60
Friday, March 12, 2021, 6PM Eastern Standard Time
Commander Stephanie Smith, U.S. Coast Guard, pulled into the parking garage of the Coast Guard Headquarters in the DHS complex, which occupied a piece of land taken from the old, larger campus of St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, most famous until the twenty-first century as a mental hospital.
Quite appropriate, Stephanie thought. As it had been every other Friday recently, it had been that kind of afternoon.
She should have become used to the twice-monthly Friday nuclear exercises by now. Though she was only one of five rotating military aides to the President, one from each of the armed service branches, she had had the bad (or the good?) luck to have been the aide on duty for each of the Friday nuclear exercises for the past two months. She wondered whether one of the other aides had somehow gotten to the scheduler. She liked all her fellow aides, but over the years she had found inter-service rivalry to be a force about as resistible in human affairs as gravity, magnetism, or opioid addiction, and despite her great esteem for the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines, she suspected that the recent rota had not been constructed entirely randomly.
And though her entire career had been based on a determination never, ever to give up, under any circumstances, and to welcome even the toughest, most frightening challenges, this one, she had to admit, had her just about beaten. It was one thing to hang on to the deck of a surf rescue boat being deliberately rolled in the 30-foot surf of Cape Disappointment, or to be dropped into hurricane-lashed seas as a rescue swimmer. In those cases, only your own and several other people’s lives were at stake. But in her recent Friday adventures, it sometimes seemed to her that she was playing with the lives of every person on the planet.
So she had come to headquarters to talk to a Coast Guard Deputy Chaplain, Gary. She knew Gary from previous rotations. Though she had never used his services, he was said to be a superb pastor, exactly the person one should go to in cases such as these. For the first time in her career, maybe the first time in her life, she felt the need for spiritual guidance.
She walked into his office. As expected, there was no receptionist or other staff at this hour. When Coasties were in the field, they were often on call 24/7, so being able to go home at a reasonable hour was one of the few benefits they saw to a Headquarters rotation. Usually, for early-arriving Coast Guard personnel, that meant 4:30 PM. So, she was not surprised to see Gary at his admin’s desk, apparently looking through some folders.
“Commander,” Gary said. “Just give me a minute here.”
“Sure.”
Gary finished with his folders, got up, and opened a filing cabinet drawer, and stuck the folders in.
“Okay, all finished,” he said. “Let’s go into my office.”
Stephanie followed him into his modest office, filled with planks and caps from his previous vessels, and photographs of change of command ceremonies.
“Water?” Gary said.
“Sure,” Stephanie said. He handed her a bottle and took one for himself.
“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a chair across from his desk.
“So, what’s up?” Gary asked, flopping in his chair.
Stephanie took a deep breath.
“I need some advice. Some… guidance.”
“That’s what we’re here for. What’s it about?”
“Well, my current job.”
“And what is that again? I’ve lost track of your career.”
“I am… military aide to the President.”
“Wow. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Well… now that I am here, I don’t know how much I can talk about it.”
“Is it classified?”
Stephanie was stumped.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. At least the part I am concerned about.”
“Well, how much can you tell me?”
“Maybe I can just describe the ethical situation I find myself in.”
“Okay.”
“In the course of my duties, I find myself doing things that…might endanger many human lives.”
“Well, that’s rather common in the military, is it not?”
“Yes,” she said. “But it’s less so for us Coasties, of course. We’re more the lifesavers, not the life-takers.”
“Yes.”
“But this is even bigger than the normal military risk level.”
“How so?”
“Well, it could involve the end of the world.”
There was a long pause.
Finally, Gary spoke.
“Without getting into specifics, I presume you are speaking of certain duties of the rotating military aides that have to do with procedures regarding certain offensive or defensive military actions that only a Commander in Chief can order?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” said Gary. “And you have some objection to something having to do with this process? Or are you more generally now a pacifist? Were you unaware that your assignment could require you to participate in this procedure?”
“I am not a pacifist, and I was not a pacifist when I accepted this assignment, sir.”
“So, it’s not the process itself that is bothering you?”
“It is not the principle that I might have to participate in this particular exercise, sir. It’s… the specific way in which the exercise is being used.”
