CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The plane carrying John Youngblood and his fellow Guardsmen and women of the 143rd Field Artillery Regiment was to arrive at Edwards Air Force Base at 16:42 military time. Reggie and his mom waited for the troop transport to arrive in the hangar with hundreds of other welcoming families. The hangar was festooned with balloons and a huge ‘Welcome Home Heroes’ banner. And children were running around with dripping ice cream cones and skipping through the popcorn on the floor. Outside, a full-dress parade band stood at the ready; the sun reflecting shiny spots off the brass instruments.
Reggie wondered why there was such a party atmosphere surrounding war. Sure, he was glad his dad was coming home, although Reggie worried about how his Dad’s return might affect his work with Joe. His mom was very excited and told Reggie that there was a lot to be thankful for because most of the men and women of the 143rd were returning home together in one piece. Think of those who come home in a medical transport or worse yet, in a flag-draped coffin at Dover Air Force Base.
Reggie understood family, but never understood fighting these wars. People in Iraq and Afghanistan never attacked us, yet our government sends our people to kill them. And we’re supposed to
be the superior animals? Reggie thought. No one could give him explanations that made sense. ‘No, these enemies were not trying to take our territory or resources.’ ‘No, we weren’t fighting to dominate their territory.’ ‘Were we maybe trying to impose our way of life on people who were different?’ Reggie asked himself. No, would be the answer, but the explanations the government gave always had big words. Good feeling, must-be-right words, like ‘protecting our sovereignty’ and ‘our patriotic duty.’
Just as Reggie could imagine hearing his dad say, ‘When my country calls, I answer,’ he heard a woman shout and point to the sky, “There they are!”
The plane taxied the tarmac and stopped in front of the hangar. The band’s cymbals clashed the instant the door opened and cheers came up as the soldiers deplaned. Spouses and relatives strained at the ropes and held back their children’s cries of ‘Daddy! Mommy!’ As the soldiers all lined up in formation and saluted to the National Anthem, Reggie could see his dad in the second row. Once the last beat of the band came down and everyone’s national pride was stirred, the ropes were pulled away and mayhem ran its course.
Most of the soldiers ran toward their families in mass hugging and lifting of children. John Youngblood approached with a huge smile on his face, but he didn’t run fast and Reggie perceived a look on his Dad’s face like he had to concentrate on each step.
Embraces and kisses came before words. John held Carole to his shoulder while she sobbed. To Reggie, his dad’s hug felt comforting on one part of his body, childish on the other. His dad’s face and voice were strong when he asked, “How are you, Reggie?”
“Fine, Dad. Welcome home,” he answered, glad that he didn’t say anything about how big he’s grown.
What really made Reggie feel happy was watching his mom. She kept grabbing her husband’s face with two hands, looking at it then kissing him over and over again like she needed to see and feel it was really him. All the while, tears were streaming down her cheeks, blending with mascara—looking like a sad but very pretty clown.
On the drive home, it was close to supper time so Carole suggested they eat at John’s favorite, the Outback Steakhouse, for prime rib. John said, “too noisy and too many people. I just want to go home.”
Carole said, “I’ll make mac and cheese with Canadian bacon, just the way you guys like it.” When they got to Encino, John was not familiar with the neighborhood, so he asked Carole if she knew a store where they could pick up some beer. They stopped along the way.
Once they got to the apartment, John checked out the place. Looking out each window, he shut the blinds along the way.
When he got to Reggie’s room, he asked Carole, “Why didn’t you replace these old ‘Lion King’ curtains?”
“Maybe we could spring for them next month,” Carole responded.
John must have sensed Carole’s embarrassment, so he said, “Reggie’s too old for that stuff, right Reggie?”
Reggie nodded, then his dad explained, “I never lived in a city with people in apartments so close to you, peering into your windows, but I guess I’ll get used to it.”
“You will, dad,” Reggie offered, thinking he sounded a little paranoid, “After a while you won’t even notice.”
After his dad polished off three beers, he seemed to loosen up and he and Reggie talked about their good times together; fishing for sunnies at Big Bear lake, bowling at Christies and they laughed at the time they gave Hector a tomato juice bath after he got sprayed by a skunk. Before Carole finished supper, John asked Reggie if he wanted to arm wrestle, a favorite game of theirs.
His dad wanted to show Reggie the muscle mass he gained in eleven months in the field. Rolling up his sleeves, John said, “Show me what you got, kid.”
Elbow to elbow, Reggie’s arm almost met his dad’s as they clasped hands. “You sure you’re alright Dad?” Reggie asked.
“Didn’t hurt my arms any. Ready?” his dad said as he tightened his grip. Reggie nodded.
