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“Welcome to America” was a short-listed entry in our recently concluded 70th Short Fiction Contest, and is published with the consent of the author.
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Welcome To America
by John Tures
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….. “Colonel Martin Carmichael, much has been written about your heroics at the end of the Vietnam War, rescuing so many Americans and Vietnamese,” the reporter from The Washington Morning Herald began. “I just have to know—where did your courage and sense of duty come from, sir? Why were you willing to risk your life for others?”
….. The aged officer gave the journalist a hard stare. “Everybody is always askin’ the details of what I did at the end of the war…’bout the helicopter evacuations under gunfire from the NVA, landin’ on rooftops, ordering the sailors on aircraft carriers to push Hueys into the Pacific to make room for more refugees. Nobody asks why I did any of it.”
….. The reporter nodded eagerly. This was going to be his big exclusive for the Memorial Day edition later that month. He had driven all the way down from D.C. to the tiny V.F.W. building in Manassas. He held up his cell phone to capture it all.
….. “Well, turn that damn thing off,” Colonel Carmichael barked. “You’ll get your answers, but only you an’ I will know the reason. Even mah wife don’t know why, Mr. Al Reuther.”
….. The young reporter reluctantly pocketed his cell phone. The Colonel looked at some device in his hand, with a red light on. “An’ please switch off that other thing you got recording this whole conversation.”
….. “Sorry, Colonel,” the reporter blushed over his thick beard. “Just a habit where I back up everything.”
….. Martin fixed the journalist with a stare that grumped “Yeah right.”
….. “Well, it all began back in college….”
….. “College?” the reporter inquired. Then the army officer told him the name of an SEC university. That hadn’t shown up in most of his bios. Reuther assumed he just jumped straight into the military after high school.
….. “Well, it was during what they call ‘The Civil Rights Era.’ The first week of class, a Black kid came in the auditorium, the first our university ever had. Xavier Disman was his name. We later learned that his dad was an attorney and sued to get him in. State Court blocked him on opening day, but a Fed judge hit them with an injunction, and Xavier became a student three days later.”
….. Reuther stared at him in surprise. He knew about the struggle with George Wallace and the University of Alabama, as well as Little Rock in the 1950s, but not this.
….. “Two U.S. Marshals marched Xavier into our auditorium for Philosophy 101. As soon as they did, two-thirds of the class got up and left.”
….. “You stayed?”
….. “Yeah, just to see what would happen. The professor, who had stopped his lecture when the three entered the large room, closed his book and glared at Xavier over the podium. Nobody said a word for the whole hour. They just stared at him. Then when the bell rang, the U.S. Marshals escorted him out.”
….. The journalist’s mouth was hanging open until he recovered. “What happened the next day?”
….. “Nothin’. Later that afternoon, a Federal Appeals Court overturned the judge’s injunction. The school expelled him the next morning, just for bein’ Black. We heard that the Supreme Court later overturned the appeals judges, but it was too late. Xavier enrolled at an HBCU. I heard he graduated with a teaching degree or something years later.”
….. Reuther finally exhaled. “That’s quite a story, Colonel. I had never heard that one.”
….. “Everyone memorizes Brown v. Board of Education, and about Ruby Bridges,” Col. Carmichael harrumphed. “But hardly anyone talks about what those kids had to go through.”
….. “It’s pretty….moving,” the reporter finally found the right word. Clearly the lede had changed. “But why don’t you want this story to be told?”
….. Carmichael’s face flashed a streak of anger. “You don’ get it, do yuh?”
….. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”
….. “An I didn’t do the right thing either, young man. Ah didn’t exactly say anything nice to him, or shake his hand, or even give a friendly wave, or ask the prof to do his job. Southern hospitality left that auditorium the same way those jerks did when he arrived with the marshals.”
….. When he started speaking again in the empty VFW meeting hall, his voice was hoarse. “Even though Xavier coulda come back after the Supreme Court ruling, he learned all he needed to know about us on that first day.”
….. Now both quietly stared out the window as the afternoon shower picked up to a full rainstorm.
….. “You wanna know about the heroic stuff, right?” Carmichael broke the silence. “Well, when I joined the military, I learned about the first Black cadet at West Point. His classmates all took a vow not to speak to him. He had to suffer that whole time in school in silence.”
….. Then Colonel Carmichael began the familiar stories of his daring missions to rescue refugees in the chaotic final days of the South Vietnamese regime. Like nearly every American, Reuther had seen the iconic photo of the young Vietnamese girl and her parents giving Carmichael a bear hug on the deck of the USS Midway aircraft carrier. “Welcome to America” the caption boldly stated in everything from encyclopedias to school textbooks. But the Colonel was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep from breaking down as he told about those who made it, and those who didn’t.
….. “I figured since I f***ed it up back in college, I’d do a better job next time,” he explained.
….. “You not only saved thousands of lives, but you used your celebrity status from that photo to get local officials to take in refugees from Wisconsin to Kansas to Texas,” Reuther pointed out, trying to console the colonel. “You’re a national hero!”
….. “Just doin’ mah job,” he stated flatly. “Tried to make up for gettin’ it wrong back in college. I’d do just about anything to take that day back.”
….. Reuther looked at the aged army officer in surprise. “Actually, there is.”
….. This seemed to shake Carmichael out of his sorrow. “What are you talkin’ about?”
….. “I just saw it on the NBC Today show the other day,” the journalist exclaimed. “The university that kicked out Xavier Disman is giving him an honorary degree for all he’s done for education in the state.”
….. “Really?” Carmichael stopped trying to pretend he was doing anything but wipe away tears and focused on the reporter’s words. “When?”
….. Reuther opened his cell phone and held up the story on his screen. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
….. Carmichael gathered up his bag and shuffled toward the door. “Changed mah mind…write whatever you want. Any or all of it. Ah got a plane to catch.”
….. “But sir, what will you say to him?”
….. The colonel threw a final glance at him by the door, grinned and said “I’ll tell him what I shoulda told him that first day in class. ‘Welcome to America.’”
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John A. Tures began writing for the El Paso Herald-Post in high school. He wrote for his college paper at Trinity University in San Antonio and at Marquette University. He earned his doctorate at Florida State University, analyzed data in Washington DC, is now a Professor at LaGrange College. He writes a weekly column for newspapers and magazines. He has published a number of short story mysteries and thrillers. His book Branded will come out later this year with Huntsville Independent Press. He thanks family and friends for listening to his stories.
Click here to visit his author website
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War. Remembrance. Walls. The High Price of Authoritarianism – by editor/publisher Joe Maita
“The Sound of Becoming,” J.C. Michaels’ winning story in the 70th Jerry Jazz Musician Short Fiction Contest
Click here to read more short fiction published on Jerry Jazz Musician
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