Updated note (4/9/06): nothing new content wise, just re-formatted to make easier to read (big paragraphs have been broken up into smaller ones). but still same story.

hope you enjoy! review if you feel so inclined.

What if Pvt. Daniel Boone Jackson had a wife, and a home...far, far away in Hickory Valley, Tennessee, that he left behind to join the brave men in uniform in hellsih, war-torn Europe.

Disclaimer: the first section of this story (the part surrounded by the quotes) is reproduced from Max A. Collin's novel Saving Private Ryan, based on screenplay by Robert Rodat. i am not claiming to have written that part (or own any of the characters other than Vi)--I simply took what I was given from the both the movie and the book and created a story purely for entertainment value.


Of a fallen radar station, and a fallen tear
""I'm a high school teacher," Miller said. Casual, but in a firm voice. Mellish heard him, and looked over.

"I teach English," Miller straightened, "at Thomas Alva Edison High School." Now Jackson looked over at the Captain, so did the Sarge. And Reiben.

"Adley, Pennsylvania," Miller went on. "Back home, somebody asks me what I do and I tell 'em, they take one look at me and say, 'It figures," or some such. But here...I guess it's not so obvious..." They were all staring at him. "...by the looks on your faces, anyway." They moved toward him, slowly, gathering around him. "Maybe I've changed," he said softly. Then he laughed, just a little. "Sometimes I wonder if my wife would ever recognize me." Mellish turned to Jackson and mouth Wife?, and Jackson, eyes wide with this new knowledge, shrugged."

Jackson hadn't expected to hear or believe that Captain Miller had a wife...but then again, he wondered how many members of the squad would believe he had a wife. A wife and a home far, far away in Hickory Valley, Tennessee. Probably none of them would...he thought to himself, glancing around quickly at the looks of surprise on everyone's faces as Miller told them about his pre-war life.

Instantly, Jackson knew what Miller was talking about. He was sure all the other guys knew as well. Would they be able to go back to the lives they left behind once this hellish war ended? Or had this war changed them beyond all recognition and help...?

He hadn't focused on what Miller had last been saying and he chided himself for not paying attention. You could easily lose your head if you didn't pay attention to what was said in this game. Jackson and the rest of the squad watched in silence as Miller moved towards Wade and the fallen paratroopers and began to move their bodies into freshly dug graves. Slowly, the squad filed over to help him—each was smiling softly to himself.

No one was happy in this current situation, but they all felt a certain comfort and contentment at acting as a squad once again. Jackson stooped down beside an occupied grave, removed his helmet and began heaving helmet-fulls of dirt down below. Lord, have mercy on a soldier's soul. He prayed silently.

...Vivian. He should not of have thought about her earlier, for now she would surely occupy his mind, distract him from paying attention to important things...hell, he'd already lost his concentration once—lucky for him he wasn't in battle. But suddenly, Jackson let himself go from this deathtrap and hell his life had become and let his mind wander back. Back to times he'd hidden away long ago, times before the war...and instantly wondered if Vivian could still love him when he returned, or if she even still did?


Daniel could hear the piano music drifting lazily out an open window from where he stood on the road. He turned and waved at his guests as they sped off down the dusty dirt road. It was late morning—the sun wasn't high enough in the sky to be unbearable and a gentle whispering breeze blew languidly through the hickory and yellow poplar tress that lined the small road leading back to the main road.

As the dust on the road startled to settle back into place, Daniel turned back towards the house and started for the shady porch. He still heard her playing softly and smiled to himself, shaking his head. He would swear if he hadn't married her, she'd of married that piano of hers. Every morning and every afternoon, she would sit and just play as long as she was able. Playing a wide range of music—mostly hymns from her grandmother's worn-out hymnal and the occasional piece by Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin or Mozart. And Daniel loved every song she'd ever played.

He could listen to her as long as she played. The soft chords just seemed to further cement a peace over the Jackson house that Daniel and Vivian had always loved. He stepped softly on the wood entryway floor, hoping it wouldn't creak and distract her. She was in the middle of an arrangement of "Alleluia," and Daniel, for the life of him, wasn't about to give her cause to stop.

He leaned against the doorframe and just watched her. She had worn her hair down today. She hardly ever did, but he wished she did more often. It fell in its natural long curly spirals of a deep, rich brown, which looked dark red in the sunlight. She wore her usual thin metal frame glasses over her light green eyes, which come to find out actually were more blue-green.