They each put their forward pressure on the opposing arm, Reggie sensed, as he always did, that his dad’s moderate strain was used to keep Reggie in the game. As in the past, his dad would let Reggie start pushing him down like his son was getting the upper hand, then he would strain back to make it seem like a real match. But unlike the old days, when Reggie would give his all and his dad would let him win, John snarled and slammed Reggie’s hand down hard and shook the table.
Reggie howled. Carole jumped and John laughed. The pain and the shock of his dad’s changed behavior hurt Reggie more in his heart than his hand. Carole could see that look come to Reggie’s face, the look that, when he was a little boy, preceded crying. “John, what are you doing?”
John wiped the mischievous smile from his face and said, “In battle you have to be prepared for the surprise attack. Shit Carole, he’s not a kid anymore.”
“He’s not one of your platoon buddies either, John! Now go and wash up you two, dinner’s almost ready.”
After dinner, Carole cleaned the table and although Reggie was still rubbing his sore knuckles with his feelings, he enjoyed watching his parents do the dishes. His dad would whisper something in her ear, then she’d give him a hip bump and he’d bump her back. Then he pulled the bow on her apron which dropped down and then she kissed him on the lips as if to say, later.
After the dishes were done, Reggie got the Monopoly game out of the closet. It was just like old times. The game was a short one though, as John began infecting Carole with his yawns which gave Reggie the on-board advantage. Reggie quickly bought up and traded for the cheap blue Connecticut, Vermont and Oriental properties and put hotels on them. Reggie yelped as his dad landed on them every time he passed GO and made him quickly declare bankruptcy.
Next morning, Reggie got up early, had breakfast and overheard his parents talking in the bedroom. His dad kept saying he was sorry—it’ll get better. His mom kept consoling him saying, it’s okay, it’s been a long time. When they came out of the bedroom he didn’t see their usual lovey-dovey playfulness that he always assumed followed a night of love making.
Carole had to work the afternoon shift that day. If John gave her a ride, he and Reggie could have the car to do things together.
“You guys could go on a hike,” she suggested.
“Yeah! Dad.” Reggie perked up, “I know a lot of cool trails in the Santa Monica Mountains.”
John scratched his head as he looked back and forth at them and said almost stuttering, “I…I…don’t think I’m ready to drive. I don’t know the area either…I better not.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Carole asked.
“Yes, I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. Maybe after my checkup at the VA hospital on Friday, I’ll feel more up to it.”
“It’s okay, dad,” Reggie offered, “I’ve got stuff to do and we can play another round of Monopoly.”
Later that afternoon, after Carole left for work, Reggie found his dad hunched over the kitchen table. At first, Reggie thought something had happened to him, but then he saw that he had his hunting rifles taken apart laying on the kitchen table. His dad barely squeaked out a word when Reggie asked him what he was doing.
Not looking up from digging into the trigger assembly with an oil cloth, like he was trying to rub out a stain, he said, “Just being prepared.”
“Are you going hunting?” Reggie asked.
Now glaring at his son, he said, “No, but did you see all those creeps and weirdos on the streets yesterday? You can never be too cautious in the city.”
Seeing his dad’s attention return to that same spot in the trigger assembly, rubbing even harder, Reggie felt it was weird and told him he was taking a walk to the library. There, he spent a couple of hours poring over several books on wildlife conservation.
When he returned later in the afternoon, Reggie got another shock from his dad. When he opened the door, he felt a whoosh of air rushing by him. He saw his dad at the kitchen table. The draft caused the door behind Reggie to slam shut on its own. In an instant, his dad whirled around in his chair and pointed the Winchester .22 right at Reggie’s chest. Recognizing his son, he lowered the rifle and yelled, “Jesus Christ, Reggie, you startled me!”
“Sorry, dad! The door slammed accidentally, I didn’t mean to...” Reggie said, feeling a cold shiver of fear.
“That’s alright, Reggie, I didn’t mean to scare you. But I don’t want you to ever tell your Mom about this and my guns. We need the protection now. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Sir!” he said as he waved and ducked into his bedroom. Laying on his bed, Reggie thought about how his dad had changed. He wondered what horrible experiences he might have had in battle, the ‘kill or be killed’ thing. Maybe he’s like reliving those
experiences, Reggie thought. When he was home before going to Iraq, his dad certainly did have the final say-so in the house. Even when Reggie didn’t get his way, he respected his dad’s steady authority. Now, he feared his power—an unstable sort of power. Is this what war does to a person? Reggie worried to himself.
On Friday, Carole took John to the VA hospital and when they returned, Reggie knew they had been arguing. At supper, they continued the argument. Carole told John he had to take his meds with the meal. John told Carole he was not sick and left the table. He spent the rest of the evening in the bedroom.
