Oorah!

1 Extraordinary Heroism Pendleton, Oregon, 1969 Samantha Madison, or simply “Sam,” as she preferred, was not fond of watching TV or wearing fancy dresses or sitting around with nothing to do. That wasn’t her style. The feisty ten-year-old fifth grader preferred climbing trees, riding horses, and playing baseball with the boys. But Sam’s mother, Mrs. Priscilla Madison, favored a more restrained nature. “Darling, I think it’s time you become a bit more mannerly and ladylike,” she said more than once. What does that even mean? Mannerly and ladylike. The words made Sam roll her eyes and puff out her cheeks. “Yuck. More like dull and boring.” She knew her mother loved her, but did she understand her? After her father, Samuel, died fighting in the Vietnam War, the feeling crept through her as silently as nightfall. There was a flame of truth that burned inside Sam’s chest. She was more like her father than her mother. British by birth, her mother still retained the Queen’s English accent and a flair for order and dignity. Although Sam never said it aloud, her mother could be a bit old-fashioned—what Sam called “a stick-in-the-mud.” Her father, on the other hand, was an American roughneck: strong, playful, and, of course, courageous. Although her mother was unaware—or didn’t want to be aware—the spirit of her Marine father raced in Sam’s blood. One day, when Priscilla wasn’t looking, Sam slipped into her mother’s bedroom, opened the top dresser drawer, and let her fingertips trace her father’s medal, the Navy Cross. At that moment, a sliver of sunlight pierced a slatted window blind and fell across the medal. It glowed so brightly it made her heart jump. She jerked back, caught her breath, then eased forward and touched the medal again. The light fell upon her fingers. She followed the beam to the window slats. Is my father speaking to me? “Dad?” Although cast in silence, Sam smiled. Her last memory of her father came to mind. She was nine-years-old, and he was saying goodbye. It would be his final tour of duty. He picked her up and set her on his lap. “Sam, you have to be Marine strong for your mom. Can you do that for me while I’m gone?” Sam tried to choke down the lump in her throat. “Yes, Dad.” “That’s my girl. Oorah.” “Oorah? What does that mean?” she asked. “It’s a Marine battle cry.” “Gee.” His eyes were serious, his tone deeper. “But it’s more than that. It’s about pride, honor, and love. Don’t forget the word. When I say it to you, it means I’m proud of you, I honor you, I love you.” Sam snuggled in and lay her cheek on her father’s broad chest. He kissed the top of her head and said, “Wherever you are, whatever the challenge, I’ll be there for you. Oorah.” Sam looked at the medal. “Oorah, Dad.” Then she read the citation. THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA HAS AWARDED THE NAVY CROSS TO LIEUTENANT SAMUEL B. MADISON UNITED STATES MARINES FOR EXTRAORDINARY HEROISM WHILE ENGAGED IN MILITARY OPERATIONS ON 22 FEBRUARY 1969 Extraordinary heroism. Those two words were burned into Sam’s heart. The President of the United States was talking about her father. More than anything, it was what she wanted for herself: to be heroic and prove she loved her father as much as he loved her. That’s why the Navy Cross glowed. It’s Dad’s spirit speaking to me, encouraging me to be brave and strong. Her father’s devotion had always been real. He’d confirmed it every day. She still remembered how he would lie on his back and lift his feet skyward like a dead bug. “Climb aboard,” he’d say. She would then rest her hips on his feet, outstretch her arms, and pretend to be an airplane. Then he would boost her into the air, catch her on the way down, and hug her ever so tightly. Even now, she could feel his love flowing through her.