Christmas Hero

I wrote this story shortly after Christmas of 2102. It is a work of fiction. Names, places and events are a product of my imagination. I hope you enjoy it for what it is.

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When the IED exploded eight Marines of Lieutenant Karl Richart Schmidt's platoon lay wounded and exposed to sniper fire from a group of insurgents hiding in the village. Schmidt's instincts told him to remain hidden behind the low stone wall which the remainder of his men had taken cover. Then his training kicked in. Those were his men and he refused to allow them to die.

"Give me covering fire," he yelled to gunnery sergeant Ronald Thompson.

Abandoning the safety of the wall he ran to the nearest wounded Marine and grabbing him by his flak jacket he dragged him to safety behind the wall. Seven more times he raced from this relatively safe position to drag wounded Marines to safety.

Schmidt took several rifle hits to his extremities unprotected by his Kevlar vest and flak jacket. Just as he was dragging the last of his men to safety a bullet struck the side of his helmet. The bullet disintegrated on impact but two fragments pierced his skull rendering him unconscious.

Gunny Thompson had radioed for air support and just as Schmidt collapsed two F-18 Hornets screamed into the valley and the insurgents, along with the village houses they were using for cover, disappeared in a barrage of air-to-ground rockets. In less than ten minutes a Seahawk helicopter landed and Schmidt and three of the most seriously wounded of the eight Marines were flown to a US Army field hospital.

Schmidt was stabilized and his wounds were evaluated. Four hours later he was being flown to Ramstein Air Force Base Germany and the military hospital close by.

After being examined by a team of neurosurgeons it was decided to place him in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling of his brain to subside. The wounds to his arms were treated and the shattered thigh bone was surgically repaired. When the swelling subsided Schmidt went into surgery and the bullet fragments were removed from his brain in a thirteen hour long operation. He, again, was placed into a medically induced coma for over two and half weeks while he recovered.

In early October, Schmidt began under going physical therapy to regain the use of his wounded arms and legs. At this time a team of neurosurgeons, psychiatrists, and psychologists began testing him to determine how much, if any, damage had been done to his brain. Unbelievably, he was given a clean bill of health and pronounced mentally, but not yet physically, fit to return to duty.

One day in mid-November, as he was returning to his hospital room after PT. He was taken to a military barber for a shave and military style haircut. The scars from the brain surgery were evident from his left temple all the way around to the middle of the back of his head.

As all barbers do this one began talking to him. "Well, Lieutenant, I'm going to clean you up real nice and make you presentable to the world."

The following day a Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel and two aides visited him in his room.

"Lieutenant Schmidt, I take a great deal of pleasure to inform you that you have been promoted to the rank of Captain and awarded the Purple Heart."

He pinned the captain's bars to his uniform along with the Purple Heart and continued speaking. "This afternoon you will receive a visit from the President of the United States. He is on his way to Ramstein after meeting with our NATO Allies to visit with wounded military personnel hospitalized here. The President has specifically requested to meet with you. This entire visit is being held in secret because of possible terrorist threats to this facility."

At four P.M. Schmidt, in his Dress Uniform, was escorted by two Marine officers from his hospital room to a small auditorium on the second floor of the hospital building. On the stage was a podium displaying the Seal of the President of the United States. Several chairs were placed on the stage and to one of these Schmidt was escorted and seated. The seats in the auditorium were soon filled with high ranking military personnel and other assorted guests. At four-fifteen the President, accompanied by his aides and Secret Service agents, entered. Schmidt, as well as the military personnel, saluted and the President returned the salute and invited the audience to be seated.

After some opening remarks the President stepped from behind the podium and walked over to Schmidt who was helped to his feet by the officers seated on either side of him.

"Captain Schmidt, I have the honor to address a true American hero." Hardly glancing at the paper in his hands he continued. "Because of your heroism, without regard to your personal safety, eight United States Marines are alive because of your unselfish action in effecting their rescue while under heavy enemy fire. It is my honor to present to you the highest award this country has to offer, the Medal of Honor."

Taking the award from the presentation case, held by an aide, he placed the ribbon around Schmidt's neck, straightened the medal and stepped back one pace and saluted him.

"I have been ordered by my wife to invite you to the White House after you have fully recovered from your injuries for a more formal and public recognition of your bravery."

With that the President saluted him again, shook his hand and left the stage leaving Schmidt to the applause and cheering of the assembled guests.

A week later Schmidt was transferred to a Naval Hospital in Washington, D.C. to complete his recovery.

Christmas Homecoming

Early in the afternoon of December 23rd Judge Anthony Parker was outside removing the accumulated snow from the five steps leading up to the porch and double entry doors to his home in small town in northern Vermont. Just as he finished the last step the town's only taxi pulled to a stop in front of his house.

