The Seal Commander
“Harry, we can’t have Jason in the house. How will we cope with him? He’s violent!”
“Debbie, just listen. I can’t just abandon my brother. I can’t institutionalise him! How would you feel if it was your sister in the same boat? You would feel different, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose so, but why can’t his wife look after him.”
“Look, Sandy is a career girl 24/7 and doesn’t have the time or the inclination. He needs a family situation to recover in and we can provide that here.”
“But where would he sleep and live. I’m not sure I would want a weirdo around us all the time.”
“He’s not a weirdo, he’s just suffering from shell shock and post explosion trauma and needs time to recover and I think this would be the best environment. We can let him have the run of the den downstairs. It’s got its own bathroom and facilities.”
“What are we going to use if we can’t use the den as a family room?”
“Gawd woman, we have enough space up here that we don’t use.”
“I suppose you are going to use the ‘Hero’ card next. Seal Commander returns from successful mission in Pakistan or Afghanistan, saving us from the nasty terrorists and blown up by a roadside bomb on his return, are you?”
“No, I’m not! I’m playing the ‘family’ card here. We are an ideal position to look after my brother until he recovers. You work at home so can keep a weather eye on him and don’t forget he gets a very generous ‘per diem’ allowance which we will get. It will go a long way in helping us to get out of our financial difficulties on this place. You know how overstretched we are?”
“What about the children?”
“What about the children? Look, the last time we visited him in hospital he spent all the time amusing the children and we couldn’t get a word in edgeways.”
“But they say he’s bonkers, not right in the head. Is he safe here? He has violent moods! Clinically he’s suffering from depression, nervous breakdown, that kind of thing. He should be in an institution I think.”
“Look Debbie, I sat in an interview with him with the top brass. They were planning to discharge him from the service and he lucidly argued that he should be retained because of his skills and all he needed was some time and TLC to get him on the road to recovery. The Generals decided he should be given six months rehabilitation; half pay and a review. Jason argues for up to twelve months with a review on his progress in nine, full pay and the usual ‘per diem’ allowance he was entitled to so that he could either choose a mountain or seaside resort to speed up his recovery. He was totally lucid and had all the supporting facts at his fingertips. They just gave in. They had no choice.”
“What about his violence episode. The doctors say that may flare up again.”
“Look Debbie, if they wanted to put you away into a padded cell for observation, wouldn’t you object a little?”
“Yes, but he seriously injured four hospital staff!”
“Don’t shout Debbie. He’s trained to look after himself and his training just kicked in. There’s not been any reoccurrence and he explained that he wasn’t going to be injected with a tranquiliser if he didn’t want to. Even the Doctor General at the interview agreed with him.”
“OK, when does he move in then?”
“Thanks Debbie. We need to look after family. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements.”
Jason moved into the den downstairs, laid down on the floor and slept solidly for forty-eight hours, covered only with a light travel rug. Debbie looked in on him every couple of hours and Harry would check his pulse and temperature every evening as instructed by a doctor. All was well and one morning they heard the shower going and singing from downstairs. Harry decided to delay his departure for work that day to see how their guest would fare. Debbie cooked breakfast and the smells must have penetrated down to the den. Jason came up and in a hearty manner asked what was for breakfast and that he was hungry, enough to eat the tabletop and maybe a horse or two for afters. This amused the two young ones and they got all of his attention as they also downed their breakfast which was usually a marathon event. Halfway through breakfast Jason demanded to know why I wasn’t at work. I downed the dregs of my coffee, kissed Debbie, Lindy and Boris goodbye and was out of the door in a flash.
“Jason, I need to take the kids to nursery and do a little shopping. Will you be OK on your own for a while?”
“Debbie, you have paid work to do. I can’t drive for a while so drop me off at the shops and I’ll find my own way back. Just give me a list. I need to discover my surroundings. I’ll be fine.”
“So, what happened then?”
