TIME FOR BREAKFAST 

Portia Putnam

Seoul, Korea, glimmered in the afternoon sunlight below the plane as it landed. I could hardly wait to be on terra firma after eighteen hours in the air from Los Angeles. I leaned back in my seat, gathering my energy in order to act enthusiastic when we deplaned. Mother, seated next to me, turned away from the window, smiling.

"Thanks for bringing me here while I’m still young," she giggled. "It’ll be a great place to celebrate my 88^th birthday."

"In an Army camp?" I laughed. "Of course, we may be out of there by your birthday. Rick said we’d be at the camp for only two days and then join the big tour."

Rick, my hulking first born, had suggested a couple months earlier, that we join him for the yearly Korean Reunion, held in Seoul for former and present military personnel and their families. His suggestion, I guessed, was a request that we visit him at his first command; he was a newly promoted captain at Camp Casey, north of Seoul, just west of Panmunjon. "thirty seconds striking distance from North Korea" was his reassuring way of placing his location geographically.

"I couldn’t care less about the tour," Mother beamed. "It will be such fun to see him in his captain’s uniform, commanding the troops."

"It will be a thrill to see him giving orders and maintaining discipline," I replied wryly. "All those years I tried to mold some discipline into that creative temperament of his. I never thought it would pay off."

"Just as long a she hasn’t lost his humanity and care for each man," Mother said softly.

"Mother, it’s the discipline that gets you through your life," I lecture, "not all this touchy, feely stuff. I hear that lots of those men have never had discipline before, no rules, nothing. It’s what will make them."

"Or break them, " Mother whispered. "It depends on the rules."

"No exceptions," I finished the conversation. "We’re in the Army now."

Rick met us at the gate, beaming in his starched, pressed captain’s uniform. I couldn’t wait to wrinkle it by hugging and kissing him, followed by Mother. He looked as handsome as ever – tall, tanned, and blond – although thinner and perhaps a little worn around the edges.

He escorted Mother and me out through the airport and toward our travel vehicle: an army truck, large, imposing, and very uncomfortable looking. He pointed to it with a flourish.

"Is it all right?" he asked, hopefully.

"First class," said Mother. "Just give me a leg up."

Later, at the camp, Rick escorted us grandly to the barracks where we’d sleep. He had given us his room and planned to sleep in the Offers’ Club while we were there. His room was in the same barracks as his men. He pointed with pride to the mural, stretching from end to end of the hallway.

"Delta Death," he said. "We’re the best."

These words were inscribed on the wall in huge print, accompanied by none-too-artistic renderings of weapons, planes, and soldiers.

"Beautiful," smiled Mother.

"The artist isn’t here," Rick said. "He and the rest of the guys are in the field, being tested. Ten days without food or water, living off the land. They’re going to howl tonight when they get back, quietly, I hope."

"Don’t worry about it," I said. "I’m sure they’re all good men."

Later, over dinner at the Officers’ Club, Rick said he agreed with me.

"You’re right. They’re all good men, but they come from nowhere. They have no- where to go back to, most of them. This becomes their way up and their way out. And it’s hard. The work is backbreaking, and the discipline is worse. They either make it or they don’t."

"It’s not good for me," said Rick. "I not only have to teach them, lead them, and discipline them, but if they screw up, I have to get rid of them. It’s hard, Mom."

"I know you do your best. I support you all the way."

In bed that night, Mother and I continued our talk. She was dead tired but still enthusiastic. Only when she was tired did I notice how small and frail she was physically. Otherwise, her spirit lulled me into regarding her the way I always had, the bulwark of the family, never failing to bolster our spirits.

Naturally, she was happy about Rick's success, and I was glorying in it.

"He’s come such a long way," I kept repeating. "He’s worked so hard; he’s never given up, and he’s made it."

"He’s made it in every way," Mother said. "He’s still human and caring. That’s so difficult, my dear."

I ignored her, and we drifted off to sleep.

When the sound came in the middles of the night, I ignored it also.

"Listen." Mother shook my pillow.

"It’s just Rick."

"Rick is at the Officers’ Club," said Mother who always woke up fast.

"Not any longer." I groaned and turned over. "He’s being as quiet as he can."

The lights went on in the room, Mother ducked under the covers, and I looked up. It wasn’t Rick. I woke up quickly now, grabbed a blanket and tumbled out of bed to defend my mother. I faced the intruder.

He was young, dressed in dirty Army fatigues, and dead drunk. He stared at me, not comprehending a thing. I stared back, noting that he was about Rick's size, although swarthy, with dark hair, skin, and eyes. He appeared to have taken some bruising in the field or at a local bar; I couldn’t be sure which one. He was scraped and bruised, and blood had formed on a cut on his chin.

"You’re in the wrong room tonight," I ventured, hoping to end the matter immediately. "The captain assigned the room to me." He continued to stare at me in a stupor.

"He’s at the Officers’ Club," I added. "why don’t you join him there?"

He made no response. He just looked at me. I didn’t know whether to be scared or angry. The important thing was to get him our of there and protect Mother.

"Now’s the time to go," I said as authoritatively as I could. "There’s the door."

He stood there. I walked around him to the door, opened it, and tried once more.

"Here’s the door."

"Oh, God," he said. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

He stumbled through the door. I slammed it behind him and locked it. Mother was looking at me when I turned around.

"Way to go," she said.

"Let’s go back to sleep," I replied. "The excitement is over."

At breakfast the next morning, I couldn’t wait to tell Rick what had happened.

"You really provided us with an exciting experience last night."

I laughed. We were sitting in the refined and well appointed dining room of the Officers’ Club, being waited on by efficient, perky military waiters.

"Not many women our age get to have their rooms broken into in the middle of the night."

