22 April 1991
Brigham Young University
Professor Mark Baddley leaned against his desk and looked around the classroom.
Mantell recognized the signs of frustration.
Trying to explain family life--and the theology underlying it--to a bunch of young single men and women can be challenging.
"Mantell, you've been pretty quiet so far today. Let's hear your thoughts on what providential living means to you."
There was a round of chuckles as Mantell stood up.
"Well, everyone so far seems to think that providential living is not making any plans. And that couldn't be more wrong. Failing to plan is planning to fail."
Baddley thumped the desk. "Outstanding, Mister Mantell! Do go on."
"My father once told me to live as if I was going to die tomorrow--because, someday, every one of us will die--but plan as if you're going to live forever, because we do believe that we will live forever. Now, I've known I was mortal ever since June of 1985, when I fell out of a helicopter. Fortunately, my gunner's belt was hooked, and I didn't go splat. And, more recently . . . well, my wife passed a year ago. I didn't have being a widower at 24 on my bingo card, but there I was."
Everyone in the classroom was silent for a moment. Finally, Baddley said, "When you started this class, you weren't wearing a ring . . . but now you are."
"Providential living at its finest, sir." Mantell chuckled, then said, "A couple months ago, I was 'highly encouraged,' as only those of us who've served in the military can understand the term, to bring a date to the ROTC dining-in. A friend of mine set me up with a mutual acquaintance, and . . . well, the lightning struck. Again. We're now engaged. Yes, it was really fast . . . because we both accepted what was put before us. I accepted the sorrow a year ago . . . and that meant I was in a position to accept happiness when it appeared in front of me. Providential living isn't just riding out the tough times; it's accepting the good things that God puts before us with a grateful and ready heart. It may not be what you had in mind when you began the journey. Accept it anyway. He put it there for a reason. Don't let your vision of 'perfect' get in the way of the good that God offers you."
Baddley nodded. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I have been trying to explain to you during the past week. Thank you, Mister Mantell."
* * *
As students filed out of the classroom, Baddley gestured to Mantell.
Mantell went to the professor's desk. "Yes, sir?"
"Thank you for the excellent answer. I didn't want to shut anyone down, and I was praying you'd pull a rabbit out of the theological hat."
"A fine example of providential living, sir."
The two men shared a laugh, and then Baddley's face turned serious. "How are you and your fiancée doing?"
Mantell said, "Well, we each have our own particular issues left over from the war, and we're talking about them."
Baddley sighed. "I was just too old for Vietnam--I did my three years in Fort Ord, changing oil on motor pool jeeps and staying out of trouble, got out in 1963. You're a combat veteran . . . if you don't mind, could you tell me what that's like?"
Mantell was quiet for a moment, then asked, "You ever notice that a lot of guys and gals my age don't like dense crowds, or that we move across the quadrangle kind of weird, in a start-stop fashion?"
Baddley nodded. "Yes, I've seen that."
"Not liking crowds is hammered into us because we're trying to stay spread out so that one grenade only kills one guy. The start-stop move is because we don't like crossing wide open areas, so we skulk from tree to tree to doorway, looking to have cover and concealment while we plan the next leg." He sighed. "I find myself studying fields of fire and cover . . . on what is probably the safest college campus in America."
Baddley nodded. "How do you deal with it?"
Mantell gave Baddley a lopsided grin. "Well, I thank God I'm still alive to have these issues to deal with, and then I pray for the folks who have it worse than I do--and I know there's a lot of those. And I keep asking God to work with me . . . and with Kathy."
* * *
13 May 1991
Children and Family Services
Utah Health & Human Services Agency
Salt Lake City, UT
The social worker had a name tag that read "FRAZIER." She looked at the two women and asked, "I'm Julie Frazier. I do have to ask, is your relationship of a permanent nature?"
Sophie opened her briefcase and handed over a file. "We're officially married in Nevada, and it's recognized as a registered domestic partnership here in Utah. Additionally, we have a living trust set up with durable power of attorney for medical and financial matters in the event that one of us is incapacitated, wills drawn up, et cetera, and so on, and so forth."
Frazier opened the folder and looked over the documents. "I see." She closed the folder and handed it back.