“Nothing really. He kept the kids amused in the back and I dropped him off at the store with a list and some cash. He walked the three miles back pushing the shopping trolley. The only peculiar thing was that he didn’t give me all the change just the coins and held back about four Dollar bills.”
“Must make sure he has money of his own, never thought of that. What did he do the rest of the day?”
“Well, he watched me unpack the shopping saying he’ll know where to put stuff away the next time. Then he excused himself that he had to tidy up his room. I didn’t see him until Mavis brought the kids back and we had lunch together with Jason concentrating wholly on the kids. They ate everything up and even asked for more but Jason wouldn’t allow that for some reason. I was grateful that they had eaten their lunch at all without the usual fuss. You know how difficult they can be. I was delighted.”
“What did he do all afternoon?”
“He excused himself after lunch and disappeared into the den. Mavis came with her two as usual to oversee my two for the afternoon while I was supposed to be working. Jason was exercising and marching up and down the yard. Up and down. Up and down monotonously for hours. The four kids joined him and Mavis tells me she watched, open mouthed, as the kids were put through what was basic military training. They stopped after an hour and Jason insisted on each having a drink, then he told them a long rambling story that kept them interested for at least another hour.”
“It wasn’t gruesome war stories was it?”
“No something about animals in the jungle. Mavis thinks he’s wonderful with the kids.”
“I hope you warned her about his depression and that we insist that he’s never alone with the children. Its not that he may do things to them it’s just that his responsibility behaviour may not be into caring for children all the time. Did you get any work done today?”
“Not a lot. I kept peeking out at them from the window but all was well. Mavis thinks he’s wonderful even though he’s eccentric. Darling, do take the trolley back to the store before you put the pickup away.”
The next few days followed the same pattern but when no shopping was needed then Jason would vacuum all the carpets and clean all the windows, generally, making himself useful around the house, even making up decorated sandwiches for the kid’s lunch. In the afternoons more and more mums would bring their kids to be entertained. By Thursday, there were five mums and more than a dozen kids in the yard, marching, exercising, playing sport or being told stories. Harry organised a cabin in the mountains for the weekend to get Jason out of the local community and to assess his mental health. So far, he looked normal apart from behavioural quirks which Harry put down to his military background. The cabin was a success from the kids’ point of view. Jason organised open fires, roasting fish on sticks, hunting in the forest with bows and arrows plus many more backwoodsman adventures. Harry was worn out trying to keep up and Debbie rested, wondering what the kids, Jason and Harry were up to. They went out each morning and came back dirty and tired out. After showers and the kids put to bed, they would sit and chat over a few cans of coke. Sunday night they drove back home with the kids asleep in the car.
“Jason is too energetic. I couldn’t keep up. I was tired at work today.”
“You poor thing and I felt quite rested whilst you lot were out doing your manly stuff. Now tell me, what did you eat all day? I got some garbled message from Boris this morning.”
“We fed off the land. Squirrel, fish and wild fungi, all locally caught by Jason and expertly cooked. I collected the firewood. Squirrel is good. Lindy and Boris never have eaten so much meat as this weekend. You know how they usually play around with their food. Now what was today like?”
“It was a repeat of last Thursday except Jason insisted I put decaf on the shopping list for Mandy and Bourbon biscuits for the Mums with their tea. After school the older kids had heard of this stranger in the area and turned up on their bikes. He got them in the garage to check their bike over and then set up a circuit for them in the yard with jumps. I’m afraid he broke down next door’s picket fence to make the jumps and extend the ride.”
“Oh shit! I’d better go and apologise.”
“No need Harry, the Warmington’s just sat out on their veranda and watched. There was no shouting or noise. He sent them off just before dinner and had them clean off their bikes. That’s why the driveway is wet.”
“It seems we are having a circus here everyday and I’m missing out! What’s for dinner, it smells good darling. I’m starving.”