It wasn't a noticeable blue, mind you, but he had noticed it instantly the first time he was close to her. Her eyes were downcast, moving speedily between the music and her gliding fingers, causing her head to constantly dip down and then back up. He couldn't quite see the color of her dress or what it even looked like from the angle he was at, but it didn't matter to him. He watched her play, smiling at how beautiful she was, and falling in love with her allover again.

They had been married for two years. She was only one year younger than him and he was surprised they had even been allowed to marry. A single young man at age twenty-one and a single young woman at age twenty were often looked sideways at in Hickory Valley. For many people in Hickory Valley were still of the old ways of thinking were a woman is married off just as soon as she becomes a woman and has children and raises a family.

So it was when Daniel Boone Jackson had first met Miss Vivian Elizabeth Starr of Texas, who also had been receiving sideways looks for the better part of seven years. From the first moment they met, they both just knew they were right for each other. And life had never been the same since.

(flashback)
"Daniel!" She called out anxiously waiting for him near the Loosahatchie River. More like a deep stream actually, only because near the borders of Hickory Valley, the river shrank to a small trickle that just barely ran into the Hatchie River. But still it was pretty and she drug Daniel down there often enough to gather the cherries from the wild cherry tress, even though he'd rather do almost anything else. "Daniel!" she called again, hoping he hadn't ducked off somewhere in the woods.

"RAAHHH!" Two arms encircled her as she nearly jumped out of her skin, screaming.

"Daniel Boone! Don't you ever do that again!" Her words came between bits of breath and laughter.

"Oh, but hon', I just couldn't resist it," he said innocently, hugging her to him, "or you." He brought his face around her shoulder towards her. She turned to face him and found his beautiful brown eyes. He leaned further towards her and pressed his lips gently on hers. She welcomed his loving kiss instantly and returned it sweetly to him. Their lips parted and she snuggled her face into his neck, sighing happily.

"Don't ever let me go." She said quietly.

"I don't mean to." He answered, tightening his arms around her.

"I mean never let me go." Her voice was softer still, sounding as though she was drifting off to sleep.

"Oh, but then, hon', I wouldn't be able to gather these cherries you want me to." He said, mock serious.

"Well, I just gave you the only valid excuse not to." She said, turning and breaking away from him.

"So you mean all I have to do to not pick cherries is keep you occupied, hunh?" he asked, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across his face.

"If that's what you want it to mean." She walked away from him, her back facing him. She turned back at him and smiled innocently against his questioning smile. "But now, I want to pick cherries. So get to work." She turned from him and walked away towards a tree full of the dark red, ripe berries. Daniel just stood there for minute, in disbelief that here he was again, holding a small bucket and picking cherries.

How unexciting, how uneventful...how almost boring. He could not understand what made Vi so excited and enthusiastic about cherry pickin'. He walked slowly over towards her, his eyes trailing up and down her thin form as she stood on tiptoes, reaching for a higher branch. He noticed she was standing precariously close to the river's edge...and it looked just deep enough. Dropping his bucket to the ground, he walked over and scooped her quickly up in his arms.

"Daniel?" Wha—," she saw him heading for the river, "oh no. Don't you dare!"

"Hon', don't make me pick cherries or I'll drop you in the river..." He said playfully as she looped her arms around his neck.

"I won't let go of you and you'll have to go down with me." She said, pressing her nose against his.

"Then call off this cherry pickin'"

"You've never rebelled against it like this before."

"The river hasn't been high enough." Her light laughter filled his ears and made his smile grow wider.

"Well I still say you have to pick cherries. So there—" He pulled his arms back and she fell clear out of his arms into the water, forgetting to hold on to him in the sheer suddenness of the moment. She came up sputtering water, her curls dripping wet, matted to her face, her dress glued to every curve, but with a smile and an accusing finger pointed at Daniel.

"You...are going to regret that!" She ran over to him as he tried to back away from the water. But she got to him first and jumped on his back, catching him off his guard.

"Vi! You're dripping wet!" He said through his laughter as he tried to get her off his back.

"Well, what did you expect Daniel?" He wiggled around, trying to pry her off, with no such luck. He wasn't watching where his feet went—only concentrating on getting her off and trying to stay somewhat dry himself. He lost his footing on a rock and they both tumbled over backwards, landing in the river with a big splash. She shot up first, bursting with laughter, watching as her drenched husband, stood slowly up, brushing the water out of his eyes.

