NOT THERE YET
Major Richard Blaine is about to pluck his latest Spartan from one of the eerie walls of water that border a stretch of dry sand upon the shore of Omaha Beach ...
much as Arthur pulled Excalibur from the grasp of the Lady of the Lake.
NOT THERE YET
“You win by fighting one moreround than you think you have in you. You win by getting up one more time thanthey knock you down.”
– Richard Blaine
There is nothing noble in beingsuperior to your fellow men. True nobility lies in being superior to yourformer self.
I had made some bonehead mistakesin New Orleans. It would be nice if I could counterbalance some of them rightnow.
But then, what had MarcusAurelius written:
“Waste no more time arguing aboutwhat a good man should be. Be one.”
I decided to act.
I might be wrong. But I would bedoing something. Besides, doing nothing always leads to nowhere.
A life spent making mistakes isnot only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. Theonly man who makes no mistakes is the man who never does anything.
I ran up to the eerily movingwall of water, reached in, and pulled out a strangely dry man. I had expected alot of resistance.
I got none.
I smiled. I had never gonefishing. What had the poor fish ever done to me that I should end its life? Me havingno money shouldn’t translate to the fish having no life.
But here, I had gone fishing forthe first time and landed a man.
I recognized him.
He was the photographer to whom Ihad supposedly lost money on the USS Samuel Chase.
I could see why Ingrid Bergmanhad fallen for him. He would have given Agent Cloverfield a run for his moneyin the good looks department.
“About that money I owe you ….”
“Istenem! Keep the money. Justtake me back.”
“No can do. I didn’t bring youhere, so I can’t take you back. Talking about taking. We need you to take someof your infamous photos.”
He stiffened. “Istenem! Mycamera!”
He looked down at the cameraaround his neck and began patting his clothes.
“Kiszáradtak a ruháim!”
“Yes, your clothes are dry and sois your camera. Let’s put some muscle to the hustle before the Nazi’s ….”
“You speak Hungarian?”
“And Sanskrit and a dozen otherlanguages. We have to get and get NOW!”
“Then, you know my name is ….”
“Is Friedman for as long as you are with me and my Spartans.”
“Why?”
I ground my teeth and fought theurge to thump the man over the head with the butt of my Desert Eagle, throw himover my shoulder, and race towards the cliffs and what safety they afforded.
“Because that is your true name,and I refuse to deal in lies. That is the purview of the Army and politicians.Now, we have to run. It won’t be safe here for much longer.”
“No! I refuse to go with you.Take me back.”
Merde.
He chased anything in a skirt,but he refused to budge for me. Maybe Sentient should have sent Rachel to gethim.
“YOU WHAT?”
André’s voice shot up threeoctaves. “Szar!”
I turned around. Merde, indeed.
The Angel of Death was hoveringright at our face level. She had to have been fifteen feet tall if she was aninch.
Her face ….
I could speak fifty languages,and I still had no words for it … except it would have looked natural on thedoor of an African witch doctor’s hut.
‘You silver tongued devil you.’
For André, she oozed through theair until their noses actually touched. I heard a buzzing as when a fly iscaught behind a wire window screen.
“Th-That is when I will die? Soyoung?”
The Angel of Death smiled. Atleast that is what I thought she believed she was doing.
“OR NOW, IF YOU DO NOT FOLLOW THE MAJOR.”
Despite his profession, he didn’tlook suicidal, so when I took off towards the cliffs, I wasn’t surprised whenhe followed.
Making his living taking photosin war zones must have kept him in good shape, for André actually passed me.
