preparedness

Eddie’s voice rings out clearly even over the blaring alarms and shouting men as they get into their gear and rush to the trucks. “Go, go, go!”

Walker gets to his seat and starts his truck first. His window is down and when Chief Haldane yells, “Walker!” Walker shoots his arm out the window, hand in a tight fist, fingers holding down the thick hem of the rubber fireman’s coat to his palm.

Andy’s own hands are full, but Walker knows this and keeps his arm stock still as his chief bites down on his lower arm—doing his best to bruise his man down to the bone as if frustrated that he can’t draw blood.

Walker’s only reaction is a pained shout. This is part of their routine.

Andy wipes saliva off his mouth as he runs off to his own driver’s seat, and within the next few seconds, both firetrucks are ready and on their way.

Andy feels the ache in his jaw as the Q-siren whines and the lights flash. Walker’s firetruck is just as noisy, but still, Andy lays on the horn intermittently because, the fact is, no one expects a firetruck coming at them full-speed. Accidentally killing someone while trying to save another is something Andy would like to avoid.

There is a thin line between keeping people safe and killing them and that line can be crossed at the most unexpected times.

*****

Andy rests the axe he’s holding against the back of a firetruck and takes a few deep breaths. He must be dreaming on Peleliu… the last thing he remembers is giving Shelton orders—not digging in for a nap.

Nevertheless, Andy takes in the dreamscape: the two fire trucks in a high-ceiling garage with a floor so recently cleaned it was still wet in places, and an abundance of bright sunlight streaming in from the open garage doors.

He expects to wake up to Eddie’s voice but, when Andy hears that calm voice calling, Eddie is calling over a man named Sigsbee. Andy doesn’t think they notice him as they both plop down on upturned buckets. “Sigsbee” shirtless—bare chest adorned with only a cloth bandage and a pair of suspenders. His muscles ripple athletically as he tugs down one strap so Eddie can help him unravel the cloth strip. Andy loses a moment to wonder if Eddie is hurt anywhere as well, and when he brings his mind back from where it had drifted, Eddie has nearly finished changing the bandage. Him and Sigsbee are deep into a conversation.

“The guys were telling me this started during the war?” Sigsbee asks.

“He didn’t do it that often back then. We all adjusted pretty quickly.”

“You guys never talk about it… I won’t ask!” Sigsbee says quickly after Eddie tugs at the cloth strip to admonish him.

Andy can hear the smile in Eddie's voice when he speaks. “The Chief thought it was awfully brave of you to give that lady your coat.”

“I knew I was getting bit when I did it.” Sigsbee’s shoulders straighten, and the bandage shifts—meaning Eddie places his palm on his back and tells him to hold still. “Sorry, Jones. But I’m proud he took a piece of me. You know he hadn’t bitten me once yet?”

“Well, you’re young and stupid.”

“I know…” Sigsbee sighs and, even from his place on the other side of the garage, Andy can tell the young man is sulking.

It’s a gentle scene; one Eddie and the other man seem accustomed to.

“Eddie,” Andy calls out from the dark. “Talk to me over here when you’re done.”

Eddie looks up and nods. He puts the final touches on securing the bandage and comes over—leaving Sigsbee with a list of tasks that won’t strain his shoulder and a demand to be gentle with himself. Andy is at once struck by how much older he is, and how broad his silhouette can be. He must be dreaming. Eddie’s undershirt is in great condition, as are the muscles underneath, and only his exposed arms showing off healed burns and old scars speak to the danger he has experienced.

Andy looks around the firehouse for anyone other than the young fireman, Sigsbee, Eddie had been talking to, but sees no one. Andy has never known Hillbilly as anything other than tall and slim, but apparently his subconscious has led him to dream of Eddie as well-fed and muscular. Other men are dreaming of home-cooked meals but Andy dreams of his Eddie as a firefighter.

Andy continues to scan the surroundings while his hands move to rest tenderly on Eddie’s neck until he is absolutely sure, even if this is a dream, that no one is around. He doesn’t want the rare, nice dream to go sideways. He has his face less than an inch from Eddie’s when he finally stops searching for someone who might see and closes his eyes for a kiss. Eddie melts into him with a smile and he holds Andy with reckless familiarity.

Without breaking the kiss, Eddie murmurs, “Did you lose your memory?”

*****

Andy tastes blood in his teeth. His hand on a bandage wrapped around Eddie’s arm. He presses down and the spot of blood grows larger. “Eddie?”

“Did you forget again?”

Andy looks around the room in which they’re sitting, lost. Aside from a row of cots, it’s empty and offers almost no clues. “This happens often? Seems like the war is over,” Andy notices. He turns back to Eddie. “So, how did you manage to get hurt?”