“Obviously the full…exercise is not being carried out. So, I must assume it is the… principal’s, or perhaps someone else’s, conduct with respect to preparing for this exercise?”
“That’s pretty close, sir.”
“Huh.” Gary thought it over. Then he got up and walked over to his office door, looked out as if to make sure no one was there, shut the door, walked back to his chair, and sat down.
“Why did you come to me?”
“Sir?”
“I mean, why come to me in particular with this?”
“You mean as opposed to taking it up the chain of command?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” she said, “I don’t want to be relieved immediately just for raising this. And I wanted moral guidance. What is the right thing to do here?”
“But you wanted a particular type of moral guidance. Something religious. Are you a religious person?”
Stephanie considered this.
“Not especially. But I’m a believer.”
“So, you want my religious advice.”
“I guess.”
“Okay.” Gary leaned forward and put his hands together. “Here’s what I think.”
Stephanie waited for ten seconds or so. Gary finally spoke.
“I believe in the chain of command. I think Jesus believed in it as well. Remember the Roman centurion in Capernaum who sent word to Him to cure his servant, and when Jesus approached his house, he sent further word?”
Gary pulled the Bible from his desk and turned to Matthew.
“He said…let’s see here… ‘“Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. Therefore I did not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed. For I too am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me: and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard these things, he marveled at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” And when those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the servant well.’”
Stephanie sat, waiting for further explanation.
“Do you understand?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Are you saying I should go to my superior officers on this?”
“Stephanie, who is the most superior officer of all?”
“Uh…God?”
Gary smiled and looked down.
“Well, of course. But here on earth, who is your most superior officer?”
“The Commandant?”
“Higher.”
Stephanie thought. The Secretary of Homeland Security? He was Acting, and still in college, from what she heard. Or was she reporting to the Secretary of Defense, since she was in the rota for the Military Aide slot? But they are also both Acting, so maybe they don’t count – who did they report to?
“The President?”
“There you go,” Gary said. “Our military chain of command culminates in the President. The Constitution makes him the Commander in Chief. So, you have a very sacred duty to obey his orders, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I imagine that there are circumstances in which you might be excused from this duty. Perhaps if the President ordered you to commit a crime, or to violate your religious beliefs. He has not done this, I assume?”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” she said. “I’d have to think about it.”
“Well, unless he does,” Gary said, “I think you must assume that the President knows best. That is our system.”
“Even if he may be endangering everyone on earth with what he is doing?”
“I think that is a bit above your pay grade, to make a determination like that,” Gary responded. “Besides, as you mentioned, there is someone above his pay grade who no doubt is looking down and guiding this President.”
“Uh…huh,” Stephanie said, trying to hide any doubt she might be feeling. Gary leaned back in his chair and his face took on a mystical aspect.
“Some people even believe that this President has been specifically sent unto us to fulfill certain Biblical prophecies. I am not saying I agree with them. But very many Biblical prophecies do seem to be coming true. ‘For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places.’ I don’t know, I am just a simple man. But perhaps you yourself have also been sent to this President, to help him achieve certain… godly aims.”
“Ah,” was all Stephanie could manage.
“I hope this has been helpful,” Gary said, rising to his feet, a broad smile on his face.
Stephanie scrambled to her feet.
“Uh, yes, sir,” she said. “Thank you for your time.”
“Don’t mention it,” Gary said, beaming.
Stephanie turned crisply and opened the door.
“Thanks again,” she said, half turning back.
“Semper paratus,” Gary said as she left.
“Semper paratus, sir,” she called back, leaving the reception area.
In the lot, she put her car into gear and answered her ringing hands-free phone.
“Hi, mom.”
“How are you?”
“Uh,” she said, backing out of her space, slightly disoriented, “I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh… nothing. It’s been a long day, with a strange ending. I have to drive home now, Mom,” she said.
“Well, you take care of yourself, honey. I’m always home if you need me.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then her mother spoke, in a tentative, playful voice.
“Did you get to talk to the President again today?”
Stephanie made a face.
“I’ve got to go, Mom… I’m driving.”
“Okay, bye.”
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian