Jonah brightened when he answered. “Much better. It’s like having the old Corey back.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Kellan meant that. He’d liked Corporal Yarwood when he’d met him in Iraq, only Corey had been a private back then. When all the facts had been compiled regarding the events surrounding Kellan’s abduction, both he and Jonah had been surprised to learn just how heroic Corey had been, despite a concussion. “You’ve shown impressive leadership by helping him overcome his difficulties.”
“I don’t know how true that is,” Jonah said dubiously.
“Leadership is about more than issuing orders and administering discipline,” Kellan reminded him. “Did he ever confide in you?”
Jonah sighed heavily. “It’s the age old story of being dumped by a Suzy-Rottencrotch.”
There was something in Jonah’s tone that told Kellan there was more to the story. “And?”
“Corey has rebounded in the arms of strange men,” Jonah replied, completely expressionless.
Kellan narrowed his eyes as he regarded Jonah. He realized he wasn’t surprised. “Is he in denial?”
“Not at all,” Jonah said with a shake of his head. “But his family is, and I think drinking dulls the pain of their disapproval.”
“Poor kid,” Kellan sighed.
“He’s going to be okay, I think,” Jonah replied. “It didn’t get in the way of his making corporal, and it seems the promotion woke him up to reality. He’s been doing really well lately.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” A sense of peace settled over Kellan that he hadn’t felt since before he’d met Jonah for the first time.
Jonah cleaned up the remnants of their meal and brought Kellan another beer. He sank down into his chair with a deep sigh.
“They’re sending a car for me in the morning,” Kellan blurted, unable to find a way to ease into the topic.
Jonah nodded but said nothing.
“You’re welcome to ride with me, or drive yourself,” he said, pressing for an answer. “I don’t know how open you want to be about us.”
“You know I hate hiding,” Jonah said impatiently. “I like my privacy; I don’t ever flaunt anything about my personal life. But it feels wrong to pretend I’m something I’m not. It’s inconvenient to avoid doing something I wouldn’t think twice about if I was straight.”
“You know how I feel about it,” Kellan replied. “But I’m not likely to be beaten, killed, or discharged if someone connects the dots.”
“Realistically, neither am I,” Jonah mused.
Kellan glanced at Jonah in surprise. He suspected Jonah was right, and was impressed that he’d come to that conclusion as well. “With a two-front war and all the time and money they have invested in you, they’re probably more than willing to look the other way as long as you’re not obvious.”
“They’re already gearing up to implement the repeal,” said Jonah. “It’s going to happen, it’s just a matter of when.”
Kellan was surprised by Jonah’s confidence and candor. Scuttlebutt on the Hill was that DADT was terminal. That belief had made its way to the troop level, too. That made Kellan happy on both a professional and a personal level.
“So, are you catching a ride with me tomorrow?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind,” Jonah said quietly, looking at Kellan sidelong.
Kellan held out his hand which Jonah immediately clasped in his own. “I would very much enjoy it.”
CHAPTER TWO
It was a long fucking drive from Santa Barbara to the campus of UCLA. Despite the ample leg room and comfortable car, Kellan was stiff as he stepped out of the back seat and stretched. He looked over the roof of the limo and realized it had to be worse for Jonah, since he was several inches taller than Kellan.
Jonah walked in a circle, squaring away his uniform, his dress shoes clicking sharply on the pavement. He wore his olive uniform trousers and short sleeved khaki shirt, resplendent with his service and combat ribbons and medals. He was so fucking handsome, and so unaware of that fact, it made Kellan’s heart swell.
“You must be Gunnery Sergeant Carver,” said a voice behind Kellan. “So that means you must be Mr. Reynolds?”
“Right on both counts,” Kellan said with a smile.
“I’m Doctor Stephen Holland,” the man said in greeting. “It’s an honor to have the two of you at the symposium.”
Jonah and Kellan both shook hands with the older, distinguished looking man wearing a suit.
This was not Kellan’s and Jonah’s first joint speaking engagement, and it didn’t appear as though it would be their last. The ramifications of the events of that week in Iraq were still being felt around the country. His and Jonah’s Senate testimony had riveted the nation, much to Jonah’s chagrin.
