A Different Flag

The handful of cadets stood rigidly at attention, even the defiant Alex Stone not quite daring enough to make a move as Major Payne stalked up and down between the bunks of the small barracks, a dark look on his face. Holding up a handkerchief stained with a few spots of blood, Payne said loudly, "Someone's gonna have to pay for this blood on my lip!" When silence continued its reign over the barracks, Payne turned cheerful and sarcastic, a combination Andrew Dotson somehow found more intimidating than outright anger. At least when Payne looked angry, you had some idea what he was thinking. At moments like this, though…

"Well," Payne shrugged with a smile, "don't everybody speak up at once! I guess, maybe, I just had that one comin'!" Then his fake cheeriness seemed to take on a hint of sincerity, as it always did when Payne started making up 'creative' punishments. "Well, you know what y'all got comin'?" Major Payne held up seven fingers, ticking them off one by one. "One, two, three, four, five, six- and oh, my goodness- seven twenty-three hour days, full of fun and adventure!" Payne reached the end of the squad bay and halted, grinning as he turned around. "I'm gonna make you boys strong!"

That got Alex Stone to talk, much as Dotson figured it would.

"Sir, permission to speak, sir."

Payne stared at Stone, his gaze penetrating and frigid. "Yes, turd?"

"It was me, sir; I hired him."

Dotson tried to keep from rolling his eyes; safely out of Payne's line of sight, he failed after a couple of seconds. Figures, Dotson thought contemptuously. Leave it to Alex Stone, Madison JROTC's resident big dumb guy, to think that hiring an even bigger, even dumber guy would get rid of Major Payne. Andy Dotson was obscenely rich, a fact that he often hoped would somehow make up for his abnormally shrill voice, but he was also the son of a career Navy officer. Vice Admiral Timothy Dotson had been a fighter pilot for over a decade before becoming a commander of surface ships, and during his eighth combat mission over North Vietnam had earned the first of his two Silver Stars. Dotson had seen Payne in his dress blues when he arrived, trying not to gawk at the numerous V-devices, Marine parachutist wings and combat diver's badge. At the top of that tree of ribbons was one Silver Star.

What did all this add up to? In Dotson's mind, it was simple. Major Benson W. Payne had killed and seen comrades killed; he'd faced death more than once and forced him to blink. Whatever he was and wasn't, Major Payne was not easily intimidated. A burly biker would never have been enough to make him quit his new job and leave.

But if Major Payne was thinking any of this, he gave no indication. He simply barked, "Well, that's one death warrant signed! Do I have any more volunteers? Any more bandits wanna add their John Hancocks to that firin' squad order gonna get posted tomorrow mornin'?"

Suddenly Payne spun on his heel, and the brim of his smokey hat was a centimeter from Dotson's face. "How about you, brown-nose? You think it's your lucky day?"

Dotson didn't move; he simply remained at attention, staring forward into space as if Payne wasn't there. All the same, he was shocked at Payne's words. Why- why would he say that? And in front of the entire squad! Of all the times to do it!

Stone spoke up again. "I acted alone, sir. The rest of the squad was unaware of my intentions."

Major Payne lost interest in Dotson just as fast as he'd acquired it, turning away and walking slowly down the squad bay towards Stone.

"Well, well, well. That's a pretty bold move, there, Mr. Stone. What do you reckon I oughta do with you?"

"I don't know, sir."

Payne stopped in front of Stone; staring grimly down at him. "You don't know?"

Stone looked ahead of him much as Dotson did, speaking in a deadpan voice. Maybe there was a little hope in it as well, because he said, "I guess you should probably expel me, sir."

Major Payne didn't even take one second in rejecting the idea. "What, and send you on a vacation?" he retorted.

Silence. Having successfully crushed the one suggestion given to him, Payne now seemed to be debating over what he should do with the cadet who just took the initiative of attempting to have him intimidated into leaving. Even if it was a sloppy attempt, and done for all the wrong reasons, Stone had still shown potential. No- if there was one thing Major Payne would definitely not be doing, it was expelling him. Suddenly, he made up his mind, calling down to the other end of the squad bay.

"Dotson!"

Oh, shit. What now? That was Dotson's thought and gut reaction, but he answered, "Sir, yes, sir!"

"You are no longer the squad leader. Stone; you are now Cadet Sergeant."

What?

Now Dotson did turn his head, not even trying to hide the look of shock and hurt on his face. What was Major Payne doing? Did he even know what he'd just done?

