withtheoldbreed | d-day + 52 ✯ video

[It's relatively early in the morning when Sledge clicks on his video feed, and he looks tired, maybe even exhausted. It's also obvious he's not in his own cabin - the room behind him looks more like a shack, and although it might not be as clear, he's sitting on the floor, half leaning against the legs of a cot. One of Snafu's arms is visible, hanging limply off the side of the cot like he's just asleep.]

... Snafu's in a coma. [The word sits uncomfortably in his mouth, and it kind of shows in his face. He's read about barge comas obviously, thanks to Chromie's welcome packet, but it's one thing to read about it, another to try shaking your buddy awake and not be able to, no matter how hard you try.

He takes a breath and steels himself, trying to push it back and get what needs to get done, done.

(Except his eyes still look pretty dead, but that's not really anything new.)]

I'm gonna need a hand getting him to the infirmary.

[Private to Kieren]

I thought it'd be better than just leavin' him here. [It's what the pamphlet suggested, anyway, and he sort of feels more comfortable leaving his friend with people who can monitor him and make sure he doesn't get worse (if that's even possible?), but he still sounds uncertain. Like maybe this - making decisions about his friend's well being - is overstepping.

Which is weird to think about someone you've pretty much been physically stuck with for over a month, but here we are.]

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[Scott turns to pull up another chair, sitting across from Gene on Snaf's other side.]

How's that work? I don't know anything about guns.

[Unless they have wolfsbane, then maybe he'll figure it out.]

[It's a familiar topic, and he knows it well enough to be able to start explaining immediately, maybe almost mechanically. Strange, how that's kind of soothing, because he doesn't have to wonder if he's saying the wrong thing or worry over how what he is saying comes out.]

The mortar's kinda like a big tube with a tripod keepin' it upright, with a base plate on the bottom of the tube to help with the recoil. There're eight or so guys on a squad. You're supposed to have a sergeant or corporal up ahead tellin' you where to direct your fire, the gunner uses the sight to line up the shot, the assistant prepares the round and drops it in the tube when the gunner says so. He fires it, and just about anything in a forty five yard radius gets blown to hell.

The other guys are ammo carriers, or rotate to be a gunner if someone's hurt or needs to sleep.

[Scott nods, because it's simple enough that he can picture, and even if he can't imagine really being in war, he can picture relying on someone like that. He has - maybe not to that extent, but he still gets the idea of it.]

So you really needed each other.

[He looks at Snaf, who looks pretty harmless when he's sleeping, and nods.]

It's okay. He's gonna wake up.

[Scott looks over at Gene again.]

My friend's in one, too. They'll wake up.

[Gene nods.] He's my foxhole buddy, too.

[So, them working together on the mortar is really just scratching the surface of how much they needed each other during the war. It's a weird, close relationship that's kind of difficult to explain. Gene would do anything for Snaf without question or hesitation, and he loves him like a brother, except it's different from that, too.

He lets out a breath, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, trying to relax. It helps to hear that from someone who's been here longer than him, but it's still hard to internalize.]

Heard about Isaac. [And Gene thinks of him as a buddy, too, so that's another weird thing to think about.]

Yeah. [Scott nods quietly, because it's unsettling. He can't deny that, won't try. But it's not the first time he's seen Isaac in a coma either, and at least this time he knows his friend isn't in pain.

That's a plus.

Leaning back in his chair, Scott watches Snafu, regretting not really meeting him before now. It feels out of order.]

There are only two guys in a foxhole?

[When you do meet him when he's not napping, you'll be regretting thinking that.]

Usually. Sometimes there'll be one or so more, say if you're in a gun pit instead of a foxhole, but it's easier with two. More room, easier to rotate shifts on watch. ["More room", assuming your partner doesn't sprawl out in his sleep and encroach on your space, anyway, like certain people.]

One man awake at all times. You fall asleep, you wind up with a Jap in your hole stabbin' you and your buddy to death.

[Yep. Yyyyyep. Scott shifts a little at the slur, uncomfortable but not really sure what to say to someone who fought in the Pacific.]

Good reason to stay awake, huh.

[Gene nods, either ignoring or oblivious to the discomfort. Maybe sort of both - it just doesn't occur to him that it'd be weird to hear that, because it's how everyone talks, and it's sort of a disturbing thing to picture, so that would explain Scott not doing cartwheels about the whole thing.]

He grinds his teeth in his sleep. [It comes out almost without him meaning to say it, but it's sort of an explanation, for why this is so strange. Snafu's jaw isn't working right now, even if he's breathing and thus obviously not dead. It's just... strange.

Gene laces his fingers together, badly wanting a cigarette, but knowing he can't smoke in here.] Everything else'd be quiet, but it helped, havin' someone in there with you. Made it feel less lonely.

[Scott glances at his jaw now, notes the stillness. That must be weird, he thinks. You get that used to someone, you know every little tick.]

I get that.

[And he does, in that way you understand things without experiencing them.] I didn't really get a chance to meet him. What's he like?

[Gene grins, a quick, automatic gesture that winds up being a little fleeting.]

Asiatic. [He glances quickly at Scott, knowing this time that it needs a little clarification. This isn't a race thing or something about the Japanese, it's just an expression that's become their way of speaking, and Scott won't know because he's not with them, there.] It's what we call guys who've been in the Pacific for too long and start actin' kinda weird.

[And Snaf is weird, rude, gross, mean as hell and equally spooky, but. Gene doesn't really sound anything other than fond?]

He's a good marine. I can't tell you how many times he's saved my life.

[It goes both ways, really.]

[His return smile is puzzled because no, no there's no way he could puzzle out the meaning of that word in this context.]

Oh. [He shrugs a little, not dismissively, but more understanding.]

I guess being away from home that long, and everything you know....It makes sense.

[His smile turns softer, more genuine.] Or how many you saved his?

[It's funny, but Gene almost doesn't think of it that way. He knows it's true - that's their job, what they've been trained to do - but sometimes he still has moments of feeling like a green replacement. Not one of the old breed, not yet. Maybe not ever.] Guess so, yeah.

[But hey, while we're on the subject.]

You've got a lot of people from back home here.

[Scott nods.]

Yeah. I was by myself for like six months, then....they all just started showing up.

d-day + 52 ✯ video

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