Gold Star Mom

Gold Star Mom

He knocked on the battalion commander's door and waited.

The Marine lieutenant colonel looked up and said, "Carson. Come in. Take a seat."

The older man signed a Navy Achievement Award for a staff sergeant then looked at his new operations officer and said, "Congratulations."

The way the CO smiled told him something was up.

"Sir?"

"You are now the battalion Family Readiness Officer. The FRO. You know, as in...afro."

LtCol Lewis happened to be black, or 'dark green' as Marines often said, and because he was the one talking about an afro, it was no big deal. Getting this job was. As in a big--lousy--deal. It was quite possibly the one job every officer dreaded having. Sure, being the adjutant sucked donkey balls, but being the FRO was...terrible.

However, Captain Carson Miller had just become the battalion operations officer or "OpsO" or as most said, the S-3 officer or even just the 'three'. He was responsible for all of the battalion's operations and training, a job normally given to a major. But Capt. Miller was a go-getter, and the CO tapped him for the job over a weaker officer who'd just made major, something no one, to include him, believed would happen.

The major was now assigned to a sister battalion, and Carson was the new S-3 officer. So if that meant he had to eat a little shit to get to the rainbow, he'd take on this 'ankle-biter' of a job the way he did everything else and tear it up.

"Yes, sir," he replied with no hint of emotion.

"I know it blows," the CO admitted, but it's our link to the spouses, and while I'm well aware no one wants the job...."

"Someone has to do it," Carson said completing the obvious.

"It's normally the XO's job, but as you know, he's in Taiwan training their junior officers in case shit hits the fan over there. But you're right, someone has to do it, and your first meeting is tomorrow night at 1830 at the Officer's Club. I'll be there and introduce you to the wives and a husband or two, let folks know who you are, and from then on it'll be all yours."

Were he not talking to a senior officer, Capt. Miller would have said, "Gee, thanks," with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Instead, he again replied with the only acceptable response of, "Yes, sir."

"The adjutant has a binder will some good gouge in it. That ought to get you started. If you have any questions, just ask."

Knowing the meeting was over, the captain stood up.

"Thanks, Carson."

"Thank you, sir."

As he walked out he shook off his disdain for the shitty job because it was now his job and asked the 'adj' for the folder. The first lieutenant handed it to him with a smile and said, "Have fun, sir."

"Smart ass," Carson quipped as he took the binder, and the adjutant, the battalion paper pusher, chuckled.

"Come on, sir. Somebody's gotta do it, right?" the 24-year old officer called out.

Carson flipped him the bird as he walked away and drew another chuckle.

It was actually a very easy task, and after a quick look through the binder, he had the gist of it. The rest was listening to whatever the wives/spouses had to say, taking action when necessary or just agreeing sympathetically where needed. In the unlikely event he had to tell someone 'no' the CO would back him and that would be that.

The following evening he changed into civilian clothes and sported a button down shirt and a pair of Dockers and headed to the O Club where, as promised, the CO introduced him and got things going.

It was no surprise that his presence caused some murmuring and a lot of smiles among the battalion wives as he was a very good looking guy of 32. He'd done four years on active duty as an enlisted Marine and, after graduating from college in just over three years, had been an officer for a little over seven years.

He was single and too busy to even think about settling down, but there were a lot of days where he found himself longing for someone to come home to. For now, however, that was a million miles away as the sergeant major's wife went over the agenda for the evening.

Most of it didn't need his attention, but one thing caught him by surprise.

"As you know we have a dozen Gold Star families whose sons were killed in action while assigned to this battalion. We've really slacked off keeping up with them, and I hope we can return to sending out cards with well wishes like we did for so many years. If you'd like to do that let me know, and I can provide you with the list of names."

Once the formal business was over and people were getting coffee and cookies, Carson went over to the SgtMaj's wife and said 'hello'.

"Well, hello yourself, Carson," she said with a little twinkle in her eye. "How may I help you?"

"I think I'd like to send out a card or two."

"Bless you!" she said as she fished out a copy of the names and addresses.