But Payne had no answers for Dotson; he was already briefing his new cadet NCO. "If these men win the Virginia Military Games, it will be because you led them to victory! If they lose, it will be because you failed them."

Leaving the floor open to no questions or comments, Major Payne turned and swiftly strode back towards the door of the squad bay. Stone's stunned voice followed him. "I don't accept the position!"

"It's not negotiable!"

Major Payne never even slowed his stride, passing Dotson and pushing open the screen door, letting it bang shut behind him. Stone was the first to make a move, following the Major in a hurry.

The others all followed Stone, rushing outside to see what would happen next. Dotson didn't follow them. It was like they didn't even exist. As Tiger ran out the door and the argument- whatever it was- between Stone and Payne started outside, Andy Dotson moved over towards his bunk. Facing away from the window, ignoring the sounds of the voices outside, Dotson sank down on his flawlessly-made bed. His knees felt weak; it was like they had suddenly fired themselves as well.

How could this happen? Why?

Finally, though, as he heard Payne say to the other cadets, "You boys want me gone? Meet me outside the OC's Office at 2200 hours. You want me gone; you'll get your chance", Dotson decided he'd had enough. He sprang up and stormed outside, jamming his PC down on his head. He was furious, ready to come out fists flying- not at Major Payne, though he'd have liked nothing better had he thought he'd have a snowball's chance in hell against that man hand-to-hand. No, as Andy Dotson came half-running, half-walking out into the August noonday sunlight, catching the retreating back of Major Payne out of the corner of his eye, his own eyes were on one person. Alex Stone.

Shouting so all the others could hear, Dotson said, "How's it feel, Sarge? You like being in charge yet?" His voice was high-pitched normally; in times of great anger or stress, it often became if not higher yet, then more shrill. Dotson thumbed at his collar ranks pulling each one off and holding them out in his palm. "You want these, big shot?" he screeched, so furious he thought he'd explode.

Stone just stared at him, looking equally furious. "You shut up, Dotson."

But there was no stopping Andy Dotson, not that day. He stuffed the ranks in his pocket, yelling still. "You want 'em? Come and get 'em! I don't need this damn job! I'm rich, asshole!"

"I'm telling you, shut up!"

Dotson knew he was egging Stone on, and he knew if he got the fight he was pushing for, he'd probably lose. Stone was taller and better-built; the odds of a hand-to-hand fight leaned in his favour. But Dotson still didn't care. "Come on, then! My dad's a Vice Admiral! Where's yours, Stone? Or do you call that drunk step-dad of yours a substitute-"

Alex Stone could move very fast when he wanted to, and this was beyond a doubt one of those times. He crossed the distance between himself and Dotson and put a fist to the other boy's face before Dotson even knew what was happening. The demoted sergeant fell to the ground, and the other boys backed away. This was probably going to turn nasty.

Stone stared down as Dotson looked up, rubbing his mouth and tasting blood. "You done yet, Dotson?" he said. Slowly getting to his feet, Dotson grinned, showing a set of white teeth darkened by some spotted patterns of blood. "Actually," he smirked, "I think the party's just getting started!" Then he charged and headbutted Alex Stone in the stomach. The two fell to the grass, kicking and punching.

Five minutes later, it was over. The two had grappled close-up, neither quite overmatching the other, and for a time Dotson had rolled away and kept Stone guessing, darting in with a kick or punch. But then one time he'd moved too slow. Stone had shot out another first, and this one connected with Dotson's head as he moved in to strike again. There was no blood, no yell of pain. Andy Dotson simply folded up and passed out.

Stone, just as furious at the promotion as Dotson was at his demotion, stormed off without a look back. The rest of the boys just stared from one to the other, from their former leader to the new one. Finally, it was Tiger who decided something should be done with the fallen sergeant. "If we leave him out here, he's gonna sunburn…" Tiger said quietly.

They moved Dotson inside and placed him on his bunk. After making sure he wasn't seriously injured- though truth be told they were really just guessing- the rest of Madison's JROTC squad headed off to the rest of their classes. Tiger again stayed behind, running up to the infirmary a few minutes later and bringing back an ice bag that he left on Dotson's steadily-blackening left eye. When he woke up fifteen minutes later, Andy Dotson moaned and reached up to touch his sore eye, then noticed the bag of ice placed on it, already staving off the worst of the black eye he was sure to get. Lying back down for the next thirty minutes- he'd always hated Mr. Harrison's biology classes anyway- Dotson silently thanked whoever it was that had thought to move him inside and bring him the bag of ice. His anger at what had happened didn't fade, but Dotson did feel grateful to whoever had helped him. It was more than most people would have done.

