May 13, 2K12

	The Silver Star

…The following is an excerpt from The First Terrorist Act by Harold Thomas Beck. It deals with actual events that took place 44 years ago.

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Escape and Return to Walter Reed

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Walter Reed Hospital

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The Last Mission

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Chuck Hayes and the Plaines des Jarres

The next day began as a sunny September morning. A barber was in Charley’s room just after breakfast. When Charley told him how he wanted his hair cut, the barber politely stopped him.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Reed. I’ve been instructed how your hair is to be cut. If there’s a problem, I can call my commanding officer.”

As Charley was about to throw him out of the room, Captain Kirsch looked in. Charley bit his lip and allowed the man to cut his hair. The haircut ended, the barber left, and within a few minutes a major appeared to help him dress. He briefed him for the ceremony and at noon the major had him in a reception room in the Ft. Meyers Officer’s Club.

He wasn’t alone. The families of his dead comrades were there also.

A buffet lunch was put out for anyone who was hungry and in the corner there was a bar. Two hours remained before the ceremony and Charley wasn’t especially comfortable being there with the people in the room.

“You can have a drink or two,” the major said. “Please, just don’t over do it.”

Charley walked to the bar. He was aware of the eyes following him as he crossed the room. He took care to look straight ahead and avoid any eye contact. He had no idea what he would do or say if any of them came up to him. He went to the bar and ordered a bourbon and ginger ale.

“Do you have Wild Turkey?” a voice asked from behind him.

“Yes, we do, sir,” the bartender answered.

“Good,” the voice said. “I’ll have a glass of Wild Turkey with no ice and a bottle of cold beer. Budweiser, if you have it.”

“Yes, sir,” the bartender said.

Charley took his drink from the bar and was about to walk to an empty corner when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“You’re Charley Reed,” the voice said.

Charley turned and met Alexander Hayes. The man’s voice carried across the room. Other people recognized the name Charley Reed and walked to where they were standing. Charley’s fears were never realized. Everyone was happy to meet him. They knew him from letters sent by their sons and husbands. They all had questions. Charley tried to answer them with kindness and affection.

There was a young woman with light brown hair, holding a baby. She said nothing, but she listened to every word. Then when everyone else finished, she asked about her husband, Billy Campbell.

“He was a fine man,” Charley told her. “He was my friend and the night he died he talked to me about you. He told me how beautiful you are and how much he loved you. He hated being away from you and the baby and wanted to come home.”

He looked at the rest of the people and with tears in his eyes spoke to them.

“They all were very brave men. They were my friends and I loved them. I’m sorry we are all together like this. If I could, I’d trade places with any one of them so you wouldn’t have to be alone. I would.”

Charley wiped his face. Tears were running down his cheeks and he couldn’t breathe. He went back to the bar and found a napkin and blew his nose. Everyone else was crying including the major.

Then it was time to go to the cemetery. Clark Clifford, the Secretary of Defense, was presenting the medals. There was a color guard, flags were flying, and an armed contingent guarded the nine graves. Charley Reed took his place and came to attention upon command.

A general stepped forward and read the specifics and circumstances of heroism for the men of the 545th Special Operations Group. Then, one at a time, their names were called and a mother, a father, or a wife would step forward to accept an American flag and the Silver Star.

Finally, they called Charles Allen Reed.

He took two steps forward, came to attention, and received his medal. He saluted sharply and returned to his place. The bugler played taps and then the honor guard fired a gun salute into the air. The general stepped forward and dismissed the formation.

Charley Reed watched as everyone began to leave. A photographer came up and congratulated him. Charley was polite and thanked him. Then, without anyone noticing, he removed the medal from around his neck and held it in his hand. He started to walk back to the car that brought him, but about half way there, a girl who was about twelve came up and asked if she could take his picture. He asked where she was from and she said Ohio. She took the picture and thanked him. She turned to go back to her parents. They were only sightseers and hadn’t come for the presentation.

“What’s your name?” Charley asked her.

“Sharon Haller,” she answered.

“What part of Ohio are you from?” he asked.

“Cleveland,” she answered.

“Well, Sharon Haller,” he said. “Here’s something to take back to Cleveland with you and keep. Don’t tell anyone I gave it to you until you get home.”

He handed her the Silver Star and walked to his waiting car.

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