The Rose Tattoo

The following story was inspired by a comment I saw on a music video. The story is set in the 1960s and I did my best to remain true to the slang and the technology of the time, even looked up the wages for the time, but I'm sure the history wonks may find an error here or there. That's okay, it's just a story.

As always, constructive comments are welcome and appreciated. Please remember this is a work of fiction...

"Some may be from showing up

Others are from growing up

Sometimes I was so messed up and didn't have a clue

I ain't winning no one over I wear it just for you

I've got your name written here

In a rose tattoo..."

"Rose Tattoo" -- Dropkick Murphys

The aging man sat in the chair as the tattoo artist did his magic. He looked at the woman sitting in the chair nearby -- the woman who had spent the last 50 years fulfilling her promise to heal his heart. This tattoo would only be the second, and the last he would ever get, and it was for her. He thought back half a century to the events that eventually saw him in that chair.

John Harkness was damn good at what he did. He was a damn good mechanic in civilian life and as a combat Marine, he was damn good at killing the enemy. He was one of the handful of reservists who actually volunteered to go to Vietnam, feeling that it was wrong to let the regulars shoulder all the effort. In those days, reserve units weren't called up due to the sheer number of conscripts drafted into the service.

He discussed his intentions with his wife, Julie, in March 1967. They had been married for just three years and had bought a small house in anticipation of having children. She worked as a paralegal in a local law firm and they did well between the two of them. John knew that with her job and the money he would send home, they could easily manage the bills. They also had a good amount sitting in savings that could be used in the event of an emergency.

Julie cried, but seemed to understand. John's sense of right and wrong was not something that could be changed.

John was a big man, around 6 foot 6, strong and muscular. He had a well-deserved reputation as a brawler, but marrying his high school sweetheart two years after enlisting in the Reserves seemed to take the edge off of him. He could -- and would -- still fight if the need arose, but he no longer started fights like he used to.

They said their goodbyes and engaged in a hearty romp in the bedroom the night before he left.

"You'd better come back to me in one piece," she said. "And you'd better not chase after any women. This is mine -- only mine," she added, grabbing his crotch.

"Don't worry, sweetie," he said. "I'll take good care of myself. And you'd better be a good girl while I'm gone. I know how those rich lawyers operate."

"No problem, sweetie," she said. "I promise to be good."

Before leaving the States, John updated his will and set up an allotment from his military pay to make the mortgage. That took up about half of the paltry $240.60 he made each month as an E-4 with more than four years of service. He also arranged to place a quarter of what was left over in their bank account so Julie could make the utility payments. He figured he wouldn't need much anyway and he knew he would get some for hazardous duty pay.

He did, however, splurge on a tattoo on his upper right arm, a knife with a scroll that read, "Death Before Dishonor." He saw another tattoo that grabbed his attention -- a rose with space for a name. He remembered his Dad's advise and stayed away from that, but he admired the artwork anyway.

After arriving in-country, he was assigned to a regular Marine battalion and as a Corporal, was made a fire team leader. It took a while for the regular Marines to accept John as one of their own, since he was a reservist, but he earned their respect after a few firefights.

Unlike many of the other Marines, John refused to engage in "short-times" with the local girls. Not only was he a happily married man in love who took his vows seriously, he was scared to death of what they might be carrying and he had heard horror stories of Vietnamese girls who allegedly inserted razor blades in their pussies to injure unsuspecting and horny American troops. He didn't know if the stories were true, but he wasn't about to find out.

"Come on, man, lighten up. This is Viet-Fucking-Nam," said Harker, a black Lance Corporal who hailed from the Bronx. John would pull out a picture of his Julie and show it to Harker.

"Not with this waiting back home," John said.

"Man, that's a damn good lookin' woman, but you know Jodie's already all up in that shit," Harker said. "Jodie" was Marine slang for the guys who would seduce military wives whose husbands were deployed. "Jodie" was probably hated every bit as much as "Charlie" -- one of the nicknames given to the enemy -- was. John shook his head.

"No fucking way. My Julie would never do that," he said.

"Yeah, right," Harker said. "And I'm the King of the fuckin' Bronx. With a bridge to sell."

John wrote Julie every chance he got and treasured the letters he would get from her, sometimes reading them several times. At first, he would hear from her about every two weeks. After a few months, however, the letters slowed down. He didn't think too much of it, considering that his unit was always on the move, but thought it a bit odd that he heard from his parents more often than he heard from her. He once received some pictures of her in a bathing suit he had never seen before and wondered who took them.

He didn't dwell on it too much, though, and continued doing his job, believing that his wife was still faithful.

That Christmas, he received a card and a letter from his parents but didn't hear from Julie. Now, he was getting a bit worried, but didn't make a big deal of it -- Vietnam was no place to let crap like that cloud your head.

In mid-January 1968, his unit found itself outside a place called Da Nang. Rumors had been floating around that "Charlie" would be launching a major offensive sometime around the Vietnamese lunar new year, known as Tet.

He and his Marines went about their business and sure enough, at the end of the month, all hell broke loose.

John's position was hit hard early that fateful morning, and they fought like banshees. They held the enemy off but most of John's team, including Harker, had been killed in the brutal fighting. John had also been wounded, one bullet tearing through his left leg and another that pierced his side just below his body armor. Shrapnel from a mortar round that hit nearby also took off part of his right ear and gashed his cheek.

He and the other wounded Marines were evacuated to the Naval Support Activity Station Hospital in Da Nang and was later shipped back to a military hospital in San Francisco. Fortunately, doctors were able to save his leg, but he faced a long stint of physical therapy to learn how to walk again. He also lucked out in that the bullet that pierced his side missed any vital organs.

There wasn't anything they could do for his ear other than bandage it up and stitches took care of his cheek. The nurses thought the scar would make John look distinguished, but he wasn't so sure.

Nevertheless, his time "in-country" was over. A Marine officer came by, gave him a Purple Heart, shook his hand and informed him that he was being recommended for a Silver Star. He already had a Bronze Star with a combat "V" and a Navy Commendation Medal.

Making things worse, he was informed that the only other survivor of his team, a lanky Texan named Jennings, had died from his wounds, something that happened to about 30 percent of those wounded in combat in those days.

His parents met him in San Francisco shortly after he arrived. John wondered where Julie was. Did she even know he was back in the States?

His father, a veteran of the Korean War, looked him over and shook his head.

"Damn, son," he said, laughing. "I thought I taught you how to duck." His mother hugged him tight, sobbing.

"Where's Julie," John asked. His parents looked at each other before addressing him.

"I honestly don't know, John," his father finally said. "We called the house and even tried her office. They kept saying she was out for one thing or another and she never called back. I haven't seen her in several weeks. You know, I went by every weekend to keep the yard up for you and look in on her, but -- nothing."

"Tell him, Bob," John's mother said.

"Tell me what, Mom?" John asked. "What's going on?"

"John, the last time I saw Julie was maybe two and a half months ago. I was coming up the street to your house and saw some guy coming out. He got in one of those sporty cars, I think it was a Corvette, and took off like a bat out of hell. I saw Julie at the door in a bathrobe waving at him," he said. "She didn't say anything when I pulled up. I haven't seen her since then. I've been picking up the papers and collecting your mail when I go by. I'm sorry, son."

John was devastated. He thought for certain she would be faithful to him. Then he remembered what Harker told him about "Jodie." Maybe he was right. Now he knew why he hadn't heard from her.

"Was it a blue Corvette?" John asked. Bob nodded his head.

"Yes, it was," he said. "Why? You know who it belongs to?"

"Yeah," John said. "It belongs to Eric Swagman, a junior partner at the firm where she works. So she isn't even home long enough to collect the mail?"

"Doesn't look like it," Bob said. "I hope you don't mind, but I saw a couple of utility and phone bills that said 'final notice,' so I took care of them for you. I didn't think you'd want to come home to a house without power or a phone."

"Thanks, Dad," John said. "I'll pay you back when I get home, promise."