For the rest of the day after Major Payne fired Dotson, he drifted from one class to the next and eventually back to the barracks, angry and bitter but unsure of who to blame. He refused to answer questions about his black eye, simply shrugging them off and heading on to class in his fatigues, a look of grim resolution on his face. He was going to get through this day no matter what it took. When passing by the trophy case in the middle of the central intersection between the four main hallways, though, Dotson noticed something. The smallest of the boys, Tiger, was the only one who didn't seem reluctant to acknowledge him- Stone and Dotson, the first time they saw each other after 5th hour, had simply locked eyes and moved on, while all the rest found somewhere else to look when they found Dotson looking at them. But Tiger met Dotson's gaze without trouble, something that surprised Dotson give how shy the ten-year-old normally was. Instead, he went on his way with a little nod to himself, as if satisfied.

Dotson wondered again where that bag of ice had come from.

By the end of 6th hour, Dotson's fury had subsided to bitterness; he paid no attention in any of his classes that day and had no memory of what the assigned work had been come the next. Truth was he no longer cared; Andy Dotson knew he was finished at Madison Preparatory Academy. He'd made a mistake coming here in the first place; mocked from day one for his high-pitched voice and very-much out-of-place enthusiasm for the Army JROTC program, only his senior cadet rank- and obscenely rich parents, whose ability to find good lawyers at need was well-known, kept a bad life from getting worse. Now he'd been disgraced; and to add insult to injury, the worst of an already undisciplined and rebellious lot had been chosen as his replacement.

By the end of 7th hour at 15:45, Dotson was still unsure of quite who to blame for all this, but he did have his mind made up on a solution. He was packing his bags and transferring to Wellington Academy. Founded the same year as the Carolina Military Institute and with closer ties to it than Virginia's own VMI, Wellington was Vice Admiral Dotson's own high school and a much better boarding school overall. Dotson's lip curled at the very idea of the senile old man they had in charge of Madison now.

"The green boys"; that's as far as his understanding of the very existence of a JROTC program at his school went. Dotson had thought of a number of ideas throughout the day, and rejected them all as equally implausible. Talk to the old fool, talk to Payne, even talk to Miss Walburn, the main guidance counselor at Madison. No; none of those ideas were any good, and going to Major Payne's office was easily the worst. Why would that man want to see "Screechy Dotson" when he'd fired him in the first place?

No- packing his bags was Dotson's only choice. At 1600 on the same day of his dismissal, Andy Dotson found a payphone, slipped a few quarters in, and called Naval Air Station Meridian. It took a few minutes of talking to one person, then the next, gradually being bounced from one desk to the next while the enlisted man or officer sitting there tried to figure out whether they were supposed to send this kid straight to the Admiral's phone or tell him the man was busy. Finally, Andy heard that distinctive, strong and steady voice in his ear.

"Dotson speaking."

Normally Andy would have smiled a little; his dad never wasted a word. Every single one he spoke counted. Instead, Andy did what he knew his dad would respect most- get straight to business. First he had to let him know who was calling, though.

"Dad?" he said.

Instantly, his father's voice took on a hint of deliberate patience; he disliked calls of a personal nature coming to his office, save emergencies. He did not permit it of his staff, so how could he allow it for himself? But Timothy Dotson simply said, "What's up, Andy? I'm sorry, but this had better be important."

Andy swallowed; time to get on with it. "Yes, sir."

"Major Payne sacked me, Dad. I wanna get out of this stupid school."

Immediately, the admiral's voice came back, surprised now. "Major who? What do you mean he fired you?"

Andy had to fight to keep his voice controlled, speaking as quickly as he could manage. "The new JROTC instructor, Dad. He showed up a few weeks ago and he fired me today! He didn't say why, just gave this jerk Alex Stone my job and walked out."

"So what do you want me to do about it? I can't tell Major Payne how to run his unit, whoever he is."

Dotson knew just what he wanted; he wanted to get out of Madison, just as soon as possible. His dad had wanted to send him to Wellington Academy in the first place, being that it was his old school and everything. Dotson had wanted to try going to a different boarding school, one where the Dotson name would be less recognized and he could live a more ordinary life. That idea had fallen flat on its face by the start of his second year at Madison; within just a month and a half of Major Payne's arrival, all of Andy Dotson's hard work had been wrecked, and that idiot Alex Stone had taken all of it away. Payne and Stone; Andy Dotson had a score to settle with both of them now. And he knew just the way.

"I wanna join the De Paris Rifles, Dad. Can I transfer to Wellington?"

