She was petite, slender, with short silver hair containing blonde highlights.

Her eyes were large for her small, oval face, giving her a perpetually

penetrating stare. A gold bracelet dangled on her wrist.

 

She had made tea and given a porcelain cup full of it to Puller. “I remember

Jackie very well,” she said. “I remember you and your brother too. I doubt you

remember me. You were just little boys.” Puller took a sip of the tea. It was

hot and minty. “And my father?” She gave him a sharp glance. “Everyone at Fort

Monroe knew John Puller Sr. He’d recently gotten his first star, brigadier

general. I remember my husband told me your father’s career was tied to a rocket

but that he deserved it. He wasn’t a paper pusher. He was a fighting man’s

officer. He’d paid his dues. He told me your father had more sheer courage than

any flag officer above him.” “I understand your husband was in the Army?” “Yes.

He was a lieutenant colonel in your father’s command. We saw your parents quite

frequently socially.” “Is he still alive?” “No, he’s not. He died a long time

ago.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” “We were separated shortly before, but it was

still a shock.” She put her cup of tea down and rubbed at her temple.

 

Puller watched her. “I’m sure.” “We didn’t have children, so that made it a bit

easier, if something like that can be made easier. My father was Army too,

enlisted.

 

Maxed out as an SFC. So an oh-seven was in the stratosphere for me,” she added,

referring to the official pay grade rank of a brigadier general. “I’m an