withtheoldbreed | d-day + 26 ✯ video, spam & text

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d-day + 26 ✯ video, spam & text

[There's no question that Sledge isn't the same bright eyed, excited little kid he was doing the flood anymore. Even as he smiles, there's something kind of missing in his expression, genuine as it is.

(He's really starting to understand just how much of that kid died on Peleliu.)]

I just wanted to say thanks to those of you who kept an eye on the rest of us. [The smile turns a little wry, and there's a spark of something that might be life back in his eyes.] Guess there could be worse first floods.

[He says this in a way that both makes it clear that he's keeping this light and fun, and that he knows that's true. Especially considering his actual first flood had him thinking he was back on that fucking island, and he'd practically tried to choke Mickey trying to get his (toy) gun away from him.

There's a short pause, and he lets out a short breath of laughter.]

This really is the most snow I've ever seen in one place. Didn't even cross my mind that Christmas'd cause this much of a fuss around here.

[Private to Jimmy]

Thanks for lookin' out for me. [If Gene hadn't been eager to try and find a way to help Jimmy before - and he had been - this had been a pretty clear indicator that his inmate isn't actually as bad a guy as one might assume just from looking at a list of the stuff he's done.

That said, Gene still feels kind of way in over his head.]

I've got the stuff I said I'd ask the Admiral for, and I washed the stuff you lent me. Where d'you want me to drop 'em off?

[Private to Steve]

Sorry for getting you sick, sir.

[It's pretty obvious he does actually feel guilty about this, and might have hesitated to say anything about it at all.]

[Spam for Snafu]

[Back in a clean uniform with his .45 on his hip and his new Unit 3 pouches crisscrossed over his shoulders, Gene leaves his room with the stack of clean clothes he'd requested from the Admiral and his KA-BAR, heading straight for Snafu's room.

The door looks familiar, even if the context doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense to him. He'd kind of just assumed Snaf would be stuck with his bedroom from back home, although he's got less than no idea of what that would actually look like, or mean. He knows home means somewhere in Louisiana for his friend, but Snaf never talks about it the same way Bill might mention New York or Burgie Texas.

Anyway, Gene knocks on the door, not sure if he's feeling self conscious or just still trying to get his bearings back after the flood. The extra weight of the medical gear kind of helps, and it doesn't, because he's not a corpsman and he's not trying to be and it's not the familiar weight of a mortar base plate or sight, but it's something.]

[Private Gift List to the Admiral]

Dear Admiral,

I'd like to respectfully request the following items be delivered on Christmas, or at your convenience.

(3) winter sweaters for Merriell Shelton
(1) winter coat for Merriell Shelton
(1) picture frame with a photo of his son, Tommy, for Jimmy Darmody
(1) record player and (5) records for Jimmy Darmody, whatever kind of music he likes best
(12) MoonPies for Isaac Lahey
(1) package each of high quality graphite and colored pencils for Captain Rogers
(1) fully stocked Unit 3 (corpman's pouch) for Scott McCall
(1) book of 1940's slang for Cassel Sharpe
(1) high quality sketchbook for Kieren Walker
(1) book on Civil War history for Ian Gallagher
(1) book on Earth (my Earth) history for Lieutenant Commander T'Pol
(12) comic books for Dillon Cole

Your humble and obedient servant,
Eugene Sledge

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Steve definitely doesn't want to laugh, because that would be pretty rude, but he is smiling when he replies.] Don't worry about it, Private. I promise, it wasn't your fault.

Edited 2014-12-11 02:40 (UTC)

Respectfully, I could've been more careful, sir.

[He'd been sick enough as a kid that he really should know better.]

Respectfully, a healthy person could've rolled his eyes at me and gotten me sick. Trust me.

It wasn't that bad - I've had much worse than a cold. It didn't even turn into pneumonia. [Although maybe if there'd been time.]

You feeling better now, too?

Edited (I WILL STOP EDITING COMMENTS I SWEAR) 2014-12-11 02:56 (UTC)

I'm alright, sir. I was sick a lot when I was a kid, but I grew out of it. [There's a beat of hesitation where he presses his lips together, like maybe he's considering just leaving it at that, but.

(Sure, he'd been sick a lot, but Steve was pretty tiny during the flood, even compared to Gene. It kind of makes him feel a little bit guiltier even if he probably would have just been excited to have a buddy who understood how lousy it was to always get picked last for stuff if they were still kids.)]

Kinda sounds like you've got an idea of what that's like.

Yeah? I'm glad to hear you grew out of it, at least - I never did.

