While waiting for his fiancee to come downstairs after having freshened herself up, Colonel H.F. Lee, four days from retirement, heard his cell phone buzz.
“Oh, no … who could be calling from the Pentagon and why, at this hour?”
The Pentagon had Colonel Lee's personal number. Such was the record he had forged in both Special Forces and the Judge Advocate General portions of the Army. At working hard and brilliantly, there were few better than him in either branch of the service.
The Army was loathe to let Colonel Lee go so young – not quite 46.
So much so that it wouldn't let go, at least for a little while longer.
“Colonel Lee, this is General John Williams calling from the Pentagon.”
“Yes, sir,” the colonel answered, always respectful of rank, but also in this particular case with deep respect for the man himself.
“Colonel Lee, I hate to do this to you, but I'm going to extend your service until January 1, 2020. We have a problem stateside that requires your service until then, right here in Washington D.C.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Our lead tenor for the celebrations at the Capitol and the White House just fell out – came down with a really bad flu or something in Italy and has just gotten off the ventilator – he's going to make it, but he's going to be on R&R for a long time. We would swap out somebody from the choir, but, there's a piece in there requested by the president that was arranged for Captain Walker's voice, and you are the nearest man who could pull that off.”
“Understood, sir. When should I report to Washington?”
“0900 hours on December 28, through January 1. You will be briefed this weekend as part of your Reserve duties.”
The general was, after all, calling from the Pentagon, well after business hours. A bit more than choir arrangements had to be at stake.
“Yes, sir,” Colonel Lee answered.
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