Thank you to each and every person who has ever read even one of my stories. I started this one a while back, but it really took off after I watched some NCIS reruns a couple of weeks ago.

This story takes place in season 5 after "Dog Tags" which aired on April 15, 2008 and before "About Face" which aired on May 20, 2008. Jenny is still alive and Tony is dating consistently again. I like Spring and this needed to take place on a day when the snow had all melted, the grass was turning green and the temperature was comfortable.

Rated T for a little bit of profanity. Nothing too horrible. Just playing it safe.

Warnings: Profanity as mentioned in the rating. No violence. No adult themes. No pairings.

Spoilers for NCIS season 2 episode "Call of Silence" which aired on Nov 23, 2004. I like Mr. Charles Durning and I liked this episode very much. A recap is at the end for those not familiar with it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just borrowing for a little bit. I promise not to intentionally dishonor any of the characters.

"Private Mission"

The three team members had been at their desks for more than an hour. They'd exchanged insults and pleasantries about what they had done the night before, what they'd had to eat for dinner and breakfast, their personal appearance, the traffic and the weather, and Ziva and Tim had endured Tony telling them about his date and asking about their improbable encounters from the night before. During the playful bantering the other third floor workers had gone about their business by staying out of the team's way. It was Wednesday and almost nothing happened on most Wednesdays, unless it was Halloween. Most of the time, while other agents and other teams took the calls, team Gibbs used hump day for catching up on reports, writing them and reading them, closing out case files, restocking supplies, filing, catching up on email and voice mail, training and resting up for Thursday and Friday because those were usually very busy days for them, autopsy and forensics.

Mossad Officer Ziva David was typing away on her computer keyboard and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was stringing paperclips together when Special Agent Timothy McGee, who had been fantasizing about NCIS going completely paperless, asked, "Where's the boss?"

Tony held out his hand letting the metal string dangle and declared, "These are so much better than the plastic ones. They're smooth… and shiny." He flicked his wrist and the silvery three foot length undulated smoothly, mesmerizing him while Ziva continued pressing plastic keys at a steady pace.

McGee spoke a little louder over Ziva's clacking. "Ziva. Tony." He looked from one to the other and when he had their attention he asked again. "Where's the boss?"

The two team members stared at him like he had two heads until his question suddenly registered and then their eyes snapped to the area where Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs should have been, but his chair was still pushed snug against the desk like the cleaning crew always left it. The man was usually the first to arrive and the last to leave yet his work area appeared undisturbed. McGee took the initiative to get up and check around the modular surface and work area.

Shaking his head he announced, "No coffee cup. Trash is empty."

"I have not seen him," Ziva admitted without confessing that she hadn't yet missed him.

"Maybe he's in MTAC," Tony surmised, his gaze drifting to the landing.

"Abby's lab," Ziva countered, her eyes twinkling.

"Autopsy with Ducky," Tony challenged, smirking.

"Car trouble," she offered, not believing it herself.

"Long line for coffee," Tony said half-heartedly thinking about Gibbs with his ever present cup, except that he should have been on at least his second cup by then and with rush hour long past the lines wouldn't be that long.

Believing she was seizing victory Ziva announced, "Director's office," and she and Tony exchanged a meaningful look.

McGee had had enough listening and interjected, "The Director is meeting with the Secretary of the Navy at the Pentagon this morning." When all he got were confused looks he added, "I heard her assistant in the break room."

Work went on around the three as they silently pondered where Gibbs could be. Finally McGee exclaimed, "He can't be sick. Gibbs is never sick."

With conviction Tony whispered, "Gibbs doesn't get sick."

Ziva raised her eyebrows and sharply asked, "Then where is he?"

