Chapter III- Boots on the Ground

A/N: While the West Virginia Air National Guard does operate two airlift wings, one of which is called the 130th and does fly C-130's, I doubt the C-130 that is shot down in 'Modern Warfare 2' and crashes outside the address LTG Shepherd sends SGT Foley's squad to on Brookmere Road has a tail number that matches up with any aircraft flown by the WV ANG. I wanted to add that aircraft and its crew into the story, though, so screw it.

The speech Jake Dunn gives to Alex Kahler is based off a speech said to the younger brother of Private Kevin Harkin by his recruiter, Staff Sergeant Mike Donley, in Season 7: Episode 11 "The Good Soldier" of the TV show "Cold Case". Once again, though, the speech is mostly original, but takes inspiration from the spirit of what SSG Donley said.

Jake Dunn was thankful when the ceremony finally ended; he had been able to deal with living face-to-face, every day for two years, with death… but he barely had managed dealing with this. Among so many great men and women, such fine soldiers and exemplary civilians, Dunn had felt out of place. He had more than a little difficulty figuring out just why he was even here.

As usual, though, Master Sergeant Foley had the answer. Arguing with Dunn outside the White House during the reception afterwards, he snapped, "Shut up! Get a grip, Sergeant! They gave you that friggin' medal because you didn't just lie down and take it. You stood up, got out there, and kicked some ass!"

At that, Dunn had smiled and nodded, grateful that at least one person understood. "Thanks, Master Sergeant," he said.

Foley managed to crack a smile, too. "Anytime, Sergeant. Anytime."

As he was making his way from one room of the massive dining hall to another, scouting about for the boy named Alexander Kahler, Dunn bumped into an officer coming the opposite way through the same door. And- aw, shit- it wasn't just some officer, either. It was General Brian Moreland.

"Uh, sorry, sir," Dunn said, backing up as gracefully as he could and standing aside. "My apologies, sir."

Moreland surprised him, then, by looking at Dunn like he suddenly had sprouted a second head. "You? Apologizing to me?"

"Well, sir, I-"

Moreland stood aside and cleared the doorway for Dunn. "Get your ass through this door, Staff Sergeant. And don't you ever let me see you apologize to anybody again."

Dunn obeyed, trying to conceal his surprise, and spent the next ten minutes wondering how in the hell he'd become so esteemed as to be berated for apologizing to a four-star general, by a four-star general.

The search went on, but Dunn couldn't find the boy anywhere inside the dining hall or the adjacent rooms. For a time, he feared he'd missed him- that the boy had already left with his parents and was gone for good. Luck intervened, though, and Dunn found him sitting quietly outside, watching contrails of a few distant planes as they moved across the clear sky. Soon, though, the boy gave that up, as if the effort of even thinking about aircraft and their pilots pained him.

Unknown to Dunn, he was busy envisioning his brother's reckless last flight with the 130th Airlift Wing of the West Virginia Air National Guard. Alex Kahler knew well the story of the West Virginia ANG's gallant role in the evacuation of Washington, D.C., Baltimore, and Richmond, Virginia. He knew too well of how the Mountain State's air forces had nearly destroyed themselves in the effort- those pilots who weren't killed exhausted, their planes shot up or shot down. And all that was before the EMP…

But what Alex Kahler couldn't shake off- what he couldn't get out of his head- was that one C-130 that had gone tearing out of Richmond International Airport with Russian MiG's strafing the runway. Packed beyond capacity with refugees, it had landed in Charleston, West Virginia only long enough to put gas in the tanks and yank the bullets out of the wings.

Alex Kahler and his parents had been on that flight to Charleston. He still held his brother's Medal of Honor in his hands.

The Medal of Honor, given to the pilot of that C-130 who had made yet another return flight, this one to Northern Virginia, heading for the evacuation zones in D.C. One C-130, going down over an address on Brookmere Road, her cargo bay thankfully empty of refugees. Her pilot had been forced to abort the landing; the strip was too shell-marked, the landing zone too hot.

The C-130's pilot had been unable to make his planned landing- but he had been able to lure a pair of MiG-29's far away from the cas-evac choppers, and distract more than a few Russian AA guns from shooting down another UH-60 with red crosses on its sides. He'd been able to do all that, if only for a little while. It was that vision that Alex couldn't shake, beautiful and terrible beyond description. A C-130 going down in flames. One C-130, too low for its pilots to eject. One C-130, flown by a man who knew the risks but took them anyway, because somebody had to do it. One C-130… flown by Alex Kahler's big brother.

