Spotlight
on
The
United States
__________________________________________________________
In this Spring issue of
the RLM we return to the home of Raider Publishing Global HQ… the USA. The
United States is also home to some wonderful Raider authors. Jack Dunn, Patrick
McClafferty and Ray Breer, all interviewed earlier in this magazine hail from
the United States, along with these three authors we have chosen to feature in
this section.
The land of Steinbeck and
Hemmingway is once again a hotbed for emerging writers and we have the pleasure
of presenting you with three of the best. We have taken parts of all three
novels and included them in this issue of the RLM. We certainly hope that you
enjoy their words as much as their fans and readers do.
Faithful Devotion
By
Lisa M. Smith
Chapter 1
Flash Backs
He remembered distinctly, the first time he put on a military helmet. In Washington, D.C., at his parent’s home, he went down into the basement, found an old WWI helmet worn by his uncle, and put it on. The year was 1931. He was three years old.
“I was, it seems in retrospect, raised for war.” Born and raised in Washington, D.C., he was the fourth child, and only son, of a family with four daughters. His father was a handsome French-American, bearing a striking resemblance to a popular French actor of his day, Charles Boyer. The U.S. Government in the Fire Department of the District of Columbia employed him. A firm believer in Victorian gentlemanly manhood precluded any tendency to spoil his only son. His mother was a very strong, half American Indian, Irish-Jewish woman, named Mamie Wise King.
Peter, or as he was christened, Alvin Louis Smith, Jr., once stated that, “Little boys grow up to be the men their mother’s make them.” She was, without a doubt, his first love. He once related to me that as a small boy, a bully tried to pick a fight with him. He ran home to the comfort of his mother, who immediately told him to “go out there and fight that boy, or I’m going to put a dress on you!” So he did. He got a little bloody, but learned a valuable lesson.
Fortunately, the bully is not a typical indication of his mostly quiet suburban neighborhood. His next-door neighbor is Doctor Ralph, a veteran of the Spanish American War. Across the street is a major, who later became a brigadier general, Phillip Harper. By economic strata and proximity to Walter Reed General Hospital, his neighborhood is composed of people involved in government, army, or a profession.
His father was interested in international affairs, and took his young son on weekly trips to the Trans-Lux Cinema Theatre, which showed only news trailers, and provided “Pete,” as he was called, with an early exposure to foreign events. His earliest remembrances were of these trips and those his parents conducted through the museums, art galleries, and buildings of government.
“At a precocious age I read the editorial pages of the Washington Evening Star newspaper and discussed international affairs with my father. I remember one of the earliest arguments I had with my father began right after the sinking of the U.S gunboat, the Panay, in the Yangtse River in China by Japanese aircraft. My position was that America was going to have to fight Japan. My father thought we would not. Recently, when I checked the date that the Panay was sunk, I discovered that it occurred on December 12, 1937, seven days after my tenth birthday.
For the next four years, I avidly read our daily newspaper, which provided coverage of the conflicts in Spain, in Asia, and Africa as Germany, Japan and Italy attempted to dominate weaker nations and the international community marched inexorably to a world at war. Two days after my fourteenth birthday, Japan attacked America. The omnipresent excited urgency that was wartime Washington, provided a dramatic backdrop that was, at once, hectic and fascinating. The deadly horror of a possible air raid is, to me, an exciting thing.”
Pete’s mother was the neighborhood air raid warden, and Pete became a Civil Defense messenger, racing through the streets of Washington, D.C. on his bicycle during blackouts with a message from his mother. I can only imagine the excitement he enjoyed at this time in his youth, while strengthening the bond between himself and his beloved mother.
“At age fifteen, I joined the National State Guard in Silver Springs, Maryland, within walking distance of my home. In infantry training during our summer of active duty at Fort Meade, Maryland, I became a qualified U.S. Army rifleman on the rifle range. The week I turned seventeen, in 1944, I enlisted in the naval air corps as an aircrew man trainee to become an aerial gunner/bombardier. My training for this combat was intellectual, physical, and psychological. Class work taught us the technology we had to master and was always followed by physical training, which prepared us to be able to endure the strains of combat, and a daily hour on the skeet range to sharpen our hand/eye coordination with our weapons. Signs posted around our school were undoubtedly created to shape our thinking. And they did. Constant exposure to the messages of the signs was surely absorbed into our conscious and subconscious minds. The messages of the signs, like “Kill or be Killed,” or “Swing and Hit, Stop and Miss,” became our thoughts.
After the war, I was discharged in 1946, returned to school, but re-enlisted in the army as an officer candidate in 1948. In 1949, I was assigned to Fort Benning, Georgia to attend and complete, Associate Basic Training School and Parachute School. By the time I was twenty-two years old, as a qualified parachute infantry officer, I volunteered for duty with the 187th Airborne Infantry Regiment, The Rakkasan’s, then fighting in Korea. Married less than a year, my wife did not approve of my efforts to serve in Korea.”
All too often in life, it seems the very qualities of character which attract us to our mates, are the same ones to cause friction in our relationships. His first wife, Mary Frances, was obviously attracted to the idea of being married to a young, military officer. However, at the same time, she desired an “ordinary” life of marriage and family. Becoming pregnant within her first year of marriage naturally enhanced her desire for family unity of married life. Although she knew the military was Pete’s desired career when she married him, I could only imagine how she must have felt when he departed for Korea the week after their son, Michael Duane, was born in April 1951.
Pete’s introduction to the world of clandestine activity was effected by a fifteen-minute interview with the Commanding Officer of the 8086th, Eighth Army, Korea.
“Do you know what this group does?”
“Well, no.”
“We are dropping Caucasians into North Korea now, but how would you like to be a guerrilla leader? You would? Fine, we’ll have lunch, and you can fly up to Seoul and meet the man with whom you will work.” Pete was behind Chinese Communist Forces line with a guerilla unit that night.
“About a month after I joined the regiment in Korea, at the end of the Inje Offensive, the regiment withdrew to Beppu, Japan. With two other officers I volunteered to return to Korea to join the 8086th Miscellaneous Group, a special operations unit, which was responsible for clandestine activities in North Korea. Assigned as a Parachute Demolitions Officer in August of 1951, I learned that demolition team drops of Caucasians in North Korea were not being made but was tendered, and I accepted an assignment as a guerilla leader.
I trained, initially, with a guerilla unit commanded by a British Special Air Service (SAS) officer, Mr. Wells. Later, an American officer provided my training with the guerilla unit, to which I was assigned. By the end of October 1951, this officer transferred and I assumed command. The unit, called the Tiger Brigade (Tigu Yodan) was actually a loosely knit, heterogeneous, collection of fourteen hundred deserters, bandits, pirates, and patriots. Recognized by no country and inadequately supported, they owed loyalty only to their individual leader. My mission was to organize, train, equip and lead these guerrillas in combat. Training was a continuous endeavor. However, with a salvaged T-7 parachute as the only training aid, I completely trained a platoon of guerrillas as parachutists. This included a trip to Seoul for aircraft and every student jumped with no hesitation, no injuries.
Training, like all operations of the unit, was acutely affected by logistical support. All classes of supply were critically short. Food was acquired by raiding salt mines and trading the salt on the black-market in South Korea. American medicine was purchased on the black-market in North Korea. Clothing came from the bodies of the dead after a firefight and from prisoners of war. Later, by spring of 1952, more logistical support came from the American Army and the situation improved.
From the age of fifteen, and the rest of my teenage years, until I joined this unit, almost the entirety of my education had been devoted to the efficient killing of other humans in mortal combat. Consequently, I not only accepted the moral code of the guerrillas I was l leading, I thought it was patently logical: if someone is going to shoot you, you shoot them first.
Shortly after I arrived, I was ordered to conduct a raid for the purpose of capturing POW’S. I did and, about a week later, I was awakened by the sound of something being dragged into the large room, a Korean farmhouse, outside of the room in which I was sleeping. With the unit, I slept on a floor, a sweater for a pillow, my pistol in my hand, or close to it, my back to the wall. A Coleman lantern had been lighted, and when I entered the room, I saw Mr. Yee, and three men from the security section had a man seated in a chair in front of the major, who was half-sitting, half-leaning on his desk. The man, more a boy than a man, was seventeen years old and had been stopped and questioned near our house, that afternoon. Searched, he was discovered to be carrying a Tokarev 7.62 pistol. The light of the Coleman lantern illuminated the scene as Yee, the guerrilla commander, was asking the questions, and providing the answers; which were translated into English for the major, by his interpreter. The man standing behind the self-confessed assassin, would alternately, pound the man’s ears with his open hands.