With most of the weekday traffic heading into the DC area, the drive out to Leesburg had been pleasantly uneventful and Gibbs positioned his vehicle behind a couple of slower moving big trucks. He'd left in plenty in time to get to his destination and was taking the opportunity to actually look at the scenery. The rigs were traveling well under the speed limit but he hung back enjoying the lush green outside the car and the privacy inside as the mini-convoy moved along the state highway. The last few days had been a little hectic and relaxing as much as he safely could while driving, Gibbs waited patiently for the sign that alerted travelers to the turnoff. With his focus still on the road, his mind drifted a little to the reason for the morning drive. Three years before he had forged a bond with a man who would become much more than a fellow Marine. Despite the age difference, there had been mutual respect and he had been a good and trusted friend, until last Saturday... when he had died. The mission this morning? To honor him and say goodbye.

"Probie, call Gibbs," Tony directed McGee, who was sorting papers.

"I'm not calling him," McGee snapped back. Gibbs didn't appreciate interruptions of any kind at any time. On the other hand, since nobody seemed to know his whereabouts maybe it would be okay to call him. And what if something had happened to Gibbs? The female member of the team chimed in before he could change his mind about refusing.

"I will call him," Ziva volunteered reaching for the phone.

"Wait," Tony demanded, his eyes studying the female officer's face. "Why are you so eager?" He got up from his chair and started for Ziva's work space.

"Somebody should call," she offered weakly. Ziva didn't want to call Gibbs, didn't think they needed to call him, but she hated listening to Tony and Tim. The man was probably in the building somewhere. They hadn't pursued that possibility and now as the call got connected she silently wondered if they should have. Thinking that Gibbs should be right around the partition and ready to ask 'Who ya calling?' she turned slightly hoping to see his stern face, but he wasn't there.

Gibbs had just reached for water when ringing interrupted his morning serenity and for more than a few seconds he debated about answering. He worked long hours and took little time off: this was one morning, just one morning out of hundreds of mornings. Leaving the stainless steel bottle in the cup holder he pulled out his phone. The caller ID told him who it was so he toned down his greeting, but only just a tad. "This better be good, Ziva."

It was suddenly clear to her that Gibbs had not expected to be called. Was she supposed to know that he would not be into work? Why didn't she know about it? It had always been Tony that had disappeared during the work day during his undercover assignment. Was Gibbs undercover? Out on an assignment? He had answered the phone which was something DiNozzo hadn't often done. Her two teammates weren't offering any support and looked as puzzled as she felt. They didn't know what was going on either. She had followed Tony's lead to call Gibbs and now that she had the man on the phone she didn't know what to say to him.

Gibbs waited for Ziva to say something. Knowing he was on speaker he held back a frustrated sigh but pointedly questioned, "WHY are you calling me?"

Tony frowned slightly as his brain tried to process why Gibbs would be questioning the call. With his mouth open in surprise, McGee stood up. Ziva looked questioningly at the two men but nobody said anything.

"DINOZZO. MCGEE. Why did Ziva call me?"

"Uh… hey boss," DiNozzo meekly responded, looking sheepishly at the other two.

Gibbs suppressed an exasperated groan before his thumb pressed the button ending the call and then he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. The three members of his team had obviously just realized that he hadn't gone into work and Ziva had been goaded into making the call to track him down. "Skilled investigators my ass," he grumbled, just as his car passed by the road sign he'd been waiting for so he flicked on the turn signal and backed his foot off the gas pedal a little.

Two miles after turning onto US Highway 15 his car and several others left the Leesburg Bypass and turned onto Battlefield Parkway. The last time he'd been to this cemetery had been for the re-burial of a WWII soldier, but he still remembered the way and maneuvered the car along the Parkway to Ball's Bluff Road where he drove until entering the cemetery grounds. Though many national cemeteries were busy every day with multiple funerals due to war deaths and the aging veteran population, Ball's Bluff had been closed to new interments with the exception of cremated remains or casketed remains in the same gravesite of previously interred family members.