“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Kellan replied.
“It’s an honor, Doctor,” Jonah said.
Inside the large lecture hall, Doctor Holland showed them to a row of seats reserved for the various speakers and their guests. He took the podium, asked for the house lights to be dimmed, and welcomed the attendees to the UCLA Symposium on Military Infrastructure and Corruption. In addition to Holland’s Doctoral candidates, the attendees included both military and civilians who worked in the defense industry. There were many uniforms mixed in with the civvies.
The spotlight over the podium dimmed and a video presentation began on the oversized screen on the wall. It was a series of clips from the Senate hearings into the scandal that had all come to a head in Diyala Province, Iraq. The clips included sound bites of both Kellan’s and Jonah’s prepared statements, as well as their answers to questions asked by the committee members.
“Our first speaker is a graduate of Princeton University,” Holland said when the podium spotlight came up again. “He joined the Marine Corps upon his graduation, successfully completing Officer Candidate School and accepting his commission as a Second Lieutenant. After serving in both Iraq and Afghanistan and obtaining the rank of captain, he was honorably discharged, at which time he obtained a double Master’s degree from Harvard University, in Business and Political Science. When his mentor, Phil Bowen, left the consulting firm he’d founded, to become a Deputy Secretary of Defense, our guest was appointed CEO of Keystone Consulting. He’s agreed to speak to us today about the corruption he helped uncover that led to the indictment of the three largest private security contractors. Please welcome, Mr. Kellan Reynolds.”
Kellan was well practiced in providing the highlights of the events that had led to him accompanying an FBI team to Diyala Province in Iraq to investigate the murders of U.S. citizens, including many military personnel. He used his PowerPoint presentation to illustrate the trail of bribery and collusion that had led to more murders and eventually, to prosecutions. Afterward, he took questions from the audience.
The questions he was asked tended to be the same each time he spoke, and centered on information that wasn’t released to the press or had been redacted from the official documents released to the public.
The questions gradually became more general, reflecting Kellan’s acknowledged expertise in national security and the military’s role in it.
A young man in civilian attire, but sporting an obviously military haircut, stood up. “Mr. Reynolds, to what do you attribute the significant reduction in the number of medals that have been awarded to U.S. service members in the last eight years, in contrast to the numbers awarded during previous wars?”
Kellan frowned. That was not a question he’d ever been asked before. He was sure the young man had his own agenda, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a valid point to make. “I wasn’t aware there was a significant reduction in the number of medals being awarded. What’s your source?”
“The U.S. Department of Defense,” the young man replied. “It’s a matter of public record.”
Kellan knew that to be true. “I admit, I’ve never been asked this question before so I don’t have the information I need to formulate an answer,” he admitted. “You’ve peaked my interest though, and I’m going to look into it if for no other reason than to assuage my own curiosity.”
“As a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan, doesn’t the possibility that this might be true, bother you?” the man pressed.
Kellan carefully considered the question and his answer. “Not necessarily. The nature of modern warfare has changed dramatically. There is much less face-to-face combat and much more automation.”
“What if that same technology is being used to change the standards used to award the medals?” the man asked.
“I need more information before I can address that.” Kellan stood his ground. He was curious, though. He just couldn’t afford to get bogged down in this argument right now.
Kellan moved the discussion forward, taking other questions. He forgot about the young man until it was Jonah’s turn to speak.
They were often asked to speak at the same events since their experiences were two sides of the same coin. Kellan was a policy expert with access to the President and the Departments of Defense and State. Jonah saw and felt the practical impact of events and decisions at the troop level. It was Kellan’s involvement in an investigation that had gotten him abducted, but it was Jonah who had rescued him.
“Gunnery Sergeant Carver, are you at all bothered by the significant reduction in the number of medals that have been awarded to U.S. service members in the last eight years, in contrast to the numbers awarded during previous wars?”
Kellan recognized the voice of the young man who had asked him a similar question earlier. He turned in his seat to look at the man as he faced down Jonah across the lecture hall.