The prisoner was bleeding from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Because the man could not speak, could only make animal noises, each question was punctuated by a blow to the prisoner’s stomach or by the man holding the prisoner in the chair.
Interrogation revealed that he was from the area I had raided and he had volunteered to infiltrate our unit to kill the migook commander of the raid (me), because he believed that I killed his older brother. Whether it was because I was only about five years older than he, or because I was his target, each time the boy was hit, his eyes would close, but always come back to me. Park, too, I noticed was watching me.
At the completion of Yee’s performance, the major reached behind him on the desk and picked up an empty inkwell and almost screaming, ordered that the man be kept in a cage, in public, and fed only as much rice as the inkwell could hold, each day. The man was then dragged out of the room by the guards and the triumphant Yee. Without a word to me, the major returned to his room. When I tried to sleep, I could not. The major was wrong and I knew it. Finally, I got up and, just outside, met Mr. Park. He must have guessed that I would be coming out; he stopped me and said, “No, Sah Yin Guan, he die.”
Until this incident, I did not know that Park could speak English. He always used an interpreter because he was ashamed of his grammar. A former schoolteacher, about thirty-two years old, he led all of the raids for Yee.
A few days after this incident, the major received word that he became eligible for rotation and, within an hour’s time, he departed. It happened so fast I hardly realized that I was in command until an hour or so after he was gone.”
Pete was twenty-three years old, and now the only American, only Caucasian, the commanding officer of 1400 guerrillas, the Tigu Yodan.
“In reality, I exercised control over the unit through Yee, which was a problem. Wells had told me about Yee before I was assigned. Yee still operated the guerrilla unit as he had the bandits and pirates he had led before the war. The war just gave him American support. The prisoners that wanted to become soldiers for him were spared, the others he shot. He was in his early forties and looked soft, but in person, he had a charisma that allowed him support.”
Peter had thought of a lot of plans to get rid of Yee, and put Park in his place. As he said to me many times, “Everything works out as it’s supposed to.” And so did it work out for getting rid of Yee.
“The British Royal Navy was in our area and we would give them targets for destruction. On one raid, the RN frigate of the Bay class was in our area, I arranged with the gunnery officer to fire support for our raid. We both had maps with pre-arranged targets on it. On the raid, I would call for fire on, say Baker One. This would be transmitted by a guerilla with me to a guerilla on the frigate with an interpreter, who would give the call to the gunnery officer. Near the end of the raid, Yee came to shore and told me that the RN captain wanted to see me.
On the motor junk, I went back to the frigate, but left my number one boy, Hyun Pyo (pronounced “Youn Pwo”) on the shore with Yee’s number one boy. At the frigate, the captain said that he did not want to see me and had not called me back. Things on the shore were too dicey for Yee and he had made the whole thing up. Going back to shore, I was furious and I believe I had my pistol stuck to his jaw. I did have him by the collar and did curse him all the way back. At the beach, when I saw that the boys were still alive, I let him go and he sat down. He just collapsed and one of the young guerrillas started laughing. When this was picked up by the guerrillas, Yee was finished. He disappeared that night. Where he went in his shame, I do not know. The next day, Park was given his job and, at last, I was really in command.
In my first conversation with Park, the morning I put him into Yee’s job, I told him there would be no more torture and no one was to be shot without our (his and mine) permission. Park liked the order and, seemingly overnight, we had an effective interrogation section. As if they had been waiting in the wings for their cue, with no help from me, the section began to get good combat intelligence reports. The POW would be taken to the house we used for this work, given tea, and cigarettes. In friendly conversation, the interrogator would just express interest in the prisoner and pose easy questions. On the other side of the paper wall of the room, another man would write down everything the POW said. When the section determined that the POW was not telling he truth, they reported this to me. I reported this to headquarters.”
Another of Pete’s sayings is, “Memory often lies.” Of course when one is remembering ones past, it’s easier to recall the victories. However, there are always pluses and minuses. There were a couple of incidences of accidental “friendly fire.” He also regretted never getting his surgeon a new bone saw. He had to amputate limbs. When Pete was lucky he could get some kind of narcotic – usually on the black market – like Novocain (the kind used to pull a tooth). Sometimes the surgeon had to operate with no anesthetic. He’d have to send ten amputees back to South Korea at a time. What he most regretted though, is that when General James A. Van Fleet’s son, a B-25 pilot, went down in Pete’s area, he could not find him. He had worked for the general in Virginia, for a short time and had hunted with him. He is the best general Pete had ever seen or studied, but that is a subjective evaluation. The general reminded Pete of his father. He was also involved in a couple of other incidences; one precipitated by living conditions.
“It was a bad winter and my unit was in dire straits, literally starving, and I received a letter of reprimand for ambushing an UNCAC convoy, on the UN side of the CCF lines.”
Later that winter, on a trip to headquarters in Seoul, Pete passed out on the street. When he came to, he was in a MASH unit, with IV tubes in his arms and legs. Diagnosed with being dehydrated and malnourished, they were not going to release him. He called Van (Lt. Col. J.D. Vanderpool) as soon as he could. When he arrived he got Pete’s clothes and pistol, they pulled the IV’s out, Pete got dressed and they walked out.
“Over my opposition, I was told to allow the ROK Navy, Hagun G-2detachment of three men, to operate in my area. I agreed on the basis that they coordinate with me when they had agents moving in the area. They did not, and one night, when I was patrolling on board a Japanese Mine Layer (JML), we saw a sail junk that did not heave to when ordered. I sprayed a few bullets from the Thompson submachine gun, which I got from the Chinese, left the bridge and went down to the quarterdeck to see what had stopped. As I neared the ROK sailors by the junk, they started coming towards me. I heard my number one boy, behind me, throwing a round into the chamber of his carbine as he barked commands at the sailors. By the time I got back to the bridge, I had my pistol out of its shoulder holster, retrieved the Thompson, and ordered the ROK officer on the bridge back to my port. Later, I learned from another guerrilla that the sailors were going to throw me overboard and say, that I had just disappeared.
The
reason for the sailors’ anger is that I had hit one of the people on the
junk. The man’s leg was amputated that
night in our hospital. As it turned out,
he was a
Although I wanted to go alone, Hyun Pyo insisted on coming with me and I was glad to have him. The next morning, I went to the village. Korea is called “The Land of the Morning Calm” and it really was, that morning. Everything was still and quiet. We had long since eaten all of the dogs and it was like a Saturday morning movie, a gunfight at dawn. When I entered the Hagun G-2 house, I found two or three men on the floor, prostrate, and scared to death. I had Hyun Pyo tell them I was not going to kill them, the, asked for the commander. They said he had left before dawn. I told them that they had better follow him and left. They did and that was all we ever saw of the Hagun G-2.
When Mr. Wells left, his place was taken by a major who spent almost an entire tour of duty in Seoul (headquarters). Because he wanted some duty with a guerrilla unit, he took over for Wells. I had barely met him when I was invited to a conference on the Mounts Bay, a RN frigate. When my motor junk pulled alongside the frigate, the man who gave me a hand up was, I assumed, an officer of the ship. Although I did not recognize him, I did recognize the officer behind him, Captain John Fruen. The British Captain introduced me to him, Admiral Scott-Moncrief. A little later, I saw Harry’s junk arrive, but the major was alone. Harry Agler joined Mr. Wells shortly after I joined the Tigu Yodan, and over the months that followed, we became friends. He was recalled to active duty as a first lieutenant.
Later, we all met in the mess and Admiral Scott-Moncrief asked for a briefing. The major had not asked me, and obviously had not asked Harry for any input. The major gave a beautiful briefing, with one problem–it was totally false. Listening to him, I thought I was hearing one of my Korean guerrilla officer’s reports. According to his report, everything was just great in our area. The guerrillas were well trained and could be counted on to fight to the last man, etc.
The admiral was all personality when he first shook my hand. I could bask in the glow of the nice things he said about me, which he attributed to the stories of John (Captain Fruen). I hated to do it, but had to tell him the truth. After the major completed his talk, I objected and, in the sudden chill in the room was asked to give a correct report. I reported that we had been taking more POW’s than usual, that there is a rumor in the 119th Division of the 40th CCF Army that there is going to be an offensive towards Seoul, that the guerrillas were incalculable and could not be counted on to resist anything. We were still hurting for ammunition. The only thing standing between the CCF and Seoul was the First ROK Marine Division, supported by one company of Amtracs, with their 105’s, from the First Marine Division. I concluded by saying that the left flank of the I Corps was so porous that I could get through it without a challenge.
At the conclusion of my briefing, Captain Fruen suggested that we adjourn to the wardroom for drinks and, as he passed me, he whispered, “Don’t worry, Peter, I’m calling off Harry to get his report.” The Mounts Bay steamed that night, and shortly afterwards, the US First Marine Division replaced the ROK First Marine Division on the left flank of I Corps.”
Pete later learned, as John had expected, Harry had confirmed his report. When the admiral checked this information at Eighth Army, he discovered that they had thought the Royal Navy was supporting the left flank of I Corps, and the RN thought the Eighth Army was covering this exposed flank.
Right after this conference, the major’s replacement arrived. In thinking about the incident for the first time in a long time, Pete realized that the major never mentioned his act of disputing a superior. He didn’t know if the major ever made a report of the incident. While showing his replacement the unit, both majors were captured and beheaded within a week. After they were killed, Harry moved up to the major’s job and Pete moved back with Harry, in his old spot. A young lieutenant, West Point, class of ‘50, replaced Pete.
“When the new lieutenant reported to Harry, I was there and it was strange. Looking at him, I thought of how I was, also, a spit and polish airborne officer when I arrived. I had changed. From the Russian-Manchurian hat I wore to the Korean boots, I looked more like Mr. Wells than I did a U.S. military officer. One time, going to Inchon on my motor junk, an American sailor looked right at me and yelled ‘Goddamn Gook, get out of the way.’”
Perhaps that was an indication to Peter that he had truly “arrived.” Although, there were other indications, as well.
“Only two officers ever visited me and stayed overnight. Colonel Washington Ives and Lt. Colonel Winston Ergott. Colonel Ives had been with guerrillas in the Philippines and said I had one of the best guerrilla units he had seen. Lt. Colonel Ergott, a West Pointer, had been with guerrillas in Greece. He, too, liked the unit.”
Ironically, the end of Peter’s time in Korea would symbolize his success, his leadership ability, and his earned respect as a commanding officer. He definitely ended his tour of duty with a “plus.”
“I dislike farewells. The first time I left the Tigu Yodan, I did not say I was going until I assembled the key officers in the CP, told them I was leaving, shook each man’s hand and left. When I got the word that I was eligible for rotation, the message came through the unit and everyone knew I was leaving. As before, I assembled the men, my friends, and said farewell. When I got outside the CP, I was surprised to see a formation (1400 men). The CP was a little less than a mile to the port. On each side of the road, about every six feet, there was a guerrilla soldier. As I made my way through this corridor of troops, as I passed each guerrilla, the soldier would come to present arms and shout, *‘T’ujaeng!’
*T’ujaeng translates to “Fight.” The presenting of arms is saying, “I’m ready to fight.”
Chapter 2
A Changed Man
Peter’s tour with Korea was the turning point in his life. He “grew up” through the toils, trials and tribulations of survival and war in this Korean Conflict. He walked away with a hero’s farewell, and a tattoo, which served as lifetime reminder of his coming of age as a warrior. The tattoo (the only one he ever got) is his “chop” of the Tigu Yodan (The Tiger Brigade) symbolized by a dragon. It showed he belonged to that unit. He not only belonged to the Tigu Yodan, be became one with it. He brought the best out in those men, and made their unit the best it could be. Which is why his men respected him so much. At a later date, about a year after leaving Korea, Peter received an Award of National Defense Service Medal for honorable active service.
“En route from Korea, I stopped in San Francisco and, one evening was in a nightclub when the emcee announced that, although the club could be fined for allowing an artist to perform when the performer had not been hired for the work, the club would pay the fine if the audience showed their appreciation, by applause, to hear Paul Robeson (known to Pete as a communist) sing. The emcee, then, started the applause and the audience joined him. I was in uniform and booed. Because I was alone, at first I was not heard. Because I have a loud voice, though, the people around me heard me and stopped applauding. This cessation gradually spread from my table to the whole club. The emcee hurriedly ordered the band to play something and, at Paul Robeson’s table, I could see the people from the club fawning over Robeson’s furious dinner party. The waiter, shortly after people started dancing to the music, asked if I would like to pay my check and leave. I did not. When he returned, he informed me that the club was going to pay my check, but that I had to leave. He had two bouncers, behind him and the goons looked like they hoped I would refuse. So, I left.
With this background, it is obvious that I had become aware of the fact that, with the war against the communists being waged in Korea, there were some Americans capable of catering to a communist. But I had changed. What had been a geopolitical struggle had become a personal war. By the time I returned, the war in Korea was an “unpopular war” and everything in America was going on as if the war was not. My wife did not understand that I could not help comparing people and things to the struggle going on in Korea and, obviously, I was incapable of explaining how I felt.
I was assigned as the S-2 of the third battalion of the 503rd, in the 11th Airborne Division (Parachute Infantry Regiment). About two months after this assignment, I received highly classified orders to the Central Intelligence Agency, “the company” in Washington, D.C. I was then assigned to the Soviet Russia (SR) Division of the Deputy Directorate of Plans (DDP). In about September of 1952, I arrived for duty in Washington, D.C. After settling my wife and one year old son in an apartment in Virginia, I reported for work.
At the Agency, I found others of my bent of mind, people intent on the war America was fighting with Soviet Russia. Assigned to an operational division in the forefront of that battle, long hours and weekend work became a way of life. Unfortunately, in no particular order, my wife disliked Washington, D.C., my family, my work and the Central Intelligence Agency.
About a year later, when my category of extended active duty was about to expire, I became a GS-11, civilian employee with “the company” without missing a day’s work.
As much as I liked my work, my wife hated it. Our son suffered asthmatic attacks in Washington. For almost two years, our son’s physician tried to ameliorate the severity of his attacks with no success. Finally, he advised that he be moved to a dry climate. I had to resign from the Agency, to move to Arizona. Because I had been promoted to a supervisory position, I was given a leave of absence, and took my wife and son, now three years old, to see my parents in Naples, Florida, before moving to Tucson, Arizona. Between the move from Washington till we arrived in Tucson, our son had to be hospitalized, in an oxygen tent, six times.
In Arizona, my son’s health blossomed, which made starting a new life all worthwhile. I had been given a letter from Lieutenant General White, USAF to the CO of the air base in Tucson. The OSI commander, had no openings for me, but gave my name to the chief of police, in Tucson. I was hired by the Tucson Police Department to work, undercover, to counter the shipment of narcotics from Mexico to the United States. From a meeting held with a government narcotics agent, I learned that a branch of San Francisco tong was smuggling heroin in the country. As, as unlikely as it seems, I was back to working with the Chinese people, again.”
Tragically, Pete’s work would be disrupted, again. He came home from work one afternoon while his wife was bathing their son. She came into the living room to tell him something. An argument began, and it ended when they both realized the splashing and noise from the bathroom had stopped. They rushed into the bathroom, only to find their son face down in the tub.
“Although I had worked two summers as a lifeguard, I could not revive my three and half year old son. My wife, as I was giving him artificial respiration, rushed next door, and a doctor living there, came right over and injected adrenaline into the lad’s heart. But no heartbeat was ever heard. The doctor listed the cause of death as drowning, but privately expressed his belief that heart failure, caused by an abnormal growth of his heart from pervious severe asthmatic attacks, was the true cause.
At the very nadir of our existence, my wife and I were devastated by our little boy’s death. I took my wife back to her family in Alabama, where our son was buried. It seemed like this tragedy was the final rupture of our marriage, and I left for Washington without looking back.
As soon as my background was rechecked, I went back to work for the Agency. My wife later joined me in Washington to “discuss” our future, and we decided to try to find some harmony in our relationship. As it turned out, after my vetting by the company, I was assigned as an instructor for the training school, called the “farm,” located outside of Williamsburg, Virginia. After training, I took over the stay behind department, but taught a variety of subjects in the tradecraft field.
As a teacher, I had regular hours, Williamsburg is a quiet small southern town, we had a comfortable home and, in the domestic tranquility, we started a family, again. We had a son, James Louis, and just before the birth our daughter, Marianne, I received an offer of a position with the Near East Africa (NEA) Division of the DDP. In the beginning of 1957, I accepted the position of Chief of Base in Port Said. Under the cover of vice consul in the Foreign Service, I moved my family to Port Said, Egypt.
