This Nivanfield short was written in response to a fan who asked for a Thanksgiving-themed tale. Being English, Thanksgiving is not part of my culture, so fingers crossed I have the detail right.
Captain Chris Redfield is center stage here as he gives a speech before the meal. This is a man who doesn't like making speeches. He prefers action, not words, and he's making it off the cuff. He sees inspiration in the faces looking at him, not a set of notes in his hand.
Happy Thanksgiving! Tim.
Giving Thanks
 |
| He smiled at the irrepressible Finn Macauley. Alpha teams’s very own "exploding" expert, who seemed to be wearing a turkey-shaped beanie that evening. |
"Oh my! Captain Redfield, what a big one you've got!" The young girl opened her eyes wide in surprise and delight. "I’ve never seen one so ...” she was almost lost for words. "… so enormous!" she giggled.
"Ha, ha! That's just what Piers said!" Chris turned around. "Didn't you Ace?"
Piers was busy turning scarlet. "Chrisss!" he hissed, "Tone it down; we don't want everyone to know."
"The best part of 30 pounds—it's a monster, all solid meat!" Chris beamed proudly, as if he'd reared it himself.
"Ok Chris, it's huge, I have to admit, but get over it. Stop showing everyone, please!" Piers wished he could disappear, but he'd left his shemagh in the truck with Ruff. Its familiar smell helped the puppy settle down when he was left alone.
"Ha! If you've got it, flaunt it!"
"It's a turkey Babe, not a new plan or an assault rifle or your d—.” Piers checked himself just in-time. "I mean, I don't know if it will even fit in the oven." He pouted; he knew who'd have to cook it.
"Then we'll get a bigger oven. Do you sell them here ..." Chris peered at the commissary checkout girl's name tag, "... Mary-Jo?" He gave her his best 'little boy lost' smile.
"Oh yes Captain, over in Major Appliances. Two aisles down and on the left at the back."
"Remember those co-ordinates Ace, you might need them later … on my tab please, Mary-Jo. Oh, and have a wonderful Thanksgiving yourself." He left her a large tip as she bagged up their purchases, except for the turkey that was … she didn't have a bag big enough for that. They headed out for the car park.
Continued after the jump . . .
Earlier in the week the Captain had decided to host a Thanksgiving dinner for all the single SOU soldiers, and a few others too, who could not be re-united with their loved ones for the holiday. A special thank you from him and Piers because the BSAA was their family, too. He'd helped make it that way, and Piers had followed in his footsteps.
Chris had been planning it for a few days, but he didn't tell Piers until they were on their Saturday morning weekly shop. And although it was Chris' idea, it would almost certainly leave Piers with a lot to do. If the young sniper sounded less than enthusiastic at first, it was because he suspected he would be handling the detail. And the Devil, as the old saying goes, is always in the detail. Piers sighed.
"So where are we holding this dinner?"
"I thought in the garage."
"The garage! It's full of your workout apparatus and Crist … er … my truck!" Piers checked himself for a second time in embarrassment. He hadn’t yet revealed to Chris that he’d named his ’69 El Camino Cristobal; Spanish for Christopher.
"So? I'll get my workout from moving the gym gear and your precious truck can suffer one day outside, you spend enough time waxing it."
Piers ignored the jibe. "Seating?"
"The boys are bringing trestle tables and benches from the base tomorrow."
"Heating?"
"Twenty-five plus bodies in close proximity? We won't need it. You know how warm it gets with just the two of us next to each other, grrrr!" Chris seemed to have it all covered, but Piers attempted a fight back.
"That's different! Drinks?"
"I've ordered 2 quarter barrels from the Officer's Mess, pumps and gas too before you ask....and glasses."
"That's about 5 pints each!"
"Oh, should I order another one do you think?"
"No!" Piers sniffed. "In California we have wine with the meal."
"Well you would, that's where it comes from. Here we have beer."
"What about the girls?"
"Piers, if you and the girls want wine that's fine. That can be part of your contribution."
"Part!"
"Well, we are a couple."
"Ok, so with me doing the cooking and making a financial contribution, not to mention buying the wine, what's left for you?"
"Well it's my plan. Oh, and of course, I'm giving the speech!"
"You're giving the speech? It's meant to be a celebration, not a … not a …” Piers was unusually speechless.
"See, you're just no good with words. Don't worry Ace, I’ve got it. And I thought we … well you … could set up our PCs so everyone can scope their nearest and dearest if they want."
"Scope?"
"Yes, or is it skip?"