[And honestly, he doesn't even think about how ridiculous that probably sounds, coming out of a guy that looks the way he does now.

But he does remember feeling like Eugene was kind of a kindred spirit, the past couple of days.]

Yeah, I kinda do. Pneumonia, rheumatic fever, scarlet fever, measles, I think I've had it all. I was pretty lucky my mom was a nurse - and that my best friend could probably double as one, by now.

I had rheumatic fever. Kept me outta school for a long time and it left me with a heart murmur, so my folks wouldn't let me enlist for a while. I wanted to go right after Pearl Harbor. [It's more than he might have offered all at once under different circumstances, but that sense of kinship isn't just on Steve's end. Gene had been young enough to still feel profoundly left out for being small, skinny, and sickly, even if eventually he realized maybe it wasn't such a bad thing people didn't want him to play football with them because he didn't actually like playing football or whatever else, and having another person around who didn't care about that made it easier, especially without Sid around.]

But you're alright now, after- [Gene actually really only knows the bare bones of the story here, but he can kind of guess.] You became Captain America?

[He nods. The first part, at least, sounds familiar.] Yeah, I had plenty of heart troubles, before and after. I remember being pretty sick. [Which, you know, stands out from the times that he was just "normal" sick.]

And I wanted to go right after Pearl Harbor, too. I even got Bucky to wait around and try to train me a little first, but... [He shrugs a little helplessly.] 4F.

[He nods, though, looking a mix between relieved and sheepish.] Yeah. As far as I can tell, the serum fixed everything. I can't even get sick, now. [A little laugh, even if it's the tiniest bit sad.] Guess I'd make a great medic.

What changed your folks' minds? Or were you just sick of sitting around?

Edited 2014-12-18 01:48 (UTC)

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[The context for that familiar door is provided when Snafu opens it up - earlire he might have just called out for whoever it was to come in but he's been feeling the lack of weaponry more and more, getting a little antsy about it, just about the only thing that really is bothering him about this whole situation - and reveals the rough plank flooring and canvas ceiling of a tent on Pavuvu. There's four racks, a few stray personal items Gene'll probably recognise as belonging to Burgie and Jay as well as Snaf himself, and very little else. At least it's missing the rats and crabs.

Snaf lets the door swing open with a nod. He takes in the medical kit hanging off Gene's shoulders and of course that's what he chooses to comment on rather than the pile of clothes, eyebrows a little raised, voice somewhere between amused and skeptical.]

You train up as a corpsman when I wasn't lookin'?

I've helped three people bleeding three different colors of blood since I got here. Since we're low on corpsmen, I figured it'd be better to be prepared. [Which is true, considering the field dressings he'd started cramming in his belt pouches can only do so much, and admittedly so can the stuff in the bags, but... maybe this is just him feeling antsy, too, because this place is somehow even more disorganized than a battlefield in some ways.

Eugene pushes the clothes and the combat knife in its sheath into Snaf's arms before he can make any other snappy comments, and it's really only until then that he takes in the room behind his friend. "Room." Shack is more accurate, and it's a weird sort of double image to be seeing it here, although in an entirely different way than it is to wake up in his bed from back home. It doesn't go away when he takes a step inside.

At least it's missing the rats and crabs.]

[The other big (and very welcome) difference is that the rats and crabs have apparently been traded for a tiny room with a toilet and a sink. Indoor plumbing in a Pavuvu shack is such a great improvement. Snafu takes the pile of clothes and - even more welcome - the KA-BAR, shifting out of the way so Sledge can follow him in. He dumps the clothes on his cot and takes a seat next to them, picking up the knife and instantly feeling less on edge with it in his hands. He's not an idiot and he sees that unlike the clothes it's come directly off Gene's belt, but it's not really something he feels the need to comment on if Gene isn't going to, so all he says is:]

What colors?

Edited 2014-12-11 05:10 (UTC)

[Gene doesn't offer anything about it either. He's still irritated with the Admiral - although why, he kind of can't say, because it's probably stupid to be mad he wouldn't give an inmate a weapon or called him mister, not private, because he's not technically a marine here even if he feels like he is - and he knows he's likely to miss having it around, but if he misses feeling like he's got something on hand to defend himself, well.

Anyway, easier to just answer the question.]

Black, red and green. [It surprises him how casually he's able to say that, although maybe it helps that it's Snafu he's telling this to.]

Black's apparently still not normal for the guy it was happening to, but I'm pretty sure green's normal, for the other person.