When I was assigned to NEA, it had been almost five years since I had faced the harsh realities of war. Cushioned by the school setting, I had studied and assessed the often heavy-handed operations of the KGB, the Soviet Intelligence Service. In Korea, the two Russian advisors with the North Korean Army in my sector were, as far as I know, infantry officers. My first direct contact with the Soviet KGB, consequently, would be in Egypt. I was so sure of the superiority of our American intelligence service, I blithely and naively looked forward to the encounter. In Port Said, the KGB introduced me to the depth and strength of their service. It was a bitter lesson.
Faithful Devotion
By
Lisa Smith
Published: Feb 2009
Available wherever fine books are
sold…
Family Tradition
By
Theresa Diaz
Chapter
One
“You have got to be kidding, Francesco! After five years of college, which let us not forget I finished by scholarship. Never once having to touch the family’s millions, you are going to actually sit there and tell me I still have to work out a stupid family contract for a whole year with the Guidalattos?” Katalina Sachetti let out in a voice that spoke of being older than her four days short of reaching the age of twenty-four.
Katalina feeling duped stood tapping one of her petite feet covered by black patent leather pumps, causing the ends of her wavy black hair to gently move across her shapely, rounded derrière. Narrowed, long lashed hazel eyes and pouting red lips were being directed at her oldest brother who she knew was busily trying not to let her sweet perfected unhappy face get to him.
“I mean it, Katalina. You will begin to work at the Guidalatto Company the week of Thanksgiving. It has been planned since you were in middle school. I promise they will treat you as the princess we’ve created,” stated Francesco in a dry sarcastic tone.
Katalina let the jibe go unanswered and decided to try a different approach, never noticing the large shoulders of Francesco slightly shaking, desperately trying not to laugh at his gorgeous baby sister. Kat, as her family called her, realized that being the youngest and a female born into a very traditional Italian family would not help her feminist move towards independence. This ideal of hers was constantly causing her three brothers to toss an unseen coin. Choosing between giving her anything she wanted to not allowing her out of the house on her first date until she was eighteen. Of course, she had passed eighteen almost five years before.
Katalina knew her family was yet to recover when she had graduated high school and began college half a country away. Now back from Harvard having achieved a master’s degree in business at the age of twenty-three had left all of them, especially her three brothers standing in awe most of the time. Of course, it was not beneath her to use that particular emotion when she thought it would gain her the satisfaction of something she wanted.
The only problem at this point in time, everything she was trying did seem to faze her older brother Francesco. Geez, she thought, a person would think by now the old family traditions would have died a slow, steady, and much needed death.
Katalina had trouble remembering that even though she appeared to have inherited Einstein’s brains, she was a puppy in the woods when it came to worldly concerns. She gave another glare in her brother’s direction thinking how that particular situation would soon be taken care of when she turned twenty-four.
Thus, being the reason she had to meet with her handsome brother to be told the decision had been made between the two families that the contract of the youngest child, though being a female, would be upheld. The plan was for her to work for a year at their closest family friends and partner’s corporate office under the tutelage of the eldest son of the Guidalattos. As if the man would be able to teach her anything she did not already know about operating a business, thought Kat sneering to her inner self.
Katalina, did not care one iota about receiving anything, much less tutelage from a man she could not remember having ever met.
Plus considering the information she did know about him felt it would be better to give him a wide berth. Working under her own brother, Francesco, who she knew and trusted beyond a doubt, seemed a more astute business decision. However it seemed no one believed her to have the brains to think for herself, no matter what her degree said otherwise.
“Frankie,” Katalina began in a high-pitched voice, and then stopped the second she realized her voice had reverted back to the age he was speaking of, creating a strained expression on his face.
“I want to go on record,” she continued in her normal voice, “as saying that I do not understand why we have to uphold this family tradition now that both of our families’ grandfathers have passed on. Even Papa has told me I do not have to work there if I don’t want to.” Pulling herself up to her full height of five foot three, she knew quite well next to her brother’s height of six one the motion would be lost on him. Kat did not realize that whenever she did that particular little militant stance since the age of two he always had to turn his dark curly head to hide the smile on his handsome Italian features.
Just as he did now and responded with a gruff, “Ah, Kat, that’s not nice! You know Pops has never said no to you, of course that’s because you’re the only female out of the four of us.” Holding up a large hand waving it in her now reddened face he stopped the conversation in short clipped tones, “This is finished, you will begin on Monday. See you are there on time.”
Katalina all but stomped out of her brother’s Coral Gables office not noticing the new furniture that had been added to the waiting area giving it a feeling of old Italy. Her brothers were much steeped in their family history and traditions, too much so was the opinion of one thoroughly exasperated Katalina.
As the only female to show an interest other than spending the two families’ wealth and bouncing out children as their claim to family fame since her own grandmother had teamed up with the grandmother of the Guidalattos forty years before to start their own line of fine Italian foods was causing quite a stir with all concerned. One would think that the men in the two families would appreciate a little feminine insight after so many years had passed. Katalina was proudly going over her attributes as a female when another fantastic idea came to mind and she decided to try and see if it could possibly turn out in her favor.
Having stopped at Francesco’s secretary during her inner tirade she turned smiling in the woman’s direction beginning to wheedle the needed information from her. Kat went downstairs and found Milo her driver to explain she would just need to be dropped off at a friend’s office and would meet him at her favorite mall on Kendall Drive later when she had finished some early Christmas shopping.
An hour later found Katalina marching up and down the sidewalk outside of the Guidalatto corporate office building whispering about what a fine mess her family had become. Oh, she knew where this supposed sharing of family secrets and free labor had started. The two family’s great-grandfathers were to blame. Due to their lacking the ability of seeing the future, they both had ruined the dreams of one of their offspring.
Katalina knew the story of her
family’s success and never tired of thinking about how when the
great-grandfathers came to
The two grandmothers of the
Sachetti and Guidalatto companies had devised a complete product line of
sauces, pasta and herbs that all good American families would want in order to
bring the taste of
Katalina had hopes of one day heading up that particular area of the two families’ conglomerates. Having studied and researched everything to ensure she had won every award known to man during her years in the business college at Harvard, she was confident in her knowledge that she would be an asset to her family.
On that thought she paced even faster causing her light gray knee length dress to slowly rise giving onlookers a good view of her shapely calves. The long midnight black hair was swinging to and fro like the pendulum on the massive grandfather clock in the main lobby of the building in front of her.
Every now and again she would glance into the eyes of a passer by, usually a man hoping to be the one she would ask for help, only causing them to stop short of speaking when seeing the now brilliant green in her eyes. Not realizing the ruckus she was causing outside as well as inside of the building Katalina continued her pacing trying to convince herself that going inside to the penthouse office of the eldest son would not be taken badly.
“Damn,” she whispered, “he might not want me any more than I want him.”
“I beg your pardon, are you picketing against my company or is your boyfriend late coming out for a lunch date?” asked a very deep masculine voice in what could only be classified as a bored tone.
Jerking to a stop upon hearing the voice behind her, but missing what he had said, Katalina felt a blush start from her covered toes and travel to the top of her head. Slowly she turned and had to look up to what seemed to be a mountain of a man. The breath she had been holding whooshed out leaving her in dire need of oxygen.
Not sure what to say to this man who probably towered over the heads of her brothers, she only stared into eyes which were as blue as the ocean on a sunlit day. Noticing the high cheekbones, masculine nose, and lips that should not have been on a man, but looked quite kissable caused her a moment of pause. Why in the world was she even noticing his lips were kissable?
When that thought hit her brain waves, she did the only thing she knew to do when she was dealing with something she was unsure of, she went into defense mode, “No, I will not beg your pardon, as far as I am aware this sidewalk is owned by the city of Miami and I will walk here as long as I want to.” Trying not to let this gorgeous man see he had caused her to lose her composure she decided a hasty retreat was definitely called for. Before she could turn and leave as quickly as her legs would carry her, what seemed to be a large paw and instead of a man’s hand clamped down on her small shoulder. The hand in question was holding her in mid motion of taking her first get away step.
“Now that is where you are wrong, little one, you started out on the city sidewalk, but unfortunately for you, your feet have brought you onto the open plaza of my property.” The wolfish grin he bestowed on Kat had her once again blushing. This was very uncommon to a young woman who had never blushed in her life!
Taking a second to verify what he was saying in fact true, she glanced around and realized she was indeed standing very near the giant water fountain that held two dolphins suspended in the air by almost invisible plastic poles, creating a look of them dancing amid the spouting water shooting up over their bodies which had been made from the purest white marble with tiny streaks of gray, the effect making it appear to people passing by as they entered the building as if it were tiny ripples causing motion in their prone positions. Not able to stop the smile of knowing her grandfather had been the one to design this particular fountain.
