The Last Patrol

Nathanael

"Mom!" a young boy's voice cried out into the darkness.

Hurried steps could be heard coming down the hallway.

A switch flipped and the room was lit.  "What?  What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep."

"Ohhh, honey...  Not again...  It's well past midnight.  You've got to try to get some rest."

"Tell me about dad again," the boy implored.

"Nooo..." the mother said cooingly.  "Just close your eyes and try to rest.  Pray."  Gently, she combed her fingers through her son's hair.

"Pleazzze!"

The mother frowned.  This wasn't easy for her.  "Ok.  Just one more time."

"Ok," said Nathanael as he turned on his side toward his mother with gleeful anticipation.

She started, haltingly, "Well...  Your father..." She swallowed.  "Your father was a good man, and he was brave.  I always felt safe when I was with him, and loved - "

"Do you miss him?"

"Yes Nate, very much."  She smiled a sad smile.

"I wish I did."  Nathanael turned over onto his other side, away from his mother, then and pulled up his knees.



Nathanael never knew his father.  All he knew was what he was told, mostly by his mother.  They were but hand-me-down memories, mere scraps of his mother's memories, but these he cherished.  Like the prized possessions a child might hide under his bed, he clung to them in his heart, for they gave him comfort.  They gave him a sense of worth.  They gave meaning to who he was at a time when he was becoming increasingly lost. 

Back when he was a young child, everything had made sense, because with a young child's mind there wasn't much to understand.  Now he was thirteen and becoming increasingly aware.  But the more he became aware, the more he felt adrift.  Do I have worth?  How do I compare with others?  How do I relate?  What really matters?  What does my future hold?  Will I succeed in life, or fail?  Everything felt awkward to Nathanael because everything was uncertain, and he didn't have a father to help him figure things out.  All he had were the memories.  They were his only anchor.

The closest Nathanael had to a father was Ojiisan, his grandfather.  Since he was seven, Nathanael would spend his summers with his grandfather.  Ojiisan was kind and quiet and gentle, and he loved Nathanael dearly.  Nathanael knew this implicitly and it fostered a mutual love for his grandfather.  However in the last couple of years, Ojiisan had become for Nathanael increasingly irrelevant.  It seemed to Nathanael that Ojiisan simply could not understand his questions and concerns. 

"All you need to know is God," Ojiisan would say. 

These words fell dead upon Nathanael.  To him they seemed trite and void of meaning.  He had no appreciation for this, nor would he fully for another dozen years.  But, though he did not now know it, through all of Ojiisan's love and prayers and Bible studies, a seed had been planted that was silently taking root.

Over the past several years, Ojiisan's health had been in steady decline.  His health, it seemed, was older than his age, and his heart was too soon beginning to fail.  Then, just yesterday, he suddenly contracted pneumonia.  It was bad and he was taken to the hospital. 

Standing outside the hospital room, Nathanael could feel his heart race.  He felt faint and numb and for a time he couldn't move.  He just stood there, frozen, too afraid of what he might find inside.  Finally he took a deep breath, leaned forward and entered. 

At first he didn't see Ojiisan.  All he saw was a helpless looking figure, cluttered over with medical contraptions.  An opaque plastic mask shrouded a face and was connected to a machine which had a large bellows that lifted and fell, lifted and fell, lifted and fell.  Wires ran from beneath a gown up to a box that beeped, and on which there was a light that bounced up and down along a line.  A thin plastic tube led from an arm up to a bottle that dripped like an old faucet.  Underneath it all, Nathanael finally recognized a body that was struggling to breath. 

Ohhh! Ojiisan!, he cried inside. 

Holding his breath, Nathanael's chest heaved and convulsed as he wrestled to choke back tears.  Hurriedly he took off his backpack and fumbled through it.  He pulled out a book and searched for a page - James5:15.  He found it and began to read aloud. 

"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up." 

He read it over and over for he didn't know what else to do.

Ojiisan stirred and his eyes cracked open weakly.  Seeing Nathanael, he feebly patted his hand on the bed to call Nathanael to his side.