This gave Carole the chance to talk to Reggie. John was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, she explained, a result of the mine explosion under his Humvee in combat. Even with treatment, it might take years for the symptoms to pass. When Reggie asked about the symptoms, Carole told him that the doctor said that his dad would probably suffer from a whole range of them but that denial was the most serious one they faced now. Many returning soldiers, she explained, refuse to admit they have mental problems, which to them is a weakness, so until they become willing to undergo treatment, they make matters worse by burying the emotions of the trauma.
“What are some of those other symptoms?” Reggie asked, not wanting to tell his mother about the gun-pointing incident.
“The doctor said many things can trigger a ‘fight’ response like he had to have on the battlefield,” she explained, “and sometimes just a loud noise can set him off.” Carole continued, “Fear of strangers is another typical symptom, and I noticed right away that dad felt vulnerable. He seemed like he was on constant alert, waiting for the enemy to attack. We have to be prepared for a lot of mood swings and some could be violent,” she added.
Trying to understand what his dad was facing, Reggie asked, “What are we going to do?”
Carole took a while to respond, “We just have to take it one day at a time, try not to upset him and be very patient. They say he won’t ever come out of it without family support.” Then Carole pulled out a white bag from her purse and told Reggie, “In the meantime, the doctor prescribed this anti-depressant that, after a while, should help control his bursts of anger.”
“Okay, mom,” Reggie acknowledged, “but how are we going to tell him about my hiking and Joe? I’m going tomorrow, you know.”
“I’ll handle it, Reg, we’ll get through this.”
That night, sometime around 1:00 a.m., Reggie was woken up by louder than ever shouting coming from his parents’ bedroom. When he heard what sounded like furniture being moved, he got up and stood for a moment at his parent’s door. He’s still bigger than me, Reggie thought, but I can’t let him hurt mom. Reggie stood there for several minutes, heard nothing more and went back to bed. He had trouble getting to sleep again wondering if they were fighting about him and Joe, but eventually he got back to a restless sleep.
When he got up next morning, he found his mom sitting at the kitchen table in her regular chair but at a strange angle, greeting Reggie with a not really ‘good morning,’ as she stirred her coffee.
“You alright?” Reggie asked as he went to the fridge for some OJ, “I heard you two arguing last night.”
She wouldn’t look up, but said, “We’re okay now,” in a not very okay voice.
Reggie walked over to the opposite side of the table, sat down next to his mom, and with worry in his voice said, “Mom?”
Carole looked up at her son and Reggie saw her left cheek, where only a couple of days ago, under the flag, were tears of relief and happiness. Now she had red and blue bruises in the corner of her eye.
“He hit you, didn’t he?”
Carole nodded yes as she wiped the start of tears and said, “I pressed him too hard on taking the medications. I know it’s his condition.”
“Jesus, mom. I know he’s sick, but he could really hurt you,” and he put his hand on her shoulder.
Carole rubbed Reggie’s even bushier bed-head hair, gained her composure and said, “I know, Reggie. And I decided for the safety of both of us, we should move into a motel for a few days. At least until he sees his therapist, maybe gets some new meds and things seem better.”
“I guess…but how do you think he’ll take it?”
“Very hard. But I think he has to know it is totally unacceptable and he could lose us if it happened again. He already feels deep remorse and promised to never do it again. But we have to make sure.”
“Okay, it’s good you’re standing up to him. When are we going?”
“He’s sleeping now, I’ll start packing up a few things and we’ll leave after you come back from your hike. Joe will be here in an hour. Have breakfast and get ready. When he comes, tell him I
worked late and I’m still sleeping, okay?” “You sure? I can stay home if you want.” “No, go enjoy your hike,” she replied.
****
Reggie kept an eye open for Joe and ran out the door as soon as he pulled up. After their initial fist-bump greeting, Joe told Reggie he had some good news and told him to reach into his case and pull out a gift in the manila envelope. Reggie picked it up, undid the clasp and slid out a glossy eight by ten photo of a collared mountain lion. It was in full length surrounded by darkness with the animal’s green eyes radiated at the camera’s flash.
“Is it P12?” Reggie asked.
“Indeed it is,” said Joe. “Looks a lot better doesn’t he?”
Reggie slowly ran his finger along the photo of the lion starting with the head. He looked nothing like the mangy-faced creature in the previous photograph. He looked alert and healthy and his coat was smooth and shiny without a single pock mark.
“Check out the tail,” Joe suggested. “See how full it is? When we found him with the mange, most of the fur on it was gone and he looked like a devil.”
“Think he’s all cured?” Reggie asked.
Joe nodded, “Well, he’s on his way, I think.”
