Читать книгу The Vultures - Mark Hannon - Страница 10

5.

Rita heard the DJ on WBEN start to read the noon news and stood up. Lunchtime, she thought, then, but it’s just me today, as she looked in the refrigerator. The doorbell rang. She went to the steps and saw a man in a brown jacket waiting there. Who’s this? she wondered. He rapped on the door.

“Western Union,” he said.

Oh no! She remembered Pat saying, “They always send a soldier now if a GI’s killed in action.”

“Yes?” she said, slowly opening the door.

“Telegram, Ma’am,” and he handed her an envelope.

“Let me get some change...”

“No need for that.” He turned and left.

She turned the yellow envelope over and opened it. Leaning against the doorframe, she read,

FROM: MILITARY NOTIFICATIONS BUREAU

DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE

WASHINGTON, DC

REPORT DELIVERY DO NOT PHONE

DO NOT CALL THE SECRETARY OF THE ARMY

TO: MR AND MRS PATRICK BROGAN

75 CORDOVA AVENUE BUFFALO, NY 14214

THE SECRETARY OF THE ARMY REGRETS TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON PRIVATE FIRST CLASS RORY BROGAN WAS WOUNDED IN ACTION BY AN EXPLOSIVE PLACED BY A HOSTILE FORCE. HE HAS BEEN PLACED ON THE SERIOUSLY ILL LIST AND IN THE JUDGEMENT OF THE ATTENDING PHYSICIAN HIS CONDITION IS OF SUCH SEVERITY THAT THERE IS CAUSE FOR CONCERN. PLEASE BE ASSURED THAT THE BEST MEDICAL FACILITIES AND DOCTORS HAVE BEEN MADE AVAILABLE AND EVERY MEASURE IS BEING TAKEN TO AID HIM. HE IS HOSPITALIZED IN VIETNAM. ADDRESS MAIL TO HIM AT THE HOSPITAL MAIL SECTION, APO SAN FRANCISCO 96347. YOU WILL BE PROVIDED PROGRESS REPORTS AND KEPT INFORMED OF ANY SIGNIFICANT CHANGES IN HIS CONDITION.

JAMES H ONEILL MAJOR GENERAL USA C 114-140 THE ADJUDENT GENERAL DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY WASHINGTON DC

Rita spun inside the hallway and stumbled to the phone, gripping the telegram. Staring at the envelope, she started dialing the number for the 17th Precinct, then stopped. No. Dial Pat’s number at the DA’s office. She tried again.

“Good afternoon, District Attorney’s office.”

“Pat. May I speak to Patrick Brogan, please?”

“Mrs. Brogan? Are you ok?”

“Rory. Something’s happened to Rory. Pat, where’s Pat?”

“He’s out of the office, Mrs. Brogan. Wait on the line, I’ll try to find him.”

Rita’s legs gave out and she found herself sitting on the floor while she waited. She tried to read the telegram again, but the words made no sense.

“Mrs. Brogan, this is District Attorney Butler. Pat’s on the street right now, but we’re tracking him down.”

He could hear Rita sobbing on the other end. He covered the speaker and said to the secretary, “Get a deputy over to Brogan’s house now.”

Then, to Rita, “Mrs. Brogan, we’re sending a deputy over to your house to assist you, and we’ll have Pat home as soon as we can get in touch with him. Are you ok?”

“It’s our boy, Rory. Something happened to him in Vietnam. This telegram says... I don’t know what happened,” and she dropped the phone.

Pat Brogan was tipping back a Pepsi in the Mayflower Restaurant and looking over the cup when he spotted her walking to a table. Amy? No, it’s Arlene, that’s it. Arlene Wagner. Wow, she still looks great. Jon Roth turned around, glanced and said, “Know her?”

“Went to school with her at St. Mark’s, long time ago.”

Pat took in the short black hair, the way she curved herself into the chair and he put down his cup.

“You just about finished?” he said to the lawyer.

“Yeah, just about.”

“Ok, I’m just going to go over and say hello to my old classmate. I’ll meet you at the car.”

He had just gotten to Arlene’s table and their eyes lit up in recognition.

“Arlene?”

“Well, Pat Brogan, it’s been years!”

“Pat!” Roth shouted from the restaurant’s exit.

What the hell is it now?!

Roth stood by the door with a perspiring deputy. “Pat, there’s some kind of family emergency. You’ve got to get home now!”

Rory! It’s got to be Rory...

“I’ll drive,” Jon said. “The DA got a phone call from Rita, she got a telegram about Rory. There’s a deputy at the house now. He says the telegram says Rory’s alive, but has been hurt overseas.”

...and I’m trying to chat up some gal. What the hell was I thinking?

Jon pulled into the driveway right behind the sheriff’s car, and Pat jumped out. Inside, Rita was sitting at the phone stand in the hallway wiping her eyes and face, and the deputy stood next to her, hand on her shoulder. Pat knelt before his wife.

“Can I see the telegram?” he asked quietly. He took it from her gently and read the dreadful report.

“He’s alive, Rita. Our son is alive.”

She looked up, clenching the handkerchief and said, “How badly is he hurt? When will we know? Will he be coming home?”

Resting his hands on her knees, he looked in her reddened eyes. Absolute honesty now, boyo, he thought.

“We don’t know yet, Rita.” He looked at the telegram again. “I’m not sure how they update the families now.”

The deputy nodded and said, “They send telegrams when he’s moved.” Pat stood and both parents looked at the young deputy. He put out his hand to Pat. As they shook, he said, “Rick Kania, Mr. Brogan. I got back from there two years ago. They usually send a telegram when he’s moved from place to place and give you a status report.”

Pat nodded and put his arm around Rita.

“If he’s in a hospital, he’s probably going to make it. The dust-off choppers... that’s the medevac helicopters, do a good job,” Kania said.

“Can we call someone before that and find out how he’s doing, what his injuries are?” Rita asked. Pat and the young veteran looked at each other.

“Uh, no. The Army doesn’t have any procedures for that, ma’am.”

Jon asked from the foyer, “What do you need?”

Pat and Rita looked over at the lawyer. “Uh, nothing right now, Jon, thanks. Just tell them I’m taking the rest of today and tomorrow off.”

“Ok, Pat,” he said. They shook hands all around.

“Anything you need, Mr. and Mrs. Brogan, just let me know,” Kania said.

“You’ve got my numbers, Pat, call anytime,” Jon said.

When they had left, Pat helped Rita stand up and they hugged. After a while, Pat said, “C’mon Rita, let’s go sit in the kitchen.”

He got her a glass of water and held her by the shoulders as she sat at the table.

“It’s better than before,” he said. “It took a lot longer to get to a field hospital. A lot of guys didn’t make it. During the war it could be weeks before you found out anything except that the guy was hurt.” Rita nodded and stared at the table.

Goddamn Army, he thought.

I never should’ve let him go, she thought.