1
CAPITOL HILL, WASHINGTON, D.C.
SEPTEMBER 16, 2005
The eight members of the Senate Oversight Committee were stunned to silence. The same could be said for the press seated inside the crowded room. Even military officers were visibly shocked at the comment uttered moments before by the United States Army officer seated before the panel. As the room burst into chatter, several of the higher-ranking military men, mostly army officers, glared at the man seated at the table with his JAG attorneys and then angrily left the chamber. The U.S. Army lawyers were all still shaking their heads at his statement as the men implicated in the cover-up stormed out. After all, it wasn't every day that one of the official wunderkinds of the U.S. military so readily committed career suicide in front of the entire nation.
Senator James Kellum, head of the Joint Armed Services Committee, hammered the gavel several times to quiet the observers and guests.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I will clear this chamber if there is one more outburst like that. This is not a soap opera with good guys and bad guys. This is an investigation into the charges of misconduct by supreme command authority in a combat area. People's lives and careers are on the line here and I will not let these proceedings devolve into anarchy."
The C-SPAN cameras seemed to be locked on the tired and scarred face of the young army major sitting beside his JAG counsel at the table. The man didn't seem to hear the commotion that his last statement had unleashed. The major pursed his lips and shook his head as he must have been feeling his career slipping out from underneath the polished chair he was sitting in.
He calmly poured himself a glass of water from the decanter before him. He sipped from the glass and waited for the senator to regain control. On the television screens of millions of viewers nationwide the C-SPAN cameras had zeroed in first on the green beret that sat upon the tabletop and then the rows of ribbons on the left breast of his green uniform jacket. The camera's sharp eye focused on the first ribbon on the top row. It didn't look like much, but the powder-blue ribbon with five stars represented the Congressional Medal of Honor. The camera's lens lingered and then slowly moved to the heavily tanned face of the army major who wore it. Although he appeared unfazed, the few men and women who knew him also knew the major was dying moment by moment. The chamber finally became still as the last of the high-ranking officers left the room.
Major Jack Collins calmly waited for the hearing to continue.
The senator from Missouri broke in before the head of the committee could continue his line of questioning, which drew the ire of the representative from New York. "Major Collins, to clarify your last, rather harsh statement that the decision to alter the highly detailed plans of the assault were ordered from CENTCOM," he demanded as again the raised voices of questions sprang from the onlookers inside the chamber. "Can you explain why someone would override a battle plan that had already been approved by the commander of Central Command?"
The young major thought before he answered. He knew that the question was a loaded one that had been specially prepared by the only man on the committee whom Major Collins trusted, the senator from Missouri who had asked the question now so it could not be shunted aside by the oversight committee chair, Senator Charles Fennel of New York. Collins, without glancing at his fidgeting JAG representatives, leaned forward, as did half of the nation toward their television screens as he prepared to end not only his career but possibly many others in and out of uniform.
"The answer to your question, Senator, is not an easy one. It took me seven months to get to the truth after my assignment in Iraq was completed. By then the people responsible thought it would have been put to bed, or as they hoped, forgotten."
"From my understanding, the investigation into the debacle had been completed eight months before, soon after the events had taken place," the senator from Missouri noted. "Which was a little faster than I thought it should have been, but the results of that investigation did not sit well with you, am I correct in saying that, Major?"
"You are correct. When you're speaking about the lives of twenty-seven men-men who I trained, worked, and lived with, no sir, the investigation in my eyes fell far short of the truth."
The head of the armed services committee, James Kellum, was staring at his colleague from Missouri, as were the C-SPAN cameras. Everyone in the country could see that the senior man from New York was as angry as anyone had ever seen him.
"I'll ask you directly, Major, were numbers of Apache Longbow gunships and Blackhawk helicopters allowed for in the planning of Operation Morning Glory adequate for the mission to succeed?"
"In my original operational plan there were more than enough evac and support ships to cover all aspects of the mission in Afghanistan. Every soldier on that raid should have been lifted out safely from the area after the operation was complete."
"Yet almost two full squads of Special Forces personnel, including twelve Army Rangers, were"-the senator from Missouri looked down at his notes momentarily for emphasis to his question-"in your words, Major Collins, 'left on the deck' because of inadequate evac response. Is this more or less correct?"
