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The Wall (M/F no sex, sad)

Part of a novel in progress


The Wall
 
Becky had come to my dorm room to study. This was a frequent occurrence when my 
roommate was out. Since her roommate had left school and they had not assigned 
her a 
new one we used her room often, but this made a nice change.
It was getting near the middle of November and we had decided not to try and go 
home 
for this holiday, saving our money Christmas break. I was working on my modern 
history 
course specifically the Viet Nam conflict. With all the conflict within our 
country, I had 
decided to write the paper on what the soldiers had gone through. I had found 
some 
accounts in our Library on Campus, but it wasn't enough. Of course most of the 
materials 
were on the military focus, battles, skirmishes, and the like. The instructor 
was a retired 
major so it would be his forte'. I wanted the human side. And it was not coming. 
I closed 
the screen on my laptop and sighed on flustration.
"Stuck honey?" Becky was watching me from my bed.
"Yeah. I can't seem to find anything that has the feeling for what these guys 
went 
through. All the accounts are just dry. Some have the details down, but no 
emotion. I 
wanted to write what they were feeling, their thoughts."
Becky was very thoughtful for several minutes. "Did I tell you I had an uncle 
that was 
killed in that war? His name was Kevin Donnalson. It of course happened long 
before I 
was born. My mother was just barely 8 when he went in. I always wondered about 
him. 
Maybe you could write about him?"
Next afternoon Becky called home and asked her mother about getting some 
information 
for me. She didn't know how much help she could be, but would dig around. 
Becky's 
grandparents still kept several things in the attic that were Kevin's, but she 
did not want 
to upset them with old memories. She hung up and gave me the news. I decided to 
try to 
get a little help from my instructor. When I explained what I was trying to do 
for my 
paper, Major Mackie gave me the lead to the resources within the Dept of Defense 
to 
track downwhat files they would release, and gave me permission to use his name. 
And I 
went to work. 
Records for Lt. Donnalson, Kevin. Serial#xxxxxxxxxxx were short and to the 
point. He 
had been killed while his command was being pulled out of a hot zone near the 
Laos 
border. Issued Silver Star, and recommended for Medal of Honor. At least I had a 
start.
Becky was very quiet for the next week while I was trying to get my notes and 
everything 
else together. Monday before Thanksgiving, I was wading through some notes on 
the 
days after the Tet Offensive. We were in Becky's Room this time. "Jimmy?"
"Hmmm…?
"Could we make a road trip over the holiday?"
I was still in my notes. "Sure where to?"
"The wall."
I looked up from the bed. "The wall. The Viet Nam Veterans Memorial"
"Honey, I am sure we could, but the question is why?"
"Uncle Kevin. I never knew him. He died somewhere thousands of miles away. At 
least I 
could honor him and those that died with him."
I got on the internet and booked one of the few hotel rooms left just outside 
Washington.
That is how I found myself looking at a wall of black granite. Stretching 
seemingly 
forever, it was covered with names. And I was thinking, for each name on the 
wall there 
had been a person. Someone with parents, a wife or girlfriend. Family that loved 
them 
and were anxiously awaiting their return. These are the same people who had to 
bear the 
devastating news when they were informed that he wasn't coming home. Wives with 
young children left without a father. Mothers and fathers losing their young 
sons. How 
many times did this scene play out? They were much more than just a name on a 
wall.
The sky was adding to the somber mood. There was a hint of drizzle in the air, 
muting the 
colors of the flowers and trinkets that had been placed at the base. Small 
momentos that 
somehow left the feeling that these men who gave their lives were not forgotten.
Becky and I found Her uncle's name towards the base of the memorial. Becky got 
down 
on her knees, and softly touched his name. In some small way trying to connect 
with him. 
Through her tears she was whispering "Uncle Kevin. I wish I could have known 
you." I 
knelt down beside her wrapping my arms around her. There were no words for me to 
say 
that would have made any difference. 
We were still kneeling down and I had just made a rubbing of his name for Becky, 
when 
we heard a deep voice from behind us. "Was he a relative of yours?" Becky and I 
both 
looked up to see a rather large, weatherbeaten man to our left. "He was my 
uncle. He was 
killed when my mother was still young. Grandma and Grandpa don't say too much. I 
just 
wanted to come and tell him I wished I could have met him"
This giant wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "I served with your uncle. I 
was the 
medic in his unit. He was a hell of a man. We talked about family, and he was so 
anxious 
to get home to see his family. Especially his little sister. He was proud of her 
and showed 
the pictures to anyone who would look."
We sat on the grass as he told us of the mission where Kevin was killed. They 
had been 
ambushed, and lost most of the squad. There were only six left and four of those 
wounded. Kevin and the sergeant would carry the wounded a couple of klicks then 
go 
back and get the other two. Took them 3 days to get to the Landing Zone for 
pickup. 
They got to the LZ and radioed in. They had just about loaded the chopper when 
the VC 
opened fire, catching Kevin in the back. The chopper lifted off, but Kevin died 
before 
they could get back to base. "The Louie carried me 12 klicks. I had been hit in 
both legs 
by gunfire and was losing blood. He should have left me for dead, but you know 
what he 
said? 'I don't leave my men behind. As long as you are still alive you are going 
out with 
us'. I wouldn't be alive today but for him."
Becky was still listening with tear filled eyes. I finally spoke up. "I am glad 
you came by 
when you did. And I know it means a lot to Becky. But why were you here today?"
"Today, November 23, is the day that chopper lifted us out. The day the Louie 
saved the 
lives of his squad. I come every year on this date to thank him and tell him how 
much I 
owe him."
With that, he stood. With tears running down his cheeks, he straightened his 
jacket and 
moved back down to the wall and into the shadows. Becky and I sat there until 
dusk, lost 
in our own thoughts. Finally we went back to the motel room where we undressed 
and 
got into bed. We didn't make love that night, but just held each other tightly.
We made it back to the campus the next day. And then went to Thanksgiving dinner 
at 
our friend Irene's the day after that. Dinner was great and the festivities were 
needed as 
well.
On Saturday night, we were once again on the bed in Becky's dorm room.  The 
television 
was playing some silly sitcom but we were not really watching it.  It was just 
nice to be 
alone, with the other near, but still within our own thoughts.  Becky had been 
very quiet 
all weekend and I figured that it was because of our trip.  Truth be known, I 
was mulling 
over the images myself.
I finished my paper on time, received a B+. The medic never told us his name, 
but I 
found in during my research. It was Richard Beale. Becky sent him a letter 
thanking him 
for what he had said and included a copy of the paper.

