I slowly removed the card, trying not to rip it since I had to replace it when I finished. If it weren’t placed back exactly as found Pa would know that I had been prying into his business. As I stared at the card I didn’t want to turn it over – it was as if I were about to break Pa’s trust in me. I knew that was true, but my curiosity was so strong I had no control over the movement of my hands. I had to find out Pa’s secret of the two gun store 'visitors', the black bag and the Ford sedan.
The answer had to be somewhere in this humongous steel monster.
I slowly turned the aged card over to reveal the data written on its reverse side. The information had been written with a pencil, and the letters were dim and hard to read. Pa had a workbench in the room where he worked on his weapons. The bench had individual adjustable lights that could be aimed right at the area of work. I carried the card over to the bench and turned on one of the lights.
I still could not clearly make out the numbers Pa had written many years ago but I found a magnifying glass and with it read the following: RC to LK, then LA to AR, next was RL to BH and finally L to E.
I remembered it was in code but I thought some kind of easy code. Then I thought, code isn’t supposed to be EASY, that’s why they use code.
I can recall the day Pa told me how to decipher it, but, man, I was little. I remember it was a code about something.... something? What something? Think Forrest...! Think...! Was it about an animal? Yeah... that’s right an animal. What kind of animal? Cat? Dog? No those weren’t the right animals - it had to be an animal with a long name; some animal word that contains 10 letters.
I knew this room had a concrete floor. Walls and ceiling all covered in insulation, steel, paneling and paint but I swear, Baba could hear my heart pounding all the way upstairs.
My mind went blank I could not think – what if Pa walked in right now? What was I going to say? Think Forrest… think harder! Grandpa loved horses… was horses the name. No, ‘horses’ does not have enough letters. But for some reason 'horse' rings a bell in my mind. H. O. R. S. E.
What does that mean? Is that part of the code?
I remember now each letter represented a number. HORSE couldn’t be the word - the code needs 10 letters!
Think Forrest...!! Man was I thinking, and this time the sweat wasn’t just on my brow it was dripping off the end of my nose.
It had to be HORSE, but what kind?
Walking Horse… no too many letters… Quarter Horse… no still too many letters. Wait… what about Grandpa Scarburg's horse that he owned years ago after he retired from the Army. It was a beautiful slick, shiny, black animal that won Grandpa Scarburg a World Championship trophy at Shelbyville, Tennessee.
Its name? What was its name…? Think Forrest... think… I got it…. Black Magic! It wasn’t that because there were repeating letters – the A and the C. But what if I combined the Black with the word Horse and get BLACKHORSE. Each letter in that name could represent a number. Starting at one and going through ten. Let me find a pencil and a piece of paper, all right if B = 1, L would = 2 and A would be 3, on and on to E = 0.
Now lets see if Pa’s code works: R, that would be right C (four) times to LK (25); L, that would be left A (three) times to AR (38); R, right again (two) times to BH (16) and then L, left to zero. Great!! That’s it!! Did I say that out loud? I hope not, maybe Baba wasn’t listening anyway.
Man, oh man! Phase II was progressing like clockwork. Now came ‘The Test’ – I moved over to the safe, grabbed the dial tightly as tho’ I thought it was going to pull away from me and started twirling the cold stainless steel cylinder between my fingers.
I remembered Pa saying first you had to turn the dial a few times to get the tumblers back in order.
Did he say right… or left?
I couldn’t remember. I took a chance and twirled the hell (sorry heck) out of the knob to the right. I stopped on the number 25. Next I twisted the thing to the left three complete turns and stopped on number 38. Back to the right I went two more times and stopped on 16.
Here is where I was confused, the card said left to zero - there were two lines inscribed on the dial, one at the zero and another at the number 68. Pa told me something about that second line but what? Again think Forrest! Think! Well nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I turned the dial left to zero and grabbed the handle and pushed down.
Nothing. It was still locked!! Had I missed a number? Did I spin the thing in the wrong direction? What had I done wrong. I went through the whole set of instructions again - again a no go, it didn’t open.
