The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep, Micky, Peter and Davy woke to find Mike had already made breakfast for them. After they had eaten, Mike took the anti-biotic cream the doctor in the ER had given him.
"Take your shirts off, I'll put this stuff on you guys." He said.
"No we're okay, Mike." Davy said, wincing as he moved.
But Mike insisted, and his friends did what they were told. Mike was torn between crying and screaming in rage as he looked at the welts. He apologized over and over again as he gently rubbed the cream onto their backs.
"It's okay, Mike." Peter said, "Don't beat yourself up over it."
When Mike was done, he went upstairs to wash his hands. He was gone a long time. When he came back down, Micky, Peter and Davy could see that Mike's eyes were red. He had his secret box in his hands.
"Let's go onto the beach." He said, "I've got a lot of explaining to do."
The guys got some glasses of lemonade and went out the back door to the beach. Once there, they picked a secluded spot near some rocks and settled down. No one said a word as Mike prepared to speak.
"I guess I'll start at the beginning." He said after several seconds, "When I graduated from high school, I was still 17 and looking around for something to do." Mike said, "College was out of the question, couldn't afford it anyway. I was already playing guitar in coffee houses and such, but that wasn't too exciting. One day I saw a poster for the Air Force, so I decided to enlist."
"What did your Mom say about that?" Micky asked.
"She was against it." Mike said flatly, "So I ran off one night and enlisted in the Air Force, lying about my age. When I was at basic training I sent my Mom a letter telling her where I was." Mike sighed then said, "Sure enough, a few days later, my Mom shows up at the training camp with my birth certificate and my Aunt Kate. I tried to explain to them and my commanding officer that I would be 18 in only a few more months, but they would have none of it and I had to go home. Driving back, my Mom and Aunt would take turns; one would drive while the other would beat me."
The other three Monkees laughed at that while Mike took a sip of his lemonade.
"Well..." Mike said when the other three had calmed down, "I had a taste of the military and I wanted more. A few weeks later, I stole off again in the night and joined the Navy. I lied about my age...and my last name. Blessing sounded like a nice name so I took that one. When I wrote my Mom again, she no doubt looked for Michael Nesmith, but I wasn't there. It was only after I turned 18 did I tell her and my CO what I had done."
"Why was your Mom so against you joining the military?" Peter asked this time, "I thought she would be proud of you."
"My Dad was in the Army during World War Two." Mike replied, "He was somewhere in Europe when I was born. When he returned home, my Mom said he was a changed man...and not for the better. Either he had done something or seen something during the war that affected him greatly. It wasn't long after he came home that my Mom filed for divorce."
"That's a shame." Davy said, shaking his head.
"I can understand why she felt the way that she did." Mike said, "But I needed to find my own way. Anyway, after basic training, I took some aptitude tests and was accepted for possible flight training. More physical tests followed, like being spun around in a circle to simulate G forces. To my great surprise, I passed and found myself in a classroom again, but this time learning about flight."
Micky, Peter and Davy sat quietly and hung onto every word Mike was saying, totally surprised at the story.
"Eventually, I shipped off on the U.S.S. George Washington, bound for the south Pacific. It was there that me and a few other men were quietly gathered for a secret meeting."
"Secret meeting?" Peter asked.
"Shhh!" Davy said.
"It seems that a few other men and myself had scored high enough and showed high promise to do 'special missions' for the Navy." Mike said. "The situation in Vietnam was worsening by the day, the North Vietnamese were attacking the southern forces. Officially the U.S. was only there in an advisory capacity, but someone, perhaps Kennedy, decided the south need a little help. Our job would be to perform air strikes on North Vietnamese targets, to slow them down, and give the south a chance to fight back." Mike gave his friends a rueful smile.
"Looking back now, it didn't seem to help." He said, "American combat troops were eventually sent in and now we're in a war we can't get out of."
"So, what did you guys call yourselves?" Micky asked.
"We were called the Black Knights." Mike replied, "I was put in command. I also ended up with the nickname 'Papa Nez', since I looked after the other men."
"What targets did you hit?" Peter asked.
"Ammo dumps, bridges, airbases, whatever we were told to take out. Everything was done at night. Our planes were painted black and made of a mishmash of different parts so in case one of us was shot down, they wouldn't be able to tell what country it was by the fuselage." Mike then opened up his secret box and pulled out the small gun once again. His band mates pulled back a bit.
"Don't worry." Mike chuckled, "I made sure it wasn't loaded this time. Every man in my squadron were given a gun like this to use on ourselves in case we were shot down. We weren't to be taken alive."
Nobody said anything as the Monkees passed the gun around. Mike took it back from Davy and put it back in its box.
"Must've been very secret work." Davy said quietly.
"Yes, nobody was to know what we were doing." Mike replied, "If what we were doing became known, it would've brought not only our enemies but likely our allies down on us as well."
"How did this all end?" Micky asked, "Why didn't you stay in the Navy?"