He took a quick look and saw that most of them had been killed in Iraq with a few in Afghanistan. The last name was familiar to him as he was one of those killed at the airport in Kabul in August of 2021.

Carson Miller cared about politics, but he never discussed his beliefs with anyone but close friends. Like religion, that topic was off limits nearly all of the time, and this case, what was done was done.

He thanked her and went to walk away when she said, "So...are you seeing anyone these days?"

He turned back around and smiled.

"No. Not really. Between work and working out...."

"I have a niece who's graduating from college. She'll be here in a few days, and I thought I'd show her around the battalion."

He pretended to be mildly interested, and told her he'd look forward to meeting her niece.

"She's very attractive, Carson, and she loves Marines!"

He laughed politely and reiterated how good it would be to meet her then excused himself before she could corral him.

Around 2100 or 9pm, he sat down and looked at the list again. The young Marine who was blown up at the airport had been 19, the same age he'd been the first time he saw a dead Marine. A member of squad was killed when the vehicle he was riding in was blown 15 feet into the air by an IED or Improvised Explosive Device. The other two Marines in the Humvee survived the blast, and Carson had been one of two men who pulled his friend's lifeless body from the vehicle that had begun burning.

He was unaware of the tears forming in his eyes or maybe he just ignored them as he shook his head and grabbed a pen. He looked at the card he'd been given along with the list of names and thought for a moment before he began writing.

"Dear Mrs. May. I'm Captain Carson Miller from Colton's battalion. I served in Afghanistan, but I can't imagine the pain of losing your son. I didn't know Colton, but I know Marines, and I'm sure he was a fine young man."

He briefly thought about saying that 'time heals all wounds' but he could still get emotional about a friend a decade later. It was quite likely that a mother would never stop feeling the pain.

"I know this sounds trite, but I am really, truly sorry for your loss. I wish there was some way to turn words into actual emotions, but that's not possible. Just know my thoughts are with you and that we are forever grateful for Colton's service to our country and to you for raising such a fine, young man."

He signed it, "Sincerely, Carson Miller."

Not sure what more to say he put the card in its envelope, hand wrote the address, and placed a stamp and a return label on it. It had his own personal address rather than the battalion's, but he had no reason to think this grieving mother would write back.

On his way to work the next morning he dropped it in an outside mailbox at the base post office and forget about it as he began another day of never-ending reports, meetings, and planning that would last until at least 1900 or 7pm.

Two weeks later he grabbed the mail from the box in his apartment complex and set it on the kitchen counter before opening a beer and taking a long pull. He tossed all of it directly into the trash until he got to a letter with his name and address written on it in pen. The return address said Lori May and included her address and city/state and zip code.

He opened and sat down to read it after taking a second, smaller sip.

"Dear Captain Miller, Thank you so much for the kind words about my beautiful son, Colton. He was indeed a fine young man, and I was so very proud of him. I went to his graduation from boot camp at Parris Island and remember thinking how sharp all of the Marines looked. I was worried when he told me he was going to Afghanistan, but he said it was no big deal because they'd be at the airport were it would be safe. That turned out not to be true, and when two Marines in dress blues came to my house a week later, my world stopped.

I don't mean to burden you with my problems, I just say that to let you know that I loved my son dearly, and that I miss him every single day. Your kind words mean a lot to me.

I want to thank you for your service, too, and tell you that I admire those who wear our nation's uniform. Again, it was a pleasure hearing from you, and I wish you all the best in life."

It was signed, "Respectfully, Lori May."

There was a PS that said: "While I am still 'Mrs. May' my husband, Dan, passed away when Colton was a freshman in high school. It was nice to see that in writing, but please call me 'Lori' if you would be so kind."

He read it a second time and then a third and couldn't stop thinking about his woman he'd never met, but with whom he shared something few people could fully understand. He almost penned a reply but decided not to as he had no idea what else to say.

A week passed, and one Saturday evening he saw the card and read it again. This time, he set down at his desk and opened his MacBook and started typing.