"Don't worry about it, son," Bob said. "You just take care of yourself and get better. Don't worry about this stuff until you're up to it. If you want, I'll see about getting a power of attorney. If she's not taking care of the bills, there's no telling what else she's done. For all we know, she's already cleaned you out."

John got the attention of a nurse and asked about getting a military lawyer. Soon, a Navy lieutenant commander showed up and took notes as John and his parents described what was going on. He reached in his briefcase and pulled out some papers.

"I'll get these papers filled out for you, Corporal," he said. "They'll give your parents special powers of attorney to take care of the things you mentioned. I recommend you see a family law attorney in your home state, and do so as fast as you can. I'll have the paperwork drawn up and we'll meet here this afternoon to get them signed and notarized."

"Thank you, sir," John said.

After the lawyer left, Bob turned to his son.

"As soon as we get home, John, I'll check the bank to see what's going on. I still have the house key you gave me so I'll go by the house and see how things are there.

"You know, old George Williams retired from the police force a couple months ago, and is now doing private investigations. I can talk to him and see what he can dig up if you want," he said.

"I don't know if I can afford a PI, Dad," John said. Bob shook his head.

"Don't worry, son," he said. "George owes me a favor or three. Hell, we spent the last 13 years together on the force. And if you want, I'll talk to our family attorney. I think he still does family law.

"By the way," Bob said. "Old man Wilkins said your job is still available at the shop. He's been putting aside a quarter of your pay since you left. Was gonna use it as a 'return bonus.' He said there's no way he was gonna let the best mechanic in the state get away from him. Don't tell him I told ya, though."

John appreciated that. Wilkins was a kind-hearted and generous man, but he rarely ever let that side of him show. He was honest and always treated the customers right, but had a gruff edge that put most people off.

"That sounds good, Dad," John said, a tear creeping down his cheek. Damn that woman, he thought. His parents gave him a hug.

"It'll be alright son," his mother said. "We'll get through this."

A couple hours later, the attorney showed back up with a civilian notary. After the papers were signed and notarized, John's parents left with a promise to call as soon as they learned something. They thanked the nurse on their way out, getting the phone number to John's room.

"Your son is in good hands," the nurse said. "He should be out in a couple weeks, but he's going to have a lot of physical therapy. The doctor is working to get him set up with your local VA. And please feel free to call anytime."

John was finally left alone to deal with the waste heap his life had turned into. He finally got some sleep, but when he dreamed, it wasn't about Julie. It was, instead, about the four Marines in his fire team.

In one dream, John was in a hooch, sitting around a fire with them, shooting the breeze the way they often did back in Vietnam. Something was different about them, though. Their faces were scarred, bloody and filthy, with pieces of flesh hanging off of them. Still, John thought, it was great to see them again.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to bring you guys back with me," John said. Harker smiled broadly, lit up a Kool and shook his head.

"That's cool, Corporal, ain't your fault. We know you did the best you could," he said, taking a puff off his cigarette. "Besides, ain't no Charlie where we are." Jennings lit up a Marlboro and nodded.

"Harker's right," he said. "I'm just amazed any of us got out of there."

"No shit," said Johansen, a big blond kid from Wisconsin.

"Hell, there was only what, 10,000 of them against us four?" added Trujillo, a fourth-generation Mexican-American from Colorado. "I think we managed to kill about 9,000 of them, though." The others laughed. Harker looked at John, and his face turned serious.

"You got another battle to fight, bro, and we all know it, don't we?" The others nodded and mumbled their agreement. "You and I talked about 'Jodie.' Yeah, I was just bullshittin' ya at the time, but you need to put that motherfucker's dick in the fuckin' dirt." The others responded like Marines, with grunts that only another Marine could appreciate.

"Hey, Corporal, we may not be there in person, but we're there with ya in spirit," Johansen said.

"Thanks, guys," John said. "You're the best."

"Got that shit right," Harker said with a broad smile. "See ya around."

John woke up, sweating. He knew it just a dream, but they seemed so real and he remembered it like it actually happened. He considered what Harker told him. Oh yeah, somebody was gonna pay, big time. But first, he needed information and he would have it soon.

A couple days later, John received a call from his father.