“That question puts me in an awkward position and makes it impossible for me to answer,” Jonah said, his features sharp and his gaze direct. “As a recipient of the Navy Cross for my actions surrounding Mr. Reynold’s abduction, I run the risk of calling into question the validity of my own award, as well as many other deserving sailors and Marines. Do I believe more service personnel should receive medals? Absolutely. Do I question the process by which the awards are determined? That’s above my pay grade, and that’s the last I’m going to comment on the subject.”
Kellan’s eyebrows rose at both Jonah’s eloquence, and at the blatantly confrontational way he dealt with the young man. As always, Kellan was impressed and more than a little aroused.
That evening, Kellan collapsed into the back seat of the limousine. Jonah did the same, tossing his barracks cover onto the leather seat across from them. Kellan opened a small bottle of diet soda. “Have we ever had limo sex?” he asked.
“No,” Jonah answered tiredly, “and we’re not going to now.”
Kellan looked over at him in surprise. Jonah was usually up for anything. “We’re not?”
Gesturing a hand the length of his own body, Jonah replied, “Uniform.”
“How could I have forgotten?” Kellan asked seriously. He’d once been subject to the same grooming standard. He knew Jonah took the rules of wearing a Marine Corps uniform seriously. It was an honor Jonah didn’t fuck with.
“We’ll have to rent our own limo soon so I can wear civvies,” Jonah said with a grin. “Then you can have your limo sex.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Kellan said chuckling. He remembered a time just a few years prior when he’d said those words to Jonah under much more serious circumstances.
“Can you at least wait until we get back to the hotel?” Jonah asked.
Kellan sighed dramatically. “If I must.”
There was nothing that said he couldn’t make the ride back with his head on Jonah’s shoulder, so he did.
CHAPTER THREE
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and Kellan was spending it at home, with Jonah. Kellan stretched out in his oversized chair, legs propped on the matching ottoman. His laptop sat open on top of his thighs as he read through a folder of hard copy reports.
Jonah slid down the arm of the chair until he was sitting next to Kellan, pressed up against the length of his side.
“Something really doesn’t seem right here,” Kellan said, not looking away from the papers in his hand.
“Is that the information on the medals awarded to OIF and OEF veterans?” Jonah asked, squinting to read.
Kellan sighed heavily and gave a slow shake of his head. He’d been slowly compiling documents over the last four months. “Yeah. Just looking at Medals of Honor and nothing else, and making a comparison to the Vietnam War, at least 270 more medals should have been awarded by now, given the length of the two current conflicts.”
Jonah tensed beside him. “Is it possibly because the number of troops that have actually been deployed is lower?” he finally asked. “Technology has come a long way. We’re doing a lot more with fewer personnel.”
Kellan had already considered that. “If you calculate the MOHs awarded in both World Wars, Korea, and Vietnam, it comes out to be between twenty-three and twenty-nine medals for every one million troops.”
“I take it it’s lower for Iraq and Afghanistan?” Jonah asked dubiously.
“It’s one,” Kellan replied incredulously. “It’s one Medal of Honor awarded for every one million troops deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan in almost nine years of war.”
They sat in tense silence for several long moments. “Okay,” Jonah finally said, “you said yourself that we’re utilizing more
standoff
weapons, like drones and attack aircraft. Maybe there are fewer opportunities for individual valor?”
“That’s what this is.” Kellan indicated the thick folder of hard copy reports. “I pulled a large number of random citations for the MOH from all the twentieth-century wars and conflicts, as well as the citations for Iraq and Afghanistan Distinguished Service Crosses, Navy Crosses, Air Force Crosses and even the Silver Star. These lesser citations read like Medal of Honor citations awarded in World War Two or Vietnam.”
“So, what’s your preliminary theory?” asked Jonah.
Kellan thumbed through the papers, searching for a specific Silver Star citation. “That the military command structure, made up of old, white men who served in Korea and Vietnam, is holding an all-volunteer military that is as racially diverse as it’s ever been, that’s moving more women than ever to the forward lines, and is about to allow homosexuals to serve openly, to a standard that’s nearly impossible to achieve.”