“That’s really cool. You must feel great how you helped him.” “I do” Joe replied, “the LA times interviewed me for a story.
But how about you? Bet you’re happy your dad’s home?”
Reggie didn’t answer right away, it took Joe’s glance over to him to force a reply; “I am,” Reggie said. “But he’s got PTSD and I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Geez, Reg, I’m sorry...I know that can be tough on returning soldiers and their families.”
Reggie looked at the photo, “but I really don’t want to talk about it now, okay, Joe?”
“No problem, but just so you know, Reggie, I’m here to help you in any way I can.”
During the hike, Reggie had trouble taking in the trail worrying if his mom and his dad were alright. I will have to try and stop him, he thought, if he tries to hurt her again, I will. Joe could sense his mood and said little on the trail and on the ride home.
When Reggie got home, he saw the suitcases by the door. His mom and dad were sitting on the couch, holding hands. Reggie could tell they had both been crying. His mom said, “Hi, Reg.” His dad said, “I am sorry what I did to your mom, Reggie. I promise to never hit her again. I will be going to see the therapist daily at the VA to get better. I hope you will come to trust me and come back home soon.”
At first, Reggie didn’t know how to respond, worried it sounded too much like he spent the day rehearsing it. Then he said, “Okay Dad. I believe you.”
Reggie’s mom gave his dad a quick kiss and said, “Be well.” They grabbed the suitcases and headed out the door.
By the second day at the Motel 6, Reggie was asking when they would be going home. They left on the third day when his mom told him she had talked to the therapist, to his dad several times and felt they could go back. Reggie was happy.
Reggie didn’t know what to expect when he got home, but his dad ran to the door and hugged both of them. He seemed calm and steady and very happy. Carole told them she’d get supper ready. His dad joined her in the kitchen and Reggie went to his room.
After supper, while his dad was watching TV, Reggie asked his mom, “How does he seem?” “Much better.” She said.
“Did you talk to him about Joe?”
“Yes, and he seemed to be fine with that,” she whispered.”
“That’s great Mom. Thanks.”
Later in the evening, his dad asked Reggie where he’s been hiking. “Had a good hike up to the Nike Missile Site off Mandeville Canyon. It had a great vista,” Reggie said, “Joe told me they chose that site because its location and elevation was ideal to protect the entire Los Angeles area from attack.”
“That Joe fellow’s a smart man, I hear,” his dad commented. “Did he tell you that by the 60’s Nike missiles were made obsolete by the Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles that could deliver nuclear weapons half-way around the world?”
“No, he didn’t mention that,” Reggie mumbled.
John then picked up the newspaper lying on the coffee table, handed it to Reggie and said, “You’ll be interested in this article and picture of that lion that was sick with the mange.” Reggie looked at the black and white photo in the LA Times which was the same photo Reggie had in color.
“Yeah, I know all about it,” Reggie said as he reached into his backpack on the floor and showed them the photo Joe had given him. “Joe says he thinks he’ll make it now. He’s the one who treated him you know.”
“You really care about these mountain lions, huh?” his dad asked then added, “I used to hunt them years ago you know, but never got one.”
Reggie wanted to make the argument for protecting the lions, but he caught his mom’s glance and sensed he better cool it.
“I know you did, but the thinking has changed in wildlife conservation these days.”
“I suppose it has,” John admitted.
Things went pretty smoothly the rest of evening. John even agreed to go bowling. He and Reggie won two games each and Carole mostly threw gutter balls. Sunday was even better as John must have come to the realization Reggie was totally into hiking now. He suggested the family go up to their old neighborhood, visit the Hollyfields, and take a picnic up to Ridgeview Rock.
****
Carole packed a great lunch of fried chicken and potato salad, intentionally forgot the beer and managed to cover the bruise with make-up. John agreed to drive, telling Carole how he loved the winding road up the San Bernardino’s. When they got to the Hollyfield’s, Hector was three times as happy seeing all of his old Youngblood family and they had a great visit. It felt like great. John did not want to drive by their former home though, fearing it would bring up memories of how he lost it, so he let Reggie drive to the trailhead.
Reggie thought the woods seemed to soothe his dad even more than the drugs. They quickly fell back into appreciating nature together. They overturned rocks looking for newts and salamanders. They played their old ‘who can name that tree game’ and John was sure he’d stump Reggie when he pointed to what looked like a clump of birch trees in the distance. Reggie was smug and John was impressed when Reggie said they were white Alder. When they got to Ridgeview Rock and spread out the blanket and the picnic, each felt they were a family again.
Being in the woods was therapeutic to Reggie too. He thought about the night of his vision quest. Wondering what was and what wasn’t real. He knew he had to go back again to find his power animal.