Eddie looks a little flushed. A line of sweat is still damp down the side of his face and his lower lip shows dents of his teeth. “You don’t usually forget so soon after getting your teeth into someone—aside from the first time.” He licks his lips as if nervous. “It’s only been a minute.”

Andy huffs, trying to reconcile his last memories with the state him and Eddie are in now. “The last thing I remember is ordering Shelton to - “ Andy had reached out, grabbed Snafu’s arm, much like he’s doing now to Eddie. To pull him back? But he had to send him out—into danger. “I remember pulling him back.” Andy chuckles wryly. “I just wanted to keep him safe for a moment, if possible.”

“You bit Corporal Shelton. You took a chunk out of his shoulder and he got taken off the line due to his infection.”

“I did?” Andy swallows, and tastes the blood in his mouth. He tastes it with his tongue running over his teeth and Eddie bites his lip again when Andy, by accident, pushes his thumb into the wound on his arm. “Jesus. And I’ve done it again? Eddie,” he looks around again at the room decorated only with military neatness and asks quietly, “did they figure out what’s wrong with me?”

“No,” Eddie tells him emphatically. “Not one of our boys would let that happen.” Eddie leans back. “You are a firefighter, as am I.” He smiles fondly at Andy’s confused delight. “You’re our Chief. You got me and five boys. Larochelle, Card, Walker, Johnson, and Sigsbee you can pick out later with the shoulder bandage. We have got a lot of volunteers in and out, too, but you’ve never chomped down on any of them. Just me and the boys.”

“I’m a firefighter?” Andy had wondered if he would ever feel like a hero for his actions in the Pacific. Lines had been crossed and now Eddie was telling him he was a firefighter. In theory, a hero. Someone who does good works among civilized men. Someone people could look up to with no complications. But, when Andy looks at the circle of blood seeping from Eddie’s bandage and the feeling in his stomach of having something to digest, he knows he’s crossed a line on home soil as well. “A hero?” Andy asks. He’s not looking for much of an answer. He actively considers men who do worse to their fellow man his brothers—although, if the wrinkles on Eddie’s face are real and decades have passed, those men might be dead. “How badly am I hurting them?”

Eddie gives him a look and Andy can read it on his face. There is a practicality here. “You can’t bite through the rubber, sir.”

“…Sigsbee’s shoulder.”

“Yes sir.”

“I must have got him pretty good.”

“Not bad. He can’t complain.”

“Yes he can. This isn’t the marines. I’m not leading these men to their deaths- I’m not. That part of my life is over. That part of your life is over, too.”

Eddie leans back and sighs when he picks up on Andy staring at his bandaged arm. “This part of my life will never be over,” Eddie says,“but, in a moment, you will remember that.”

*****

Larochelle passes the incapacitated fire victim to Andy, who then helps Sigsbee get her on his shoulder in a proper fireman’s carry.

Andy turns back to Larochelle, who mumbles something unintelligible and crashes against the wall. The force knocks the brave man’s helmet off and it rolls past Andy’s feet. Andy grabs for him, but a beam falls, jarred loose by Larochelle falling unconscious.

Haldane shoves his hands under Larochelle’s armpits and drags him forcefully out from under the collapsed beam. Larochelle is still out when Haldane adjusts his hold. He shoves until his arms are wrapped around Larochelle’s chest and pulls until Larochelle’s form is limp against his chest. Haldane drags him out of the burning house, yelling into his ear with every breath he can spare in an attempt to get Larochelle conscious.

They are almost out of the burning house when Larochelle revives and Haldane is able to get him standing, although he still needs to lean heavily on his chief with his arm slung over his shoulder to quickly move to the street and out of immediate harm's way. They pass Eddie, who doesn’t let his concern distract him as he directs the rest of the crew fighting the fire.

Sigsbee has already delivered the person they rescued to the ambulance, he runs over to help Haldane.

“She says no one else is in the house. Is that blood?” Sigsbee asks, pointing at the side of Larochelle’s head.

A disoriented Larochelle touches his ear, looks at the blood on his fingers, and touches his ear again. It can’t be seen with the blood and the dark,

“I did that.” Haldane admits. “You passed out, Larochelle. Do you know why?”

“Just tired.

“You don’t think that was a bad place for a nap?” Sigsbee scoffs, trying to keep the worry from his voice with some teasing.

Larochelle mumbles out his reply after a short pause. “I thought it was alright.”

Andy shoots Sigsbee a look and nods. “I’m sure you did, Larochelle. Let’s get you checked out.”

“It’s not that bad.” Larochelle’s smile is a little dopey.

“Sigsbee, get him checked out. A beam landed on him after he started staggering.”