Taking his grandfather's hand, Nathanael said, "Ojiisan."

Ojiisan grappled with the mask to take it off.

"No!  Ojiisan!" implore Nathanael, but it was too late.

Ojiisan struggled to speak.  His first attempt failed to produce a sound, other than several gurgled coughs.  Finally, in a hoarse and barely audible voice, he managed to say, "Don't cry...Nathanael...  Don't be...afraid."

All Nathanael could do was convulse in tears.

Between coughs and gasps for air, Ojiisan strained to say, "It's wonderful...Nathanael...  I'm not afraid...  I've lived...a good life...  Soon...I will be...with God."

"Don't talk like that Ojiisan.  Please!"  Frantically, Nathanael searched for words.  "The...  You know...  The...The medicine. The antibiotics.  You will get better!"

With a peaceful glow that belied the desperate struggle being waged within his body, Ojiisan smiled to comfort Nathanael.  "Death is...part of life...Nathanael...  It's not...a bad thing...  God is...good." 

He motioned Nathanael closer.  Nathanael leaned in until his ear was next to Ojiisan's mouth. 

With faltering breath, Ojiisan fought to continue.  "Please...do something...for me...  You must...go see...a man in...California...  I left...instructions...on my desk...in my study."

In hurried excitation, Nathanael acknowledged.  "Instructions. On your desk. Ok, Ojiisan."

"Promise me."

"Ojiisannn!  You know I will!"

Two days later, Ojiisan passed away.  His broken body had fought until there was no fight left.  Now, nothing would stop Nathanael from carrying out this task.  He was a determined boy and would travel across the entire continent to see the man in California.  Determination and the keeping of promises were qualities at the core of Nathanael and they would shape the rest of his life. 

Before he did anything, however, he had to think things through and so he made a list.

•          Should I mail Ojiisan's Bible to Admiral O'Kane with a letter or should I hand deliver it?  I have to respect Ojiisan.  He wanted me to hand deliver it.

•          Should I go with my mom, or alone?  Ojiisan asked me.  This is my task.  Not mom's.

•          Will she let me go alone?  Doesn't matter.  She can't stop me.  I have money to buy the ticket.  I'll go no matter what.

•          Use the address Ojiisan gave to plan the trip.

•          Train, plane or bus?  I think I have enough for a train.

•          Give Admiral O'Kane Ojiisan's Bible.

•          Give O'Kane the sword?

•          Explain it all to O'Kane.

Deep in his heart, Nathanael knew he had to do this alone.  This was his task to accomplish, not his mother's.  But more than that, and although he could not articulate the concept, he instinctively saw it as a 'right of passage.'  Most of all, Nathanael would do this because he felt he had to do right by Ojiisan.  Where most of his peers sought for security by fitting in with the crowd, Nathanael only knew to do what was right.



All the Way 'West' to California

There is an old saying: "Home is where the heart is."  Some even say that a man's home is a reflection of his heart.

This home stood on a hill, which was really more a knoll.  All about were rolling fields, clothed with parched tall grass that swayed in the wind.  Sitting alone, like a solitary figure, the home looked isolated and lonely, almost forlorn.  Inside, however, it was light and airy, with lofted ceiling and generous windows.  The openness and lightness was made possible by massive wooden posts that supported the walls and roof as if they were a cloak draped loosely over a powerfully buttressed frame.  A robust stone fireplace along with soft hues of beige and brown radiate a glow of comfort and security.

Inside the home stood Nathanael, facing an elderly man who looked about the same age as Ojiisan.  Nathanael yearned for something to say, but couldn't find it.  So, for a time, both stood in silence.  From the fading sunlight, trickling in through a window behind, it is apparent that the sun is beginning to set.  In the man's eyes there's a hint of glad appreciation.  Nathanael imbues a mix of shyness and deference. 

Nathanael looks up at a grandfather clock, sitting against a wall, just off to the side and behind the elderly man.  It impresses him.  It seems to him majestic.  With its thick and rich woodwork and elegant brass, Nathanael sees within the clock a commanding strength - a strength that was both firm and at the same time warm and welcoming.  He notes the time and then feels a flush of wistfulness. 