Around a lazy curve veterans stood beside their motorcycles holding American flags and they lined the road all the way to the section he'd been to before. Gibbs inched his car slowly forward as an older gentleman in a red jacket indicated where he and the drivers following behind him should park. He waved to the man indicating that he'd park in the adjacent lot instead of along the road closer to the grave and made the turn as the vehicles behind him kept on going. Gibbs got out, retrieved his cell phone from the front seat and his jacket from the back seat, leaving the bottle of water in the cup holder. After setting the phone to vibrate and storing it at his belt, he slipped into the jacket, straightened his tie and took a good look around as he walked down the road. The section was a sea of red jackets as members of the Marine Corps League of Loudoun County assembled and a crowd of women and men, most in military uniform, gathered on the grass amid a short row of chairs that had been placed near the open grave. He heard doors click open and glanced over to see two Medal of Honor recipients, recognizable by their blue silk neckbands, exit their car and he nodded to them before they walked toward the lawn. Feeling uneasy, Gibbs didn't follow them. Instead he left the road and walked slowly down a path between the rows of markers, looking at them, but not seeing them. He hated crowds and he hates funerals. It was late enough in the Spring that the grass had greened up nicely and new leaves filled out the trees. He walked for quite a ways before making a u-turn that took him down an adjacent path back toward the crowd of people. He had gotten close enough to easily make out individuals and spotted a dozen or so young boys wearing Cub Scout uniforms approaching from the other side. Many people were standing so closely together that he couldn't really see them, just the groups, but he did see many Marines and members of the National Guard.

More vehicles pulled up to park along the road. Seven older men wearing distinctive garrison caps got out of a large SUV and three men from a van parked behind them headed across the road, two of them carrying video cameras. It made sense to Gibbs that someone would want to cover the event, but he didn't have to like it. Only the Leesburg paper had printed the death notice with the service date and time. The Washington Post would probably run a short paragraph about it in a few days when they needed filler material and on a slow news day the local television station would show a short clip which probably explained the video cameras. He stopped walking, preferring to observe everything from a distance for a minute. There had been no threat of rain and the service would be short so no tent had been erected. Across the grass and rows of headstones he could see a chaplain and the cemetery superintendent that he had met in 2004 and had talked to on the phone just a few days before speaking to a group of high school students who had congregated around a large wreath stand. Four additional baskets of flowers were on the ground next to the graveside, their luscious colors making them quite visible.

Gibbs looked at his watch. The service wouldn't begin for another 10 minutes or so and gazing across the headstones he found himself lost in time remembering other memorial services and burials. Damn, he hated funerals and he hated remembering other funerals. Thankfully the flashes of memory were interrupted by the arrival of more vehicles and Gibbs mentally shook away the sadness that had threatened to engulf him.

There had been no phone calls or visitors. It was as if everyone knew that Gibbs was out of the office. In the bullpen Tony looked meaningfully at three people crowded around the desk, a little less so at Palmer, and in a hushed tone asked them, "What have you found out?"

His question had mainly been directed at McGee and Ziva, but Abby and Jimmy were the ones who spoke up first.

"Dr. Mallard either doesn't know where Agent Gibbs is or he wouldn't tell me." M.E. Assistant Jimmy Palmer looked embarrassed when he added, "He didn't answer me at all and I asked him twice." Jimmy didn't tell them that the Chief Medical Examiner had advised the younger man to mind his own business.

"I asked Ducky too, Jimmy." Forensic scientist Abby Sciuto paced with nervous energy. "I don't think he knows." She was fairly certain that he hadn't been lying to her.

"It's been twenty-five minutes since Ziva had Gibbs on the phone," McGee reminded them in a breathy whisper.

"And we're no closer to knowing where he is or what he's doing," Tony quietly lamented. "Probie, time to do your thing with the GPS on his phone."

Tim McGee had gotten in plenty of trouble the last time he'd tracked someone without permission and it wasn't going to happen again. "No."

DiNozzo glared at him and believing McGee would stand his ground said, "Abby, you do it."

Abby wanted to know where Gibbs was, but not because she thought he was in danger or any kind of trouble. She was curious, but it was not enough for her to break the rules or more importantly, her vow. "I can't." Ducking her head a little she explained simply, "I promised Gibbs."

Blank looks from the others prompted her to say, "Remember when Gibbs," and a minute later, "and you ordered me to track him and he found out?"

DiNozzo nodded in defeat and slumped in a chair remembering the butt chewing he'd received. If they did the same thing this time and Gibbs found out, they would all be reassigned or fired… or dead, because Gibbs would kill them.

