#i may eventually rewrite night letter to better do him justice or just straight up give him his own story i dunno
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Falloutober Day Five
This Thing Called Defeat
Time for some oc lore!! This is the story of Frankie's ousting from the Army.
For context, an Undesirable Discharge, or "blue discharge", is one that is "neither honorable nor dishonorable". It was issued to gay soldiers (and disproportionately to Black soldiers). Recipients were highly discriminated against in civilian life and often did not receive any VA benefits after their service. The use of blue discharges was only discontinued in 1974, a year after homosexuality was removed from the APAs list of mental illnesses.
Who doesn't like a little bit of depressing history with their ficlets, eh?
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, homophobia, alcoholism
Captain Donahue was poised in wait, attentively seeking the precise moment that Frankie's hand crossed the final signature line. In actuality, he'd started speaking before Frankie had even dotted the 'i' in his first name.
"Franklin Lee Barr, you are hereby dismissed from your service in the United States Army. You will be returned to base as soon as you've finished up here and monitored under close supervision. Tomorrow, a bus will be provided to shuttle you to the nearest train station at oh seven hundred hours for your final departure. Do you have any questions for me?"
Frankie shook his head stiffly.
"No, sir."
He had been sent back to base less than a week prior. When he'd been subsequently shipped to Fort Hagen that morning, he wasn't sure what to expect.
Three hours of waiting later and he'd finally been summoned to meet with the Captain of his company in the office of Lieutenant Colonel Jamieson. It had been less than a half hour since he'd first entered that room.
Everything was all done in secrecy, papers signed hastily away from prying eyes. Through his numbness, he realized he hadn't even been told the nature of his discharge. He continued signing the papers anyway, having a gut feeling that he knew damn well what it was all about.
Lieutenant Colonel Jamieson asked Frankie to stay behind for a minute. They waited for Donahue to take his leave with the Army's copies of the discharge paperwork. Once the door had shut behind the Captain, Jamieson turned his attention to Frankie.
"I'm terribly sorry for what happened down in Myrtle Beach. I understand that you and Private Malcolm Di Marino had a close bond… Cousins, was it?"
Frankie felt his chest tighten.
They gotta know I'm a queer then... I ain't gonna see a lick of money from these sonsuvbitches.
"Yes, sir."
Jamieson hummed and finally looked away from him, adjusting some files on the desk. Frankie saw his name on a few of the tabs. He presumed his entire life, both before and during his time in the military, was contained within the various folders and envelopes.
Jamieson was always said to be incredibly thorough, though Frankie hadn't much experience with the man. He'd turned out to be surprisingly soft-spoken when compared to many of the NCOs below him who executed his orders.
"I'm sure you're aware of all the nasty talk that began shortly after his passing."
"I am, sir," Frankie replied dutifully, though through gritted teeth.
"Then I'm sure you understand the reasons people were calling for your discharge," Jamieson stated, glancing back up at Frankie expectantly.
"Of course, sir."
"So you don't deny what's been said about your character?"
Frankie met his gaze. He didn't look angry. If anything, he almost had a hint of curiosity about him, as if he really wanted to understand whether there was a lick of truth to any of it.
"I don't."
The Lieutenant Colonel clicked his tongue and shook his head, becoming visibly disappointed.
"I thought as much. In any case, I read reports of your performance after the unfortunate loss of life that evening…"
"What did the reports say, sir?"
"They said you were instrumental in the rescue efforts of at least two dozen allied soldiers who found themselves pinned down by similar bombardments in and around that area."
Frankie frowned a little, wracking his brain. He'd mostly blocked out whatever happened after Malcolm had been killed. Now it felt as if it were all nothing more than an indiscernible dream at best.
"I'd be lyin' if I said I remember clear enough to confirm those reports you're talkin' 'bout, sir."
"Maybe this will jog your memory."
Jamieson lifted the topmost envelope from his pile and held it out. Frankie took it and opened the clasp, flicking it open to shake the paperwork free.
On the front was a mission brief. It was the very one that had been sent out to advise all other companies to evacuate the areas they tenuously occupied on the easternmost side of South Carolina. More Chinese soldiers were expected to arrive within the coming weeks of the first attacks to completely take those regions.
Through this, it was brought to light just how underprepared they had been to take on the task of holding down such large swathes of the seaboard. It didn't help that most of the military zone retention efforts were being focused around the upper east coast, closer to D.C.
Images entered Frankie's consciousness that he thought for sure he'd drunk out of his system. The last of the rescue missions they undertook was fourteen miles south of their initial position.
There wasn't enough liquor in the world to free him from images of the bloated bodies of both Chinese and American soldiers as they were taken by the tides. The sands were smeared with a red that seeped into the waters, attracting schools of fish to nibble the rotting flesh from their bones.
The smell was another story entirely, one that carried on the breeze and told anyone within a mile radius of the brutal massacre that took place there. They'd been too late to save anyone.
Frankie never slept the same after that.
He shook his head to collect himself, lips pursed as he skimmed the rest of the briefing. His fingers itched for the flask he'd carefully stowed within his jacket's inner pocket. Frankie huffed through his nose in annoyance at the whole situation and at everything that had unfolded in the days after they were attacked.
"I remember now. They wanted us to leave those men behind. I said I wasn't gonna do that."
"You told Staff Sergeant Carson that he 'wasn't fit to lead a children's choir, let alone this fucking squad' and told him to 'shove that Yankee dick of his up his own ass'... He wasn't pleased, and he certainly made sure I was aware of it."
"'Course he wasn't pleased. He's a goddamn coward who didn't take kindly to bein' reminded of that fact."
Lieutenant Colonel Jamieson didn't say a word as he held his hand out for the file. Frankie shoved the papers back in carelessly and passed it off to him.
"We lived in bizarre times," he said slowly, carefully replacing the file to its proper place in the stack. "I never thought I'd see the day when a soldier is punished for taking such courageous action in spite of the great risk to his own life."
"Dunno why you're actin' surprised. This whole world's goin' to shit."
Jamieson gave an ambivalent shrug as if he wanted to agree, but was honor-bound not to speak ill of current operations.
"Keep your chin up, Mister Barr. You can sleep well knowing you did the right thing, whether the institutions that fund the United States Army want to acknowledge that or not."
"Thank you, sir."
The Lieutenant Colonel saluted him, actually fucking saluted him, and Frankie returned it, though mostly out of shock.
It'd be the last time he'd raise an arm in respect of one of these bastards.
His own paperwork tucked under his arm, Frankie pushed through the door and into the brightly lit hallway. Halfway down the hall, Frankie caved to his curiosity.
The way Jamieson spoke so highly of him had gotten his hopes up. He sifted through the papers he held until he found the letter he'd been looking for.
UNDESIRABLE DISCHARGE
from the Armed Forces of the United States of America
This is to certify that
Private Franklin Lee Barr 51794287
was discharged from the United States Army on the 14th day of September 2075 as UNDESIRABLE.
#someone give this man some therapy and tell him he did his best ffs!!!!#i once again feel as though frankie's main fic provides little context for his character#and i'm making up for that by utilizing these prompts as a way to flesh him out#i may eventually rewrite night letter to better do him justice or just straight up give him his own story i dunno#all i know is i have all these little pieces of him collected that i feel paint a much broader picture#the scope of which isn't seen in Night Letter#“justice for my boy!” i shout from the rooftops as i fix my own misdeeds from the fanfic i've already begun publishing#regg writes#oc: frankie#ficlet time
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