unit after his shoulder and leg healed. “I’m a United States Marine. And they want me to sell war bonds.”

“What’s wrong with that?” She sniffed. “I do that.”

He stood and took her hand. “I don’t mean to dismiss your efforts, or the contributions of others. The bonds are necessary to winning this war. But—”

“You don’t want to be the one advertising them.”

“It’s not like that.” Dawson broke away. Gathering himself, he turned to face her. “Look, I’m not a poster boy… just a country boy from New Hampshire. Parading around like some kind of hero? Well, it doesn’t sit right with me. Heck, the entire mythos of the Marine Corps, and even especially more so for the Raider battalions, is the belief the unit operates as one. I’m no hero. I did what any Marine would do under the same circumstances.”

“But you’re the one who did it,” Mary said, shaking her head.

He shrugged. There’s no come back to absolute truth. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you ever think that being a country boy is part of why you were able to succeed?” Mary smiled kindly. She stepped closer to him. “Maybe you think differently from others.”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it much.”

“Sure, sure you have.” She took his hand. “You led those boys.”

“Someone had to take charge. And I was just there at the right time.”

Mary shook her head, calmly, but disapprovingly.

“I don’t want to fight about this. Can’t we just take it one step at a time?”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded. “Let’s get you recovered first.”

Dawson couldn’t bring himself to let it go. “You say that because you think there’s a good chance they won’t even let me go back to my unit. I love you. However, my spirit belongs with the Raiders, not behind the lines.”

“Randell, that spirit is why I love you. But you have a couple of serious injuries.” She inhaled. “There’s a chance that your role in the fighting is over. And it might not be up to you.”

“Well, it’s only been three months. I’m feeling a lot better.”

“But will they let you, even if you recover?”

“I could write to my congressman…”

Mary took him into her arms. “Let’s just handle this one step at a time. You need to heal and at least make some effort for the war bonds. They’re counting on you after all the favorable press.”

Dawson knew she was right. “I’ll carry out my charge. And we’ll see what happens.”

She leaned back, smiled at him. Then they kissed.

Glancing back out the window, he thought of their upcoming wedding. Then, the glistening waves of the bay took him back to the vast Pacific, where he longed to return.