"You mean Skype?"
"Same thing, don't quibble."
"Ok … um, transport? Can't have twenty-five plus bodies driving around with all that beer inside of them."
"Or California wine apparently … MT section bus, pick-up 18:00 hours at the All Ranks Mess. Departs from the Deuce of Hearts at 23:30 precisely."
"Before it turns back into a pumpkin."
"What?"
"Well, you sound like the Fairy Godfather, one wave of your magic wand and it all happens."
"Ha! You can't get enough of my magic wand."
"Chris! We're in public!"
"So! Here's me trying to be more touchy-feely, not bottling things up, and you're getting more uptight and closeted."
"I'm turning into you."
"The old me, before I met you, I'm different now."
"That's weird; we're changing into one another."
"Shit happens, Ace."
"Tell me about it! Ok then, what about cutlery and crockery?"
"Damnit!"
"Ha! I knew you'd forget something." Piers smiled smugly in satisfaction.
"Yeh, I'm sorry Piers—I forgot to tell you." Chris scratched the back of his head. “You're picking it up from the canteen Wednesday lunchtime. Game, set and match to Captain, I think."
Piers said something under his breath.
"Speak up, Ace, you're mumbling!"
************************
Ruff, their German Shepherd puppy, was waiting for them in the back of Chris' old truck. His large tan-colored paws up on the window sill, his long, thick black tail wagging furiously. The pup's keen hearing had picked them up long before they approached and he yipped with excitement when he actually saw his two Dads come into sight.
Chris and Piers loaded up the truck, putting the huge turkey on one side of the rear seat, away from Ruff. Chris scratched the pup's head. "Hi, Ruffster, did you miss us then, boy?"
"Yip, Arrff!"
The two men got in and buckled up.
"He probably heard you when you were in the store. Everyone else could." Piers pouted a little, he didn't like being embarrassed in public.
"You know, you're really cute when you do that Ace. No wonder I fancy the pants off you."
"Grrr!"
"Calm down, Chris! At least wait until we're home."
"I didn't say anything."
"Grrr, Grrr!"
They turned around. Ruff was squaring up to the turkey. His hackles were up and he was down on his forepaws, baring his teeth at this huge intruder on his territory. Then he crawled slowly forward on his belly, growling all the while.
"I taught him to do that!" said Piers proudly. "Way to go, sniper Ruffy!"
But Ruff was absorbed in his mission. He sniffed the air cautiously, then, just inches from this deeply silent and deeply frozen foe he put his wet tongue out. In an instant it stuck fast to the bird. Ruff's almond colored eyes opened in shock. He tried to back up, but his tongue remained fixed where it was.
"Yelp, Yelp!" Ruff finally managed an undignified retreat to his side of the back seat, trying to catch the now tingling end of his tongue with a furry paw.
"Ooh, nice tongue action Ruffster. Did Daddy Piers teach you that as well? Ha, ha, ha!"
Piers was just about to unleash a sarcastic response when they were interrupted by a frantic tapping on the window. It was Mary-Jo. Chris wound his window down.
"Captain Redfield, thank goodness you're still here. I forgot to tell you, there's a free pumpkin pie with every 5lbs of turkey you purchase. I've brought you six." She waved a large bag at them.
"Result!" said Piers. "That's dessert off my 'to-do' list. Thank you so much, Miss." He gave Mary-Jo his best dazzling smile. She put her hand up to her throat, blushed, giggled something neither of them could quite catch, and then ran back into the commissary.
"Still got it." said Piers, grinning.
"Oi, that's my line!"
************************
Piers rang his Mom around 9 am on the Thursday morning, to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving and to check his calculations for the cooking time. He'd reckoned on 5 to 6 hours.
"Oh no, dear, you should get it on now if you’re eating at seven. A big bird like that, you want to cook it at a lower temperature, say 300, so it cooks through slowly. Bring it up to 325 for the last hour or so, to crisp the skin. Plenty of fruit in the cavity stuffing, apple, orange, or an onion, to keep it moist inside, Piers. And let it rest for a while after it's done, say twenty minutes. Then you can carve it."
"Thanks, Mom, you're a savior. Er, is Pa home?"
His mother sighed. "No, he's in Washington, dear. And Adam's on duty at his base, but I've got Lucy and Tim with me. So don't worry, I've got company. Wish you were here as well though son."
"Next year perhaps, Mom, Chris wanted to do something for the singles, and I agree. I remember what it was like being on my own at this time of year, it's no fun."