The driver, who the Judge had known for many years, got out and hurriedly stepped around the car to the rear door. The Judge found this odd as in all the years he had known the driver he had never seen him get out and help a passenger.

The driver helped a tall Marine Corps officer who was using a cane out of the back seat and across the icy sidewalk to the walkway leading to the Judge's home. The young man tried to offer money to pay for the cab fare and the driver shook his head and said, "I cannot and I will not accept money from you." "Any time you need a ride you call me. It will be my honor to drive you at any time and any where you desire." He continued to assist the Marine to the front gate where he was met by the Judge.

As the young man entered the gate the driver whispered to the Judge. "Look around his neck." He then walked back to his taxi. The Judge looked into the face of his visitor, and seeing the man's blue eyes, he thought he recognized him.

"Rick, Rick Smith? Is it really you?" The Judge knew this young man ever since the boy was in elementary school. His real name was Karl Richart Schmidt but he had adopted the name Rick Smith to be more easily accepted by his peers.

"Yes, sir. It's really me. I've come home on leave to visit my parents graves at Christmas. I still have a hard time believing that they were both killed in that accident ten years ago. I'm also here to see Cassie."

Cassie was the Judge's only daughter and had dated Rick all through high school and until the time Rick had entered the Marine Corps.

"Come inside and let's get warm by the fire." Grabbing Rick's arm the judge helped him up the slippery steps into the house. There were many questions to which the Judge needed answers but he would wait until he made his guest comfortable.

"Mary Beth, Mary Beth we have a visitor," the Judge called out to his wife of thirty-five years.

Mary Beth came into the library from the kitchen stirring a cookie mix in a large bowl. As the Judge stood behind Rick, helping him take off his military overcoat, he still hadn't noticed the ribbon around his neck.

When Mary Beth recognized Rick the bowl dropped from her hands and she had to sit down to avoid fainting.

"What, how? I don't understand. You disappeared, we thought you were dead. It was in the newspaper," she stammered.

Now it was Rick who had questions that needed answers. He turned to the Judge and asked "What's all this about?"

It was then that the Judge finally noticed the Medal of Honor around Rick's neck. He joined his wife sitting in a chair and said, "Rick, we all need answers."

Rick explained to them everything that had happened since being wounded that he could remember. He recounted what the doctors told him and his long recovery as well as his visit with the President. Stopping only to answer questions they both had for him.

When he finished, he said. "Now it's your turn. What's all this about being missing and being dead?"

"Mary Beth, you start while I make a quick phone call."

As she began the Judge stepped into the adjoining room and placed a call to his brother, Trace Parker. Trace and the Judge had been partners in a powerful law firm specializing in both criminal and civil law when the Judge was appointed to the Federal Bench. Trace continued with the practice and expanded it to over fifty attorneys.

"Trace, Anthony here. You won't believe who's sitting in my library right this minute . . . Rick Smith. You know people at the Pentagon. Find everything you can about him, and I mean everything. Get his military record faxed to you and call me when you get it."

". . . and then there was a story in the paper that you had . . . " Mary Beth was explaining.

"Mary Beth may I interrupt," the Judge said. "Perhaps, it would be best if I start at the very beginning."

"You know Kyle Beekman. You, also I'm sure, are aware that his father owns the biggest newspaper in the state. In my opinion it is nothing more than a left wing rag."

"Anyway, Kyle wrote a series of articles blasting this administration's policy on the war. I don't mind differing opinions when it comes to policy but when he started bad mouthing the troops he crossed the line. In the last article he quoted some anonymous sources who stated that you had abandoned your men in the field, disappeared and was presumed dead. He didn't come right out and say it but he inferred you were not only a coward but a traitor. Many people took it at face value, especially those who didn't know you and, at least one, who did."

"What about Cassie?" Rick asked.

"As much as it pains me to say she is one who did. Mary Beth and I didn't raise her that way. When she went away to the university there were too many left-wing students and professors. She believed that line of crap they fed her."

"When she came home this summer Kyle started sniffing around and I am afraid that she . . . . " The Judge's voice trailed off and Rick saw tears in his eyes and anger on his face.

With that the young man rose from his seat and asked for them to call the taxi back to take him to the only hotel in town.

Mary Beth rose to her feet, grasping Rick, she pulled him close to her and said. "No, that won't be necessary. We'll drive you to the hotel. Anthony, you get the car while I help Rick with his coat. There are a few things I need to tell him without you here."

The short ride to the hotel was made in silence. Just as the Judge, and his wife, returned home his cell phone rang. Answering it the Judge turned to his wife and announced, "it's Trace."

"Anthony, I just got his records faxed to me. I've read the action reports, the letters of commendation from his commanding general and his medical records."

