EPISODE 3 — White Rows
The naval base was bigger than Cole remembered bases being. Or maybe he’d just gotten smaller.
They were escorted through the gate — the bus, the banner, all of it — and directed to a lawn the size of a football field, facing the sea. White chairs in perfect rows. A stage with a podium. Flags snapping in the wind coming off the water.
And the sailors. Rows and rows of them, dress whites, standing at parade rest like statues. A thousand young faces, motionless.
Cole’s steps slowed.
“You okay, hon?” Denise whispered.
“Last time I stood on a lawn like this,” Cole said quietly, “I was twenty-two, and they were reading names.”
Denise squeezed his arm and didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say.
An aide showed them to the front row — reserved seats, name cards. COLE. And beside it, a card that made Cole’s throat close:
REX.
They’d made a place for the dog. A cushion on the grass, a bowl of water with his name on it.
Rex sniffed the cushion. Circled twice. Lay down with a sigh, gray muzzle on his paws, and surveyed the thousand sailors like a general inspecting troops.
“He’s done this before,” the aide whispered to Denise.
“Honey,” Denise said, “he’s been doing it his whole life.”