"Ah, he's so sweet that man of yours. And how's his butt? Still, um, firm is it?" Martha giggled like the young checkout girl.
"Mom, knock it off, you're married!
"Can't blame a girl for looking, ha, ha, ha! Give it a pat from me. Miss you Piers, love you."
"Love you too, Mom. Chris sends his love as well. Say hi to Lucy and Tim for me. Happy Thanksgiving, bye."
Not long after Piers had put the phone down, it rang. Chris answered it, then joined Piers in the kitchen when he'd finished.
"Um, that was Andy. There's gonna' be a few more coming tonight Ace. Is that okay?"
"Fine, the more the merrier Babe. Who?
"Well Andy for one, his girlfriend decided to spend Thanksgiving with her husband."
Piers laughed. "He sure knows how to pick 'em."
"And Carl. He couldn't get a last-minute flight away. And by popular demand, that young lieutenant from Personnel, Susie Casey. You know, the one who helped us move."
"Whose popular demand?" asked Piers, raising an eyebrow.
"Er, mine actually."
Piers pouted. "I thought so, I can read you like a book, Captain. I bet she'll be wearing glass slippers."
"What?"
"Hmph, never mind, at least she'll be home before midnight. I'm the Cinderella, stuck in the kitchen," Piers muttered darkly.
"Ace, you're mumbling again."
************************
Chris stood up and everyone fell silent.
"Before we eat, I'd like to say a few words."
"Oh no!" Andy Walker groaned out loud. "No one mentioned anything about a speech!"
Chris gave him a hard stare, but there was a twinkle of mirth in the hooded brown eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen … Sergeant Walker … first of all, Piers and I would like to welcome you to our home, the Deuce of Hearts. It's not easy being on your own at this time of year; away from your loved ones, friends and family. But remember, the BSAA is your family too. It’s part of what we are, it defines us. And it's what makes us the best. Secondly, and before I forget and get a severe tongue lashing, I'd like you to join me in thanking our chef for the evening. Piers in an apron and a shemagh is a sight to behold … thank you, Ace."
Chris turned and put a hand on Piers' shoulder, grinning. There was a spontaneous round of applause, with much laughter and more than a few wolf whistles. Piers blushed brightly. When the noise had died down, Chris continued.
"It's traditional to talk a little about the history or some other aspect of Thanksgiving before the meal. So I'd like to share my views on the holiday, where I think it sits in our history. And, for some of the new faces here, it might give you a bit of an insight into your Senior Captain … if that's of any help. Ha, ha, ha!"
Chris took a deep breath.
"Since those first ceremonies, almost four hundred years ago, what was an essentially religious festival of thanks, for life and good fortune, for a good harvest, of thanks to God, has changed. Down through the years it's been romanticized and plagiarized. And around the time of the Founding Fathers, it even got politicized. For many years it was a political football, subject to much discussion and debate. George Washington and Abraham Lincoln included no less. When should it be celebrated, and by whom? Should it be religious, or secular? What exactly were the thanks for?" Chris chuckled. "That's a shame. Politics and thankfulness make strange bedfellows. As an aside, I know many of you must be worried about the way things are at the moment. Wondering if and how the BSAA may be affected by recent events around the country and up on Capitol Hill. Well, so am I. As soon as I hear something I'll let you know. Our country is mired in politics these days. There's too much of it if you ask me. As a Founder of the BSAA, I have to deal with that, in Washington and elsewhere. As Senior Captain, back here on base, I try and protect you guys from all that crap, so there is something to be thankful for."
Chris smiled ruefully as a murmur or appreciation rippled around his audience.
"But worst of all, Thanksgiving Day has become commercialized. Now I'm a realist, I understand it's a capitalist society. But not everyone's cut out to resist the constant commercial pressure. Not everyone can afford it. It's right to be thankful, but nowadays it seems it comes at a price. Your loss is someone else's gain. Despite that, all of us have something to be thankful for. From our past if not our present. The home that America has provided to so many of your forbears throughout history."
The Captain was easing into his stride now.
"A home for those transported and sold into slavery." Chris looked at Josh Obaku, Delta's marksman, tall and lean, like his Masai ancestors.
"A home for those escaping famine and starvation." He smiled at the irrepressible Finn Macauley. Alpha team's very own 'exploding' expert, who seemed to be wearing a turkey-shaped beanie that evening.
"A refuge for those fleeing political and religious oppression in the Old World." A nod to Ben Airhart, the wonderfully capable soldier, sat next to his Alpha team-mate.
