A Marine Called Jason
(Revised)
by: Peter

(© 2007-2015 by the Author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 28
Dedication of Football Stadium

I knew Bill Townsend or Jeremy Cole had something to do with the invitation for me to speak at the dedication of the new football stadium that would honor Jason’s name.  I didn’t want to speak but I couldn’t say no. It would’ve been cowardly of me.  I pondered what I might say, and labored over it for weeks. I wrote it out on a legal pad, sitting at the kitchen table, but it wasn’t right. I tried to doctor it up but ended up throwing it away.  My next try, I went back in the woods with a cold six pack.  Maybe a good buzz would help jar things loose in my head. It worked.  I found myself opening up so that the pen couldn’t keep up with my thoughts. By the time I’d finished the six-pack, the pen wasn’t finding its way in a straight line across the page, but the words were there. I read it over a half dozen times, adding something here and there, and then striking out a few things. Finally, when I couldn’t think straight, I laid it aside. 

It lay out of sight for several days before I picked it up again with a clearer head. It was good but it needed a lot of revisions. Like a couple of passages that came too close to revealing what was between Jason and me. I struck those and wrote it differently to try to portray the bond between us in a strictly military sense. Finally, it had to be good enough.  I couldn’t say anymore and I couldn’t say it any differently.

 It was a warm evening in mid May. The parking lot was full. I was met by two senior football players who said they would be my escorts for the evening. Looking at them, I had a wishful thought that they could be more than that but I quickly dismissed it. By met, I mean that one of them was holding up a sign with Mr. Courter on it.

“Are you Mr. Courter?” he asked when I approached him.

“Yes.”

“I’m Lance Palmer.  This is Mason Ford.  We’ve been assigned as your escorts for the evening. It’s strictly a ceremonial thing.”

They were dressed in nice-fitting jeans that I was jealous of, and matching dark blue knit shirts that hugged their young athletic bodies, and baseball caps. We shook hands and I went with them. Walking up the long, curved ramp, I stopped to look up at the stately arch over the entrance; Jason Seaborne Stadium. It was a tribute that would surely embarrass him.  The stadium was packed. I was sad that his parents couldn’t be there. I wondered if Allen had bothered to come. The two athletes took me to the announcer’s box where the MC, a local sportscaster, gave me the rundown of events. The two athletes waited at the door.

There would be short speeches by the mayor and the principal, the current coach, and Jason’s old coach, intermingled with numbers by the band.  I would speak last.

The mayor’s speech was anything but short; he was a politician. The rest were shorter and I soon found myself being introduced. I followed the two athletes down the steps and walked between them as they escorted me across the football field to the podium out on the fifty yard line. The two boys stood on either side of the podium while I ascended the steps. The thought came to mind that they belonged in the military; they had that bearing. I was suddenly nervous, and I quietly cursed Jason for not being there to accept the accolades himself.  But he wasn’t, and I was, and I had a duty to perform.  I cleared my throat.

“Good evening.  My name is Brad Courter. Except for my connection to Jason Seaborne, I’m a stranger to your community. Some of you may remember me as the guy who brought him back.  There’s not much I can say about Jason, about his years growing up and going to school here, because I wasn’t here. What I can say about those years is that he was blessed with fine parents, good teachers, and coaches who guided him along the path to manhood and molded him into the man I knew and loved more than a brother. He would want you to know that he always spoke highly of you.”

“You knew him as a student, the kid next door, and a gifted athlete. I knew him as my best friend and a skilled fighting man, and it is to that, that I must speak and I am honored and humbled to do so. Those of you here who are veterans well know the bond that develops between men in the military.…some of you may know the strength of that bond in combat.  Too often it is said of those who lose their lives in combat that they gave their lives for their country. No, they fought for their country, but more often they laid down their lives for their buddies. In the final moment, in those final seconds of critical decision, they are compelled to act to save the lives of the men around them. There was never a doubt that Jason would have laid down his life for me, and I for him. That is the bond I speak of.”

“I knew Jason as a man of honor and integrity, a man of the greatest courage and uncommon bravery, highly respected by those around him, yet a man who presented himself with modesty. His many feats of steel-nerved bravery and courage in the field were to him, just another day at the office. His office was the jungle, and he was fearless in performing his duties.”

“I make no apology to anyone who might still be offended by my references to the war. How you feel about that awful war is your right, and your problem.  I am greatly offended by the way too many Americans treated those brave men when they came home. If you are one of them, I dismiss you with contempt.”

“The so called honorable peace was anything but to the men who fought the war. It was not a peace and it was not honorable.  The only honor is in the men who fought it, and the politicians dishonored those men in the way they ended it. We did not lose the war; the politicians did.  The men who fought it won every battle fought in that Godforsaken place.”

“I didn’t serve with Jason in the field of battle. I was in Intel; he was in the thick of it. But I saw his love for his buddies…. I experienced that love myself. I saw his bravery and his love for this country, and his dedication and honor in serving it.  It is you good people who have bestowed true honor on Jason.  I thank you for that, and I thank you for honoring me by your invitation.”

As I closed I thought perhaps I should not have let my  bitterness show through but I had no regrets. 

I was met with great applause at the end. I half expected some boos.  I stood for a second, a bit overwhelmed, then went down the steps to the waiting escorts.  They walked me off the field with the applause still sounding in my ears. I sensed that it was more for Jason than for my speech. We stopped at a small gathering of the dignitaries at the side of the field, at a draped column.  The school band struck up the national anthem and everyone stood.  I came to attention and saluted, as did several other men. The principal said a few more words and someone pulled away the drape.  There stood a column of black granite with a bronze plaque mounted in the top, much like the bronze marker on Jason’s grave. The principal read it aloud. 

“This stadium is dedicated to Jason Seaborne on May 14, 1979. He is hereby honored as an outstanding athlete and a shining example of leadership as well as his service to his country as a US Navy SEAL.”   

I don’t know why, but I tuned it out. I didn’t need to hear it from strangers. It sounded hollow. These people knew nothing of Jason’s service or his undaunting courage.  I was the only one in the entire stadium who did, and I knew it first hand, I didn’t need to see it on a plaque. The ceremony ended, without completion, I thought. Maybe because nothing they could have said or done could properly honor the man, and I thought of how embarrassed he would be if he’d been there. I began to tear up and I didn’t linger. The two boys had waited close by and they stepped up to escort me out of the field.  

Several people stopped me to say what a great speech it was, but I barely heard them.  One man said it was about time it was said.  After each one I walked on, till I was confronted by an unkempt, middle aged man with graying, unruly hair.

“We were right all along.  I am proud that I taught the folly of that war,” he said.

I eyed him more closely, realizing that he was most likely a college professor.  Nodding, I said, “And now you are irrelevant and without honor.”  Then I walked on.  The two boys were waiting and I walked with them till they excused themselves.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Courter,” one of them asked.

“No, you guys have been great, thanks,” I told them.

They gave a salute and walked away.

To be continued...  

Posted: 02/27/15 rp