Looking down at his shoes, Nathanael says, "Well, I suppose I ought to be going." 

The elderly man hesitates for a moment, as if coming out of deep thought, then responds, "Oh?… Why don't you at least stay for dinner?" 

"The cab that brought me is waiting outside, and I've got a ticket for the evening train." 

With a bit of a jowl, the elderly man nods his head slightly and understandingly.

Nathanael then offers, "It's been an honor meeting you." 

The man pauses for a moment, cherishing the generosity offered by a boy, and then with a slight smile responds, "It's been an honor meeting you," and he offers his hand to the boy. 

As Nathanael's small hand is engulfed within the elderly man's, they shake as if they are equals. 

Nathanael says, "So long," then walks to the door with the elderly man trailing behind. 

When they reach the door, the elderly man reaches his arm above the boy and opens the screen door for him.  Nathanael walks a few steps out onto the porch, turns and hesitates, wanting to say something, but then turns back and starts down a long dusty, dirt road that cuts through a field of drought-dried tall grass that leads to a cab waiting in the distance.  With a glint in his eyes that conveys a kind smile, the elderly man watches the departing boy, still holding the screen door open.  As Nathanael's figure shrinks into the distance, the elderly man lets the screen door slam closed.  He then closes a large, solid oak door which blocks the view of the boy. 

All meetings must come to an end.

But, something in this meeting has stirred memories in the man - memoires that have long lain dormant.  Now the flood gates have been opened, and they come rushing back in.



Baptism

Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.

Romans6:4

As solid and heavy as a thick oak door is a water tight hatch onboard a warship.  Suddenly, and with urgent force, such a hatch is slammed open with a loud "bang" as it pounds against its stop.  Accompanying this is the blaring Bong! Bong! Bong!... of the General Quarters alarm.  With a flurry of motion and a cacophony of sounds, bodies rush by as a submarine crew races to battle stations.  The scene is viewed through the eyes of the elderly man from when he was young and second in command aboard a submarine at war.  He is Lieutenant Richard O'Kane aboard the USS Wahoo, which is fighting the Japanese in the Pacific, during World War II.  It was his first combat action as executive officer under the legendary submarine commander, "Mush" Morton. 

Images flash by in the elderly man's mind.  They're fragmented and disjointed, not from the fading of memories, as one might expect, but rather from the original manner in which they were perceived and thus formed.  They were the product of a mind under strain.  Ragged though they are, these memories were indelibly etched, like a pattern burned into leather by a glowing hot iron. 

He closes his eyes and remembers...

҉  ҉  ҉ 

Beads of sweat rolled down his face.  His heart raced inside his chest.  Tension and anxiety clouded his mind which hampered his judgment.  It wasn't from fear of physical harm, for at that moment he felt not a trace of that.  Like the Captain in Joseph Conrad's 'Secret Sharer,' he suffered from the uncertainty of self-doubt.  Having never been tested in battle, he questioned his competence.

It's a raw, reverberating fear, and it's overwhelming, and it's all he can do to think. 

Though this fear is stark and blinding, it is not for his 'self,'  that is, his personal safety.  Instead he's afraid of screwing up and letting his shipmates down, endangering their lives.  More fundamentally, however, he's afraid of what they may think of him if he were to mess up.  His fear, therefore, is actually centered entirely on self.  His focus is misplaced; his focus is on self and it can be to his ruin.

Almost worse than this fear is the fact that he's aware of it.  He knows that the more nervous he gets, the more likely it is he will screw up, and this only makes him more nervous. 

Nooo!  Calm down! he screamed inside himself, "Calm down!  Nooo!  Not now!  I'm losing it...  It's starting...  It's snowballing."

It started alright, like a runaway train - like a vicious cycle, building and building upon itself and it had all the makings of a 'self-fulfilling prophecy.' 

He's now wrapped so tight it seems he can hardly move let alone function adequately.  Under his breath he has to tell himself, "Breathe... Breathe..."  Pressure within his chest built until it screamed for his attention.  He felt all the squeezing - the tightness - the pounding, but there wasn't anything he can do.

