In the search for 17 desperate veterans in Lofton County who had served together, it was a reasonable conjecture that they would more or less stay together.
It was also wrong, since they all had been locked out of their own houses and had no common meeting point across the county.
Three had been arrested breaking and entering into their own homes – false arrests, but at least they were safe at the county jail.
Major Ironwood Hamilton, once their adjutant commander, found out and left them right where they were. They were safe. He would let them consider their lives a bit more before springing them.
That left 14 to find, like odd buttons, each one needing its own unique button hole somewhere in the fabric of safety in Lofton County.
If all 17 had just tended to their healing in 2019 … but there was no time for “what if” in January 2020.
A storm of unusual strength was forecast to head into Lofton County on Tuesday – this was no time to not have a home, and the weather had been horrible before that as well.
These men had what little they hadn't spent of their Reserve checks on a New Year's celebration to end all celebrations – not much left, and since they lived on all ends of the county, they couldn't necessarily pool their resources.
The margin of life was their personal vehicles, and their ability to keep gas in them – after that, they would survive, but if they went into full military survival mode in the civilian world, they would find themselves jailed or dead, and potentially others with them.
Major Hamilton organized the other members of the Reserve cohort he and Colonel Lee had made sure to get to their Reserve Weekend been in to help him with the search, and word came swiftly – seven of the remaining 14 were staying with their cohort brothers, and were safe.
That left seven – two of those had showed up at Lofton National Bank demanding the money their wives had cleaned out of their accounts.
The veteran in security at the bank had called Major Hamilton, and Major Hamilton had tracked those two down before they made a deadly mistake.
Those two had thought their wives were going with a couple of the Black men they worked with, so, up they rolled to where those men worked, ready to do damage.
Major Hamilton had come screeching up in his truck, just in time.
“Stand down! Stand down!”
Two minutes later, he had disarmed them and gotten them into his truck, trying to drive and not cry and not cuss those two out – he drove them to the Veteran's Lodge just before the sky opened up, including golf-ball sized hail.
That left 5, and the two Major Hamilton had gotten grips on had some clues for him.
On Tuesday and Wednesday nights, he caught up with the last five.
The very last of all was Major Frank, about to commit suicide but too drunk to shoot straight – he had grazed his neck and fallen out, the gun still in his hand in the little doorway he had huddled in for protection from the rain.
Major Hamilton took him to the county hospital.
17 for 17 – every button in its button hole.
“Thank You, Lord,” Major Hamilton said as he pulled up outside his home. “Thank You! The weather will keep everyone settled, but I know You will show me what else I should do after that – thank You!”
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