[And maybe the black blood sticks out more in his mind because it'd happened so damn fast, and it'd sort of been before he'd really known about the death toll and all that. No amount of preparation really would have left him ready to deal with feeling the other guy's blood soaking through his clothes again, though.

(You can't dwell on it.)

Gene glances around the familiar-but-different room, and after realizing he's wondering what's weirder, being here or being in his room at home, he grasps for a distraction, pointing to the small bathroom.]

That's different.

[Snafu snorts out a laugh at the casual way Sledge explains that. It's not a disbelieving laugh or even one that's at all shocked - they're in fucking space, after all, on what is apparently a cruise through limbo, people having different colours of blood really isn't the most insane thing in the world - and he might have asked something else but then Gene changes the subject and he just goes along with it.]

Yeah. Still ain't used to it bein' there, tell you the truth.

[Strapping the KA-BAR to his belt (and feeling even better than he did just holding the thing), Snaf turns his attention to the pile of clothes. It's honestly a better selection than he's really had before and he glances through them for a moment before looking up at Sledge.]

You jus' happen to have these?

[The question makes him feel a little awkward, especially because it catches him slightly off guard and he's not all that sure why Snafu would need to question where they came from or anything. Guy needed clothes, Gene had the capacity to get them for him, so he did. Simple as that.]

I asked the Admiral for 'em. Figured you might want options. [One corner of his mouth ticks up in a small, wry smile.] Or just to wash your other one.

[Or burn it, even though Sledge still has his battered uniform.]

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...No problem. [It makes him feel a little uncomfortable to think back on that. He couldn't do anything else, with all those kids running around he'd had to take responsibility, but he doesn't know how much the kids remember, what they'll know about him, now. He doesn't know if he can live up to that responsibility, now.]

I can come pick it up. [He rakes a hand through his hair, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He hadn't thought Gene would actually ask the Admiral for his knife and the album, let alone that the request would be granted.] ...Thanks.

You're welcome. [Jimmy had asked, so Gene had followed through on it. It's not that much more complicated to him than that. Isn't really any more complicated than that, really.]

I'm in my room. Deck 5, room 11.

Alright. [He turns off the communicator, still a little uncomfortable with using it if he can talk to someone face to face. It's easier to read people like that.

He knocks on Gene's door a few minutes later, raking a hand through his hair.]

[In person's good. The communicators are also strange to Gene, if unquestionably useful in some ways, too.

He answers the door pretty quickly and pulls it open far enough initially for Jimmy to get a decent look at the neat bedroom behind him, full of expensive looking furniture and a bookshelf that's got way too many books crammed onto it, some of which look a little well loved. Everything's tidy and somewhere between formal and homey.

Needless to say, he looks a little out of place in his uniform, even if he's without any weapon in hand or on his belt right now.]

Hi. [He pulls the door the rest of the way open so Jimmy can follow him in and walks over to his desk for the pile of Jimmy's things.] What'd you think of the rest of the flood?

[For some reason he hadn't expected the room to look the way it does. Maybe because everything about Gene speaks of combat, from his clothes to the way he'll offer his lighter. But what else could it be? He thinks of where they'd slept in France when combat was slow, huddled together in dark shacks. He's glad for Gene that that's not the kind of place he has to spend his days, now, even if it takes a second for him to reconcile the two images of Gene.

He follows in, briefly touching the doorpost before stepping in. It feels a little off, too personal, to be here, but he tries to shrug it off. He realizes Gene's never seen his place, wonders how it'd feel for him to see that. Uncomfortable, private, probably.

He makes his way over to the desk, looking at the small pile. Seeing the album sends a nervous shiver down his spine, and he fumbles for a cigarette. Mention of the flood makes him smile a little, crookedly.]

Pretty strange, but nothin' too harmful. [You seemed like a good kid, he almost says. But he doesn't, because he doesn't know how Gene feels about the whole thing.]

[Gene watches, notices the shiver, but doesn't say anything. That's kind of what he does - he often feels like an observer, like he's not quite a part of the group or the wider context even if sometimes, he absolutely does. It's weird and complicated, and it's easier to just not dwell on it.

He also doesn't know Jimmy well enough yet to know when or how to push, or if he even should. He wants to help him, but he knows you can't force someone to be saved - that's something they need to figure out on their own.

So it does kind of feel awkward or uncomfortable, but not because Jimmy's here. The room just doesn't quite fit right anymore, and Gene doesn't know where to start, really.]

Better than it could've been, [He finally offers a little wryly, thinking back on his first flood, and how at least this time, he wasn't pinning anyone to the wall trying to wrestle their toy guns away from them.] Guess it was nice to see snow.

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