Rick’s face blanched.

"What do you mean?" was all he said.

I was so proud of myself. I launched into a long explanation as Rick looked on, deadly serious, and Mother watched Rick, just as seriously.

"You’ll have to kid him about it when you see him."

I helped myself to more food, then noticed I was the only one eating.

"What did he look like?" Rick asked.

I paused, suddenly cautious.

"Oh, I don’t know, Rick.  He was about your size, I think. Yes, that’s right, because I stood right next to him. He was about your size, about your build. It wasn’t you in disguise, was it?"

I thought this was funny, but nobody laughed.

"What exactly did he look like?"

"Rick, I was half asleep. Wasn’t it your roommate? Another officer?"

"I don’t have a roommate, Mom. There isn’t another officer in the barracks."

"Oh, well, whoever it was, he was as surprised as we were. Nothing to be concerned about."

"We’re going to have to set up a meeting about this, Mom.

"Oh, please, Rick, we’re fine. No harm done. Let’s just continue with our day."

"Mom, don’t dictate to me. This is the Army. We will have a meeting, and you will be there."

Rick was sad, and Mother was sadder.

"What will happen, Rick?" Mother asked.

"When we find out who it is, he’ll be court-martialed, tried, and kicked out of the Army."

Rick's voice was like stone. I didn’t like the sound of it.

"Wait a minute." I was finally catching on. "This is his career, Rick. He just made a mistake, whoever it was. Nothing happened. Nothing to get excited about."

"It’s everything to get excited about," explained Rick. "It’s discipline, Mom. He came into my room. You were there. That’s a crime, and he has to pay for it. It’s the rule, and you’ll have to help me enforce it."

I wasn’t hungry any more. All I wanted to do was to tour the camp, watch the drills, and feel proud of Rick.

Soon Rick led Mother and me into the training barracks, through the large conference room, and into his office. Rick placed two very hard chairs in front of his door and invited us to sit in them.

I’ve summoned the men who came back from the field last night. I’ll call them up to me, one by one. If you recognize the man, then call out to me," he commanded sternly.

"I wouldn’t know what to say."

"Just say, ‘It’s time for breakfast,’ " he said.

"I’ve already eaten." I was pouting now.

"There are only three men who are my height and build," Rex added. "I’ll put my arm around the shoulders of each one as I talk to him and turn him toward you. That will be your signal."

He turned on his heel and walked into the outer room. I looked at Mother. She looked straight back at me, without speaking. Mother always had something to say. I felt weak in my stomach.

"Just a minute."

I walked out to Rick. He looked up, sad, grim-faced, determined.

"I need a breath of fresh air."

I stood outside, watching the sun climb in the sky. The birds were singing; the men were marching. I saw the Army trucks getting ready to roll, the convoy that we had planned to watch and photograph. The disciplined men were climbing on board, as the drivers revved up the engines. I found myself thinking what Rick’s father would have done, something I’d tried not to do since he’d left me twenty years before.

"I’ve tried my best, Ron," I thought to myself, "but I don’t know how to be a good father. And that’s what he needs now. He’s a father to all these men. He doesn’t want to hurt them or destroy them, and I don’t either. I didn’t want to interfere. This just fell in my lap. Help me."

The sun felt good on my face, soft and comforting. I rubbed my cheek and smiled. Then I walked back inside, patted Rick on the shoulder and entered his office. I sat down beside Mother who was dutifully reading her date book.

Rick pushed a button on the wall. Immediately, the men began to file into the room in a single line, all clean, shaved, and dressed in neat, pressed clothes. They formed two rows, standing at attention and facing Rex.

As Rick called the name of each man, he walked forward and began to describe briefly what he had learned during the field exercise. I began to pray, something I hadn’t done for years. I hoped God was listening.

Too soon, Rick put his arm around one young man and turned him toward me. The man was not much taller than Rick but considerably thinner. His hair showed bald spots in several places, something I would have noticed.

I looked down, coughed, and reached in my purse. I took out a handkerchief and coughed into it. I put it away and glanced back at Rick who was looking at me, intently. I shook my head. Rick motioned the man to return to the line.

He called several more men forward and then, again, he put his arm around one and turned him toward me. I felt relief to see that this man, although he had swarthy skin and was Rick’s size, had hair that was medium brown.

I coughed again, but this time I smiled a little. Only one more to go. Maybe the man I’d seen wasn’t one of Rick’s men.

Rick continued to call the men forward. Then I fixated on one man. I had that sinking feeling he was going to be Rick's size. He reached Rex, stopped, and gave his speech. Without hesitation, Rick placed his arm around the man’s shoulder and turned him around to face me.

He stood there, straight and tall, looking me right in the eyes. He was Rick’s height and Rick’s weight. He had piercing black eyes, coal black hair, and swarthy skin. I saw a small scar on his chin.

All I could hear in my ears was a voice, crying, "Oh, God, what have I done?"

I didn’t move. I sat stock still. I stared straight ahead, bravely I thought afterward. I didn’t wring my handkerchief; I left it in my lap. I didn’t try to cough; I made no effort to hide my fear. All these years had gone by, and I had always thought there were two sides to every moral question, the right side and the wrong side. That’s what I taught in the classroom. That’s what I taught at home.

Rick left the man standing there and walked forward to me. He stood there, the boy I had reared the best I could. I knew his father was proud of him.

"What do you say, Mom?" he asked.

I stared back.

"I’m not hungry today," I said. "I think I’ll take a walk."

I stood and began to put my handkerchief back in my purse.

"No breakfast today?"

"No", I said with finality. "I’ll join you for lunch."

Mother was patting me in a moment.

"By then," she said, "we’ll have an appetite."

None of us spoke of it again.