He swallowed.
“He was the best corpsman in our class,” he said. “He used to say his dad was a chief who fought a carrier fire. We all thought he was making it up.”
He looked at my ribbons.
“He wasn’t,” he said.
Then he did something else.
He picked up his chair. A white folding chair with a cushion on it. He carried it across to our table.
He set it down next to Caleb.
He sat down.
His son followed him. A little boy with red hair and freckles, carrying his own plate. He sat down on the other side of Caleb.
“Hi,” the boy said. “I’m Owen. Do you like baseball?”
Caleb looked at him. He nodded.
Then another man stood up.
An older man. Gray-haired. In a navy blazer with a Marine Corps pin on the lapel.
He picked up his chair and walked across the gymnasium. He set it down at our table.