Timothy Dotson paused for a few moments, aware that his son was hanging on the other end of his phone, eagerly awaiting his answer. He'd left an open offer to Andy for a transfer to Wellington, if he ever changed his mind. It wouldn't be difficult to make arrangements for Andy to be moved over to his old school. They knew him well, and the admissions head at Wellington would surely be happy to accommodate Timothy's request.

"Okay, Andy. I'll make the arrangements, but I want you to call your mother. I'm not gonna explain this for you; that's your duty. All right?"

Andy nodded solemnly, forgetting his dad couldn't see him. Then he realised, and added, "Yes, sir."

"All right," his dad said, continuing in that same calm, steady, confident voice no one had ever been able to properly imitate… and his son had utterly failed to inherit. "But if your JROTC instructor fires you too, Andy, don't come asking to go back to Madison. I'll get you to Wellington, and if you want to join the Rifles you tell them that. But make it work, all right? Don't let anybody stop you, whether you get demoted again or not. Through to graduation, okay, Andy?"

Andy Dotson nodded again. "Yes, sir," he repeated, "Through to graduation."

The elder Dotson sounded satisfied, and indeed he was. But he'd spent enough time on this. "Andy, I've got to get back to work now, all right? I'll tell your mother the arrangements I'm making when I see her tonight."

Gratitude washed through Andy Dotson; gratitude and relief. Everybody else in the world might have been cruel to him today… and on a few too many days besides. But his parents were always good to him, and that meant the world to Andy. He had to keep his voice level as he said, "Thanks, Dad. I mean it. I'll call Mom in a minute, okay? I'll explain."

"Right, Andy. Keep calm and keep going." That was a favourite phrase of the Admiral's.

"Yes, sir," Andy said for the third time during the call, and hung up. He then dialed the number for Ravenglass Hall, the extravagant Maryland estate of the Dotson family since 1910. His mother answered; she typically did, despite the fact that enough employees were usually on the property that she wouldn't have needed to. Judy Dotson was a true Navy man's wife; unwaveringly loyal and if anything even tougher than the Admiral himself, she took care of family business at home and had no patience for anyone who thought less of her simply because she didn't wear the stars.

Andy spent about thirty minutes telling her what had happened, and explaining that he had called his father and requested transfer to Wellington. Judy listened, and was understanding and supportive- but, like her husband, she warned their only son not to quit any more than once at this. It was not a good way to go, and Judy did not want to see her son starting to go down that path. Andy promised her he wouldn't, that no matter what happened when he got to Wellington, he'd make the very best of it.

When Dotson at last hung up the payphone, he couldn't help but smile. He was soon to be off for Wellington Academy, the last full-time military academy that did not at present- and never did in the past- include "military" in its name. There was no particular reason for that; it was simply the school's name and adhering to it had over time become tradition. Dotson smiled a little as he returned to the barracks, far out in the back fields of the school. At least now he'd be at a school where, just maybe, his talents would be appreciated.

Several hours later the others had all returned, and were busy preparing for the big "black op" of the night. Their subtlety was admirable; Dotson had to keep hiding his face behind the Global Navy magazine he was reading to cover his smirks. Up against Wellington, home of the De Paris Rifles, one of the most prestigious private school drill teams in North America? These idiots were so doomed.

Alex Stone's voice broke Dotson out of his reverie. "Huh?" Dotson said, looking up. He hadn't heard a thing Stone had said just now, and was quite surprised he was even talking to him. Stone just repeated himself, though. "I said, this is your last chance to go with us, Dotson. You really wanna stay here?"

Dotson put down the magazine, sneering in irritation. "What, you really think I'm gonna come along and help you make me look bad?" Dotson then gestured at his bruised eye, which- thanks to whoever gave him the ice bag- had at least not swollen shut. He coldly added, "I think I look plenty bad enough right now, anyway. Thanks, Sarge."

Not waiting for a response, Dotson picked up the Global Navy magazine and returned to reading about his dad's nomination to be four-star admiral next year, taking charge of the prestigious Pacific Fleet command. It was something his dad had been working towards for a long, long time; he'd be the first admiral in decades to hold the position and not be yet another of those Naval Academy snobs. It was a CMI man's turn. Time to prove you didn't need an Academy ring to be worth something as an officer.

Noticing Stone was still looking at him, Dotson added, "Anyway, I've called my dad. I'm leaving this stupid school."

Stone finally gave up with a huff, rolling his eyes and turning to walk out the door. As he did so, Dotson called, "Bye, have a good time!" He almost meant it.

