Second Chance

   Second Chance

Suzanne Marsh

October, 1968

Captain Joseph “Joker” Planter motioned his company to stop. The heat soared as fear began to grip the entire company. “Charlie” was certain to locate them. Joe Planter, thought of his young wife and child, home in Waco, Texas. He hoped to be home by New Years Day, his points would be enough to get him there. Suddenly “Charlie” appeared in human waves. The fire fight lasted into the night. Joe and his company held their position. Suddenly a young private stood up; revealing where the company was hiding. Joe grabbed him, the private began to struggle, then scream. A hand grenade flew toward their position. Joe, jumped on it, hoping to save the rest of the company. The grenade blew Joe’s body up in the air, he was dead before he hit the ground.

Joyce Planter, heard a car door close. She looked out of the living room window. Fear gripped her, “oh dear God”. The men were a Major and a Chaplain. This could only mean one thing, something happened to Joe. The door bell rang, she opened it. Tears began to well in her usually merry blue eyes. Joey, their son came to the door.

“May we please come in?” Inquired the Major.

She motioned them in. She called a neighbor to come and take Joey. The neighbor, whose husband was also in Vietnam ran over, soap still on her hands. She noted the look of the two men. This was not good news, she could only hope Joe had been injured. She convinced Joey, to come with her. The Major quietly thanked her; knowing that she would be returning after he left.

The chaplain began his voice low and soothing:

“Mrs. Planter, your husband Joe was killed in action. He will be receiving the Congressional

Medal of Honor for his heroism. He died a hero. Would you like to pray for his soul,

with me?”

Joyce, tears streaming down her cheeks, nodded yes. The chaplain began:

“Eternal rest grant unto him oh Lord and let perpetual life shine upon him;

May his soul and all the souls of the faithfully departed through the mercy

of God: rest in peace. Amen”

Joyce, her heart breaking made the sign of the cross; then she fainted. Both officers began chaffing her hands. Finally, Joyce regained consciousness, tears flowing down her cheeks, once again. Her heart was broken by a few simple words. Two hours later, the chaplain asked:

“Is there someone that can stay with you; you should not be alone at a time like this.”

Joyce nodded somberly:

“My neighbor, the one who has Joey.”

The chaplain without saying a word, opened the front door; walked over to the house across the road. Lilly answered the knock:

“What has happened to Joe? Is Joyce all right?”

The chaplain tried to be as delicate as possible:

“Joe was killed in action two days ago. Joyce is having a very difficult time; she needs

someone to stay with her, especially through the night.”

Lilly held herself in check, this could have been her husband Jack:

“Let me leave a note for my daughter Lisanna, so she knows where I am.”

Several minutes later, Lilly followed the chaplain across the road to Joyce’s. Lilly hoped she could keep herself control. The two walked into Joyce’s. Lilly gasped as she searched Joyce’s face. Joyce was in shock, there was no doubt about that. Lilly nodded to the officers that she was going to stay. Joyce grabbed Lilly’s hand refusing to let go. Joyce began to cry once again; Lilly held her in her arms until she quieted. It seemed to Lilly, this was longest day she had ever had. She left Joyce’s for several hours. Lisanna, read her Mother’s note, she knew that she would have to stay home.

Joyce, the following day was informed Joe’s body would be flown to Dover Air Force base; from there a hearse would bring him home to Cauldwell’s Funeral Home. Joe, was going to be given a military funeral. Joyce asked that the Marine’s Hymn be played before Taps, it was something that she and Joe had discussed before he shipped out to Vietnam.

A week after a letter in Joe’s handwriting arrived. Joyce clutched it to her heart. She was afraid to open it. Joey was over at Lilly’s. Joyce, sat down on the colonial couch they had purchased. The letter, smelled of mold. Joyce opened it, trying to hold her tears back. The letter began:

“My darling wife,

This may be my last letter to you. We are involved in a fire fight with “Charlie”. They just keep coming in human waves. I have a very skittish young private, I hope I can keep him under

control. How are you my beautiful girl? How is our son Joey?” I am writing this letter and I am

in a hurry. Remember that I love. Give Joey a kiss from me.

I love you.

Joe”

Joyce took a deep breath, cried more tears. She then tenderly held the letter, putting it her jewelry box.

December, 1968

Joyce, had decided that she needed to continue, her life and Joey’s. She invited several of her old friends and several of Joe’s. She had been writing to a friend of Joe’s who was in Vietnam at the same time Joe had been. The New Year’s Eve party began on a somber note, as each person present shared a memory of Joe. Joyce was healing, she knew that now.

Mike Northrup hoped he would not scare Joyce when he suddenly appeared at her door. He was not going to be lifer in the Marines. He’d done his tour of duty; now it was time to start his life, he hoped with Joyce and Joey. Most of Joe’s friends knew that Mike was home. Mike had asked them not to tell Joyce, he wanted to surprise her.

The doorbell rang, Joyce dressed in a red velvet dress, Joe’s favorite, answered the door. Mike, still in the uniform of a Captain in the United States Marine Corp. Joyce, smiled through her tears. Vietnam had taken Joe from but then gave her a second chance at happiness with Mike.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!” Everyone cried, champagne toasted the end but also the beginning.