"The plan called for all personnel to be evacuated at the same time. The Taliban insurgents have a bad habit of waiting for the initial first wave to lift off and then striking at those troops left uncovered in the LZ, or landing zone. That was why the extra Apache Longbows were allotted, the added firepower to assist those left on the ground until the second wave of evacuation Blackhawks lifted off the last of the rear guard. The second attack group of gunships never arrived. The Apaches that were there had RTB because of fuel concerns. My men were left out there with no air cover whatsoever with over three thousand Taliban insurgents in the mountains surrounding them."
"How many of the twenty-seven American boys made it off of that mountain, Major?" the senator asked as the chamber fell silent.
"None."
"Major, what happened to those men?" the senator continued.
"Six were taken alive into the mountains. We found their bodies three weeks after my return to Afghanistan."
"The rest?"
"The description of their condition the next morning is not something I will go into here. Suffice it to say these men were massacred."
"During your personal investigation what was it you uncovered in regard to the missing element of air cover on April 6, 2005?"
"That three Apache and six Blackhawks had been reassigned in my absence for escort duty by CENTCOM, not in Afghanistan but in Florida through MacDill Air Force Base."
Again the gavel silenced most of the shocked and angry people watching inside the chamber.
"The decision was not made in theater, but at MacDill? Is that unusual, Major Collins?"
"Highly. Someone at CENTCOM changed the orders on the logistics of Operation Morning Glory to provide security in another area of responsibility."
"And what area of responsibility is more important than the lives of twenty-seven American soldiers?"
Collins stayed silent as the head of the armed services committee grew red and he began to fume as he awaited the fall of the guillotine blade. Thinking now that this committee should never have been formed, and wouldn't have if that bastard from Missouri hadn't taken it to the press, Kellum slammed the gavel down again as he angrily silenced the room. The major looked from the tabletop to the man glaring at him from the center of the podium.
"The commanding general at MacDill changed the orders to provide security for a fact-finding inquiry from Washington on the conduct of operations in the Kabul area. This committee was escorted by the six Blackhawks and my three missing Apache Longbows. The area commander in Kabul ordered the helicopters to leave the investigative committee at a secure location and proceed on mission for dust-off of my men. The order was overridden from Kabul after the senators and committee complained about staying over in a small village. Because of their comfort concerns twenty-seven men won't be coming home."
It had been the former CENTCOM commander who had angrily left the chamber a few moments before when he realized Collins was not going to play the game. The threats to Collins and his career had not had the desired effect on the obstinate major.
"Major Collins, according to your investigation, what civilian personnel were involved in the fact-finding mission to Afghanistan that month?"
Collins looked straight at the head of the senate oversight committee. "Senator James Kellum and several civilian contractors from various corporations."
The gavel slammed on the table again as the room erupted. The senator from New York shot to his feet as the wooden gavel fought for order. "I pray you have proof of that statement, especially after the commanding general of CENTCOM cleared my committee of all of these rumors."
Collins smiled, reached down and retrieved his briefcase, and placed it on the table before him. The room hushed as Collins removed a plastic-covered sheet of paper. "Yes, Senator Kellum, I do have proof." Jack held up the paper and placed it on the desk before him. His JAG lawyers frowned as they all knew Collins had just officially ended his military career. "The order was issued by the commander of CENTCOM and countersigned by yourself, Senator."
That was it. The statement was out and entered into the official record. The first soldier to turn on a four-star general and the civilian senator who controlled the purse strings of the military. As the words and career of Jack Collins faded, the eruption inside the senate hearing chamber exploded into a cacophony of shouts and gasps. The major easily slid the memo over to the front of the table where a senate aid removed it for the committee as the room continued to erupt and Senator Kellum kept slamming down his gavel.
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX, NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
Almost a full mile beneath the sands of the abandoned World War II target range was an ancient underground sea that had vanished more than six million years before. All that remained was the largest cave system in the continental United States. While dwarfing the Carlsbad system of caves in New Mexico, the Nellis system was not a park or recreational site. The cave system was never placed in any registry of geological wonders like its sister in neighboring Mexico's desert, but had been kept secret since its discovery in 1922. The reason for this silence was rumored to have been built in 1943-1945 by the same men and women who had designed the new Pentagon building in Washington. Their final architectural drawings would never see the light of day in any public or federal planning office in the nation, though.
The cave system was home to the darkest organization in American governmental history. Department 5656 was officially a part of the U.S. National Archives and was more obscure than most aspects of the National Security Administration. The department, unofficially named the Event Group, was assigned the task of discovering the truth behind world history. To investigate how and why we got to where we were. To avoid mistakes of history so they could never be repeated. The head of this group now sat inside of his office on the seventh level of the complex that was situated above seventy-five more levels of archives, specimen vaults, and engineering and science laboratories.
The small, balding man looked over at the former head of the agency who was sitting across from his large desk. The tall man had a black eye patch over his right eye and his cane was propped against the director's desk. The bald man shook his head sadly as he watched the developments on C-SPAN. He looked across at the six-foot-six silver-haired man who had stayed on long after his official retirement four years before to assist in the daunting task of assisting the new director in navigating his way through the ins and outs of keeping the facility, its duty, and its personnel secret above all government agencies.
"So, I wonder who assisted Major Collins in obtaining that top-secret memo?" He smiled at his former boss and the man who had recruited him fifteen years before. "I suspect it had to have been someone who knows where to find such things inside the Washington trash heap."
Former United Sates Senator Garrison Lee of Maine smiled and shook his head in the negative.
"Nah, my days on the Hill, absconding with the secrets of others, have long been over."
"How about the old OSS days? You still know how to get things others don't."
"The Office of Strategic Services would have resented that statement. We were as honest as the day was long, Director Compton."
"Uh-huh, just like its little bastard offspring the CIA?"
Garrison Lee laughed as the double doors to the office opened and a woman with silver hair and gold-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain entered. Alice Hamilton, assistant to the director of the Event Group, came toward the desk and placed a file on the top.
"There you go. The major's orders have been cut and the president has signed off on them."
Garrison Lee reached out and picked up the flimsy set of papers. "You don't know how many favors I had to give up to get that signature. The president is not real happy with our Major Collins."
"I wonder why," Alice said, never afraid to speak her mind, especially after serving with the Group almost as long as Lee himself. In fact, speaking her mind was just why she was retained by the newest director of Department 5656, Dr. Niles Compton.
"Well, the president's and the army's sad demeanor toward one of its own means that we get the man we wanted all along." Lee stood and with the assistance of his cane walked toward the far wall to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Did you put in the correct date of Major Collins's arrival in Nevada?"
"Yes, as you requested. He has the needed time off-two weeks to think about what a mess his career's in should allow the major to at least listen to your pitch to join our underground ship of fools," Alice Hamilton said as she headed for the double doors, but she stopped before opening them and turned to both men. "But you better be careful just what it is you wish for, gentlemen, because this Major Collins is unlike any soldier you have ever met. I mean, what other officer would throw it all away out of principle and dedication to his fallen men? I would think that would make him dangerous to bureaucrats like yourselves."
Alice smiled, batted her eyelashes as was her irritating trait, and then left the large office. She hoped that they understood that they were about to deal with a career officer who was shockingly, to the army's dismay, a man of deep convictions on the right and wrong of things. It was what they were looking for, and the two men in the office knew they were just like Major Jack Collins; therefore they were comfortable with their choice.
"That damn woman is as irritating now as when she worked for me," Garrison Lee said as he sat back down into his chair facing the director. "But she's right as always about one thing," Lee finished as he sipped his coffee.
"What is that?" Compton asked, really not wanting to know.
Lee smiled and placed his cup on the desktop. "Men like Major Jack Collins have a very low tolerance for people like us."
"You really mean people like me, don't you?" Compton asked.
"Not at all. But one thing I do know, if we hadn't interfered, Colonel Collins would have had this shit pile land right back on the president's desk as being ultimately responsible for the fiasco in Afghanistan. I'm just glad my old friend from Missouri changed his avenue of attack and left the president out of it."
"Your point?" Niles asked, getting a little nervous.
"Just the same as Alice's point, I guess. If the man was willing to bring down the president of the United States, do you think he would hesitate to do the right thing in this agency if we let him or his men down?"
"Well, you took a lot of years of research to find out just what kind of man he is. Now you know. With this new insight into the major's character, do you still want him to lead the security department?" Niles asked with a smirk.
"Absolutely."
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX, NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
JULY 2006
The Event Group Complex was relatively quiet at 3:40 a.m. on Sunday. Director Niles Compton moved through the deserted serving line inside the vast dining hall. The on-duty chef was wiping his hands on a white towel as he came from the kitchen after hearing the director was in the dining area. He, along with the entire mess crew, knew that Dr. Compton often toured the facility at the oddest hours, but this stop-in was unprecedented, as the director usually just called and had coffee or a meal delivered to his office on level seven. Compton's presence in the serving line at this hour woke the sleepy-eyed mess personnel like no alarm ever could. As he approached the serving line the director was pouring a cup of coffee and perusing the pastry selection.