Trying to be helpful Jimmy softly advised, "Aren't there other possibilities that we haven't considered?"

With a quirky look on her face Abby nodded. McGee let his eyes do his talking and DiNozzo let his brain consider the places that had already been suggested before giving his reply. A second later he reluctantly whispered, "Bank appointment?"

Jimmy offered, "Overslept?" It was met with head shakes by everyone else. Gibbs never overslept.

"Maybe he's at the dentist," Abby softly suggested. After all, even Gibbs needed bi-annual checkups.

Running out of ideas Ziva mumbled, "Getting an oil change."

DiNozzo let her have it in a loud biting stage whisper. "Gibbs took the morning off to get the oil changed in his vehicle?"

Silently adding 'mental health day' to the list she had overheard, and having heard more than enough, it was time to intervene. "Is there something going on I should know about?"

The five people had to have suffered whiplash when their heads spun around and their necks jerked in surprise. NCIS Director Jenny Shepard had snuck up on them, but not intentionally. She had exited the elevator intending to head for the stairs and her office only to see the group huddled around a desk whispering. Abby Sciuto and Jimmy Palmer were out of place and the others had things they should be doing, but everyone had been so engrossed in discussing the mystery of Jethro's absence that not one had noticed her until she spoke.

Gibbs reached the crowd as some men who had arrived in government vehicles approached from the road. Most of the people had seen the official cars arrive and had moved to the graveside where they waited for everything to begin. Following brief introductions the cemetery superintendent made a call on his cell phone and then told Gibbs, "They're getting ready to leave the mortuary." That meant they had about seven to eight minutes to complete the first part of the direct burial service.

Gibbs went to take his place in front of the chairs and to the side of the open grave. Eight Marines, seven of them with rifles, stood tall 30 yards to the far left. A sole uniformed bugler stood 25 yards away on the right. A wreath of bright white chrysanthemums with brilliant red, white and blue ribbons rested on a stand alongside two easels with pictures: one of a young man in uniform, the other of a happy elderly couple. Gibbs watched as everyone assembled; the short Cubscouts in front next to the chairs and everyone else filing in and around. Two of the MOH recipients and four men from the Leesburg VFW post, all of them quite elderly, took the chairs while everyone else stood. The high school students had retreated to their place to the side of the group where their instruments were waiting. The chaplain, wearing white vestmemts, had moved a little closer to the open grave and next to Gibbs. The superintendent waited a few seconds for people to stand still before nodding to Gibbs that he should begin. Feeling a little nervous with everyone staring at him, Gibbs mentally smacked the back of his head and silently growled, 'Suck it up. You can do this,' and tried to breathe normally. This was not his first funeral and he'd made a promise that he intended to keep.

"Thank you for coming today," he started, letting his eyes briefly scan the crowd before directing his vision back to a point at the top of a headstone a few rows away. "We're honored to have," and he went on to acknowledge the Master Chief Petty Officer representing the SecNav and the Sergeant Major representing the Commandant of the Marine Corps and the others who had come with them. Gibbs had specifically requested non-commissioned representatives attend and he was glad that it had been honored. He then acknowledged the men from the MOH Society, the men and women in uniform representing all service branches, veterans from WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan, the Leesburg high school band, the Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts and all the others. He made sure he told everyone that the school age kids had asked to attend and though they were there with parental and school administrator permission, they would have to make up all their class work. Everyone smiled and several people chuckled and Gibbs looked with pride toward the Cub Scouts and saw them square their shoulders to stand a little straighter and a little taller.

"Ernie Yost thought he should be buried without a service, without any fanfare, without flourishes of any kind and while I liked and respected him, I could not let him go without the honor due him. And neither could any of you." Most of the people in the crowd had never met the man, but many nodded or muttered affirmations.

In the end Ernie had said that he trusted him and that Gibbs should do whatever he wanted because he'd be dead and wouldn't care. He never liked the hymn 'Amazing Grace' and made Gibbs promise that nobody would play it or God forbid, sing it. He hadn't ever been fond of eulogies, especially ones full of half truths or lies just to make it seem like the deceased had been a good person, so Gibbs had told him that he would keep it short… and most importantly, truthful.

