***************************************************************************** This author's email address has changed to: crabb@mscc.net ***************************************************************************** From: "The Crabb Family" Date: Tue, 1 Feb 2000 09:54:30 -0600 Subject: story: More Than A Name On A Wall (1/1) Source: direct Title: More Than A Name on A Wall Author: Agent Newbeau Category: SA Rating: PG-13 for bits about war and angst, nothing graphic Spoilers: none really, just general knowledge of what Skinner has said of his Vietnam experience. Summary: Skinner visits the Vietnam Memorial Wall and reminisces about a friend he lost. Skinner angst. Feedback: Yes, please. Send to crabb@lcc.net. My mailbox is hungry. Feed it. Archive: Yes, just let me know where. Keep my name and email on it. Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files, Skinner, or anything associated with the show. It belongs to Surfer God Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. May they feel no need to sue me. I have nothing of value to them. The title comes from a song of the same name by The Statler Brothers. I don't own them either. I'm just a fan. Robert Dunn is a real person. More on that in my author's notes. Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at a Skinner story. It's been a long time since I've even attempted an X-Files fanfic, but I heard the song and this idea came to me. Robert Dunn was my mother's cousin. He died September 12, 1968 at the age of 22. The events of his background described in the story are true. All details about his actions in Vietnam are a combination of fact and fiction. The basic details are true as far as I know. I don't know what unit he was in. I'm not even really sure it was the Marines. My mother is not sure and doesn't talk about it much. Some details are from an article that was in the Houston Chronicle on September 11, 1991. Some are from details given by my mother. Others are from a family history. I hope you enjoy this story. September 12, 1998 8:23 am The Wall Walter Skinner stood silently beside his car, debating whether or not he should go or stay. Had it really been thirty years? God, it seemed like just yesterday. He remembered the day clearly. Just another day in Vietnam, fighting because they were told to. The unit had been burning villages. A pretty easy task, but then it got out of hand. Bobby got hurt. They were all worried about him. Then they got the news. Bobby was dead. It was his fault. He walked to the wall, careful not to disturb the other people already gathered there, many of them in fatigues. Some were weeping openly as they touched names on the wall. There were flowers and other presents at the base of the wall. He hadn't brought anything. He quickly located Bobby's name. Robert Wayne Dunn. He could still picture him. Tall and lanky, brown eyes, a smile despite the tragedy he had suffered. Everybody knew about it. Bobby didn't have to be there. He was there because he wanted to be there. He was exempt from the draft because he was an orphan. Not only that, he had no family. They had all died when he was 15. He didn't like to talk about it. Skinner could barely contain his tears as he remembered back to that night Bobby told him what happened. Bobby's family lived in South Texas, near the Gulf. He was the oldest of five children. His baby sister was only four. He still carried her picture. There was a hurricane, Hurricane Carla. It was a bad storm. They had no place to go, travel was too risky. His mom had him climb up on the roof, but the others never made it. The water was too high. He heard his mother calling to him all night, but he couldn't save her. He saw his little sister. He reached out to grab her hand to pull her to safety, but she was swept away into the raging current. "Don't call me a hero," Bobby had said. "I'm not a hero because I couldn't save my baby sister." Maybe that's why Bobby joined the Marines, Skinner thought. It was a way of fighting his demons, a way to forget he had failed when he was needed most. He knew what that was like. He had failed Bobby. It seemed like such an easy task, burning an abandoned village. A routine mission. But the fire got out of control. He could still see Bobby screaming as the flames enveloped him. He stood frozen, unable to even call for help. Bobby was shipped back to the states with third degree burns over 60 percent of his body. Then he developed a bleeding ulcer and bled to death because the doctors couldn't do a transfusion. Skinner blamed himself. If he had been able to help Bobby then the burns wouldn't have been so bad. The doctors could have done more for him. He had felt that way until his own near death experience. He had seen Bobby during that time. He was happy and healthy. "Don't worry," Bobby had told him. "I'm okay. It wasn't your fault. It was my time. I'm with my family again." Skinner felt better after that. At the base of the wall he noticed a piece of paper with Bobby's name on it. Looking around first to see if anyone was watching, he bent down and picked up the paper. He unfolded it and read it. "Dear Robert Wayne, "You died before I was ever born, but I miss you. You were my mother's cousin. She told me about you some. I think she admired you for going to war when you didn't have to. That was a brave thing you did. "It must have been rough for you being over there so far away. I'm sure you missed your friends. But you did what you had to do. You're not just a name on a wall to me." Silently, Skinner folded the piece of paper and laid it back down. The last line had a profound impact on him. None of these men were just a name on wall. They all had families who mourned them, friends who missed them. They each had a story to tell. Hopefully people would listen. The End