“Well, excuse me then,” stated Katalina turning the smile into a frown using a voice she hoped had some steel within its tones. She wasn’t a Sachetti for nothing!
Once again Katalina tried turning to beat a hasty retreat only to feel the hot brand of that large paw once again, only this time it caught some of her hair in its long tapered fingers bringing her hair up to its owner’s nose for a smell! Of all of the rude things he could have done, that was it! “Let go of my hair! Who do you think you are?” riled a truly maddened Katalina at this man’s touch. She was scared stiff not by his touch but the feeling of heat that had been left on her skin. Realizing that onlookers probably thought they were playing out some badly written melodrama, which was probably why they kept looking around for the filming crew. She couldn’t believe this situation was actually happening to her now in the 21st century! Was there any hope for female kind in her predicament of being controlled by an old fashioned family?
“Well, I happen to own this property you are having a tantrum in front of,” not really answering her question, “So, what is your dilemma, little one? Who do you not want and are hoping that he will not want you?”
Taken aback and not sure what to say to who she thought was a well dressed crazy person Katalina just stared back into eyes that seemed to be deep blue pools a female could drown in. “What are you babbling about?” she asked trying to hide her confusion.
“I’m quite sure I do not babble. I am though asking about what you were whispering when I walked up to you.”
Before she knew what had come over her she found herself unable to stop explaining the jam her loving family had placed her in, finishing with, “and of course I am sure that given the chance, Mr. Guidalatto will be glad to be rid of the only female in our family who wants to enter the world of business.”
Now that she had completed her with little outburst Katalina found she was totally embarrassed to have unloaded her total mess in this stranger’s lap. The wayward thought that if Frankie found out about this she would receive her first spanking in this lifetime had her cringing inside.
Feeling at a loss as to why she felt like she could say anything to this man standing so calmly gazing down from his bear height with what could only appear to be lunch on his mind and her as the menu, she gulped. In all of the years spent studying and researching everything she thought necessary to be a woman of the world it had not prepared her for what could only be categorized as a man too gorgeous for his own good or hers come to that.
“Hmm, that does seem to be a sizable problem, although I’m sure your brothers have your best interests in mind. What makes you believe you will not learn anything from working for the Guidalattos?”
“Oh, no, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I’ll learn much and even be an asset to them. I just want to get on with the plans I have for my life now, not wait a year.”
“I see, well, that’s something best left to the men in the families.” Not noticing the battle glint in now stormy eyes gone from hazel to a brilliant green once again, the stranger continued in a nonchalant manner, “Tell you what, since I don’t see your driver and am fairly sure Francesco doesn’t know you are here, why not let me drop you off to where you supposed to be?” Not really waiting for consent from a seething Katalina, he gripped her elbow in a vice grip and steered her stiff legs towards a limousine now parked at the curb of the plaza with a middle aged driver holding the back door open.
Not having seen the limo even arrive, Kat was taken aback and tried to free herself from this unsettling man causing her blood to pump more than with any of her other encounters of the opposite sex. “Hold on big guy, first of all, I don’t know you from Adam, and secondly, my father didn’t raise a fool. I’m not getting into that car with you.”
Swinging her up into his arms like she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes he unceremoniously dumped her into the back of the long silver car. Then had the audacity to ask her where she was supposed to be spending her family’s money. That comment caused Katalina to realize her purse was back with Milo, her family’s faithful driver, thus meaning so was her cell phone. Placing a hand to her now pounding head, she tried urgently to think of how she would get out of this present chaos she had unwittingly placed herself into.
While the handsome male was speaking to the driver in hushed tones, she quickly tried to open the opposite door to find it locked. She saw no buttons to release the barrier between her and the outside world. At that realization she began to experience a moment of sheer panic.
While she was trying to decide if her small frame would fit through the partition and driving off with the car to safety, her captor who admittedly was gorgeous, but none the less a stranger placed himself onto the seat next to her. Placing a firm hand on top of her exposed thigh, which she quickly covered with the hem of her gray dress, he sent her another one of his wolfish grins as if he could read her thoughts and the plan that had taken root.
“I personally don’t believe your brothers nor would your father like to know that you ended up with your cute bottom stuck in my window while trying to escape with a family friend’s limo. Who by the way is just trying to come to the aid of their only daughter and sister by driving her to where she needs to be.”
Staring with a searching look over the man’s features trying to remember if she had ever met him, and coming up blank, Katalina choose to test his statement, “Well, if you know my family then you must know something about me, right?”
“Go ahead ask away, I understand that you’re a little frightened. Honestly, though, I expected you to be more mature after graduating from Harvard.”
Truly confused now, Katalina went on with her line of thought by asking, “Okay, Mr. Know-it-All, how old am I and when is my birthday?”
Giving her a smile that an older person would give a disbelieving child about to meet the Easter Bunny for the first time, he simply told her, “Let us see, you are now twenty-three and will be twenty-four on this coming Monday.”
Katalina, knowing quite well that not everyone knew this, since her life had always been sheltered from even the best of the press, slowly sat back in the soft cushion of black leather and felt her insides give a little quiver.
She did not know this man, but she had the feeling he knew more about her than she would want him to, and he seemed to be now treating her as one would treat a naïve child. This left a bit of a sting, especially since Katalina could hardly wait until her twenty-fourth birthday. For all concerned she was hoping she would finally find a man who would not be scared of her intelligence or domineering family. Now that she was back home where she was most confident.
She knew quite well her family was waiting with bated breath for her to have a boyfriend. Unfortunately, so was she! It was just that none of the young men at Harvard had wanted to date someone who was followed every waking minute by a bodyguard and of course the minute word got out about her brain power her forehead had been stamped with an imaginary warning sign of “geek”.
Feeling a bit forlorn and not realizing her feelings were flashing like evening news cast across her beautiful oval shaped face with its high cheek bones, neat eyebrows over the most stunning hazel eyes with lashes which almost looked unreal due to their long, curling length. The naturally pouting full lips covered in a light pink lip-gloss caused the man next to her to check his present thoughts making a dangerous parade through a mind wanting nothing more than to grab this young woman for a long kiss of what he had a feeling would prove to be pure passion from them both.
Nick couldn’t stop himself from wondering how this young woman’s brother would react had he known his beloved little sister was sitting in the back of his personal limo. Oh, how old wounds had a way of festering when least expected.
All though he was quite happy with the knowledge that he had escaped marriage to who now had to be one of the many women who only wanted to sit at home and spend her husband’s money. The knowledge that this female’s brother had stolen his own betrothed ten years before still left the feeling of being cheated, even if he had not really loved her. Not particularly liking to lose at anything business or personal, he was always left with the craving desire of revenge flowing in his bloodstream.
At that point in his life revenge was not to be in the cards. Since his family was in constant business dealings with the Sachettis the ramifications that would have arisen and affected both families had placed a stop to all thought of getting his due. Perhaps, though a little revenge from a new direction might promise to be very sweet indeed could be had and make him feel better about the whole episode.
With the occupants both in their own little worlds of thought, neither of them realized the car had come to a stop until the driver opened the door. Nick stepped out and offered a hand for Katalina to exit the limo along side him.
Kat glanced around and
immediately noticed they were in front of a local mall in the
“I know I explained to you the exact location of where I needed to be.”
“Stop complaining Kat, you’ll be taken there after having lunch with me,” replied the man next to her in an exasperated tone, “Don’t worry, you will be spending your family’s money soon enough.”
“First of all, it is my money and I do not particularly like to shop there. Although, my family enjoys the gifts I buy for them at Christmas from the shops. Not that it is any of your business,” deciding to shut her runaway mouth, which she seemed to have no control over when carrying on a conversation with this particular man. Then ruining her promise to keep her mouth shut by adding, “And do
not call me that! Only my family calls me Kat, and I know for sure you are not related to me. Why should I have lunch with you anyway?” asked Katalina in a voice trying for superiority and ending up sounding trite.
“Honestly, just be quiet I am not going to eat you and I am growing quite tired with you ranting on like a child.”
Blustering, opening her once again uncontrolled mouth to give a reply she felt the paw once again on her shoulder pushing her none too lady like into one of the black wrought iron chairs set at matching tables on the outside patio of a famous restaurant located at the entrance to the mall.
Before being able to reply with anything quite within this man’s realm of understanding she noticed a member of the press casually leaning against one of the decorative lamp posts along the open street. Deciding on the side of caution, she figured this brute of a man had sat them outside knowing quite well she could and would not make a scene. Her brother Francesco would never forgive her for bringing shame to the family by ending up on the front cover of even a local newspaper.