"In my opinion, the end started when we attacked the headquarters of General Wang Chung Hoo...Dragonman's brother." Mike said, "General Ho was supposed to have been a brilliant general and strategist. Killing or wounding him would hurt the north and set their plans back by months if not years...or so we were told. After that raid, we found things to be very different."
"How so?" Peter asked.
"We found ourselves under more and more heavy fire." Mike replied, "Enemy planes would come after us quicker. It was like we had stirred up a hornet's nest. No longer were we considered just a nuisance, but a serious threat and we were treated as such. There were a few close calls, with my wings getting shot up, but we all came back after each mission, until..." Mike went silent and stared at the sand for a long time.
"You don't have to finish if it's too painful to talk about, Mike." Micky said, putting a hand on Mike's shoulder.
"No, I want to finish this. I need to talk about it. Not even my Mom, Aunt Kate, Lucy or Sam know about what I did." Mike said, then took a deep breath, "One night, our luck ran out. Either the North had guessed where we were going to hit next, or they had laid a trap for us. Almost without warning we were surrounded by enemy fighters. We scrambled, started to head back, but they were right behind us. Suddenly, my wingman called out, 'I'm hit!' and that was the last I ever heard of him. Probably took the hit for me." Mike squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to fall. Micky, Peter and Davy gathered around Mike for support. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at his friends.
"My wingman's nickname was Babs." Mike said.
"That's who you were calling out to?" Micky asked, "Babs was a guy?"
"Yeah, he was." Mike confirmed, "I just hope he was killed. I don't want to think what would've happened had he lived." He pulled a photograph out of his box. It was a picture of Mike and his squadron friends standing in front of a Navy jet. Next to Mike was a young man about Mike's age who looked rather familiar to the other three Monkees.
"That man," Mike said, pointing to the man next to him in the photo, "Was my wingman Babs. His real name was Henry Babbitt Jr."
There was a profound silence after Mike's announcement. Micky, Peter and Davy's jaws dropped open as they looked at the photo and then at their landlord Mr. Babbitt's house.
"Yes, the very same son of our lovable landlord." Mike said quietly, "Believe it or not, Mr. Babbitt wasn't always the kind person we now know. Babs told me his Mom died giving birth to him, and that he and his father were pretty close. Then Babs was shot down..."
"Oh my..." Peter whispered.
"Yeah, well...I've always tried to be nice to Mr. Babbitt, knowing the pain he's had in his life." Mike said, "It hasn't been easy."
The other three Monkees nodded in understanding. They silently resolved to be nicer to Mr. Babbitt in the future.
"So then what happened?" Davy said after several minutes. "Did anyone look for Babs?"
"Yes, but didn't find either him or his plane. Our squadron and our mission had now been compromised. We were disbanded and I was offered a chance to join another group. I refused. When Babs got shot down, the adventure ended for me. I no longer thought war was a game, I saw that people died, no second chances like in the movies. When it came time for me to re-enlist, I called it quits. I now had some idea of what my father must've gone through and I wanted out. Before I left though, I was given this medal." Mike pulled out a silver medal from his box and showed it to his friends. "I thought of refusing it, but the other guys in my squadron urged me to take it because Babs would've wanted it that way." Mike put the medal back in its box.
"I was also given a small pension for my service. Everything was to be kept secret, and it was until Boris and Madam had to rob the Veteran's office. My pension was sent to a bank account under the name of Michael Blessing, so it couldn't be traced." Mike said. "That's how I'm able to come up with the extra money we need every so often." Mike got up and stretched.
"That's the whole story." Mike said, "I just want to apologize again. I couldn't tell anyone what I did until now."
"Wait, Mike." Davy said, "How did you know what door to open to let the C.I.S. men in?"
"After we had tangled with Dragonman the first time, I decided to explore where the doors led to. Door number four led to the back room of the next door building, so I was able to tell the C.I.S. which one to use."
"Clever." Micky said approvingly. He and the other two Monkees stood up as well.
"I'm going to go see Mr. Babbitt now." Mike said, "He needs to know the truth about his son. The Navy told him his plane had crashed into the ocean and never recovered." Mike began to walk away.
"Mike?" Peter said.
Mike turned to Peter. "Yeah, Peter?"
Peter, Micky and Davy came over and gave Mike a big hug that lasted a long time. Wiping a tear away, Mike went back into the pad, and then over to Mr. Babbitt's house. He knocked on the door and Mr. Babbitt answered it.
"What do you want?" Babbitt demanded, "If you want an extension for the rent, forget it!"
"No, Mr. Babbitt," Mike said, "I'm here to talk to you about your son."
"What do you know about my son?" Babbitt yelled, getting red in the face.
Mike held up the photo of him, Babs and the other men in Mike's squadron.
"He and I served together, Mr. Babbitt." Mike said, "I'd like to tell you what we did...and how he died."
Babbitt looked back and forth from the photo to Mike and back again, unable to believe the man next to his son in the photo was the same man standing in front of him.
"Can I come in?" Mike asked.
Wordlessly, Babbitt stepped aside and let Mike come into his house.
THE END
Chapter 8
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