“That’s a pretty common name,” her assistant mutters.
“Well, cross-reference with service in the US Army. There can’t be more than one Jack Stafford in both sets of data. Besides,” she says, “we are the CIA, after all.”
OBITUARIES
Diane Scott (neé Mackie), who was one of the first generation of women to serve in the armed forces, has died after a brief illness. Scott began as an enlisted soldier before earning a commission and serving with great distinction in World War II in Europe.
Mackie is survived by her two grown children: a daughter, Jennifer Ann, and her son, Frank, and seven grandchildren.
Services will be held . . .
Jenou Castain has died peacefully at her home in Beverly Hills, age seventy-one. Castain was one of the original “soldier girls” and served with distinction during the Second World War, where she was awarded the Purple Heart for wounds sustained in Germany. After the war Castain became the best-selling author of seventeen novels and one memoir.
Castain is survived by four ex-husbands. She leaves her considerable fortune to her longtime friend Alberto Diaz and to the Soldier Girls’ Retirement Home in Petaluma, California.
Services will be held . . .
Luther Geer, decorated World War II veteran, shoe store owner, and social activist who successfully lobbied Congress for the Manzanar Japanese-American War Memorial, has died at the age of sixty-nine. Geer earned a Bronze Star for bravery. He leaves behind his beloved wife, Ellie, and their nine children, twenty-two grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.
Elisheva “Rainy” Schulterman has died of undisclosed causes. Her age is not given. Schulterman served with distinction in the US Army in World War II. After the war she took a job with the US Commerce Department, later moving to the State Department.
Schulterman is survived by her husband, Halev Leventhal. Attempts to garner additional details about her life were answered by Mr. Leventhal with the following statement. “Rainy would roll over in her grave if I told you anything. I will only say that a great many people owe their lives and liberty to my brilliant, beautiful, and so very deeply loved wife.”
Services will be held . . .
Catherine “Cat” Preeling-Tomás, who was one of the original “soldier girls,” has died at age seventy-six after a long illness. Preeling-Tomás is survived by her wife, Mary, by their adoptive children, Ling Ju and Carlos, and by their three grandchildren.
Preeling-Tomás worked for twenty-eight years as an English teacher at Wilberforce Middle School before retiring. She is also known for her social activism, in particular her work for peace and for gay and lesbian rights.
Services will be held . . .
Dr. Francine Marr, known to her many patients as “Doc Frangie,” has died peacefully in her home at age eighty-one. Marr kept her last name but enjoyed a fifty-two-year marriage with businessman Walter Green, who passed some years ago. Marr served as a combat medic in World War II, one of the famed “soldier girls.” She earned a Silver Star for bravery under fire, as well as the Purple Heart. She is survived by her three children, eight grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.
Services will be held . . .
General Rio Richlin, US Army retired, has died at age eighty-six after a long illness. Richlin was one of the historic “soldier girls” immortalized in a war memoir by author and close personal friend Jenou Castain. General Richlin rose from a private to a two-star general, with distinguished service in World War II Europe and later in Korea. She earned the Silver Star and the Purple Heart in World War II, as well as the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest recognition, for actions at the Chosin Reservoir in Korea.
Richlin is survived by her husband, Jack Stafford, a retired real estate salesman and decorated veteran.
Services will be held . . .
Epilogue
ELIZABETH MASTERS-GALE—FORWARD OPERATING BASE CASTOR
“Sarge! We got mail.”
Sergeant Elizabeth Masters-Gale, often called MG, which stood for both Masters-Gale and, conveniently, machine gun, tosses her iPod aside and bounds toward the door.
The sun outside is blinding. It often is. Sometimes it’s bright sunshine and staggering heat, sometimes it’s bright sunshine and bone-snapping cold. And other times it rains and is cold. At FOB Castor the weather is described, almost 365 days a year, as bad.
But MG’s corporal, Paul Cofield, has a canvas bag of mail—actual snail-mail letters and bundles from home.
“Package for you, top,” Cofield says, handing her a carefully wrapped parcel. “Letter too. Same address. Hope it’s cookies.”
“Like I’d give you any of my cookies, Cofield,” Elizabeth says. Frowning at the return address, she carries the mail back inside her hooch and sits down on her cot. It’s no one she knows, though she has the vague sense that there is something distantly familiar about the name.
She whips out her Ka-Bar knife and slices neatly through string and brown paper. There’s a lacquered box inside, maybe eighteen, twenty inches long. She pauses, frowning even more intently, and opens the letter.