“You win for now, but I feel at a loss, you know more about me than most and I still have yet to hear your name,” said Katalina who figured she might as well go along with this charade to have it end as quickly as possible.
“Call me Nick. As far as who I am exactly, let us just say that I have conducted business with your family for many years. Anything else you need to know at this moment or can we order?”
Feeling like a child put in her place after acting badly at an adult gathering, Katalina quietly gave her order to the waiting waiter. Once again glancing overtly at her unwanted lunch companion wishing she did not feel like a specimen to be studied.
All things considered, under different circumstances, Kat would have liked to try her flirting prowess on this very handsome man. He was after all truly ‘hot’, as one of her two best friends Fio was fond of saying. Giving herself a mental berating she stopped the thought before her runaway mouth heard the same thing, no sense in compounding this new experience of feeling humiliated.
The drinks arrived quickly, followed by their lunch orders. During which Nick spent most of it on his cellular taking care of business. Katalina, knowing better than to interrupt, sat quietly taking bites of her salad and sipping the white wine he had ordered for her.
She once again felt her eyes being drawn to look at the man sitting across from her. Unfortunately Katalina Sachetti did not realize that Nick had finished with his latest call and had been openly staring at her just as she had just done to him.
“What,” she asked breathlessly feeling as if he drew on her inner soul with his perusal of her tense body.
“You are much less mature than I had anticipated. This places me in a new situation, what did your brothers do? Keep you under lock and key during your entire life?” Nick asked in a sardonic tone.
“How dare you! My brothers are the best any girl could ask for and what do you mean I am younger than you thought? Why would you even care about my age? And further more I am almost twenty-four as you already know, quite a woman thank you,” shot back an infuriated Katalina.
“That remark just proves my point. You might be about to reach the age most females have already entered into womanhood, but you have no idea what a real woman is. Yes, I can see why your brother Francesco wanted out of the contract.” Seeing her stunned look he growled, “Stop looking like a child that had her favorite toy taken away. Of course your family didn’t want you to work at Guidalattos. They know you’re not ready for the big bad world of business, which also includes me. But a contract is a contract.” Nick stopped for a second then continued adding more fuel to the fire, “To think my youngest brother, Paolo will be working with your brother Miko for a year giving his expertise in architecture freely and all they offer is a bookworm,” groaning as if he were being tortured, “What have I agreed to?”
A bright light bulb turned on inside of Kat’s head and she suddenly realized who this person was who had all but kidnapped her. Granted she had only heard about the eldest child of the Guidalattos, Niccolo, or as he called himself, Nick. Being twelve years her senior she had never had any interest in him when they had been at the same gatherings. Now she wished she indeed had taken her head out of whatever book her nose had been stuck in at the time.
There had been bits of conversations about how her brother’s wife, Serena, had dumped this man to marry Frankie. Unawares to Frankie at the time, he had had no idea that Serena had been playing both men against each other. In fact, Frankie had not been interested in Serena as a wife until she showed up pregnant and he had no choice but to marry her. To this day the question had always been in the back of Katalina’s mind that perhaps Serena’s child was actually this man’s sitting across from her at this very moment, but he had not wanted her or the child. Thus causing her brother to have to marry her and give her child a name. To Katalina’s way of thinking this method of catching a husband was way out of date. She personally would have just had the child and brought it up. Then again, Serena had dropped out of college unable to finish due to grades. Guess, some things never change in the scheme of marriage for some women.
Nick once again watched the newsflash of understanding crossing Katalina’s face and he could not stop his lower body from responding. He shook his head and gave the excuse that he was a man after all. Any young nubile female would gain this reaction, but he knew in the inner creases of his mind he was lying to himself. It had been many years since he had not been in total control of his body no matter what the situation. After all, he was thirty-five, not some young stud out to pasture for the first time.
“So you’ve finally figured out who I am? Well, now you also know that the answer to your pacing in front of my office is yes, you’re not wanted anymore than you want to be there. A word of caution though, my new pupil, you will hold true to the contract. And you will work right beside me as planned without one bit of voice from those child’s lips that are pouting like a two year old.”
Not trusting herself to speak, she quietly stood and whispered she was going to the ladies room. Once past the corner of the red brick building of the restaurant and out of sight from who she now knew come Monday would be her boss, her birthday no less, almost had her in tears.
And to think she had graduated top of her class only to be brought down to feeling like a little girl by this hideous man. She felt a new sense of womanly understanding towards her sister-in-law Serena. Not sure of where she was going she kept walking down the cobblestoned walk through the open aired mall not noticing the looks she was getting from people side stepping to get out of her way.
Katalina had almost made it to the other side of the shopping area when a shadow fell across her face causing her to run right into what seemed to be a solid wall of human flesh. Of course, it was only the man she had unknowingly been trying to be rid of for more than half of her life. With the new understanding that he was the one who would decide her fate of entering into the families’ businesses left her cold inside.
Feeling a finger being tucked under her chin she was made to look up into eyes that were as stormy blue as her own could become deep green when crossed. “Do not ever leave me sitting in a public place like that again. You will behave in the way that I know you were raised! No, do not even attempt to talk. I will not be responsible for what I would do to you.” With that Niccolo turned and marched her straight to the waiting limo.
Once again dumped into the seat of soft black leather, Kat wriggled to bring her dress down over her trembling knees. She couldn’t seem to control her head when it turned to look into the face of the man sitting next to her, his body heat seeming to wash over her own body causing warm sensations in places she had yet to discover.
Nick could no more stop what happened did next even if he had been told he would lose everything held dear in his life. He roughly reached across the seat and yanked a dazed Katalina onto his lap and held her face between his large calloused hands.
He had only come home to take over the running of the family business two years before. After the chaos of Serena and not knowing if the child she had given to birth to in fact was his, which he had found out about by way of a newspaper which had sent him into a tailspin.
Two days after confirming the
information to be the truth he had left for
Of course his old stubborn as a mule father had waited too long to seek medical advice and had died shortly after. Which brought the eldest child back to take the helm of the family business, whether he wanted it or not.
A lot had happened in the eight years he had been gone. His two sisters had married the two younger males of the Sachetti brothers while he had been away, thus bringing the toll of revenge up to three women loss to the other family. He knew however that this was not accurate, for his sisters were happily married and treated like queens. Nick was the only one with a personal agenda. Still knowing this entire story he could not stop his lips from capturing and taking a long slow taste of the woman-child sitting on his lap plainly confused about what was happening.
At being dragged across and now sitting on legs that felt they were made of steel feeling rough hands slowly caressing her face, Kat couldn’t have moved if she had been on fire. And that was exactly how she felt.
There was a warm feeling building in the pit of her stomach while her throat had become dry. Watching what seemed to be a personal war going on inside of this man who had captured her and turned her world upside down in the short span of time she had been with him had her mind screaming to jump out of the car. Her heart and the new sensations rapidly spreading over her body had other ideas, something about being lightheaded and wanting to be kissed.
Katalina leaned forward to meet the lips she had deemed kissable a couple of hours before not realizing she released a moan in her throat, which caused an answering one deep in the chest of the man suddenly devouring her mouth.
Unsteady hands, not sure of where they should be, lifted into Nick’s hair and shyly stroked the short strands, while enjoying the onslaught happening to her mouth and body as his own hands found places to touch that Kat had not known could feel this way.
Katalina knew at that moment what the girls at college she had sat and listened to in the dorm recreation room had meant when they would tell their stories about finding that one person who could kiss you into forgetting everything around you. She scooted her bottom towards Nick’s warm body wanting to be closer, but unsure as to why.
At that moment, when she thought she could see dreamy stars building behind her eyelids, she was a third time dumped in a heap onto the seat next the man that she admitted to herself, she was fast becoming infatuated with.
“It appears that we have arrived, straighten yourself and get out.”
Feeling as if something had happened in which she had been the cause but unsure what it was, Kat just stared into Nick’s eyes trying to see what had happened to one of the most beautiful moments of her life.
At once it dawned on her that perhaps this man had only wanted to hurt her, but why was the question swirling in her mind. “What did I do? Why would you kiss me like that?” asked Kat in a voice that shook with the raw emotion of the experience just passed.
“Kiss you? That little girl was not a kiss. It was a taste to see if you might just look like a child but really be a woman. I stay with my first opinion. You’re dressed like a child, even your hair says you are still in the sand box. Get out, I have more important things to do than to sit here and discuss this with you,” Nick all but barked his remark. However he received a reaction he was not expecting from the young woman sitting next to him she looked like she had no intention of jumping at his command.