"I'm Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, NCIS, and Ernie requested that I take care of his final arrangements." He didn't know it, but he looked a little embarrassed, and it endeared him to the people listening because it revealed his sincerity.

"He said funerals are for the living." He let that statement sink in before adding, "And he was right." Problem with this service was that there were no grieving family members who needed to say good-bye, but that didn't mean a service was not appropriate. "Funerals are also to remember our friends and honor our heroes." Many heads in the crowd nodded.

He went on to tell them that Ernie had said he didn't think anyone would care that he had died as there were no family members left to mourn him being gone. Gibbs hadn't been able to find anybody left alive that was related to Ernie or his wife. With no brothers or sisters, no cousins and no aunts or uncles, there just wasn't anyone. Even old friends had all died before Ernie. Gibbs told them a little about Ernie Yost: the man, the husband, the friend, the Marine. He didn't tell them that the man had suffered PTSD after the death of his wife and confessed to murder during WWII or that he'd been conned into believing the chef from the Japanese restaurant had been on Iwo Jima. He told them that Ernie never talked about the war or his part in it except to say he'd lost a lot of friends. He told them about Wade Kean, Ernie's best buddy, and how he'd died in WWII before being able to serve as best man at the couple's wedding and that he was buried in that same cemetery, but he didn't tell them that Ernie, the Marine, had whacked Corporal Kean in the head to keep him quiet, accidentally killing him. He told them about Dorothy being a Navy nurse, their 58 year marriage and about Ernie being a loving husband. A slight breeze touched his cheek and Gibbs thought, for only a second, that he could hear Ernie say "Dorothy…, she was a peach."

Gibbs smiled wistfully and paused for only a couple of seconds before telling them about Ernie's community service over the years helping Toys for Tots, his church, the Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts, driving for Meals on Wheels, volunteering at the downtown soup kitchen and establishing a grant to be awarded to a Virginia ROTC student every year. And he told them about a decorated Marine. The citations for Ernie's honorable service and the ones for his purple hearts for wounds while serving on Gaudalcanal and Iwo Jima were read before the one for his Medal of Honor citing conspicuous gallantry above and beyond the call of duty.

Gibbs looked into the faces of the people in the crowd and said, "Today we say Godspeed to Ernie Yost. Corporal Ernest Yost. United States Marine Corps. Husband. Friend. Hero."

The superintendent had timed it perfectly because just then the procession arrived, led by the flag toting motorcycle vets from the road. The white hearse containing the flag draped coffin pulled up next to the grass followed by vehicles with the Marine casket team and color guard.

With his private mission accomplished, Gibbs departed the cemetery. The drive back to Washington, DC turned out to be as uneventful as the drive to Leesburg. The traffic had gotten heavier the closer he got to the Navy Yard, but he had still been able to relax a little and reflect on the service. He thought his part in it had honored both Ernie and the Marine Corps, and it had gotten easier as he addressed the crowd, but he admitted to zoning out, starting when the chaplain said, "I am the resurrection and the life, he that believeth in me…" and ending with the first rifle volley. The service had been respectful... and brief when compared to traditional church service and burial and Gibbs thought that Ernie would have been pleased... and proud.

The Leesburg music students had performed "The Marine's Hymn" beautifully when the casket team brought Corporal Yost's body to the grave, and during the last verse Gibbs had heard several people either softly humming to the music or singing the words in a whisper.

"Here's health to you and to our Corps
Which we are proud to serve;
In many a strife we've fought for life
And never lost our nerve;
If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven's scenes;
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines."

The solemn rendition of Taps almost always dredged up deep emotions and for Gibbs this time had been no different. A slight breeze had abruptly stopped with the first sound from the bugle and the 24 perfectly executed notes had reverberated across the still and silent cemetery. The students had done a great job with "America the Beautiful" during the flag folding. Everyone had stood by quietly while the Marines did their work, the only sounds being the beautiful melody and the snapping of the fabric. The scouts and military personnel had held picture perfect salutes and the Marine burial detail had done their job flawlessly, as expected. Gibbs had accepted the flag. It, Ernie's dog tags and medals were to be displayed for a while at the Medal of Honor Museum before being added to a permanent display at the National Museum of the Marine Corps. The man would be remembered... always.