"That kid went through Hell. It is a wonder he is still alive and able to function. I think it's time to take that S.O.B Beekman and his asshole kid down big time. Let me tell you about an idea I have. I'll meet you at your house around seven this evening and explain."

After Trace left that evening the Judge rang the hotel and asked them to connect him to Rick's room.

When Rick answered the phone the Judge said, "Rick, I would like to meet with you tomorrow morning and I will not take no for an answer. Meet me in the lobby at eight-thirty and we will go out for breakfast."

The next morning, over breakfast, the Judge described Trace's plan.

"So tonight is the big Christmas Eve Party at the country club hosted by the Beekmans. Everyone in town is invited, well, at least the rich and powerful. Trace and I are also invited because of who we are. You will be coming as my guest. The party begins at eight but you, Mary Beth and I will arrive closer to nine. By that time Trace will have dropped a bomb that will blow the Beekmans away. Their reputation, as well as their influence, in this state will be destroyed."

"By-the-way Cassie will be there with Kyle. It's time I taught her a lesson she will not soon forget. It's something I should have done a long time ago."

"Oh, full dress uniform tonight. It's a formal occasion. Also, stay out of sight for the rest of today. We don't want anyone to know you are alive and back in town. I've already instructed the hotel management and staff to keep quiet about you."

At seven o'clock that evening the doorbell rang at the Parker residence. As the Judge came out of his library to answer it, Cassie came down the stairs from her room.

Wearing a red formal gown she looked absolutely stunning. The Judge thought to himself how could his daughter look so beautiful but be so stupid. Opening the door Kyle Beekman stepped inside with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Ignoring Kyle's outstretched hand, the Judge turned, and walked back into his library closing the door behind him. In two hours that grin would be wiped off his face . . . permanently, he said to himself.

By eight-thirty the Christmas Eve Party was in full swing. The elder Beekman was circulating, shaking the hands of the rich and powerful, trying to drum up support for his political aspirations. Kyle and Cassie were on the dance floor.

A little before 9 PM Trace walked up to the band leader and requested the microphone. One look at Trace's face and the band leader signaled the band to stop as he handed him the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I'm sure you all know who I am. I have something I would like to share with you this evening and then you can all return to this wonderful party hosted by the Beekmans."

Taking several sheets of paper from his jacket pocket Trace Parker began to read.

"On July 31st a platoon of U.S. Marines was attacked by insurgents in Iraq. An IED was exploded leaving eight of them severely wounded and exposed to heavy fire from some fifty insurgents hidden in houses of a small village."

"Their Lieutenant, who I will name later, pulled each of them to safety while exposing himself to unrelenting enemy fire. He received wounds to both arms and had the thigh bone of his right leg shattered. He was also shot in the head and suffered a near fatal brain injury. He then spent nearly a month in a medically induced coma before undergoing successful brain surgery and then two and half weeks in another medically induced coma."

"His heart stopped twice and was restarted by his doctors. He recovered and underwent extensive physical therapy. In November of this year he was awarded the Medal of Honor by the President of the United States in a secret ceremony necessitated by terrorist threats to that facility in Germany."

"On January 4th he will be in attendance at the White House as the honored guest of the President and his family to be formally presented to the citizens of this country in honor of his courageous and unselfish acts of heroism. The eight men he saved will also be in attendance to receive their awards which they so richly deserve."

"That man is with us tonight and you will recognize him. He grew up in this town. His name is Karl Richart Schmidt, but we know him as Rick Smith."

With that announcement, the doors to the ballroom opened and Rick was escorted in by the Judge and his wife.

"Oh! One other thing," Trace said. "I am filing a ten million dollar law suit against the Beekman family and their newspaper for slander, libel and defamation of character on behalf of Captain Schmidt."

"My brother, Judge Anthony Parker of the Fifth Federal District Court, has informed me that federal charges are to be brought against Kyle Beekman and his anonymous sources for disclosing secret military information that placed the lives of hundreds American troops at risk. I think we all owe this young man more than just an apology and a pat on the back for the harm done to his reputation."

Cassie Parker stood there, stunned, with tears streaming down her face and her entire body racked with uncontrolled sobbing. She rushed forward and threw herself at Rick's feet.

"How could I have been so stupid? Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?" She lamented.

Pulling her to her feet, Rick said. "Cassie, all the while I laid in that bed in Germany I thought only about you. You are what gave me the strength to overcome both my physical and mental pain. You are what has allowed me to recover and go on with my life. I would like you to be a part of that life."

Every man and woman in the ballroom began clapping and cheering. While the band played the Marine Corps Hymn Cassie held on to Rick so tightly that no one could get close enough to even shake his hand. Mary Beth, Trace and the Judge stood smiling and beaming at the young couple. Every thing turned out exactly as it should have on this Christmas Eve.