He wrote nearly a full page that mostly reiterated what he said and how her words moved him. He shared the gist of losing his friend but didn't say anything about the horrific details of his mangled body. He also included his phone number in the unlikely event she might ever want to talk to someone who 'got it'.

On Monday he again dropped it off at the post office and, as before, forgot all about it until the following Sunday morning when his phone rang.

"Captain Miller?" a female voice asked.

"Yes?"

"I hope I'm not bothering you. I'm Lori May, Colt....

"Colton's mom. Yes, hi. This is a pleasant surprise."

They talked for several minutes about this, that, and the other before she spoke about her son. He teared up again as she struggled to get through her feelings and what his loss meant to her then apologized for 'being so weak'.

"Ma'am? You're anything but weak. You're not only strong, you're amazing."

"You're too kind," she said as she dabbed her eyes. "I've taken up too much of your time, so I'll let you go. I'm really not even sure why I called, but I'm thankful that you were kind enough to listen to me. It's so hard to talk to anyone who...who doesn't know what it's like."

Before he could reply she tried to lighten the conversation and told him to please not call her 'ma'am' again.

He laughed and promised her he wouldn't.

"I don't know if you'd like to stay in touch, but I'm on social media," she said. "Facebook and Instagram. Under my own name."

"I will definitely stay in touch," he promised her.

"That would be very nice, and thank you again, Captain."

"It's Carson...Lori."

She laughed and told him, "Fair enough...Carson. You take good care and...God bless."

"You too, m...Lori."

He 'heard' smile as she said 'goodbye' and seconds later he searched for her on Facebook.

In his mind he pictured an older, kind of frumpy-dumpy looking woman which was awful, but that was the mental picture he had. What he saw made him check and recheck the name to make sure it wasn't a mistake. He then looked to see if she was the Lori May from the same hometown and confirmed that she was.

"Holy shit," he mumbled as he looked through her photos.

He spent a fair amount of time looking at pics of her son from birth through his memorial service, but it was her photos that had him mesmerized. He wondered if perhaps she'd modeled at one point as there were several professional looking photos of her from years ago, and she was insanely hot.

Even now, her most current pic from two moths ago showed an extremely attractive woman with gorgeous blonde hair, blue eyes, and an amazing smile. He had no idea whether or not it had been Photoshopped, but if that's how she actually looked, she was still incredibly attractive.

As she'd said, her status was 'single', and there were also many photos of her late husband, her together with him, and quite a few of them with their son.

Her Instagram page showed other, equally amazing pics of her to include one in a one-piece, white bathing suit that caused a small stir.

"Damn," he said as he scrolled through her pics.

Her age and date of birth weren't listed which was to be expected, but he did the math in his head and determined she had to be at least 37 if she'd gotten pregnant....

He stopped thinking when he realized he was getting into an area he had no business being in and put those thoughts out of his mind. But he did scroll through her photos again before sending a Friend request on Facebook.

He checked his account again at 10 o'clock, and Lori had accepted his request and sent him a note on Messenger.

"Hi, Carson! I was thrilled to see your Friend request. I truly enjoyed our chat and hope to hear from you again soon."

A second message showed up a few minutes later.

"I looked through you photos. I had no idea you were such a handsome, young man. I'm sure the special woman in your life is well aware of how lucky she is!"

That was all she said, but it was enough to cause an even bigger ruckus down south of his navel as he replied.

"I'll take your word for that, but I have to say that you are an incredibly beautiful woman, even though that may be inappropriate. If it is, I do apologize, but that is nevertheless true."

He added a smiley face and sent it.

He got a reply that made him smile.

"To be honest, it's been a very long time since anyone has said that to me. Well, anyone as attractive as you, Carson. And now I'm the one being inappropriate."

"Not at all, Lori. To have a woman like you say that is incredibly flattering."

It took a lot longer to get a reply, and when it came it made him question everything he'd said to her.

"I'm not sure how we let this get so out of hand, but it shouldn't go on, Carson. I do thank you for making me feel young again if only for a little while, but this really isn't a conversation we should be having. Please take care. Lori."