It had been amusing. Their startled reactions and scramble to get back to work had made her day and her day had needed something too because meetings with the SecNav were rarely amusing. Gibbs had asked for the morning with the possibility of his time away extending into the afternoon and she'd been happy to agree to his request. He'd called her on Sunday after confirming the details for the service and she would have said yes even without knowing why he wanted the time. Director Morrow had still been at NCIS when Yost came in to confess so Jenny hadn't been familiar with the events until early Monday morning when she looked up the file. It had been a close call with JAG ready to take the elderly veteran away in handcuffs, but leave it to Jethro to save the man's life and preserve his honor. Leaning back on her chair Jenny smiled. If she ever needed saving again, she wanted Jethro to be the one to rescue her.

Gibbs had returned to find his team hard at work at their desks. A short call to the Director to let her know that he'd come in had been the only call for the rest of the day. Over the next few days he'd caught all of the others, except the Director, looking at him, trying to read him or figure out something, but not one asked a question about where he'd been on Wednesday morning. Not even Ducky or Abby. Behind his back, or at least they thought he hadn't been aware of it, they had speculated with furtive looks and whispered gossip, but had gotten no closer to knowing where he'd been or what he'd been doing, at least not until the following Monday when one media group finally used the story.

Gibbs had gone out to get coffee and the others were eating sandwiches at their desks. They'd had a good morning and so far no calls had come in about murders, rapes, kidnappings or any of the other heinous crimes they were all too familiar with. DiNozzo had switched on the television for the noon news when a picture of a person he vaguely recognized popped onto the screen.

"A veteran of WWII was laid to rest last week." The screen had changed to show a video clip of Marines carrying a flag draped casket.

"Ernest Yost, who was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions on Iwo Jima, was buried with full military honors at Ball's Bluff National Cemetery."

Tony's eyes narrowed as the name registered. "Ernie," he whispered as he got up from his chair and went to stand in front of the screen. He'd kind of liked the old guy even when he thought he was a murderer.

McGee and Ziva noticed him being overly interested in what was being shown and they quickly joined him.

On the television Marines were folding the American flag and the camera view panned to show not just them, but many of the people attending the service. A small picture of the deceased man was in the bottom corner of the screen.

"You knew this man." Ziva had a way of stating the obvious.

Recognizing Ernie, McGee responded before DiNozzo. "Yeah, he confessed to murder a few years ago," he told her.

With a confused look Ziva asked, "How does a murderer get buried with full military honors?"

"Mr. Yost, who had been a Corporal in the Marine Corps, passed away following a short illness." The last shot of the service showed a Marine, holding the folded flag, standing in front of the chaplain and Gibbs.

"We'll be back in a minute with the weather forecast." The station cut to a commercial.

The three team members looked at each other with mild surprise and sudden understanding.

"Last week."

"Wednesday morning."

"When we did not know where he was. Why did he not tell us?"

"He didn't have to."

"He's Gibbs."

Tim clicked off the TV, but before he or Tony could explain to Ziva about Ernie Yost they all heard, "Gear up. There's a dead Navy Lieutenant in Anacostia Park."
.

The End

1. Ball's Bluff National Cemetery in Leesburg, VA contains the remains of 54 soldiers who died during the Battle of Ball's Bluff in October 1861. They are buried in 25 graves marked unknown except for one. Corporal Ernest Yost, his wife Dorothy and their friend, Corporal Wade Kean, would not have been buried at Ball's Bluff, but it makes for a good story and the NCIS writers did a good job.

2. National Cemetery gravesites are not reserved before needed for a burial. The VA does however, honor reservations made through 1962, when cemeteries were under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Army and reservations were allowed. When a death occurs and eligibility for interment in a national cemetery is determined, grave space is assigned by the cemetery director/superintendent in the name of the veteran.