"Some reasons are not historical of course, they're more personal. A new life after the loss of a loved one perhaps?" The Captain smiled at his old ex-STARS friend, military policeman 'Mac' MacDonald, now a widower. After the death of his wife, the sergeant had found a new family in the BSAA.
"The chance of a new home, full of hope, for those whose families still remain a long way off." He looked at Carl Alfonso whose wife was away caring for her sick parents in Brazil.
"And yet for most of us, our forebears weren't the first here anyways."
Finn Macauley stood up and raised his hand.
"Yes Finn?"
"The Vikings Captain, Gran says they were here first. She says......"
Piers rolled his eyes whilst everyone else laughed. Finn gave a nervous version of his silly grin. Chris put his own hand up to stop the noise.
"No, Finny's right, the Norse settlers did pre-date the Pilgrims, by several hundred years. But I meant before the Vikings, before your Gran even, Finn."
Ben playfully cuffed his friend around the back of his head as he sat back down red faced. "What are you like, Finny?"
"I meant the Native Americans." continued Chris. He sought out and smiled reassuringly at Chaska Greenwoods, Bravo's new rookie. The young man grinned in return, he was immensely proud of his Sioux heritage.
"Without the help the Wampanoag tribe gave those early Pilgrims, there wouldn't have been any Thanksgiving back in 1621. But even they and their brothers were settlers in America. They had originally migrated from Asia, thousands of years before. You see, that's the great thing about us Americans, we're all different. But there's strength in that diversity. It makes the BSAA strong, just like it makes the country strong. Don't ever lose it, be thankful for it."
The Captain stopped to take a sip of beer, then scanned the attentive faces in front of him.
"I guess what I'm trying to say, badly probably, is this. The simple truth is that we are all guests, all of us. Whatever our heritage and history. Guests of America, of this great continent, of the planet itself. It's like a grand hotel, people passing through all the time. And like guests everywhere, some are good and some are bad. Some people are always trying to trash the place. The bio-terrorists are the latest in a long, long line. You, you're the good guys, trying to leave it a better place than when you arrived."
Chris paused for a moment. The room was still now, everyone was hanging on his words.
"You might think from what I said earlier that I'm not that keen on Thanksgiving, but you'd be wrong. It's just that I'd like to see more emphasis on the thanks and the giving, not the ingratitude and the taking. So let me give some thanks—to you. Every single one of you, and to all our colleagues around the world. Because on this special day of thanksgiving, you're the ones who deserve them, On behalf of all the decent, honest people out there, and from Piers and myself, our thanks. You're doing an outstanding job, you are outstanding people. It's a privilege to serve alongside you. Thank you."
There was a moments silence, then the room erupted with clapping, cheers, and much table thumping. Chris sat down, relieved it was over and Piers gave him a rare public hug.
"Not bad, not bad at all Babe, your syntax was a bit off in places, but on the whole...outstanding."
"Thanks Ace." Chris whispered in his ear. "I'll thank you more, um, personally later. When it's just the two of us, Ok?"
"Mmm, one wave of your magic wand?" Piers whispered back
"If that's all it takes. Grrr!"
"Woof!"
************************
Chris and Piers finished clearing up the garage around midnight, which left them with the washing-up still to do. They sat at the kitchen bar, sipping hot chocolate and contemplating the piles of plates and the skeletal remains of the turkey. Ruff, his head cocked to one side, was closely watching the remains of his enemy too. Just in case they should 'happen' to fall off the counter. It was too high for him to reach just yet.
"Oh, we nearly forgot Ace, to pull the wishbone!"
Chris picked up the large Y-shaped bone. He put his little finger around the bottom of one side. Piers put his around the other, but higher up, closer to the joint.
"Three, two, one, pull!"
They both pulled, but Piers won. He grinned in triumph.
"Fix!" Chris shouted, then laughed. "Ha! What did you wish for?"
"Nothing." Piers replied simply.
"But you're meant to make a wish Ace, its tradition."
"I just gave some thanks of my own. My wish has already come true—I got you."
"Aww, that's so sweet." Chris lent over the bar and kissed his partner tenderly. "Hmm, shame I didn't get my wish though."
"What was it?"
"I wished we didn't have to do the washing-up."
"That's what I like about you Bear, you're so romantic! You could always wave your magic wand."
"Nope, I'm saving it up kiddo, gonna' wave it over you later tonight."
"Now that's romantic!"
"Grrr!"
"Woof!"
"Arrff!"
"Hey! Who asked you to join in?"
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