This work contains depictions of sexual acts. If you are not above the age of 18, or viewing erotic fiction is not allowed in your area, please do not read any further. All rights reserved by the author. Consent is given for electronic or printed copies for personal use. Archiving to free sites is permitted. 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.