"This is all your fault." He said.

"Oh no, you started it, my dear, when you dumped me in the river." She walked over to him, noticing how well his wet clothes hung on him.

"Oh, but you were asking for it..." He said, trailing off, loving the way she looked.

"I was, hunh?" She asked she stopped next to him.

"Oh yeah, honey. You were." He leaned in closer to her and solidly kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him so close, feeling almost every inch of skin through his wet shirt. His arms encircled her thin frame and pulled her firmly against him. He could never get enough of her. Her kiss was as fiery and wonderful as it had ever been.

She loved Daniel more than words could ever say. Only actions could begin to express the true depth of each other's love. Safe in his arms, entangled in his kiss...she never wanted life to end. And he wanted to remain with her always.


A simple piece of paper had changed all that for them both. And he hated it. Hated it with every ounce of his being. And even though he knew it was the will of God for something to happen and he accepted it, that didn't mean he couldn't wish to be back with Vi.

Jackson stopped shoveling dirt and looked towards the setting sun. He felt his eyes swimming with tears and prayed that one wouldn't escape. Too late. A solitary tear fell down his cheek. Mellish, just in passing, noticed it immediately—a small sparkle against the dirty grime.

"Jackson...you okay?" He asked quietly, not wanting to alert the whole squad. Jackson turned quickly around, willing his eyes to dry.

"Yeah, yeah...must be allergic to somethin' around here." Mellish nodded skeptically, but said nothing more. Lord knows he'd shed a tear or two and been scared shitless by the things he'd seen. So Mellish didn't dare press him and break the peace that had now settled around the young Tennessean as he resumed shoveling dirt into the grave.

Jackson saw no sense in talking about Vi—he desperately missed her when just simply thinking her name, much less if he said it aloud. Come to think of it, Jackson hadn't said her name since he'd left for basic. His eyes traveled to his left hand. His wedding band had once been silver, but now so filth and blood covered he wondered if it would ever be silver again.

No wonder another squad member hadn't said anything about it—only because they probably couldn't tell he had one. He sighed silently to himself—as if to convince himself every thought of Vi, his burning desire to return to her, and thoughts of desertion just to see her smile again left him with that sigh.

Jackson threw in his last helmet full of dirt before rising and gathering his gear. One by one the squad readied to continue on to Ramelle. No one was saying much as they marched away from the remains of the radar station. None of them could be too sure why. Maybe it had been the suddenness with which Wade died—they each knew death waited on every battlefield, and now they each realized how quickly it could find them.

My father, my Strength, Jackson prayed silently, keep us safe from harm and our enemies. Rest the soul of Irwin Wade in your Eternal Kingdom. And let Vi live, knowing I will love her always and want nothing more than to be by her side.

"Next stop," Rieben said as the squad cleared the hill where the fallen radar station lay, that and Jackson's singe fallen tear, "Ramelle." Amen.


MRS VIVIAN JACKSON
1427 SHADEY LN
HICKORY VALLEY, TN. 38042

Dear Vivian Jackson,

On behalf of the United States Department of Armed Forces, we regret to inform you of the death of Private Daniel Boone Jackson in Ramelle, France. Your husband fulfilled his duty well, serving his country excellently in its time of need. He was loyal and courageous to the end, thinking of his squad and country before himself.

Though sorrow will find you in this time of immediate loss, you can hold your head high in solemn pride knowing your husband died honorably, defending those he loved.

Respectfully,

George C. Marshall

P.S. A Private Richard Reiben of New York delivered the attached letter that was found on the person of your husband's Captain, John H. Miller.


'Dearest Vi—

This letter will only reach you if something has happened to me overseas. But I ask you not to cry, for I have left the hell that Europe has become and rest with God eternally, waiting for that far away day when you will join me.

Know that I will watch over and be with you always, as I always have, and that I always will love you. Your beautiful smiling face often floated in my mind and at those moments, all I could do was think of returning to you.

My dying wish was to see you again—and I will. We will be together again, someday, years and decades from now. But I pray you will not weep as I am now in the only other place where I can ever be as happy and safe as I felt in your arms. Stay beautiful and strong, hon'. And know I have and will continue to love you always and forever.

Daniel
June 5th, 1944'

the end.


alright, that's it for this one. leave a review if'n ya want to. thanks for stopping by!