*author's note* This fic is based in information I found at the CIA's official website, and is dedicated to the one and only Spy Daddy, Jack Bristow. He will live forever in our hearts.
A STAR WITH NO NAME
At Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters in Langley, Virginia, on the north wall of the Original Headquarters Building lobby, to the right as you enter, is a Memorial Wall. It was commissioned in May 1973 by the Central Intelligence Agency Fine Arts Commission and sculpted by Harold Vogel in July 1974. It is inscribed simply, “IN HONOR OF THOSE MEMBERS OF THE CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY WHO GAVE THEIR LIVES IN THE SERVICE OF THEIR COUNTRY.” Below that, eighty-three stars, one for each CIA officer who has died in line of duty since 1951, when the Office of Strategic Services became known as the Central Intelligence Agency. The American and Central Intelligence Agency flags flank the wall. Below the wall on a marble shelf sits the Book of Honor. It is in a glass case and hand bound in black Moroccan goatskin leather. For each agent who has a star on the wall, there is a corresponding gold star in the book. For the forty-eight agents whose identities can be revealed, their names are inscribed in calligraphy on the handmade pages of the book beside their stars. For the other thirty-five, whose identities must remain secret even in death, there is only a star.
When a new star is added to the wall, a stone carver who studied with Harold Vogel first traces the new star on the wall using a Mylar template. Each star measures 2 ¼ inches wide, 2 ¼ inches tall, and ½ inch deep. All are six inches apart on each side. Using a pneumatic hammer and chisel, the carver etches the star into the wall. He then cleans the dust from the star and sprays it with a shadow-gray lithichrome paint, the same color as the stone of the wall. The star is then ready to be officially unveiled at the CIA’s next annual Memorial Ceremony, held each May 27.
Today, another star joins the others on the wall, and another gold star placed in the Book of Honor. But this agent’s name will not be added, for the existence of the division he worked for is still a secret.
Because his name cannot be revealed, his daughter and her husband, both agents themselves, attend the ceremony anonymously. In a private ceremony later, she is given the two medals her father was awarded posthumously: The Intelligence Star, awarded for “a voluntary act or acts under hazardous conditions,” or “for outstanding achievements or services rendered with distinction;” and the Exceptional Service Medallion, awarded for “injury or death resulting from service in an area of hazard.”
She traces the newly carved star on the wall with her finger. This is all that remains of him. His body could not be retrieved, so there is no grave, no other marker to note his passing. His three-month-old granddaughter, and later his grandson, who will bear his name, will be told that he was an investment banker who died in a plane crash over the Atlantic. The medals will be hidden away, for there is no way to explain them to others. His colleagues all tell her that his sacrifice was not in vain, that his actions were instrumental in destroying an organization whose agenda posed a threat to the entire world.
This is true, she knows; but she wishes he could have found another way.
THE END
A STAR WITH NO NAME
At Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters in Langley, Virginia, on the north wall of the Original Headquarters Building lobby, to the right as you enter, is a Memorial Wall. It was commissioned in May 1973 by the Central Intelligence Agency Fine Arts Commission and sculpted by Harold Vogel in July 1974. It is inscribed simply, “IN HONOR OF THOSE MEMBERS OF THE CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY WHO GAVE THEIR LIVES IN THE SERVICE OF THEIR COUNTRY.” Below that, eighty-three stars, one for each CIA officer who has died in line of duty since 1951, when the Office of Strategic Services became known as the Central Intelligence Agency. The American and Central Intelligence Agency flags flank the wall. Below the wall on a marble shelf sits the Book of Honor. It is in a glass case and hand bound in black Moroccan goatskin leather. For each agent who has a star on the wall, there is a corresponding gold star in the book. For the forty-eight agents whose identities can be revealed, their names are inscribed in calligraphy on the handmade pages of the book beside their stars. For the other thirty-five, whose identities must remain secret even in death, there is only a star.
When a new star is added to the wall, a stone carver who studied with Harold Vogel first traces the new star on the wall using a Mylar template. Each star measures 2 ¼ inches wide, 2 ¼ inches tall, and ½ inch deep. All are six inches apart on each side. Using a pneumatic hammer and chisel, the carver etches the star into the wall. He then cleans the dust from the star and sprays it with a shadow-gray lithichrome paint, the same color as the stone of the wall. The star is then ready to be officially unveiled at the CIA’s next annual Memorial Ceremony, held each May 27.
Today, another star joins the others on the wall, and another gold star placed in the Book of Honor. But this agent’s name will not be added, for the existence of the division he worked for is still a secret.
Because his name cannot be revealed, his daughter and her husband, both agents themselves, attend the ceremony anonymously. In a private ceremony later, she is given the two medals her father was awarded posthumously: The Intelligence Star, awarded for “a voluntary act or acts under hazardous conditions,” or “for outstanding achievements or services rendered with distinction;” and the Exceptional Service Medallion, awarded for “injury or death resulting from service in an area of hazard.”
She traces the newly carved star on the wall with her finger. This is all that remains of him. His body could not be retrieved, so there is no grave, no other marker to note his passing. His three-month-old granddaughter, and later his grandson, who will bear his name, will be told that he was an investment banker who died in a plane crash over the Atlantic. The medals will be hidden away, for there is no way to explain them to others. His colleagues all tell her that his sacrifice was not in vain, that his actions were instrumental in destroying an organization whose agenda posed a threat to the entire world.
This is true, she knows; but she wishes he could have found another way.
THE END
