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'.