O'Kane is manning the periscope, calling off bearings, ranges, and angles off the target's bow.  His hands clench the handles.  In his distress, he presses his face so hard into the eye piece that it seems to impact directly upon the bones surrounding his eye socket.  Excitedly, he swings the periscope about, back and forth, searching for the target.  He fears he's lost it.  His mind races, Where?!  Where could it have gone?!  In his panic, he's swings the scope about too fast for images to register in his excited mind.  Then, he sees a faint image flash by, like a ghost.  He turns back to it and hurriedly positions the reticle  on roughly the center of the fuzzy mass and calls out, "Constant bearing, Mark!  Range, Mark!"

He must now determine the angle off the target's bow, but the image that is generated in his brain is more an illusion - a shape-shifting blur.  It's not the optics, but rather his mind, which is locked up, like a red-hot engine, over-speeding without oil and seizing.  He must call out the angle; the entire crew is waiting; all of their lives depend upon this.  He's hesitant and halting and second guessing himself.  He calls off conflicting angles, "Port forty-five degrees off the bow!...  No Wait!  Port thirty degrees!" 

O'Kane's fear is infectious and spreads like a deadly contagion.  With quivering hands, the officer manning the torpedo data computer (TDC ) franticly dials in, then re-dials in O'Kane's uncertain numbers.  Torpedoes are launched and runtimes counted down.  All wait in desperate hope... 

But there are no detonations.  All torpedoes have missed. 

The torpedo wakes have now been sighted by the Japanese and an enemy escort races toward Wahoo with a zero angle off the bow.  Morton is calm and steady, perhaps unreasonably so. 

In a firm and even voice, Morton says, "Dick, get a set up on the escort." 

O'Kane scans through the periscope and finds the onrushing enemy.  This time all he can see is a plume of whitewater, being plowed up and pushed to both sides.  Hurriedly, he positions the reticle somewhere near the center of the plume and calls out, "Bearing - Mark!  Range - Mark!" 

"Set!" 

"Fire!" commands Morton.

The torpedo is launched and then O'Kane waits, expecting at any moment the order to dive.  When it doesn't come, he jerks around towards Morton.  "Captain!  Should we go deep?!" 

"No.  I'm gonna put two down her throat."

Instead of immediately going deep, as would almost any other submarine commander, Morton calmly calls for a bow shot with the two remaining forward torpedoes.  All in the conning tower  turn toward Morton with faces of confusion, fear and disbelief. 

Adrenaline pumps through Morton's veins and he aggressively commands, "Right full rudder!  All engines ahead flank!"

Morton is turning directly toward a Japanese 'ship-of-war' that's bearing down fast with the sole intent of killing Wahoo.  Though this may seem insane, Morton is doing so to minimize the gyro angle  and thus increase the accuracy of the torpedoes.  It's a gamble to increase the probability of hits, but if it fails, things could go bad, fast. 

Once again, O'Kane calls off bearings and ranges.  Torpedoes are fired and then Wahoo immediately submerges. 

Again, all wait in desperate hope as runtimes are counted down, but there are no detonations.

The sound of propeller rotations increase overhead followed by splashes as depth charges slap into water.  Seconds pass which seems an eternity.  Then, in a steady succession, the depth charges begin to detonate, rocking the sub, bursting lights and throwing sailors to the deck. 

Fittings break and water sprays in. 

Sailors rush to valves and franticly turn them to isolate the leaks. 

Others desperately pull on wrenches to tighten down bolts on spraying flanges.

An electrical fire breaks out in control. 

Breakers are tripped and the fire quickly contained then extinguished. 

The acrid smoke from burnt electrical components and wiring rises and then disperses throughout the ship. 

The burning scent of sulfuric acid from rattled batteries cells diffuses into the air.

Eyes tear.  Lungs sear.  Sailors cough and cover their mouths with rags. 

Bodies are tense, faces taunt with terror. 

Morton calls for speed, depth and course changes in an attempt to throw off the enemy's aim. 

A crewman, with strained facial muscles and desperate eyes, counts the explosions, "Click, WHACK!! Four...  Click, WHACK!!! Five..." 