"There's bad news, John," Bob said. "Julie emptied all but five dollars out of your checking and savings account. Looks like about two months ago, she withdrew $8,545 out of savings. I have the bank statement here. Everything has been done in cash. The only money that's gone in those two months is the money from your military pay. According to the statement and the teller I spoke to, Julie comes in a couple days after your payday and withdraws everything but five bucks, just enough to keep the account open. She didn't open another account there, so I don't know what she did with the money."

"Okay, Dad," John said. "You have power of attorney. Take her name off the account. We don't have any credit cards so that's not a problem."

"Will do, son. Also went by the house. The place is a pig sty. Moldy food out on the table, dishes piled in the sink and the place stinks to high heaven. Looks like she took all her clothes and things but left her wedding dress and your wedding album," he said. "I found her wedding and engagement ring. She tossed them in the bathroom garbage can. I'm sorry."

"At least the place is still standing," John said.

"Yeah," Bob said. "Your mother's over there now, cleaning it up and airing it out. The bed looks like it got a pretty good workout. The sheets were stained real bad. If I was a betting man, I'd wager Julie had her lover in there. What do ya wanna do about it?"

"Get rid of it," John said. "Break it up and pile it up outside if you want. I'll sleep on a cot if I have to."

"Okay," Bob said. "I'll take care of it. By the way, George said he'd take your case for free. Said there's nothing worse than someone who steals a military man's wife while he's off fighting for his country. Also got a killer attorney lined up who said he'd do your divorce pro bono. Says he can't stand Swagman. Apparently, he's something of an asshole who goes after married women.

"George suggested that under the circumstances we change all the locks on your house. I tend to agree. You okay with that?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure, Dad, that sounds like a plan," John said.

"Okay, we'll be in touch. How are you doing?" Bob asked.

"I'm doing okay, Dad, really," John said.

"Who you trying to convince, me or you?" Bob asked. John smiled. His father always was a perceptive man.

"Dad, you've lost men in combat, right?" Of course, John knew that was a silly question. As a recently-commissioned Second Lieutenant, his father served as a platoon leader in the 1^st Marine Regiment under Col. Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller at the Chosin Reservoir in 1950. He knew all about combat, sacrifice and death.

"Yeah, son, I have," Bob said.

"This may sound strange, Dad, but have you ever, you know, had dreams where they've spoken to you?" John asked.

"Oh yes. At first, it was almost every night, but they decreased over time," he said.

"Have you ever gotten over it?" John asked.

"You never get over it completely, John. It's part of you. You try to make friends with it, learn to live with it, otherwise it eats you up," he said.

The next two weeks went by fast for John. He heard from his parents almost every day as they kept him up to date on what was going on with Julie. Of course, he never heard from her at all. As it turned out, she had moved in with Eric fucking Swagman and to add insult to injury, had gotten pregnant by him. They drove different cars to and from work, but their relationship was an open secret to everyone in the office.

The divorce paperwork was also proceeding nicely. Mike McGregor, his attorney, was filing on the basis of adultery and abandonment. He was also filing an alienation of affection lawsuit against Eric and a lawsuit against the firm Julie worked for, charging them with failure to abide by the company's strict morals clause. Based on audio he got from George, he was also considering a charge against Swagman with the State Bar and local law enforcement. Mike didn't go into all the details, but promised John he would fill him in after he got out of the hospital.

Bob said Julie went ballistic when she tried to withdraw the money placed in his bank account from his military pay and learned she was no longer on the account. She called John's parents and pitched a fit, but they basically told her to fuck off and see her lover if she wanted more money. She also wasn't happy to find out her house keys no longer worked. Too bad, they told her, since she decided not to live there anymore.

John got a good laugh at that and decided to focus on his therapy, both physical and mental. Physically, his wounds were healing nicely. Mentally, however, he was a wreck. Not only did he struggle with the loss of his Marines, his heart was filled with anguish over the actions of his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Eventually, he learned how to get around with a crutch and a cane and the doctors finally decided his cast could come off. He asked if he would be okay to drive and the doctor told him he could, provided it was an automatic.