I stood staring at my big steel enemy standing there before me thinking, I guess, if I looked hard enough at it, it would have compassion on me and swing open.
Time was running out on Phase II, the drips of sweat had changed to a flood but I had to try once again.
This time when I got to zero I grabbed the handle pushed down and turned the dial from zero left to the 68. Ola!! It opened!!
Who says miracles do not happen?
One just did. I wish someone had been here to witness it… what am I saying…. am I going nuts? I’m sure glad NO ONE was here to witness it. I wonder if Pa has hidden cameras in here…nah…well it’s too late now anyhow. The big gray, one-ton puzzle is wide open!
CHAPTER EIGHT
GUTS OF THE 'MONSTER' REVEALED
I slowly began to swing open those heavy giant doors; however, my conscience still nagged me. My mine was tormenting my conscious. Thinking as I looked into the safe’s innards, ‘Pa will be mighty disappointed at me’ my brain kept saying. Trust! I wanted Pa to have faith in me. In my heart I knew this was wrong, but don’t blame me, you have to remember I’m a kid and kids do stupid thing. Pa will forgive me someday (maybe).
I loved my Pa, and I would rather have his trust than almost anything else, but darn it, he must understand - I had ‘THE PLAN’.
With me knee deep into Phase II, there was no turning back now. I gently opened both doors and like magic the contents of the safe became visible. The safe contained three shelves at the top and a large open area at the bottom. The shelves were full of all sorts of different types items.
The material on the top shelf caught my eye first - stacks and stacks of money. How much, zillions and zillions I suppose, all bundled up in $100 Benjamin Franklins. The band around each bundle said one thousand dollars.
Next to the bills, stacks of shiny gold coins –I picked up one, a U.S. $20 gold piece. Hundreds of them and they all looked the same, brand new.
Handguns filled that shelf too, most I didn’t recognize. A few I had heard Pa talk about – some were WWII Army .45’s and one had been shown to me just a few months ago – a .357 caliber Colt Python revolver. Boy, what a beautiful gun. Whoops, I called this piece of machined exquisiteness a gun, but what other name could I call this gorgeous piece of metal – oh yeah, forgot… a revolver… a beautiful revolver (better Pa?).
The next shelf contained only jewelry. Gold rings, Rolex watches, Emerald and Ruby bracelets, diamond earrings and all kinds and brands of pocket watches filled the entire shelf. Pa, not only a gun dealer, was also a pawnbroker. I suppose most of this ‘booty’ came from that business.
There was one unusual item, I guess it was a clock that I picked up and studied.
It had to be the most beautiful clock that I’d ever seen; well actually, I'm calling it a clock, it was too big for a watch. This thing had six sides, a glass face and appeared to be made of gold and silver. I would guess it was about 6” across and maybe an inch or so thick.
There were a number of little knobs and buttons on the sides. There was no name on the face just LED places for the date and time, I suppose. They were not lit up. It seemed broken - its battery must be dead, or it needed winding, I didn’t know and really didn’t care.
I sat it aside since I knew nothing about watches and clocks and besides they didn’t seem to offer a clue to the ‘secret’ I was searching for so I moved on to the third she
lf.
That shelf contained a whole different assortment of items.
It contained stacks and stacks of folders, envelopes, and papers of all sorts. I saw small blue leather boxes with names of Army medals embossed on the outside, “Bronze Star,” “Silver Star,” and boxes and more boxes with different names. I didn’t focus my attention on any of this because I was looking for something connecting Pa to the two strangers.
I discovered a number of thick green Army plastic folders – when opened contained certifications of military awards to Grandpa and Pa Scarburg.
Grandpa Scarburg? Pa Scarburg? What...?
I took them all out and placed them on the floor so I could see them better. In all, I ended up with three stacks.
* * * * *
On top of one stack, in a dark blue binder, I found one that appeared very important.