"All right, ladies, maybe tell me a little about yourselves."
Sophie and Marianne looked at each other, and Marianne motioned for Sophie to go first.
"All right. I'm Sophie Henrix. I'm 26 years old, I hold a Bachelor's in computer science with a minor in applied mathematics from MIT. I'm now a graduate student in computer science at the University of Utah, and I work 20 hours a week at Novell as a software engineer, but I will be going full-time soon. I'm also a drilling reservist in the Air Force."
"What rank?"
"Captain. I was a Warrant Officer during the war."
"And what is your job in the Air Force?"
"I'm a Special Reconnaissance Officer."
Frazier nodded. "And that means?"
"I'm in special operations; we perform various missions forward of the front line. Beyond that, I'm not really at liberty to discuss."
"I see." Frazier turned to Marianne.
"I'm Marianne Henrix, I'm 25 years old, I hold a Bachelor's in Nursing from UCLA, and I'm currently an emergency room nurse at Utah Valley Medical Center."
"May I ask what you did during the war?"
"I was an ER nurse at University of Nevada Las Vegas Medical Center, my position was considered critical."
Frazier blinked. "Were you in nursing college when the war started?"
"I graduated in June of 1985; my parents had me skip two grades, so I graduated high school just before I turned 16. I don't recommend that experience for anyone else."
Frazier nodded. "I see."
There was an extensive questionnaire regarding financial situation, mental health, any legal problems, community engagement, etc.
Frazier looked over the responses and said, "All right, the good news is that you seem to be excellent candidates for foster parenting, and we can get started with background checks and references immediately. The not-so-good news is that the youngest we have ready for fostering is already 13 years old, which is awfully old for a couple in their mid-20s."
Sophie said, "Hey, I'm not that far removed from being an awkward teenager. That might actually help."
Marianne laughed. "Same here! I'll just remember what my parents did and do the exact opposite. Sophie will just call her mom & dad in Salt Lake for expert advice."
Frazier started giggling. "Knock it off, you two! This is supposed to be serious!"
Marianne said, "It is seriously funny, you have to admit."
Frazier nodded. "Well, if you're up for the challenge . . . we really do need anyone who is mentally, morally, and financially qualified."
* * *
16 May 1991
Magistrate's Wing
Women's EPW Detention Facility
Fort Douglas, UT
The PFC manning the desk looked impossibly young. Her nametag said "MARTINEZ." She came to attention and saluted, as she was under arms and carrying a Beretta.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, soldier. Major Joshua Mantell, United States Air Force, I have an appointment with Magistrate Goldberg."
* * *
Magistrate Rachel Goldberg was in fortyish woman with curly black hair, speckled with some gray.
"Major Mantell, the man, the legend, the guy who captured Fidel."
"Just shows that it's better to be lucky than good any day, ma'am."
"Have a seat."
Mantell did so, and Goldberg did as well. She opened the file on her desk. "All right, this is in reference to one Captain Natalya Simonova, with the Kommandatura in Langtry, Texas." She looked at the file and said, "Apparently, her people were brought in to clean up the mess made by the previous Kommandatura, and they were the one honest bunch of Soviet cops I've ever heard of, if you believe the locals."
"I would, ma'am. They rather efficiently disposed of the previous Kommandatura."
"So noted. So, if you could describe what happened?"
"Well, it started with me and my RTO, Sergeant Diane Copeland, figuring out where the East German commander would be likely to do his commander's reconnaissance . . . "
* * *
"Well, the Raiders got made as they were on the final approach to the Rio Grande bridge, and the Mexicans fired the demolition charges practically in their faces. A couple minutes later, one of the East German soldiers found me and told me Hauptmann Grauer wanted to see me at once. I got over to the air assault company CP and Grauer told me that the ALA and PSD had gone absolutely berserk when they found out there wasn't any way back to Mexico. My lead platoon confirmed it. And then a runner came from the hospital--some of the women from the Kommandatura, everyone from nurses with the field hospital to a few police officers and clerks--were holed up in the hospital with a few local civilian women, and they were expecting the worst."
Goldberg looked up from her notes. "What did you do next?"