“But, Chief, I can’t tell them you bit my ear off?”

“If they need to know, you tell them, Larochelle. That’s an order.”

“Yeah, don’t lie, or the Chief will chew your ear off metaphorically next time.”

“Go away, Sigsbee,” Larochelle whines and, with unusual childishness, tries to walk to the ambulance without Sigsbee’s help.

Andy shakes his head at their antics—leaving aside his worry for now at the cause—and seeks out Eddie to update his right-hand man on the situation.

*****

Andy doesn’t know what’s going on at first. He’s in the dark, The kind of darkness that came after the too-bright light of fire. The air smells sour and burnt like a fire that’s gone out, but he can’t detect the stench of death, gunpowder, and excrement that he’s accustomed to smelling with it. Andy turns to look for Eddie, who he worries has disappeared like nearly everything else Andy remembers, but he hears Hillbilly’s quiet voice calling to him from the darkness wearing a long, black rubber coat and holding a fire hose.

“Sir, I gotta talk to you.” Eddie says, wool gloves squelching as he tightens his grip on the hose before passing on the duty of fully extinguishing the fire to another man.

“Of course, Eddie.”

Eddie starts walking away from the wreckage of a home and Haldane walks one step ahead of him, relying on his synchronization with Eddie to tell him when to stop as he still has no idea what he’s doing here. Eddie doesn’t lead from behind for long—just to the rear end of a fire truck.

“Did you lose your memory?” Eddie asks when they turn to face each other. “Congratulations on making it to your fifties.”

It’s a shocking line, but Andy doesn’t dispute it. He might not know where he is, but this place is not a war-zone and, while he feels better than he has in a long time, he can believe his body is older.

“Do I have a wife?” Andy asks.

Eddie nods. Andy looks around more, seeing the civilians watching from a few yards back, hearing the crash of burnt wood fall. A long moment passes where Andy doesn’t want to ask more questions. He exists, now, in this space where his last memories were of sending his men into danger… and he has a wife, and is older.

But firefighters don’t have an easy job and Andy wonders how much longer he can handle the fear and if, as a man twice the age he last remembers being, he has had the chance to sit with that fear. He knows not to dwell on it, but being unfamiliar with his situation, he can’t help but do so now. At least Eddie is with him. After a moment, Andy breaks through his rising panic and the only thing that matters is understanding the situation of the present day. “I’m a firefighter,” Andy breathes.

“Chief.” Hillbilly confirms.

“Always wanted to be a firefighter. Did you always want to be a firefighter?”

“Like most boys, sir.” Eddie calmly lays his hand on Andy’s shoulder.

Andy had been calmed by such an action a few moments—no, a quarter century ago. Now, surrounded by the world he fought for, Eddie comforting him worsens Andy’s panic.

“I shouldn’t lose my memory, Eddie. I want to remember these men. Hillbilly, I need to know-“ He pauses for only a second but Eddie, the right-hand man he is, doesn’t need his captain to say ‘jump’.

“Left to right, sir, should be Larochelle, Walker, Card, Sigsbee. Sigsbee's shoulder is hurt.” Hillbilly doesn’t look behind himself to check the mens’ positions. His eyes stay focused on Haldane as his captain—his fire chief—attaches each new name to an indistinct human form. “It’s Johnson, you and me on the other truck. The fire is out, but you ordered your boys to be sure.”

Andy deduces that Johnson must be the man Hillbilly handed the hose to earlier. “I’ve always wanted to drive a firetruck.”

Eddie smirks. “You’ll get to, sir. These spells of yours don’t last too long.”

Andy scans his men again and picks out the differences between how each uniform is subtly changed by the form underneath—something Andy trains himself to be adept at. “Do I ever get them confused…?” It was a question Andy had always wanted to ask Eddie. Andy never minded when someone didn’t know him, but he valued it when they tried. Knowing the names of the men you went into hell with was as simple a human need as knowing what was in your water, and what you were eating.

Eddie shrugs, but that’s fine. Andy knows he gets them wrong sometimes. “Larochelle, Walker, Card, Sigsbee, Johnson. Eddie.”

“Good memory,” Eddie jokes, and Andy takes the teasing with grace. He gazes into the eyes of his friend. A sudden and awed belief that they had survived the war and, Andy supposes, this fire, consumes him.

The two of them have survived many fires—judging by the lines on Eddie’s face. Coral dust on Peleliu hadn’t ground itself into Eddie’s wrinkles the way the soot has now. Andy had asked him how he was keeping himself so tidy and Eddie said it was because his mamma would be so mad. Were their parents still alive? War had aged Eddie and Andy before time could but, looking at Eddie now, Andy sees that time could still do so much.

“Am I faithful?” He asks.