“I don’t know if I should tell you Harry. It’s squirrel pie. Jason trapped some in the yard and made them into pie earlier.”
“I hope the kids didn’t see him kill them?”
“I don’t know but I suspect they watched him do the same over the weekend at the cabin?”
“They did and he explained it off very nicely to them that man has to live off the countryside and all that. Come on, let’s go down and eat.”
“Harry, we usually have a glass of wine but we haven’t even had a beer since Jason has been here.”
“I’m not sure that Jason should partake in alcohol so I thought it wouldn’t harm us to abstain for a while.”
“There was an official letter for you today. I opened it and it was a check for a huge amount, made out to you, marked as Jason’s per diem allowance. Shouldn’t we give it to him?”
“As I explained, that is for us to look after him. He has his own fat salary paid into his bank direct.”
“But it pays off all our monthly bills and more. I don’t feel right about taking it.”
“That’s what Jason has arranged. I heard it on the phone the day I brought him here.”
During the next month, the days went by in the same way with lots of activity at the house which became the playground for the area. An assault course was constructed and the older lads were sent out to scour their garages for ropes, old tyres, bits of timber and tarps. Each weekend Harry was subjected to another rough time in the wilds living off the land. He had grown soft and found it hard going since he had to carry Lindy most of the time to cover the huge distances.
Mums’ teatime on the veranda, watching the proceedings, was becoming a thing with each mum trying to outdo each other with home made cakes and biscuits. All the children, from the oldest to the youngest behaved in a disciplined way. Jason each day divided them into teams of six and each had to elect a leader for the afternoon. All games were team events and the kudos was not only to win but ensure that the toddlers took equal part as the older ones. Crying wasn’t allowed. Bruises were shown off as marks of honour. Debbie was starting to relax. On rainy days the children would be sat in a double circle under the veranda and each one had to tell a simple story then Jason would launch into one of his exciting tales.
“Hi darling! How are things?”
“Fine as rain Harry. We have become the most popular home in the community with Jason taking the lead.”
“How is he on the behavioural front? Any noticeable changes?”
“He’s fine but a couple of things worry me. You might have a word with him Harry. He carries and uses that huge dangerous looking knife around with him. Even lets the kids use it. Under close supervision of course! Secondly, he still doesn’t give me my change back, only the coins and he has started getting the older kids to bring him single dollar bills in exchange for tens and fives.”
“What does he want with dollar bills?”
“I noticed him stuffing them into a shoulder bag. It’s peculiar and it’s secretive so we won’t raise that matter just yet. I’ll just observe. Don’t bother with the knife either. Kids need to learn how to be responsible around them, just as with guns.”
“What does he use the knife for?”
“They all have broom sticks. You know, rifles, to do drill with and the little ones need rifles to be cut down to their size. It’s quite safe. He has them sitting around in a circle watching their leader perform the task. The worrying thing is that he does drills with the sticks like Samurai swords. Some get hit accidentally but they don’t seem to mind and certainly don’t cry. I suppose it gets them to recognise pain and an understanding what might hurt them and others in turn. We tend to wrap our kids up in cotton wool and they don’t experience and can’t handle accidents. More importantly, they learn to avoid incidents where they might hurt themselves.”
“You’re probably right but how do the mom’s take it all?”
“Bit cautious at first and would run out to placate their little darlings but now they just look and try and avoid eye contact. I’m not sure we should be running a military academy here but the kids and moms love it.”
End of the third month in the den and Jason checked his hoard of dollar bills, smoothed them out and sorted them into bundles with rubber bands. He stuffed them all into his shoulder bag and it was bulging. It was Monday morning and Debbie was taking the kids to school on the usual run. He put on his fatigue trousers, his Seal boots and taking his bag, he went up to the closet in the hall and put on Harry’s waxed hunting jacket and hat. He went into the kitchen and filled up his water can, first taking a long swig. After closing the door firmly, checking that it was secure, he set off at a brisk pace, in a Westerly direction. He had this inner urge to go Westwards and now he had enough dollar bills to do it if he was careful. Baltimore to San Francisco was a long way.