I opened the cover and behind the plastic protective sheet I saw this beautiful certificate. At the top, handsomely embossed, a five-pointed star grasped in the talons of an eagle both suspended on a royal blue ribbon, the certificate read:
Medal of Honor Citation
The President of the United States in the name of The Congress takes pride in presenting the
MEDAL OF HONOR
to
MASTER SERGEANT
ROBERT EDWARD SCARBURG, SR
UNITED STATES ARMY
for service as set forth in the following
CITATION:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. MSG Robert Scarburg, distinguished himself while serving as a Special Forces Medic attached to an American-Vietnamese platoon while on a mission to rescue a downed American airman in enemy controlled territory in the Republic of South Vietnam.
Three squads had left the helicopter-landing zone (LZ), leaving one squad as a rear guard, and were moving out into the tall elephant grass on its rescue mission. Suddenly, and without warning, an enemy force, of at least company size, attacked from the front and both flanks. MSG Scarburg was first wounded while kneeling to treat a wounded comrade injured in the first assault. His weapon was useless – a bullet had totally destroyed it. MSG Scarburg saw his platoon leader fall, realizing the LT had been wounded and was lying in an area with no cover MSG Scarburg, although unable to walk, and weaponless, unhesitatingly managed to crawl toward his wounded Lieutenant and, through a hail of bullets, he was able to get to his leader, administer first aid and drag him to safe cover. Then MSG Scarburg, in full exposed view of the enemy and without regard for his own life, went about administering first aid to the wounded. As he was caring for the wounds of another wounded soldier a tossed hand grenade exploded near-by and severely wounded MSG Scarburg again. Lying in the mud, dazed and bleeding from the nose and ears, he forced himself back up and continued to administer to the wounded. By this time the reserve squad had joined the fight, but their squad leader was down and out of command. MSG Scarburg realized that as the only senior person still able to give commands, he took charge of the disorganized platoon and began to provide a leadership role that helped regain the platoon into an organized defensive force. After establishing firing positions, he then went from position to position, administering to the wounded and instilled in the men a spirit of determination and the Can Do attitude of the US Army. Through his outstanding example of courage, leadership and bravery, MSG Scarburg was able to reestablish the platoon into an effective fighting force. For over four hours MSG Scarburg's directed his men, without regard for his own personal safety, to continue to engage the enemy. By his efforts this small remaining force ultimately repulsed the enemy attacks and caused them to withdraw. After the cessation of the firefight MSG Scarburg, manned the radio, directed Dust Off helicopters into the DZ to remove the dead and wounded. MSG Scarburg, still himself badly wounded, would not allow medical attention for himself, until he personally supervised the loading of his men onto the Hueys and he would not leave that horrible killing field where so much blood had been shed until all were safely loaded and flying back to home base. MSG Scarburg was the last person to exit with the final helicopter that departed on that fateful day.
MSG Scarburg's gallantries in action, his complete devotion to the care of his men at the risk of his own life were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on himself, his unit, and the U.S. Army.
Given under my hand in the city of Washington this 23 day of November 1967.
David E. McGiffert
Secretary of the Army
Whoa!! What is this? What is this Medal of Honor thing anyway? Seems like the name seems familiar but what does this document signify? I though Grandpa cooked in the Army, it says Special Forces Medic in the citation.
I found a faded newspaper clippings folded up and pushed down behind the certificate. I grabbed it and pulled it out. The newspaper article expounded on Grandpa’s heroic actions too. They read like Lee Marvin in the recent ‘Dirty Dozen’ movie.
The papers explained how Grandpa Scarburg joined the Army when he was still in high school. How he fought the Germans in WWII and landed somewhere called Omaha Beach (I never realized the Germans invaded Nebraska, and I was really surprised to find out Nebraska had a beach too).
It contained things about Korea and finally a lot about Vietnam. There were stories about Grandpa being in the U.S. Army’s Special Forces (Green Berets), and his assignment to the CIA's (Central Intelligence Agency) highly secretive ‘Special Activities Division’ or more specific its elite Special Operations Group (SOG).
