WEBSTER SPRINGS, W.Va. — In West Virginia, many of the thousands of bridges spanning mountain valleys and gorges are named for local veterans and on Main Streets in small towns, banners feature hometown soldiers, some of whom fought and died in past conflicts.
It's a state with one of the country's highest per-capita populations of veterans. Service in the military — including the various branches of the National Guard — has long been seen not just as a patriotic duty, but as an economic lifeline, particularly in some of the poorer parts of the state.
The death of Army Specialist Sarah Beckstrom in a Washington, D.C., shooting and the wounding of another National Guard soldier — Air Force Staff Sgt. Andrew Wolfe, have brought that reality home once more in their hometowns and across the state.
The two were attacked while patrolling near the White House as part of President Trump's National Guard deployments to American cities. Trump has said the deployments are necessary to fight crime, but Democratic leaders and federal judges have questioned their legality. In deep red West Virginia too, there appears to be a growing chorus questioning the rationale for sending troops to D.C.
Before moving to nearby Summersville after high school, Beckstrom, 20, grew up in Webster Springs, with its population of just 800 tucked amid mountains and spruce forests. Kenny Kidd has been driving a school bus in the town for years. He remembers all the children and Sarah he says, "was a great kid."
"She always had a smile on her face. Always willing to help. And she always liked to give me a rough time," he says laughing.
In this part of the state, job prospects for someone graduating high school are pretty sparse.
"Coal mining is on its way out," Kidd says. "Other than that, it's… work at a grocery store or a hardware store. And there's just not much here."
Financially, he says, the Guard is a good deal for young adults. The bonuses can help put them through college, the pay from monthly drills and annual training are much-needed money in their pockets. And then there's the extra pay from deployments, like the one to D.C., where the West Virginia Guard has more soldiers per capita than any other state.
At a prayer vigil for Wolfe in his hometown of Martinsburg, Air Force Staff Sergeant Jason Mitchell says it was the need to pay off college debt that brought him to the National Guard. Mitchell, who is in the same unit as Wolfe — the 167th Airlift Wing — has served 13 years, but didn't go to D.C. because he was already deployed in the Middle East as part of a regular rotation. He plans to stay for another seven years to get full retirement benefits, including a pension and veteran healthcare.
"My stepdaughter actually just joined and she graduated basic [training] while I was deployed," he says. "She was kind of in the same boat where she was going to college and was looking for… an opportunity."
At Martinsburg High School, guidance counselor Charity Powers advises seniors. It's not just one thing that motivates those who choose the Guard, she says. Some want money for college, some want to travel and others see it as a patriotic duty to follow in the footsteps of relatives who've served.
"I think in this area, especially for kids who are kind of disadvantaged, which we have a lot of those students, it's a really good opportunity for them."
Despite the state's enthusiasm for the military and the voluntary nature of the D.C. deployment, Republican Gov. Patrick Morrisey has found himself on the defensive about it. Amid reports that troops are being employed in tasks such as trash pickup and landscaping instead of security, as the White House has suggested, West Virginia Democratic lawmakers have sharply criticized Morrisey for signing off on it. Several state newspapers have echoed that sentiment on their opinion pages.
Mike Pushkin, a West Virginia House of Delegates member and chairman of the state's Democratic Party says Beckstrom and Wolfe "would not be there had it not been for the president calling in the National Guard in this strange form of political theater and it unfortunately put them in harm's way."
In a statement to NPR, Gov. Morrisey said: "The State of West Virginia is unwavering in its support for our National Guard. Since our founding, our state has a proud history of military service, answering the call for missions across the globe. The mission in D.C. is a continuation of this legacy of service — and we fully back the Guard members who willingly stepped up to clean up crime in our nation's capital."
But in a state that went heavily for Trump in 2016, 2020 and 2024, it's not difficult to find people who wonder aloud why sending the West Virginia National Guard to Washington makes any sense.
Roseanna Groves, who lives in Webster Springs and is related by marriage to Beckstrom was outraged that the man charged in the attack — an Afghan national who worked with the CIA — had been let into the U.S. at all. She blamed former President Biden, although he was let in under Trump's administration.
"I think something should be done" about immigrants like him, she says. But she doesn't understand the decision by Trump and Morrisey to send that Guard to Washington. "I feel it was crazy, I really do," she says.
It's a sentiment shared by Kidd, the school bus driver. He's heard the reports that Beckstrom, Wolfe and others were busy in cleanup instead of "doing their jobs." It just isn't worth it, he says.
As for the deployment, "I think it's turned into a lot more political than anything else," he says.
Referring to those banners featuring local heroes in towns across West Virginia, "Sarah's picture … it'll be next," he says. "But she'll be missed."
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