A sailor on his first patrol hears the count and nervously stammers out, "W w what are you doing?" 

With a body wound-up like a charged capacitor, the first sailor abruptly turns toward the other, his face frozen in fear, mouth slightly agape.  With enlarged, terror-filled eyes, he stares for a moment without saying a word.  His head shudders in a tense, rapid vibration as all the muscles in his neck fight and pull against each other in an uncoordinated spasm.  Then, just as abruptly as he turned, he turns back and continues his count.  " Click, WHACK!!! Six...  Click, WHACK!!! Seven..."

The intensity of the explosions increase in a crescendo and it seems the Japanese have found their mark...

Then, thankfully, the explosions begin to fade off.  A period of silence follows, but there is no respite.  Everyone knows it's not over. 

Soon, pings ring out again as the escort's sonar reaches out into the depths in search of its prey.  Like an enraged Cyclops, spear stabbed into its eye, the enemy ship violently gropes for Wahoo. 

Wahoo's sonarman listens to the pings, his eyes staring like lasers, glaring past the dials on the grey sonar module before him, as if that would somehow improve his hearing.  Suddenly, his eyes enlarge and he rips off his headsets.  He turns to Morton with a look of terror, laced with dejection.  "He's shifting to short-scale!  He's got us, Captain!" 

The enemy's pings have just increased in frequency.  Now they increase in intensity as the escort again draws down on Wahoo.  Suddenly, there's a leap in the rate of the "swish and wash" of the propeller screw as the escort rushes in for the kill.  As the sound of the propeller grows louder and louder, sailors look up to the overhead as if transfixed on their own 'tell-tale heart.'

The explosions begin again and the sailor resumes his count.  With each explosion, the volume and violence increases.  "Click, WHACK!  Eight...  Click, WHACK!!  Nine...  Click, WHACK!!!  Ten...  Click, WHACK!!!!  Eleven..."  In anticipation of the twelfth, the sailor buries his head in crossed arms and lets out a suppressed scream.  Then, all goes dark for him as he loses consciousness. 

҉  ҉  ҉ 

The attack is now over.  Having lost sonar contact, the escort had searched in vain, but Wahoo managed to skulk away. 

All are sweat soaked.  Some breathe heavy.  Others cling white-knuckled to whatever support kept them on their feet.  The air is hot and dank, thick with the stench of acrid smoke, sulfuric acid fumes and body odor.  Added to this offensive mix, now hangs a faint scent of urine. 

Though surrounded by crewmen on all sides, O'Kane stands in the middle of the conning tower, completely alone.  Everyone knows he is the cause of the failure.  Some shoot angry glances at him, like throwing razor-sharp daggers.  O'Kane's eyes dart frantically about and he sees this.  His mind amplifies the bitter glares until their weight feels like the oppressive searing from the desert sun at high noon.  His mind screams, desperate to escape, but there is nowhere to go other than to crawl inside himself. 

O'Kane is locked inside his own thoughts with the palpable, almost visible, agony of his inner turmoil.  All of his training, all of his abilities, all of his skills, now at this moment avail to nothing, and he stands there, paralyzed and lost.  O'Kane has succeeded in fulfilling the prophesy he has made for himself.











Born Again

Jesus answered and said to him, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God."

John3:3



Zatsu had a penchant for "attention to detail" and so his beating of O'Kane had been meticulous.  It had taken a full seven weeks for O'Kane to heal enough to be discharged from the infirmary.  On the 50th day, O'Kane emerges. 

As he exits the infirmary, it is evident that his recovery is not nearly complete.  He's both scarred and visibly ill, and walks slowly with a halting, limp.  Almost as crippled as his body is his spirit.  What hope was there now that could buoy him - that could give him the will to continue?  Having suffered well beyond all the rest, O'Kane is at his end.

Knowing that this is the day of O'Kane's release, Paul has the Americans assembled in formation.  Upon seeing O'Kane, he calls the formation to attention.  As O'Kane labors painfully to cross the courtyard, Paul salutes briskly.