Taking a very deep breath, knowing if she looked back into those sparkling blue eyes she would start to bawl like the child he stated she was. Katalina Sachetti slowly straightened her dress and fingered combed her long luscious black hair while pondering how best to end this horrible situation without appearing to just be following his orders. She had never and was not going to begin jumping at every whim of some man. Especially this one who she decided did not need her valuable time being wasted on, infatuated my foot, she ranted at her inner self!
She glanced into the mirror in the back seat and saw a young woman with blushing pink cheeks and swollen lips. All traces of lip-gloss had been taken away during what had been her first real kiss.
Not trusting herself to look into the man’s eyes she knew she would see on Monday since there was no way in hell to tell her brother what had just taken place, she stepped out of the car and quietly said, “Thank you for a lovely lunch Mr. Guidalatto, I will see you on Monday at eight a.m.” With that Katalina turned and slowly walked towards the entrance of the mall.
Even after his limo had driven away from where he had rudely dropped Katalina in front of her choice of destinations, Nick’s face was turned towards the windowpane. Looking out as if still seeing the young woman walking with her back straight and head held at an almost regal position into the store where she had openly told him earlier she disliked to shop.
Family Tradition
By
Theresa Diaz
Published: Oct 2008
Available wherever fine books are
sold…
Including The Raider
Bookshop
www.RaiderBookShop.com
By
Amy Matthews
Chapter One
“I think to lose Kentucky is nearly the same as to
lose the whole game. . .”
Abraham Lincoln, 1861
It should have
been like any other fall evening in Bowling Green on the banks of the Barren
River, but something stirred in the air. It was 1861, Fort Sumter had fallen in
the spring, and tensions ran high throughout Kentucky. Families were torn over
whether Kentucky should follow her sister Southern states and secede into the Confederacy
or remain with the Union. All over town,
rumors flew that Rebel troops
at Camp Boone, just across the Tennessee state line, were on their way. Sally
Flanagan sat on the front porch of her family home and hoped all the talk meant
Kentucky would indeed go South.
“Are you
thinking about what will happen if the Rebels come to town?” asked Joseph
Flanagan, Sally’s father. He was a big, yet gentle man, of Irish descent, whose
family had come from the East, searching for green fields and a place to begin
anew in the rugged beauty of South-central Kentucky. “She’ll never secede,” he continued,
“for I’m afraid the Union pressure will be too
strong.”
Still, Sally was filled with anticipation of a Confederate Kentucky that yet could be.
“I hear that General Albert Sidney Johnston himself will be here by next month,” she replied. “Things will change as soon as the Rebels get into town, just you wait.”
“Well, child, I hope so,” replied her father. “It ain’t easy to just stand by while we ride the fence and see which way a thing will go.”
Sally was glad she had bought extra food and supplies last week, feeling sure they would have more visitors once the Confederate troops did arrive. Flanagan’s Boarding House had been a popular stopover for train travelers from Nashville to Louisville ever since Joseph Flanagan had opened it two years earlier. Sally’s mother had died some years back, her father was getting older, and it fell to her to take care of the many chores in running a boarding house.
Sally was nineteen, had acquired some education, and longed to visit the places she heard about from the travelers who stopped over for a night’s stay. She had been to Nashville once to visit her mother’s sister and knew there was a whole world to see outside of Bowling Green.
But that world would have to wait – this was not the time for her dreams.
“Child, it’s late. Time you turned in. Have you seen your brothers?” asked her father. Ezra Flanagan, five years older than Sally, could be nowhere other than at the home of Constance Price, one of the prettiest young ladies in the city whose father, Reynolds Price, owned the local bank and tobacco warehouse.
“Why father,” replied Sally, “you know where Ezra is – he’s with Constance, and the twins are out back. I’ll call for them. Matthew, Jacob, come in now. It’s time for bed,” shouted Sally from the porch across the backyard.
Sally’s delight was in her twin brothers. Their mother had died giving them life, and Sally vowed to take care of them always.
“Coming,” replied Matthew.
“Sally, will
you tell us a story so we can go to sleep?” asked Jacob.
“You know, the one you always tell about Andy Jackson and New Orleans,” said Matthew.
“Yes, yes,” replied Sally, “but first get into your nightshirts and say your prayers. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Father, do you really think the soldiers will be here soon, here at our house?” asked Sally.
“Yes, child, I expect they will. Least ways, they’ll probably be around the square, you know, making a big show as they march in,” replied Joseph Flanagan. “General Buckner himself will be in the lead – it might be something to see at that!”
He had seen
the storm coming for some time now – conflicts that seemed to have no
resolution other than the unthinkable – a war between brothers, neighbors, and states.
And could Kentucky’s fate be anything but division
and bloodshed?
Sally went
upstairs and tucked in the twins. Reciting Andy Jackson’s feats at New Orleans
only made her yearn for what the coming days might bring.
Out on the front porch Joseph Flanagan sat rocking, enjoying a pipe and watching the moon rise over the river.
Kentucky suited him, the hills and green grass reminded him of Ireland. Bowling Green was a bustling town, and but for the brewing storm threatening the peace, things were good for his family. Travel was dangerous with war threatening at every turn. Overnight guests might be few and far between – but the Flanagans would make do, they always had. Down the street strolled Ezra.
“Enjoy
yourself tonight, son?” asked Joseph. “Here, sit down and tell me
the news of the Price
household. And how is Mr. Price?”
“He’s fine,”
replied Ezra. “Worried about all the rumors floating around. I don’t think it’s
any big deal, just misguided boys who’ll run back home at the first sign of trouble.”
Joseph, surprised at Ezra’s remarks, knowing they came from Reynolds Price, replied, “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge the Rebels, Ezra. These boys may be young, but it’s the heart that counts, and they’re as fired up about this conflict as anything.”
Still, Ezra had been around the Price household too long and thought, like many Northern sympathizers, that this conflict would be nothing more than putting down a rebellion that Southerners had no right to bring. They needed to be put in their place, and would be very quickly, or so he thought.
“I’m sure that Reynolds Price wouldn’t give a hang about a few Rebels marching into town if he wasn’t worried about the tobacco trade and the money in his bank,” commented Joseph Flanagan.
“Well, don’t you worry about Mr. Price,” replied Ezra. “He can take care of himself.”
“Well, Ezra,” remarked Sally as she joined the others on the porch, “you’ve decided to grace us with your presence this evening. And how is Constance?”
“She’s fine,” replied Ezra. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just wondering if she’s as excited as the rest of the girls in town – should be big doings when they come,” replied Sally.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Ezra in a surly tone.
“You don’t think Constance would dirty her hands with some ragged Southerners, do you?”
“They’re not all ragged,” said Sally with a laugh.
“Besides, women like a man in uniform. I suspect you’ll be signing up yourself just to please her.”
Ezra wanted no more of this conversation, as he had no intention of enlisting on either side. War meant fighting, and fighting led to killing. He had his life mapped out, a life with Constance, but more particularly, life with the finer things the Price money would buy. Ezra rose quickly and started inside the house.
“Well, I suspect you’ll make a fool out of yourself, just like the rest of the women,” he remarked. “But don’t you worry about Constance, She won’t be looking out her front door.”
Sally and her
father laughed as Ezra stormed off, obviously put out. Saying her goodnight,
she followed Ezra into the house and went upstairs to bed.
Alone in the darkness, she drifted off to sleep thinking about the coming days. Longing for something more than the life she had.
She would not
be disappointed.
* * *
Sally awoke the next morning as the sun streamed across her room. As she started down the stairs to the kitchen to make breakfast, the twins burst through the back door and almost ran her down.
“Slow down, boys,” cried Sally, “what are you two up to?”
Both boys started talking, each wanting to be the first to tell the news they had heard down the street, that this was the day the Rebels would arrive. Anxious to make their way to the train station, Matthew looked at Jacob, both afraid Sally would make them stay and eat breakfast.
“Please, Sally, can we go? Can we go see the soldiers when they get off the train?”
Unable to conceal her excitement at the news, Sally quickly gave in. “Okay, go on,” she said. “Just be careful.”
The boys promised to be back soon and bolted out the back door headed for the Louisville & Nashville station across town. Sally laughed at their excitement, knowing full well she wanted to run along with them herself.
Joseph Flanagan came into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Well, child, looks like a great day outside!” he commented, looking out at the town starting tomove.
