doctors here thought, other things being equal, that the charade might allow his

father an easier transition to his next stage in the disease.

 

So Puller had played along. Now it wasn’t necessary to do that.

 

His father had reached the next stage in his disease. The doctors said there was

no going back.

 

It was a humble future for a three-star who should have been awarded one more

star, along with the Medal of Honor. But politics, which existed in the military

as it did in the civilian corridors of power, had prevented the additional star

and the nation’s highest military honor from being bestowed.

 

Still, Puller Sr. was a legend in the military. “Fighting John Puller,” captain

of the basketball team at West Point, where the term “Pullered” had come into

vogue. They had never won a championship while his father played, but every team

that beat them went home probably feeling as though they had actually lost the

battle. That was what every conflict was to Puller Sr., whether it occurred on a

battlefield or on a basketball court. You would know you’d been in a war when

you went up against the man.

 

He had gone to West Point after the end of the Korean War and lamented that it

was over before he could go fight in it.

 

As a combat leader in Vietnam he had almost never lost an engagement.