Eddie doesn’t move his head.

“I am, aren’t I?” Andy feels it to be true when he says it—which hurts his soul. It feels sick to survive without the transgression that would be the kindest to him. Without the touch of a tender man.

He hopes he hasn’t been married long. Maybe he is going to divorce. His job would require long shifts away from home—maybe she thinks he’s cheating and wants to end things. But, Andy can’t imagine himself divorcing. He says it, softer, “I am faithful.”

His eyes drop to Eddie’s lips and, in the next moment, his wistfulness gives way to memory. Andy remembers: of long days at the firehouse, of everything all working out, of safety. Of getting married, of turning around at the altar just once, twice. (To face his bride, and to face his best man. Not just for support but to confirm. He remembers his Eddie stepping a half-inch closer into the holy light. He remembers his wife’s hand in delicate lace on his white gloves. He remembers his best man, in white gloves from the same maker, touching his hand to his back and splaying his fingers out like angel wings between his shoulder blades. Yes, Andrew Haldane remembers how he felt he could fly when he said ‘Yes’.)

Hillbilly gives him a beatific smile and awaits his orders.

“Well, then, the fire is out, Eddie. Let’s go home.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

Eddie tells Andy how Sledgehammer had glanced over at Snafu, who had been quiet ever since returning to duty from his medical leave due to sickness. Snafu had given him a nod and when Sledgehammer met Eddie’s gaze, his eyes had reminded him of a dog that knew it’s training but wasn’t sure its master did.

“I think a lot of us would rather have the skipper eat us than the men we’re fighting, sir.” Sledgehammer had stated, and then had braced himself for trouble.

“If the enemy gets it in their mind to cannibalize you, I don’t know that Skipper will be able to swoop in and polish you off first.”

“Well, I like that the skipper is trying.”

Eddie had taken a good long look at Sledgehammer’s smile until Eddie could be sure that that smile, when it faded, wouldn’t fade into bone-deep hatred. “Alright, Sledgehammer. As you were.”

Eddie tells Andy how Andy had chomped down hard on Snafu's shoulder so hard and sudden Snafu had screamed. Andy had ripped his teeth away from Shelton’s flesh, swallowed, and then Andy had chided him, "My god, corporal, you know better than to give away our position like that!" Blood was running down his chin. His concern was just as real and difficult to deal with as the line he had just crossed to show it.

"He didn't bite me." Snafu had gasped in and out. "He didn't bite me, he didn't." He had repeated it in a mumbling stream that could not quit until he had grabbed hold of Sledgehammer’s arm. "Hey, Sledgehammer, they gonna think the skipper bit me. You gotta help or they gonna think he a goddamn cannibal, sha, I guarantee."

Sledgehammer had nodded like crazy, but his voice had been calm. "I got you. I'll use my kabar."

"You boys got a handle on this side of things?" Eddie had asked, holding onto Andy, who was just looking at his hands as if not knowing where the blood had come from.

"Something wrong with my head?” The Skip had asked. “I don't feel like I've been hit."

Snaf’s voice was roughened by his panic. "We got a handle on this. Sir, you fix up his head."

Eddie had nodded and dragged off the skipper, wiping off the blood as they went. Eddie tells Andy now that he doesn’t know what Sledgehammer had done to cover up the missing skin, but Snafu was taken off the line due to sickness, not a wound.

Eddie tells Andy how they had needed a firefighter to go deeper into the second floor. Haldane or Card should have been able to do it, but Haldane had knocked his head real bad and Card, while experienced, had turned out to be not experienced enough, despite his best efforts. So, it had fallen to Jones, who was having trouble pulling himself up. Eddie had reached his hand up to grab the support and Andy had called down, “take off your glove.”

“Jones, don’t!” Card had yelled.

Eddie hadn’t hesitated. The wet wool had been as hard to pull off as it always was. Eddie had refused to waste a precious second wondering if he should really take it off or not. Once bare, Andy had grabbed his hand and pulled him up to the second floor with superhuman strength. Then, Andy had pulled them both to standing and taken the tip of Eddie’s exposed ring finger into his mouth. Andy had bit down, and just like that he had made sure one more piece of Eddie would never come to harm because it would be with Andy. Then, Andy had ordered Eddie deeper into the burning house.

There is a thin line between keeping people safe and putting them at risk and it falls under Andrew Haldane’s purview to cross it.

The fire crew, Eddie tells him, think Eddie knows when Haldane needs to eat someone, and that’s why they go off alone at times. They don't know about the memory loss. Eddie thinks they'd understand—since they consent to the eating, but he knows Andy would hate for his boys to learn he'd ever forget about them.

Eddie tells Andy that deep down inside, where it’s important, the skipper will never forget his boys.