Almost.

Dotson observed the none-too-surprising turn-down of Tiger in silence; again, leave it to somebody like Alex Stone, always complaining about the disempowerment of youth, to turn around and do it himself. Tiger, told he had to stay behind, looked the very picture of childish distress. He soon turned and raced out the door, leaving Dotson no chance to speak with him. A car was coming the next morning; Dotson's mind was already on the few days he'd get to spend at home with his mother while arrangements were made.

Then it was off to Wellington. Dotson was already making plans for the two-and-a-half years he'd likely be spending there, already looking forward to helping his new school destroy Madison in the Virginia Military Games this year. The words of movie-General George S. Patton, III echoed in his mind- "You know, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against. By God, I do!" Dotson felt much the same way. Madison had no chance.

Even so, with all the visions of greatness and glory dancing in his head that night, Dotson made up his mind to do one thing before he went. He left his old Cadet Corporal ranks behind under Tiger's pillow, along with a small note: "Thanks". Tiger normally stayed in the barracks just one night a week; by the time he found any of those things, Dotson would be long gone. That was just how Dotson wanted it; on the rare occasion he found himself feeling truly grateful towards someone, he never could find the words. Leaving notes and presents was always something he knew better how to do.

As Andy Dotson drifted off to sleep that night- knowing that his squad-mates were being thoroughly thrashed by the Wellington cadets at that very hour would not have disturbed him in the least- he thought again of his father. Vice Admiral Timothy Dotson. Tall, handsome, strong in voice and highly charismatic. He'd been Cadet Major at Wellington, and fourth in his class at CMI. His son had inherited his mother's softer, rounder face, and also had missed out on his father's powerful, charismatic voice.

Squeaky when he was younger and only moderately improved to "shrill" in his teenage years, Andy Dotson had always managed well enough if he kept his voice low. But if he ever raised it, ever became excited over something… and being who he was, Dotson always did get excited about things. It was just part of who he was. And so inevitably, the jokes came. As Dotson drifted off to sleep, he wondered why, if there truly was a God- something Dotson's Episcopalian upbringing had taught him to be very no-nonsense about- He had given a great admiral a son who thus far had shown no talent at all in the motivating and leading of men. It was quite an unfair arrangement for the both of them.

When was he going to stop living in the great admiral's mirror? Against all those medals and three shiny stars, it was like Andy Dotson didn't exist. He'd lived his whole life in glory's shadow, always going to officer's parties where people would say nice things to his face, then remark how sad it was that Timothy Dotson hadn't gotten a proper successor just as soon as Andy wasn't around. When were people going to stop comparing him to his dad? Dotson didn't know. He fell asleep still searching for the answer.

Notes:

This story was originally meant to be longer, but I became distracted with numerous other writings and projects, and ultimately decided to have it end here. Dotson's first name and personal background are never given, so I made one up and felt it did well to fit the character's image. Dotson has the appearance of a boy who is "to the manor born" and so is quite used to getting what he wants and having the best of everything. However, as my portrayal of his parents shows, Dotson is in some ways an improper representation of his parents and what their goals are. Timothy and Judy Dotson are not Vernon and Petunia Dursley by another name; instead they are more like the father of Richard and Robert Thorn of "The Omen" series- the father's name I forgot- who only wanted the very best for his sons, always.

That Dotson is spoiled and arrogant is largely his own development, and perhaps also a result of the mockery he would no doubt have endured for years- perhaps his whole life- over the unusual sound of his voice. I felt like the film unfairly ignored Dotson, and dismissed him from the story without explanation. His vengeful glee at winning the relay race for Wellington can hardly be called unwarranted- he was Major Payne's only supporter on the Madison JROTC team and Payne fired him without explanation.

Either this was Payne's big mistake- the one time he let one of his boys down and never even realised he did it- or Payne had ulterior motives the film failed to show. For example, had Payne's intention been to force Dotson to realise how flawed a leader he was, that he was never going to be respected the way he was acting, that might have made sense. I very much imagine that Dotson- who is indicated briefly to be much more popular with Wellington's boys than he ever was at Madison- found a new life for himself at Wellington and resolved to do much better there.

Initially he might have been out for revenge on Payne, but after a time I think Dotson probably got to like his fellow cadets and his new school, and for possibly the first time in his life made real friends. Had it been Payne's intention to fire Dotson and cause him to do all this, I would understand. But the movie should have shown that. Its existing portrayal of Dotson was incomplete, and needlessly unfair. Dotson was the character the movie remembered to forget.