"I called an audible to Hotel Company, got our LAVs into the town, and put together a plan of action. We drove east towards the hospital. You have to understand, Langtry was not a big town, and the hospital was really an oversized clinic. It wasn't a strongpoint in any sense of the word. Now, give my people twenty minutes, and you'd need a couple of companies to dig us out, and we'd mostly be dead along with a lot of your people. But these were rear services personnel and civilians trying to shelter from the fighting, not my Marines."
"I see."
"So, I get Hotel and Echo companies moving in what was essentially a dragoon hasty assault--"
"Dragoon?"
"Dismounted infantry, the term dates back to the days of horse cavalry and light horse units. We typically fought dismounted in urban areas, sometimes using the LAVs for fire support--we did in this case. We moved forward toward the hospital, and found that the East Germans were assaulting in parallel with us."
"Why?"
"Some of those women were girlfriends, and the East Germans were . . . shamed . . . by the ALA and PSD. By this point, the turncoats degraded into bandits--I'm sure the Mexicans would've ended up shooting them if they'd made it to Mexico with their loot." Mantell paused, then said, "Ma'am, you and I share a bond, however tenuous, as Americans."
Goldberg nodded. "Of course."
"Now, Hauptmann Grauer? Believe it or not, I have a bond with him."
Goldberg's expression was incredulous.
"Now, he was a member of the Socialist Unity Party, and a loyal East German patriot. What kind of bond could I possibly have?"
Goldberg raised an eyebrow. "A damn good question."
Mantell tapped his rank insignia epaulette. "This. We are both military professionals; my father was a Navy Captain, his father retired from the NVA--the East German
Nationalvolksarmee--as a Major General. The family name used to be von Grauer. He wanted to . . . redeem himself . . . and his men. He asked for volunteers to step forward, and not a single man held back. So they joined our charge, working one block south of us, covering our flank."
Mantell smiled, and Goldberg winced.
"Sorry if that unnerved you, but it was probably the best battle I fought during the war. My people were sharp, they knew their trade, and it was glorious. We reached the hospital in fifteen minutes, wasted everyone shooting at us and the building, and did a multiple entry assault into the building proper. The people we were rescuing were holed up in one of the operating rooms, and we just ran right into the bad guys and shot them dead, then told the folks in the operating room to come out with their hands up."
"Which they did."
Mantell nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"And . . . Captain Simonova . . . kissed you."
Mantell nodded. "Rather thoroughly." He sighed, then said, "She's not my type. But apparently, a guy willing to risk death to stop the bad guys is exactly her type."
Goldberg smiled. "Well, that's true of a lot of women."
* * *
15 June 1991
Provo, UT
Marianne finished tapping numbers on the calculator and said, "If you go full-time at Novell with that promotion they're hinting at, I can leave my job and be a stay-at-home mom."
Sophie said, "As far as your job goes, the pay's terrible, but at least the hours are lousy."
The two women shared a laugh.
* * *
23 June 1991
Fort Bragg, NC
The Airborne School was still at Bragg--word was that sometime in FY92, they'd move the World's Fair jump towers, and the Airborne School with them, back to Fort Benning.
So the Jumpmaster Course was there, too. He'd gotten in through Pope Field that afternoon, and class started first thing on the 24th.
Mantell looked around the VOQ room and decided to do something useful. He sat down at the desk and began writing a letter.
Sireli,
Well, I made it safely to Bragg, and I start the Jumpmaster course tomorrow. Working with the Delta Company jumpmaster has taught me a lot, but this is going to be a very intense four weeks (assuming I actually pass instead of having to repeat the course--the first time pass rate is only 30%, and by God, that's how it's got to be when people are jumping out of airplanes), so I thought I'd write you this letter.
My love, I wish I could explain how I feel without resorting to cliches. Before you were in my life, I was just existing. I did my work, I went to social events, and I went back to Helaman Hall and went to bed, but it was mostly mechanical. You made things real again. I found myself looking forward to seeing you, I miss you terribly now, and I look forward to our coming together as husband and wife.
Give my love to Mrs. Henrix, and to Sophie and Marianne. Say hi to Pastor Dave for me.
Semper Tojours, My Love,
Josh
He put the letter in an envelope, addressed it, stuck a stamp on it, and went to bed.