3. Not sure about NCIS work hours. Sometimes they are there in the early morning, sometimes middle or late morning and they work a lot of evenings and late nights. I think maybe they have a very flexible schedule but also collect a lot of OT.

4. Nobody has ever caught on that when Gibbs is out his phone never rings. When Ziva, Tony and McGee are away from their desks, calls come in as usual, but when Gibbs is away, no calls. Just an observation.

5. Charles Durning, who played Ernie Yost, served with the Army in WWII. I read where he was awarded more than one purple heart and also received a silver star. Thank you for your service, Mr. Durning. (Thanks to Cat C for reminding me that I knew about Charles Durning and WWII. I added this note after the review was posted. I forgot all about it before that.)

6. From the episode when Gibbs read the citation.
Corporal Ernest Yost, U.S. Marine Corps, First Battalion, Twenty Eighth Marine, Fifth Marine Division at Iwo Jima, Volcano Island, Four March, Nineteen Hundred and Forty-five. In terrain studded with caves and ravines, Corporal Yost was standing point forward of our lines when he spotted Japanese troops attempting to infiltrate under the cover of darkness. He immediately waged a fierce battle during which a grenade gravely wounded his right hand and fractured his thigh. Near exhaustion from profuse bleeding, he continued to defend his forward position, engaging in hand-to-hand combat when he was out of ammunition. At dawn, Corporal Yost was found amid the bodies of twenty six Japanese soldiers he had killed in his self-sacrificing defense of his forward position.

This story happens 3+ years after "Call of Silence." This is a little recap about the television episode for anyone not familiar with it.

Gibbs is an NCIS agent. Three and a half years ago a Marine vet came into NCIS to confess killing his buddy during WWII. He even brought the murder weapon with him. The day after he supposedly did it, he was badly wounded, but managed to repel a Japanese assault by himself and was later awarded the Medal of Honor. JAG wants him prosecuted, but admit they have no wish to incarcerate an 82 year old man. He would face court martial and be dishonorably discharged and lose his medal. During time with the veteran, DiNozzo uncovers a possible motive for the man killing his friend and it could mean life in prison for the old guy. Gibbs believes the stress of losing his wife of over 50 years has pushed him over and asks a friend from the Japanese restaurant he frequents to play a role in getting to the truth because all the men from the man's platoon on Iwo Jima are gone. No witnesses left to testify to anything. Gibbs uses lit matches to duplicate the smell of sulfur and actual film footage from WWII to spark the man's memory about what happened. The friend from the restaurant is Japanese and he served in WWII and he provides real time vocal inserts into the scenario to spark Yost's memory about what happened. Turns out his friend stepped on a mine and it blew his legs off. While the patrol was hiding from the enemy, the injured man is hurting so badly that he can't stay quiet. Ernie has to shush him, but Wade is in agony. Who can blame him? The enemy is very close and can hear the man groaning in pain and then he screams and Ernie has to keep him quiet so he shushes him with a hand over his mouth, but that doesn't work and he finally hits him on the head with a gun butt hoping to stun him silent. The blow kills his friend. He didn't mean to kill him and it's probable he would have died from his wounds or infection anyway and JAG admits that Corp Kean was killed in action, not by Yost, who is suffering delayed post traumatic stress, and they will not prosecute him. Ernie still has doubts, but Gibbs finds a way to convince him and they become friends. And it turns out the guy from the restaurant wasn't a Japanese Imperial Army Lieutenant on Iwo Jima, but he was on Guadalcanal and he and Ernie toast with Sake at dinner. In my NCIS kingdom, Gibbs and Ernie stayed in contact until Ernie passed away.

Thank you for reading this story. I hope you liked it. Please submit a review or send me a message or something. I seem to write better and faster when readers communicate with me. And I like to know what people are thinking and feeling about my stories. So tell me. Please. Don't make me beg. Okay okay, I'm begging. I know some of you are waiting for a new chapter of "You Didn't Eat Your Gun" and it's coming soon. I promise. Thanks for your patience and thanks for staying interested in my stories.