It took O'Kane a considerable time to walk that short but painful distance.  As the eyes of all his men are locked on O'Kane as he walked, it was if they could feel his pain. 

When face to face with Paul, O'Kane returns the salute, and Paul states, "USS Tang ready for inspection sir!" 

Weakly, O'Kane executes the salute and with a partially raised hand, motions it to say, "No inspection necessary." 

Still holding his salute, Paul says, "I relinquish command, my Captain." 

Again O'Kane smiles and returns the salute. 

Just then, with the two men standing face to face, a brilliant flash of bright white light streams across the morning sky and the entire camp looks up in wonder. 

Paul lifts a hand to shield his eyes and says with marvel, "Jesus…" 

A moment later, a gust of wind rushes through the trees, causing all the leaves to flutter. 

This moment would seem to have been a turning point in the spiritual growth of Paul, but the real turning point had already occurred many months ago, in O'Kane's stateroom.  O'Kane's legacy for Paul, therefore, was far more than lessons on leadership and tactics. 



Nathanael's Journey

In a small rural town, far up in upstate New York, a mother and son stand out in the cold at an old railroad stop, waiting.  All around, the autumn leaves burst in color.  The air is crisp and with every exhale, frozen breath billows forth.  The tiny train station looks as if it has stood unchanged for over a hundred years.  Everything about it is old and made of wood.  However, old though it is, it is yet well maintained and tidy, like the mother's long overcoat. 

With a voice steeped with concern, the mother says, "You don't have to go, you know."

"Yeah I do," responds Nathanael, taciturn.

"Well, you should at least let me come along with you."

"I got to do this alone."

"Why?" the mother pleads.

"Don't know.  I just do."

The boy is diminutive - barely thirteen.  On his head sits an oversized Green Beret.  With its largeness and looseness, it slumps down and covers his brow.  At his feet sits a large green duffle bag which looks about as big as him. 

A train pulls up with clamoring noise and the scent of diesel.  A whistle blows, loud and long.  Screeching brakes slows the train to a halt.  The conductor steps off and stands with watch in hand.

The mother kisses the boy, and then hurriedly says, "Be careful.  Keep to yourself.  Call me at every stop."

Nathanael wriggles with childish impatience, betraying his age. "Mom, I'm not gonna call you at every stop.  I'll call you when I get there."

With that, Nathanael boards the train.  He walks to an open seat by a window and settles in.  The train gets underway and as it pulls from the station, the mother remains, standing on the platform, one hand covering her mouth and the other 'waving goodbye' to her departing son.

As the countryside races by, Nathanael sits in silence and stares out the window.  With the changing views and the flickering streams of light that break through clouds, the train ride for Nathanael feels more like a journey than a simple trip.  It is a journey at that - a journey to fulfill a promise.  For Nathanael, it is also a journey of discovery.  As would be like the rest of his life, it is a journey about growing up.

As time goes by, with the continuous "clicks" and "clacks" and the incessant rude little shoves as the train is jostled back and forth by uneven tracks, Nathanael struggles to fight off boredom.  He then thinks of Ojiisan.  Memories return and his eyes water.  He reaches into the green duffel bag and pulls out a well-worn leather Bible.  Opening it, he reads a hand-written note, "For Admiral Richard O'Kane."  This is the promise that Nathanael would fulfill, and he would cross the entire continent to California to do so.



A Promise Kept

Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

Romans8:17.

A taxi pulls up to the gate of a large ranch.  Brown dust kicks up in the air as the tires come to a halt.  Nathanael steps out and tugs at the duffle bag behind him.  Looking about, as far as he could see there are rolling hills covered with tall dried grass.  Off in the distance lays a low, jagged line of mountains, like a delicate fringe where the earth meets the sky.  A long dirt road winds its way up to a house.  It's a low, long ranch home, built sturdy, like a ship.  Sitting alone as it did atop a gentle hill, with a little imagination it could appear more an arc riding upon a roll of ocean.  Nathanael makes the long lonely trek up to the house, laboring to carry the large duffle bag which seems to dwarf him.  He knocks on the door.  A minute passes and then an elderly man answers.  It's O'Kane, thirty years after the war.  He's weathered from age, and though he's all but transformed, his strong features are yet prominent and so he's clearly recognizable.

