I

"My first wish would be
that my military family,
and the whole Army,
should consider themselves
as a band of brothers,
willing and ready
to die for each other."
~ General George Washington

Saturday—0540 Hours

I don't like cold. I mean I really hate it. Generally the mean temperature here on the Olympic Peninsula is well above freezing. On this dark Saturday morning, however, it was miserably cold when I started Bessy for the fast trip to meet Jimmy. Damn! Even the sun hadn't come up yet.
     Other things I detest are the smell of burning houses, before I've even had breakfast. And crowds. At least I'd had a smoke and coffee on the way. Maybe I'd better slow down and backtrack a bit, before I get too far ahead of myself.

I'd been peacefully asleep in my warm snug cabin buried deep in the trackless forest of the Pacific northwest, when the phone cheerfully chirped me awake. My dreams haven't always been peaceful, but lately they'd been getting better, so I was enjoying my zzzs more. Also the sound of my land line's so rare, it's a bit of a shock when it happens. It tends to spike my adrenaline, and I get real grumpy fast.
     "What?" I growled as I picked up on the third chirp. I was also realizing the cabin wasn't all that warm. Standing there buck-ass naked with a cold phone to my ear, before daylight, was dropping my mental attitude to a level of pissed-off-ness that was going to take some serious recovery time.
     "I need some help." There was a desperation to Jimmy's gruff voice that snapped me out of my blue funk, like a slap in the face.
     "Talk to me."
    "Gotta call my sister's house's on fire, ‘bout four. When I get here the guys are just puttin' it out. Dave, the Sheriff's Deputy's here. Now they're tellin' me Carmen's car's gone... and... there's a body inside!" Jimmy was unraveling. That really got my attention. He's not the kind of guy to come unwound.
     "Where're you at?"
     "Out on the road in front. They... they won't let me in her house!" The normal rasp of his deep voice was bordering on hoarse.
    "Don't leave that spot. I'm on my way. Thirty-forty minutes, tops." I hung up.
     Now, I'm a diabetic and rushing off anywhere takes a bit of planning, no matter what time of day. At 0540 dark in the morning, I was about three hours away from my first shot of insulin, and food.
     I punched the coffee pot on, let Black Dog out and as he left the porch with a leap, stepped to the side to drain my radiator. The mercury in the thermometer was nudging the lower side of 15 degrees. Very cold for a temperate rainforest. Even the goose bumps were trying to crowd themselves together for warmth.
     By the time I'd shook it off, so had my faithful companion of eight-plus years. He didn't like the cold any better than me. Back inside I opened the wood stove, raked the embers forward and tossed in a couple of large pieces of dry hemlock. Widened the draw to get it going, and headed back to the bedroom.
     Dressing in thermal underwear, flannel-lined jeans and a wool shirt, OD wool socks and my Red Wings took me all of five minutes. I slapped a mag into the butt of Thor, the custom-tuned 9mm Browning HP I carry, racked the slide to chamber a round, snapped on the safety, leaving it cocked and locked. Popping the mag back out, I thumbed the lone round sitting on the shelf into it, replaced it and slipped him into a paddle holster and got the rig settled on my right hip. Two more 15 round RamLine mags clipped on the left side of my belt. Another went in my left pants pocket. Sixty one rounds should be enough. There was a box of Hydro-Shocks stashed in Bessy.
     The coffee was done when I was. I realized it wasn't going to stay very hot as I poured the entire pot minus a mugful into the cold quart stainless steel Stanley Thermos. "Dems da breaks." You don't have to like some of the things that happen in your life, you just "gotta do ‘em" as The Rogue once said. A friend had called, and that was enough.
     The new wood in the stove had caught, so I slipped in one more piece, closed the door and shut down the draft. I had no idea when I'd be back but with the fire banked, it'd keep the chill out for about eight-ten hours. It would have to be enough.
     It took me another five minutes to pop my morning pills, drink a full glass of cold water, doctor my no-spill coffee mug with sweetener and half-and-half, grab my old Woodland cammie field jacket, boonie hat and gloves. Once

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