The chef looked over the interior of the cafeteria and saw only one other person at the far end of the room, sitting alone and staring at a cup of coffee. It was the new head of Group security, Major Collins. The man had not moved since coming in an hour before. The entire complex was in a mood because of the extreme losses the Group and the 101st Airborne had sustained in the desert event last week. It was well known that the new major was not taking lightly the deaths of so many, and it was now rumored that as a result, Collins was going to turn down the offer of permanently staying with the Group. The man looked as if he'd had enough of fatalities in any form.
"Dr. Compton, can I get you some breakfast, or maybe a late dinner?" the tall, very thin chef asked. The military rank displayed on his chef's whites was that of a United States Navy chief petty officer.
Compton stifled a yawn and then turned to face the navy cook. "No thank you, Chief, just trying to stay awake for the most part," Niles Compton said as he nodded at the taller man.
With one last look toward the major, the chef moved back to his kitchen and Niles Compton steeled himself for what was to come. He turned with his cup and saucer and saw with relief that Garrison Lee had come in early as promised to go over the situation with Jack Collins. Lee was fresh off a heart attack brought on by the events in the Arizona desert. It had been extremely hard to keep him isolated long enough to get the heart condition under control because Garrison wanted to be in on the extensive debrief of the small green alien, the Matchstick Man, the lone surviving extraterrestrial crewman from Chato's Crawl, Arizona. Lee had undoubtedly used that excuse to get out of the house he shared with Alice Hamilton in Las Vegas. The main objective of this morning's meeting was to conclude Major Jack Collins's introduction to a federal agency in which he had already taken life, and ended it. It was rumored that Collins was about to leave the Group and fall into an uneasy retirement from the U.S. Army.
Niles waited for Lee to get himself a cup of coffee and then they both moved through the deserted cafeteria to confront Jack Collins about his upcoming decision. As they approached, they saw that Jack was perusing the personnel files of the Event Group personnel who had been killed in action last week. His face was stone as he read the names to himself. He was so absorbed in his task that he did not even glance up when Niles and Lee joined him.
"I was wondering when you were going to corner me, but I suspected with the senator's health problems I would have had the time to formally commit my answer to paper."
Niles reflected that Collins was not your ordinary military officer. Jack was a thorough, analytical thinker and that was what he and Lee were after.
"We figured the ambush technique was best for the situation," Lee said as he placed his cup and saucer down without waiting to be asked. "I suppose you wouldn't mind the company of an old fart and super nerd long enough to bend your ear a while?" Lee finished as he sat, placing his cane against the table as he gestured for Niles to do the same. "Besides, with my retirement, Alice has me doing some very strange things around the house, like fixing things, or cutting this, or trimming that. I would rather be here bothering you than turn into Mr. Fixit at home."
"I take it Alice doesn't know you left home?" Jack inquired.
Lee pointed to the double doors of the cafeteria and Jack saw Lee's assistant Alice standing there with her left brow raised and shaking her head.
"Don't be foolish. It would be easier to escape a Russian gulag than to escape her scrutiny. She drove me here, which means I have very little time to conduct business, so I will get started."
"I've pretty much decided what I'm going to do," Collins said as he pushed his cold cup of coffee away.
Niles stirred sugar into his own cup and then looked at Collins. He removed his glasses, a frequent move that Jack had learned meant Niles was about to get serious.
"Last week when Alice and Lieutenant McIntire gave you the grand tour of the vault levels, we never got a chance to ask what you thought of our finds and artifacts," Niles said as he placed his glasses on the tabletop and slowly raised his coffee to his lips.
"The tour was cut quite short, as you well know, when you called about the event in the desert."
"Well, the senator and I would like to finish up that tour before you make your final decision on your appointment to this Group." Niles placed his cup down and looked at Collins, who still hadn't committed to anything. The deaths in the desert had really affected him.
"Major, you have to understand what we do here far better than we have been able to explain thus far," Lee said as he joined Compton in trying to persuade the major to give them a chance to show him why they needed his expertise so badly. If the fight in Arizona hadn't explained it, they knew exactly what would. They were about to pull out the ace they had up their sleeves.
Jack glanced up and saw that Alice was still watching them. He knew then that Alice was also a part of this plot, not just Compton and Lee.
"I'm afraid young McIntire doesn't know the full story. There are only three people in the world that have all the puzzle pieces, Major, and that is what we wish to finish up tonight. The right tour, the right artifact that will tie this whole thing together for you," Lee said as he too looked back at Alice and then slowly stood with the aid of his cane. "Mind joining us, Major Collins?"
