Chapter 9 - The Secret Project
Over the next two months, Jason spent every spare evening after his duty shift at Fort Meade locked in his barracks room with his personal laptop. He reached out to his father’s legal contacts, military archivists in St. Louis, and surviving members of the 1st Cavalry Division across the country.
He worked in absolute secrecy. He didn't tell Colonel Carter, he didn't tell General Brooks, and he certainly didn't breathe a word to Harold.
Using his skills in military logistics and records management, Jason reconstructed the missing field hospital logs from Da Nang. He tracked down two retired field surgeons living in Florida who remembered operating on Harold’s arm in December of 1968. He compiled four hundred pages of verified combat medical reports, sworn witness statements, and ballistic analysis, binding them into an unassailable formal petition for review before the Army Board for Correction of Military Records.
On the final Saturday of his six-month probationary sentence, Jason arrived at the VA hospital at 0645 as usual.
Harold was sitting on the wooden bench outside the entrance, holding two cups of coffee, the morning sun warming his wrinkled face.
"Last day, Lieutenant," Harold said, offering a paper cup with a warm smile. "You survived the bedpans. I reckon Colonel Carter will be glad to have his logistics officer back full-time."
Jason took the coffee, sitting down beside the veteran. "I don't think I'm ever going to leave this place entirely, Harold. I spoke to the director yesterday. I'm staying on as a volunteer every other Saturday."
Harold looked at him, his weathered features crinkling with deep, fatherly warmth. He reached out and squeezed Jason’s shoulder with his scarred right hand. "Your father should be proud of you, son. You turned into a soldier."
"I had a good sergeant," Jason smiled, swallowing a lump in his throat.
"Come on," Harold said, slapping his knees and standing up. "We’ve got eighty wheelchairs to grease before lunch."
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As they walked through the double doors together, Jason checked his watch.
The review board at the Pentagon had convened forty-eight hours ago. If everything had gone according to plan, the official courier was scheduled to arrive at Fort Meade’s headquarters within three hours.