Alex Kahler noticed the door behind him open; he'd appreciated being alone in this garden, and right away feared his parents- who he'd asked to leave him alone for a while- or somebody else had found him and was going to bother him, ask him questions… or ask what action had earned his big brother the Medal of Honor- and cost him his life.

Instead, he just saw a tall, handsome man in full dress blues- not Air Force, not like his brother would have been wearing, but the Army. Gold stripes on his arms indicated the rank of Staff Sergeant, and the flash on his black beret showed he belonged to the 75th Ranger Regiment. The sky-blue ribbon draped around his neck, with its gold star and eagle that outshone the sun, told of yet another story- this man had risked it all, too. He might not have ever known Alex's brother, but Will would have respected him- Alex could tell that about this Staff Sergeant instantly. So he nodded respectfully, but still said nothing. He couldn't bring himself to say "Go away", but rather wished it.

The sergeant nodded in return, his face solemn and respectful. "Alexander Kahler, right?"

Alex nodded one more time, but didn't speak. He had no strength for words today, and had cried for two days straight upon learning his brother was dead. It had taken an immense effort to come to this ceremony today, and an even greater one to convince his parents to let him walk the platform and receive Will's Medal of Honor from the Air Force Chief of Staff today. He'd argued right up the last few minutes before the ceremony- and for a time forgotten how terrified he was of the whole thing, of meeting a four-star general and the President.

Perhaps the sergeant sensed some of this; he seemed quite intelligent, and Alex felt himself warming a little despite his reluctance. Somehow, he was just sure that his brother might well have liked this sergeant. Will had been a friendly guy, but he'd had this special ability to perceive the best men in any crowd and seek them out, hoping to make them better. This sergeant had that same look about him, too. So the sergeant- whose black nametag read DUNN- said nothing for a few moments, then held out a hand. "Staff Sergeant Jake Dunn, US Army."

Alex stared at his hand briefly, then shook it. He was not surprised at the firmness of the Ranger's grip- he was, at the firmness of his own.

Staff Sergeant Dunn sat down on the stone bench beside Alex, and for some time neither of them spoke. It seemed like they'd both come out here for the same reason- to get away from all the fuss and all the dignitaries for a time, and just be alone with their own thoughts.

Finally, the sergeant got up and stood in front of Alex, crouching to meet him at eye level.

"Alex, you don't know me, and I didn't know your brother. I don't know what he did, but I know that you're proud of him- and that you miss him."

The sergeant paused; Alex didn't say anything, but merely gazed back, waiting to see what else Staff Sergeant Dunn would say.

Quietly, Dunn went on, "I imagine there's a lot coming at you right now. Everybody's telling you what a great big brother you had, how you gotta be strong for your mom and your pop, and how you got big shoes to fill. But I know that doesn't change what you're thinking about. Doesn't answer your questions.

Why did it have to be your brother, why did this have to happen?" Dunn paused again. He had no idea why he'd started talking like this, but he sure hoped wherever he was getting these words, he could find the rest- this kid needed to hear a complete speech if he was going to get one at all.

Finally, Dunn said, "I can't give you an answer for those questions. Nobody can."

"But if you ever get sad; if times ever come when you really miss your brother, just think about this.

Your brother was a Captain. A Captain in the United States Air Force. That's something that's bigger than you, or me. And every time you see somebody who's in the Air Force, just think about your brother. He's part of them- every time you see someone wearing Air Force blue, you're seeing William."

Then Dunn pointed up at the sky, and the sandy-brown haired boy's gray eyes- reddened and showing a fresh round of tears waiting for the opportune moment to attack- followed. Quietly, and with such reverence and emotion he surprised himself, Dunn said, "And speaking of Air Force blue… see what's up there?"

They both looked for a moment, gazing at the flawless, beautiful blue summer sky.

"That is some of the best flying weather I've ever seen," Dunn said. "So whenever you see a day like this, just think about your brother. Because that's him up there. That's the United States Air Force."

Dunn fell silent again, and the boy just sat there, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally Dunn nodded and stood up, starting to head back inside, hoping he hadn't done the wrong thing- but knowing he had done all he could do to something right.

Behind him, though, still sitting on that stone bench out in the garden, the boy named Alex Kahler was no longer staring aimlessly at the ground, or at the bushes. He began looking up at the wild blue yonder above him, a look of wonder and even happiness coming into his eyes.

He would remember everything Staff Sergeant Dunn had just said; he would commit it to memory, and remember it for the rest of his life.

Every word of it had been true.