"Okay, where to?" Jack stood along with Compton and started a journey into the past that he never would have dreamed about.
"The largest, most secure depository in the United States. Level sixty-one, vault one," Niles said as he led the way out of the cafeteria.
Lee placed a hand on Alice's shoulder and then turned to face Niles and Jack. "It's story time, Major Collins, and you are about to get wowed."
Collins raised his eyebrows but followed them out the door, only pausing long enough to receive a knowing smile and wink from Alice Hamilton.
"Wowed is just about right," she said as she fell into line heading for the elevators.
* * *
The tube elevator operated on air-cushioned propellant and traveled close to fifty miles per hour. The four stepped off and went to the security arch, where one of Jack's people accepted IDs and proceeded to send them through the eye-scan check, clearing them all for entrance into the vault level. Jack followed the three inside an enormous hallway that had the dreamlike facade of several hundred bank vaults-the most secure location outside of Fort Knox and the NSA building. Each vault contained an artifact from the history of the world, and Jack had not returned to the vault level since his mission to Arizona, simply because he never wanted the wonders of the vault levels to sway his decision about staying or leaving the Group. The magnificent finds had the ability to cloud the mind and could make the process of deciding his destiny far more difficult.
Lee and Alice stopped at a familiar spot, the first vault Jack had seen at the Group. Lee had pointed it out to him the day of his arrival. He knew by the size of the reinforced steel door what artifact lay beyond-the Ark. The last time he'd seen it he hadn't had time to explain to Lee and Compton that he was far from being a believer in the fantastical story of Noah and his Ark. Collins found it hard to believe in anything other than his own ability and keeping men under his command as safe as he could.
"I suppose you need no explanation of what's behind this door?" Lee said as Niles Compton scanned his ID into the reader and stepped back as a smaller access door opened beside the larger, impenetrable stainless-steel door.
"I know what you claim it to be, but I've yet to be convinced, and to tell you the truth, gentlemen"-he nodded at Alice-"and lady, I am at least skeptical, and unbelieving at the most."
"That's exactly how you should feel, Jack," Niles said as he stepped aside to allow the three to precede him into the giant vault area.
Collins saw it in person for the first time and he had to admit the monitors inside Niles's office did the artifact no justice. No matter what this object truly was, Jack knew it to be impressive. The Ark was a broken wreck, but its age could be summed up in just one word-ancient. It was the oldest thing Collins had ever laid eyes on. He didn't need too many impressive degrees to see that. The ship, if that was what it really was, was only a quarter of its former tonnage. The object ended in a jagged and twisted wreck. The beams and what remained of its wooden decking had long since turned to petrified stone. You could see the grain in the wood and know what it was immediately. The bow of the vessel soared into the heights of the giant vault. Spotlights illuminated the scaffolding placed around the artifact where many a teacher, professor, and student had crawled over its exterior searching for clues as to its real identity.
It had been explained to Collins that the Ark had been officially carbon-dated to more than thirteen thousand years old. That was still a bone of contention inside the Group because the theology department espoused the accepted theory that the Noah civilization was only five thousand years old. The Event Group and its personnel never argued between departments but everyone knew it was an accepted fact that Virginia Pollock and her Nuclear Sciences Division were never, ever, wrong in their time and age calculations, and if you knew Virginia Pollock you'd better not begin to question the science. She was a firm and adamant believer in dating material and had never been proven wrong on any established date.
Jack followed Niles, Lee, and Alice up the staircase of the closest scaffold. Their footsteps made loud clanging sounds as they moved across the steel. Collins saw amazement in everyone's eyes. They must have already taken in the sight of the artifact many, many times before this morning, but clearly the viewing never failed to induce awe. Collins didn't feel that way. It wasn't because he was a cold military analyst, or that he didn't have a great imagination. It was the fact that something described as divine providence ordered this vessel constructed under the direct supervision of God, which Jack considered ridiculous. A romantic would always love to believe that God had mercy on man and saved them with the Ark of wood, but Jack was a realist and knew that God had long abandoned mankind, including men from antiquity.
"Fairy tales, right?" Lee asked, penetrating Jack's inner thoughts. Lee placed his cane on the railing overlooking the ancient vessel.
The wooden construction on the centerline main deck looked as precise as many a painting proclaimed. Collins could see the hairline fractures where the Ark had either been dismantled or damaged. The reverse-engineering to reconstruct the Ark must have been a massive undertaking. There was a house-like structure on the upper deck, and about eighty-five feet of the pitched roof and frame remained intact and looked as if this was where the supposed family of Noah would have lived high above their animal pens. Collins moved his eyes from the sight below to the single piercing eye of Lee.
