September Song by Andrew M. Greeley

Author:Andrew M. Greeley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

15

Those who know more about these things than I do tell me that when a man comes home from war or from a great adventure or from grave danger to a woman he has not screwed for a long time, he wants instant sexual gratification. He thinks, they say, he’s earned it because he has endured so much. No messing around. Right now!

Insofar as I expected anything from my husband on his triumphal return I figured it would be that. Silly me. All these years with Chucky Ducky and I didn’t really know him yet.

Anyway we had a solemn high greeting for him at the airport—all the O‘Malleys and their clan: the Antonellis and the Rizzos and the McCormacks and the Conways and all their children too, at least twenty of them counting babes in arms. Everyone brought their musical instruments too. The elder O’Malleys and Father Ed were there for the sake of gravitas. We also brought along a six-man contingent of the Shannon Rovers Irish War Pipe Band (with their drummers of course), who had played at our wedding.

When Chuck appeared at the end of the jetway, my sons began the fun with a horn fanfare they had written for the event. Then, Moire, on cue, rushed up to her daddy with a bouquet of roses and jumped into his arms. Heedless of the roses and my daughter I embraced him and kissed him soundly. The sons did the fanfare again, this time with jazz improvisations.

Then there was much hugging and kissing and embracing. My elder daughter clung to him for fear he was about to be swept up in a typhoon.

See the conquering hero comes.

The conquering hero, alas, looked liked death warmed over, maybe for the second time—tired, confused, anxious. Poor dear man. He might be an absolute idiot, but I loved him so very much.

Then the TV cameras arrived. Someone must have called the stations and told them that Charles Cronin O’Malley was returning from Vietnam. I wonder who …

“Mr. Ambassador, are we winning the war over there?”

“We are not losing it, but we’re not winning it either.”

“How long do you think it will last?”

“In 1965 I predicted that it would last ten years and we would have at least a million men in country. I see no reason to change my opinion now.”

“Was Tet a major defeat for the United States?”

“No, sir, it was great victory, but that doesn’t matter. We can win many more such victories and not win the war.”

“Will we win in 1975?”

“My prayer is that the American people will force the government out of the war by then.”

“Will you join the antiwar movement?”

“I’m against the war. However, I think the antiwar movement will prolong it.”

Okay, we’d made our point. I signaled the Chief Rover, the drums pounded, and the pipes began to mourn for Ireland and all lost heroes, even those who always knew where they were even if other people thought they were missing.

“No one seems angry at me,” Chuck said, his arm around my waist.

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