He felt like he'd just been kicked in the gut. He sat there looking at the computer screen feeling like a fool. Worst of all he had no one to blame but himself.

A month passed, and Carson had gotten over his brief lapse in judgement when the CO asked him to stop by. As always, he knocked and waited.

"Have a seat!"

He sat down but sat straight up, notepad in hand.

"The division has tasked us to host the Gold Star memorial this year. That means we have six weeks to get out invitations, find a suitable location, and get the bios and photos of our fallen Marines from every battalion in the regiment ready to move there for the big day. This is your baby, Carson, but don't even think about trying to do it all yourself. My wife and several others love doing this stuff, and each battalion will have a rep you can call on. They'll let you know if they need money or support. You'll tell me and I'll make the funding available. We've got $2,500 to work with, and the regimental commander said he can cough up another grand if we need it. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

As he walked out he realized he'd need to send an invite to Lori. He didn't have to do it personally, so he breathed a sigh of relief for the reprieve. There was a very good chance she wouldn't even show up, and if she did he would apologize again and be nothing but professional.

When he stepped outside, the first hint of cool Fall weather hit him and wished he'd brought his field jacket with him as he headed over to supply to talk about money and resources for the memorial.

His next stop was back to the adjutant who would ensure every name on the list got an invitation regardless of who filled them out. He would personally mail them so the CO would know they were sent. The invites had to go out within a week to give the family members who wanted to attend time to make plans.

"Sir!" the adjutant said with a smile when Carson poked his head into the lieutenant's office. "How may I serve the FRO?"

"Yeah, yeah," Carson said, enjoying the good natured banter. "I understand you have the invite list and the cards."

"Why yes I do."

He opened a drawer, pulled out a small box and handed them over.

"And now I do not!"

Carson looked at the box and said, "Gee, thanks."

"Always happy to help, sir!"

Carson just shook his head and walked back the S-3, box in hand. He set them in his desk drawer but 'out of sight out of mind' didn't apply. He couldn't stop thinking about this amazingly attractive older mom who was also a Gold Star parent and how he'd made such a fool out of himself. Even so, he couldn't keep his brain from going back to those photos of her or the words she'd written.

Fortunately, he had a major exercise to plan which meant he had no time for daydreaming. He pushed Lori May out of his mind and asked the training officer, another first lieutenant, to call range control and find out when they could get the entire battalion out there for a 10-day period of time four months down the road.

That week, the newly-minted FRO passed off the 'box' to the sergeant major's wife who again shamelessly flirted with the handsome, young captain. He, in turn, dutifully played it off while thanking her for taking care of this. The thought of keeping a card out for one particular Gold Star mom crossed his mind, but the realization that it would seem creepy shut that thought down.

Fortunately, the people who were putting the memorial together were highly motivated to do an outstanding job. That meant the only thing Carson had to do was periodically ask for an update and check items off of his memorial to-do list. With just a few days to go, he'd checked off every item that didn't involve the day of the memorial, and he knew exactly who would be doing what when that day arrived.

Three days prior, the adjutant handed Carson the list of attendees. There were a dozen names representing their five fallen Marines along with a couple of dozen others regiment-wide, and while he tried to empathize with all of them, the only name he knew was Lori May. When he saw it he felt his body react and again thought about her photos and the way she'd shut things down.

Once again obsessing about her, he couldn't get over the fact that Lori May simply did not look her age. She was insanely attractive and more so because of the way she clearly cared for herself. Her hair and makeup were always perfect and she looked great in everything from jeans to dresses, and yes, even in a bathing suit. He felt like his mom describing a character in a romance novel, but Lori's eyes really did see to sparkle. As did her perfectly straight, very white teeth. And then there were her ample breasts and long, shapely legs, and....

Carson Miller wasn't stupid nor was he naive. He was fully aware he barely knew her and that she might have some negative personality trait he found repulsive or even a boyfriend she'd chosen not to reveal, and yet she was the first woman since his freshman year of high school that he couldn't stop thinking about. The first had been a female PE teacher who was so hot that guys flocked around her wherever she went. Even worse, she might find to be reprehensible. Or worse.