Jason instinctively avoided the major highways and stuck to the tracks and small roads. Occasionally he would get a lift from a kind passer-by and slept soundly anywhere he could find and he was an expert in that field. Occasionally he would stop at a MacDonald’s on the road and have their largest burger on offer. They had the most sustaining fat in them. Most of his food was off the land. Only when going through a city would he resort to spending his hoard of dollar bills on food. Cities were also where danger lay. By now he had grown a bushy beard and long hair. His clothes clean but well worn. The down and outs saw him as easy picking to their cost. Although slight, he was immensely strong, extremely fit and well fed. They didn’t stand a chance in any confrontation. Muggers and gangs were another nuisance. He developed a sixth sense to avoid them. On one occasion he was faced with six of them to deal with, trying to relieve him of his bounty. Police cars and ambulances arrived to clear up the debris and he didn’t even have to use his knife.
He was arrested and held overnight in a holding cell which was a steel meshed cage. His cell mates were all from the gutter, rounded up by the patrol for causing a nuisance that night. Having checked in his belongings with the desk Sergeant he settled down with his back to the bars for a night of relative comfort on the floor.
“Waz yuz in fer?” asked a large black guy poking Jason’s boot with his toe. He ignored the taunt.
“Heard yuz kicked ass with some of our brothers?” asked another having heard the news spread around the goal.
“Yuz boots will fit me fine,” said another standing over him.
“No laces,” replied Jason opening his eyes wide and assessing the situation. The guy didn’t heed the warning look and bent down to grab a boot.
“Don’t touch!” warned Jason.
“An wadaya gonna do wit us?” said the guy holding the boot. The second boot kicked him hard in the throat and he fell back choking for breath. All the six other guys were up and so was Jason. The confined space was an advantage since there was no room to retreat and therefore the advantage was always with the attacker. His first smash was an open palm in the face of the nearest. It broke his nose and splattered blood everywhere, stopping him in his tracks, blinded with his own blood.
He ducked a swing off the third guy and pulled the arm onwards which exposed the neck to a vicious chop with the side of his hand. The third guy went down in a heap. The three left were now wary and backed off or tried to. One tried a kick but the ankle was caught and a hard boot, without laces, found its way into the man’s delicate parts. He was no use to the gang anymore. The other two cornered finally decided to rush Jason but he had anticipated that and rushed at them with his elbow out, catching them in their throats. They fell about gasping for breath holding their necks. The guys in the adjoining cell who had been encouraging the attack on a lonely white with shouts and cat calls, all fell silent and stood watching in awe as Jason pushed a guy away and sat down to close his eyes in sleep. The silence rang warning bells with the guards and they rushed in wondering what had happened.
“What’s going on in here?” demanded a guard jabbing Jason in the back with his night stick.
“They were making too much noise and a man has to sleep,” he replied as the guards looked on trying to make sense of the situation.”
The Chief appeared and took control.
“Take this white guy and put him in the single cell upstairs. Get a medic in to see to the other trash.”
Jason spent a comfortable night on a raised bed and even got a styrene cup of coffee for breakfast. They had to let him go since he had money and wasn’t destitute. The night before he had given his rank, name and address at his current base camp. Checks were made and he was swiftly seen off the premises with a squad car taking him to the edge of the city. He tried not to venture into big cities again. His big break came when he hitched a lift with a long-distance trucker that took him right into California. Within days he had reached the Pacific coast.
Jason climbed down to the shoreline and kissed the sand that evening as the red sun was going down. He took off his clothes and neatly piled them up on the beach with his boots on top of his depleted shoulder bag and his knife, in its scabbard, stuck inside his boot. He made his way into the gentle waves up to his chest and without a last look over his shoulder he swam an easy crawl towards the horizon, still heading out Westwards.