Shyly, Nathanael asks, "Can I come in?"

Without a word—without a query—the elderly O'Kane invitingly opens the screen door for him.

As O'Kane leads the boy through the parlor, a picture on the wall catches Nathanael's eye.  It is a picture of O'Kane when he was young and in command of Tang.  He's standing on the deck of Tang, just in front of the bridge and he's surrounded on all sides by his men.  Caught in that moment, the young O'Kane might come across to some as brash, perhaps flamboyant.  He might seem to be more the Captain of a football team than the Commander of a US Naval Warship. 

O'Kane offers Nathanael a seat on a couch then sits in another couch, across from a coffee table.  For a time, they both sit in silence, facing each other.  The old man studies the boy as the boy looks down in shyness.  The man seems in no hurry and Nathanael doesn't know where to begin.

O'Kane interjects first. "Well…, what brings you all the way out to this lonely place, young man?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"That's fine.  Seems these days, all I've got is time." O'Kane then beams a warm smile to encourage Nathanael to continue. 

Nathanael pauses, not sure where to begin, so he just begins. "My grandfather just passed away.  Just before he died, he asked me to give his Bible to Admiral Richard O'Kane...  Is that you?"

O'Kane acknowledges with a nod and a grunt.  "Uhum." 

Nathanael reaches down into the tattered duffle bag and pulls out an old, well-worn Bible.  He stands, walks across to O'Kane and offers it to him.  O'Kane pauses for a moment, unsure of the significance of the gift, but then reaches up and takes it.  He places it in his lap and folds his hands over it.  Now beginning to perceive the importance of the gift, O'Kane tries to appear unaffected, but his expression subtly betrays his growing appreciation.

Nathanael returns to the couch and resumes his story. "My grandfather use to tell me stories.  He said he was born a Samurai.  Since he was a boy, all he wanted was to be a soldier.  But, for some reason - which he never told me - he was stripped of rank and kicked out of the army.  I never asked him what he did, but I knew my grandfather.  I think he did something right which everybody thought was wrong."

This stirs within O'Kane memories of the day of Chiune's disgrace.

Nathanael continues, "After the war, he said Japan was very poor. He said there was no longer anything there for him so he came to America.  He got married and had a son - my dad.  My grandmother died when my dad was young, and so all my father and grandfather had were each other.  While my dad was growing up, all he wanted to do was to go to West Point.  He, too, wanted to be a soldier.  My grandfather hated this, but he didn't - or couldn't - stop my dad.  When my dad graduated, he joined the Green Beret.  In 1967, they sent him to Vietnam."

O'Kane's attention intensifies.  Facial muscles tense as the focus of his eyes increase.

"He was in charge of teams that ran 'LRRPs.'  That stands for "Long Range Reconnaissance Patrols."  They were small teams, usually three Americans and three Montagnards.  They would go deep into enemy territory and look for enemy troop movement and stuff like that.  My dad was responsible for planning the 'LRRPs,' keeping them safe and then debriefing them when they came back in.  It wasn't my dad's job to go on the LRRPs, but he often did.  On his last patrol, my dad's LRRP ran into a company-size force of NVA.  No one survived.  I was told my dad was brave though.  I was told he always fought hard.  These were his."  Nathanael reaches up and touches the Green Beret and then the duffle bag. 

O'Kane acknowledges with a slight, understanding nod and then bites his lower lip.

Nathanael continues, "I was too young to remember my dad.  Most of what I know of him, my mom told me.  My grandfather didn't speak too much about him.  I think it kind of hurt him to remember.  He told me, though, that when my dad died, he got really depressed for a long time.  He told me that everything seemed so dark that he felt like Jonah in the belly of the whale.  Then, one day, he was walking by a church and he stopped in.  He starting going and he started studying the Bible.  It took a while, like three years, but then he said one day it felt like a dark veil had been lifted off him.  Something told him that God loved his son, and that my dad was with God.  He said that he didn't know how, but he just knew.  He said that for the first time in a long time he felt at peace."