“Especially today, Father. The boys say the train is bringing soldiers this morning – isn’t that wonderful?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Randolph,” Ezra said as a neatly-dressed lady entered the room. Abigail Randolph, a boarder for the past three years, had moved to Bowling Green from Nashville to take a position as the local school teacher after her husband was killed in the Battle of Buena Vista. He had fought with John Hunt Morgan in Mexico, the same John Morgan who would soon be in Bowling Green leading a cavalry unit with General Johnston’s men.
“Good morning Mr. Flanagan, Sally,” replied Abigail in a cheerful tone.
“Well,” remarked Sally’s father, “it seems the big day has arrived – the day everyone has waited for. The soldiers get into town today!”
Sally tried not to show much excitement in front of Abigail, for surely she had suffered enough from losing her husband in the last war. Still she quickly prepared biscuits and eggs for Abigail and her father, and then planned her morning chores in order to make her way toward the train station.
“Abigail, I don’t suppose you’d want to go across town to Miss Opal’s this morning, would you?” asked Sally. “I’ve been needing material to make the twins shirts before winter and thought you might like to come along.”
“Well now, Sally,” asked Abigail with a laugh. “This trip to Miss Opal’s doesn’t involve going by the train station, does it?”
“Oh, but I can’t help it if it just happens to be on the way,” replied Sally.
“You run on, Sally,” remarked Abigail, “I’ll clean up breakfast.”
Sally kissed Abigail’s cheek and dashed up the stairs to wash and put on her print dress. She certainly did not want to look a mess when General Buckner and his troops got off the train.
Suddenly the twins came running back into the kitchen, out of breath.
“Father – you must come quickly!” exclaimed Matthew. “The whole towns at the station – everyone's there!”
Abigail laughed as Matthew and Jacob each stuffed a biscuit into their trouser pockets.
“There’s going to be soldiers everywhere!” remarked Jacob, his eyes wide with excitement.
A few moments later, Sally came racing down the stairs only to be scolded by Joseph. “Child, you won’t catch a man simply by outrunning him!” Sally blushed and ran out the door with the twins right behind her.
Abigail laughed at Sally’s excitement, remembering the days when she had secretly met her beau away from the glare of an overprotective, but loving father. Warm tears filled her eyes as she thought of the short life she had shared with Major Curtis Randolph.
Sally raced
across town and headed for the train station, remembering she must first stop
and buy the material for the shirts she had promised Matthew and
Jacob. She was afraid that in all the excitement the store might close early.
“Good morning, Miss Opal,” Sally said as she hurried into the store.
“Hello Sally,” replied Opal Brown. “My goodness, so much excitement this morning! You’d think it was Jeff Davis himself come to town.”
Picking out a brown woolen material, Sally measured enough for two shirts and headed for the counter.
“Well, its not
every day that something this big happens in Bowling Green,” she pointed out as
she anxiously peered out the front window toward the train station. “I want to see
General Simon Bolivar Buckner – my, what a name!
I’ve seen his picture in the paper and want to see him for myself.”
“Well, child,” replied Miss Opal, “I suspect if there are as many troops in this town as they say there will be, you can have your pick of any one of them.”
Sally rushed out the door and headed for the small brick train station just off Main Street where a large crowd had gathered. Hearing the train whistle blow as it neared the station, excitement ran high throughout the crowd, all knowing this would be a day not soon forgotten.
As she made her way across the station platform, Sally spotted the twins playing beside the tracks.
“Matthew, Jacob – come and stand close to me,” she shouted. “I don’t want to lose you when the train gets closer.”
The three of them waited, along with many Bowling Green residents, to see the Confederate troops that would become a part of their town for the coming months.
Suddenly the whistle blew louder and black smoke billowed over the tops of the trees. As everyone pushed and shoved to gain a better view, Sally held tight to the twins, afraid they would be lost in the excitement. Her heart pounded with the growing excitement of anticipation.
“Sally – look!” exclaimed Jacob as the train came into sight. “Here it comes!”
Confederate sympathizers in the crowd started yelling and clapping their approval, while others, not as excited at the prospect of Southern occupation, remained quiet and somber.
Unknown to Sally, in the background stood her brother Ezra, watching everything that would take place this day. There were those to whom he would report General Buckner’s arrival. Northern spies filled such towns as Bowling Green, always ready to grasp any piece of information that might be passed along to Federal commands in Louisville and elsewhere.
The train came to a stop at the platform and anxious onlookers strained their necks for a first look at the Confederates. Would these young men be the reckless bunch they had heard so much about, or would they prove to be Kentuckians who were willing to fight for a cause which their own home state did not fully embrace?
Suddenly, there he was! Sally saw the General disembark, followed by what seemed to be an endless stream of soldiers. Oh, but he was grand, thought Sally.
He looked as
handsome and soldierly as he did in the pictures she had seen in the
newspapers. Truly, this was a Southern gentleman! And yet he was hardly from
the deep South. He was a Kentuckian, from Munfordville, just a few miles
north of Bowling Green. For Simon Buckner, this was a moment he had accepted when Kentucky’s neutrality could no longer be assured. Having turned down a Union commission, Buckner, a West point graduate and veteran of the Mexican War, now led Confederate Kentuckians into Bowling Green to defend the Bluegrass State. These same Kentuckians had been forced to train outside Kentucky’s borders until the state’s neutrality was broken.
Many in the crowd cheered as the men disembarked two by two, their gray uniforms gleaming in the morning sun. Their youth was overshadowed by their smart gait and proud appearance. These men, glad to be back home, were willing to fight and die to preserve their state from Northern invaders. Sally felt a sense of pride – a security that these brave men would be making their home in Bowling Green for months to come. Surely, these were Kentucky’s best and suddenly secession was not such a far away dream after all!
The Rebels
marched toward the edge of town and the banks of the Barren River to make camp
and Sally stayed until the last man had cleared the station. There would be no
bands or parades this day, no marches around the town square. There was too
much to be done in camp. As Sally and the twins walked home to report the morning’s
events to their father, little did they realize that Ezra was on his way to
make a report of his own.
Chapter Two
Bessie had worked in the Price household for many years and though she was generally well-treated, there was never any forgetting that she was black and not free to leave. She often thought that she wouldn’t know where to go anyway. Singing as she hung out the wash, the morning’s peace was interrupted when Ezra Flanagan suddenly bolted through the back gate.
“Where is he, where’s Mr. Price?” asked Ezra, out of breath.
“Why Mr. Ezra, he’s in the library,” Bessie replied in a startled voice.
Ezra ran in the back door and headed for the library where he found Reynolds Price going over records from his tobacco business. Mr. Price looked up, startled at seeing Ezra so early on a Saturday morning. “Hold on there, boy, what’s the matter? What’s your hurry?” he asked in a condescending tone apparent to everyone except Ezra.
“You’ll never believe how many Rebels there are – they just kept coming off that train, hundreds of them!” exclaimed Ezra.
“Quiet, boy, you want to wake the whole house? – Now sit down and tell me what you saw,” said Reynolds Price, suddenly interested as he quickly closed the door.
“I tell you, there
must have been at least a thousand,” remarked Ezra, “all dressed in gray, most
of them with rifles. General Buckner led them off the train
himself. They’ve gone down to the river to set up camp. I tell you, it’s bad.”
Reynolds Price
walked to the window as he mulled over Ezra’s news. Confederates making camp in
Bowling Green, with the likelihood of more on the way, needed to be passed
along to General Robert Anderson, Commander of the Army of the Ohio. The
western end of Kentucky was already in a strain with Ulysses Grant in Paducah
to counter Leonidas Polk’s Southern troops guarding
Columbus. With the Confederate troops moving into the center of the Commonwealth, a Southern defense line would be established for a future move north to Louisville and beyond.
“Ezra, you board a train first thing Monday morning and report what you have seen to General Anderson. I will telegraph him that you will be visiting a banking acquaintance of mine, a Mr. Patterson. He will see that you make your way to Anderson’s headquarters.”
Reynolds Price didn’t dare telegraph troop movements from Bowling Green. He couldn’t afford to alienate the Confederates who might prove useful to him before this war was through.
“Sir, I shall
ride at once and do my duty,” Ezra replied, anxious to offer any service he
could against the Confederates, as long as the danger to himself was not too great.
Surely there could be little harm in a train ride to Louisville. He would leave
early Monday morning, telling his family he was on business for Reynolds Price,
knowing they would neither question nor suspect the real reason for his trip.
Defending Dixie
By
Amy Matthews
Published: Oct 2008
Available wherever fine books are
sold…
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