"Excuse me?" Jack said as he failed to get the point even though he had been thinking about the same word only moments before.
"Just fairy tales. Stories that make for good Sunday school lesson plans. Good versus evil, the fight of man against nature, the determination of the human soul. Yes, many a good lesson is derived from such a story, wouldn't you say?" Lee said as he moved to the major's side and then gestured with his free hand as the other stabilized his weak frame against the railing. "But a fairy tale nonetheless," he said when Collins remained silent. He patted Jack on the back and then held out his hand for Alice to continue.
"The Ark, if that's what it is-and you will have to decide for yourself if that's the case-is not the only artifact we have here at the Group that substantiates the data we have collected." She took out a large aluminum box, which she opened and held out to Lee. Garrison Lee reached inside and gently, as if he were handling crystal, removed a leather-bound book. It was as though Lee were touching divinity itself. "The real treasure here, Jack," he said as he felt the warmth of the leather beneath his fingers, "is not that petrified jumble of wooden beams, but this."
Collins looked at what Lee was holding and was satisfied that he was looking at a journal, surely not as old as the object below in the vault, but old; within a hundred or two hundred years would be his estimate.
"Major, you are a student of your family lineage, correct?" Niles asked as he placed his hands behind his back, which he did every time he went into teaching mode.
"Yes, my mother and sister have concluded we started somewhere in Ireland and came to the colonies in 1678; nothing before that, though. On my father's side, they arrived even earlier."
"Military men-I must admit I never felt the calling, Major," Niles said, almost apologizing for that fact. "Special people I have come to admire." Niles turned and nodded at the book Lee held in his aged hand. "How many in your family have given the ultimate sacrifice, Major?"
"Three, at least as far as my mother and sister's limited history tells of both my father's and my mom's side."
"Yes, your file says Civil War, cause of death unknown. The Spanish American war, I believe you lost your great-uncle in Santiago, Cuba. And then finally your father in 1972, somewhere in Southeast Asia."
Jack remained silent, as he never spoke about his father to anyone. That area of his life was off-limits to anyone and everyone. He just continued to eye Niles Compton as he spoke.
"This journal is from 1864 through 1865. It covers the event that brought the artifact before you back to these shores. It was written by a man much like you, Jack. A person such as yourself will be able to determine its value, its very validity. You'll know after you study this what to think about that down there." He waved at the Ark below them.
"I have learned in life, gentlemen, that the same people who wrote stories about things like this"-Jack also gestured toward the ravaged vessel-"also wrote in journals, and they both usually have the same failing. If it was written by men, be it the Bible, the Koran, or anything else, it's fallible. Men love to embellish. Stories told about things like this"-he nodded at the journal and then the Ark-"or that, are sometimes made more readable, more exciting if they just add this, or add that. No, I'm not a big believer in journals or the writings of ancient scribes who told tales of the power of God or the foresight of a single man."
Alice smiled and it was almost as loud as a shout. Jack looked at her and she stepped up to him and patted him on the shoulder.
"I told them they would have to allow you to read the journal to make you a believer."
Lee held out the leather-bound journal.
"What do you say, Major, a little light reading and then we'll meet again to discuss your future with Department 5656. Fair enough?" Niles asked as Lee continued to hold the journal out for Jack to take, or leave it and the Group behind.
Collins nodded and took the offered book, and before he could change his mind the trio left the major and exited the largest vault ever constructed.
Collins watched them go and then slowly paced toward the viewing stand that served students when they were being taught in one of the varying tasks that the faculty had arranged for them. He sat and looked at the Ark below him, and then at the leather journal. He read the words in the lower right-hand corner that used to be inlaid with gold but were now just a discolored indentation.
"John Henry Thomas, Colonel, United States Army, August 1864-April 1865."
Jack ran his fingers across the broken and cracked leather where the gold lettering used to be, and then again looked away and wondered why Lee, Alice, and Niles believed this would have any bearing on his decision. He took a deep breath and momentarily thought of the men and women he had lost just this past month in the desert. He closed his eyes, so desperately tired of writing letters to his dead soldiers' parents, wives, or husbands. Collins was sorely tempted to leave the journal on the seat beside him and deliver his resignation to Compton. Instead he held onto the old book and decided that he would give the Group this one shot to sway his choice-to stay, or retire into a bleak future without the career he had chosen.
He opened the one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old journal and started to read.
Copyright © 2015 by David L. Golemon