Thinking of Chiune, O'Kane picks up the Bible and scans through pages, appreciating it now more as a memento of a man he knew to be decent. 

"My grandfather eventually became the pastor of his own church.  It was a small church in a Japanese American community.  During my summers I would go visit him and go to church with him on Sunday's."  Nathanael points at the Bible.  "That was the Bible he always used.  I think it was the most important thing to him, except for God.  He told me he wanted it to go to the most noble man he knew.  He taught me that nobility is not about how you were born, what family you belong to, or a family scroll.  He said that the noble man is the one who suffers and sacrifices for others.  He taught me that Jesus Christ suffered and sacrificed the most, and for all of us.  But, because he couldn't give his Bible to Jesus, then he wanted to give it to the next most noble man he knew.  He said that that man is you." 

Deep emotions flood into O'Kane.  He does his best not to stammer.  "I'm...honored." 

Nathanael reaches again into the duffle bag and pulls out a long, beautiful Samurai sword and unsheathes it.  The pristine metal glistens in the sunlight that streams in through a window. 

Nathanael stands and displays the sword. "This was my grandfather's family sword.  It's been in his family for nearly two thousand years."  Nathanael stands and walks to O'Kane.  Presenting the sword with two open hands, he states, "My grandfather wanted me to have this, but I'd rather that you have it."  Standing before O'Kane, he pauses, still holding out the sword.  "My grandfather said you are the most noble man he ever knew.  My grandfather was an honest man, so I trust you're now the most noble man I know...  This belongs to you." 

Nathanael pushes the sword out a bit further in offering.  O'Kane hesitates.  He feels the sword is too valuable to the boy but he also respects the boy's wishes.  He places the Bible on the coffee table before him then reaches up and takes the sword in both hands.  He's immediately taken by its beauty and artistry, its proportion and balance.  It's wonderfully crafted. 

Nathanael turns and returns to his seat and continues, "For me, the sword has no meaning.  I think, now, the only way for me to find meaning is to follow in my grandfather's footsteps.  I too plan to become a minister someday." 

At this, O'Kane can only stare.  So decisive in battle when in command of Tang, he now seems for the moment lost.  Strong emotions well up within him and a tear begins to form in his eye.  To conceal these emotions, he swallows hard and turns his head to the side.  Nathanael sees this and understands.  Looking down, O'Kane abruptly places the sword on top of the Bible on the table before him.  He rises and retreats to a room in the back.  When he returns, he holds something in his hand.  It's the rectangular, granite stone that is Chiune's family seal. 

In an open hand, O'Kane displays the stone for Nathanael. "Your grandfather gave this to me when I was on the edge of death.  And the thought of how much it meant to him and to his family's honor helped keep me alive at a time when death seemed to me a preferred choice.  I treasured it ever since.  From what I gather, it is a thing that may mean little to you - perhaps nothing.  But, like your grandfather, I too am a Christian.  I want you to keep this as a reminder of your responsibility to your future congregation, to your grandfather, and really to God, to open the 'seals' of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to all you come across."  He then places the stone in Nathanael's open hand.  Like O'Kane's hand, thirty years before, Nathanael slowly closes his hand around the stone and then clasps it tightly.  Just then the light streaming through the window increases in intensity, flooding the room like a strange phenomenon.  Perhaps it was simply due to the angle of the sun or the temperature and moisture content of the air.  But whatever it was, both boy and old man turn their heads to face the light as it continues to increase in intensity until it seems to flood the room. 

҉  ҉  ҉ 

For Nathanael,  this journey was now complete; the promise he had made, fulfilled.  When he arrived home, he took off the beret and tucked it into a drawer of his dresser.  He would never wear it again.  It seemed he no longer needed it because he now knew who he was.  No longer was he the son of his father, for he knew now fully that he was a child of God.  With this journey now over, his journey to discover his True Father had only just begun - a Father which he knew would never leave him or forsake him.  Nathanael had finally found the Anchor he had been seeking for, One like an Immovable Rock.