The articles said he had been part of MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command Vietnam – Special Studies and Operations Group). They said his re-con (reconnaissance) teams operated out of Forward Operating Bases (FOB) that served as jumping off places to go back and forth across the borders into Laos, Cambodia and North Vietnam. The articles further stated some of those missions constituted some of the most dangerous ones in Vietnam.
In addition to this medal, the article stated he had been awarded a couple of Silver Stars, three Bronze Stars, a number of Purple Hearts, earned a Master Parachutist rating, awarded an Expert Infantryman’s Badge. Were both Ranger and Special Forces trained and a list of other medals, achievements and unit awards a mile long.
What is going on? I had always heard an army traveled on its stomach, but this is ridiculous.
Surely his food wasn’t so bad that he had to fight people because of it!
* * * * *
I jerked out my cell and dialed Chris (my best buddy). Yeah, dialed – I normally text except I was so nervous I couldn’t hit the right buttons. Chris’s father had been in the Army and Chris spoke ‘army talk’ so maybe he would understand what all of this meant.
My heart pounded louder and louder as I heard Chris’s phone ringing.
Once, twice, three times – darn!! The ‘phone went unanswered… suddenly Chris answered.
“Hello.” He answered.
“Chris, are you alone?”
“Forrest is that you? Why are you whispering, I can hardly hear you. Why are you calling, you never call me, you text. Is your 'phone broken or have you forgot how to text?”
Barely above a whisper I asked, “Forget the damn 'phone call (I meant darn I never cuss, I’m sorry), Chris, I’m in Pa’s gun room and I found some papers saying Grandpa Scarburg got something called a Medal of Honor when he served in the Army.
Are you familiar with this Medal of Honor thing?”
“What are you nuts?” Chris yelled back at me. "Your Pa is gonna kill you!"
“Shhhhh, quite don’t be so loud. I don’t want Baba to hear I’m in the gunroom! What about the Medal? Do you think this Medal thing is real?” What does the Army give them for?” I talked as fast and quietly as I could trying to get information on the Medal from Chris.
Slowing down to catch my breath gave Chris an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. His voice had settled down quite a
lot when he said, “I didn’t say you were nuts for being in your Pa’s gun room... yeah you are... but I was trying to tell you that Medal is the big one! The biggest of the big, I mean this is Audie Murphy (the most decorated soldier in WWII later a Hollywood cowboy actor) stuff.”
I thought what the hell (sorry slipped again) HECK – HECK! What did some old cowboy know about army medals? But I asked again, “Chris tell me what THIS Medal is!”
“I thought I knew some dumb people, but Forrest you must be THE dumbest.
The Medal of Honor is THE biggest, THE greatest, THE highest medal you can get!!
The President himself presents the Medal to you; you go to the Pentagon or White House or somewhere important to get the award.
The Medal of Honor is a five-pointed star suspended on your neck with a royal blue ribbon; even generals kiss your ring, or whatever... anyway, the Medal is humongous!!”
I turned the cell phone off before Chris could say another word.
‘Whoa... !! Whoa... !!’ I thought, what Chris described was exactly what was shown on that certificate. But the name on the Medal Certificate must be wrong… It's Grandpa Scarburg’s name… he was a cook! I can’t visualize him scurrying back and forth across enemy borders with a knife in his teeth, and his face all painted up… cooks did not ‘scurry’! Come to think of it - they did have knifes - oh yeah... carving knifes… hummm!
I sat on the cold rock hard concrete floor with my legs almost asleep from lack of blood circulation when reality started to sink back in… my brain tried to digest what I had seen in all the Army documents and the things I learned from Chris. It confused me tremendously. My mind could not stop thinking about what I had to do.
Phase II’s clock was ticking; I had no time left for it.
Phase II was about to step up and bite me in my butt. Pa would be getting home pretty soon so I must run through this information pretty fast. Most of this stuff on the floor belonged to Grandpa – it was awards, medals, certificates and all kinds of Army commendations. Some I thought I heard about and others I had no earthly idea what they signified. The main thing was - none of this had given me a clue to the “Secret."