The Firehouse

[Mikado14]

Here is another story I finally finished retyping. It was copyrighted in 1978 and was published in the Temple University Quarterly Lit. It isn't all that good but was published anyway, remember, it was over 35 years ago and may sound like some other stories since then. At the time, I thought it was original.

The Firehouse

©1978 & 2014 Hickory Ridge all rights reserved

It was Tuesday, February 12th, 1978 and I was on my way to the firehouse. I was on the dart team and we were part of the league in the area. The league was made up of different firehouses, social clubs and ethnic clubs. It was one of those winter nights were it wasn't hot for February and it wasn't cold either. Just four days previously it was cold and snowing and now it felt like a preview of coming attractions for the spring.

I pulled in and made my way to the social room and some of my other team mates were there and taking some practice in. I made my greetings and went to the bar to get a drink. I never took part in alcohol and preferred to have just coffee to keep my poor aim intact.

"Hi Mary" as I walked over to the bar. "Make it black and give me the sugar packs".

"I just made it for you, hold on a sec while I get this out of the way." She was making up a pitcher and a few other items for a group down at the end of the bar. I amused myself in watching the TV and the latest weather forecast.

"Watch out for fog developing in low areas tonight" and I thought to myself "oh great". It will be fun driving home. Valley Park road is nothing but low area along the Pickering Creek.

Mary brought my coffee and I made my way back to the tables with the rest of the team. Other members where pretty much present now and all we were waiting on was the other team to arrive. It was fast approaching 7 PM when the games were set to start.

The dart games were nothing more than a nine inning game around the dart board. Each member had three darts with a maximum possible 9 points. The white area were single points, the red area was 2 points and the thin outer white area was 3 points. If one was lucky enough to get three darts in the thin area they called it a Ginsberg. Never did find out where that came from and of course if one got all three darts in the red it was a bucket of blood. I was lucky if all my darts made some kind of a point but it was fun and it was all in fun.

We were in our fourth inning and we were about equal in points each taking the lead from the other and back and forth. It was about then that the tones sounded and everyone's attention went to the speakers on the wall.

"Station 68, assist Station 77 Diving and Rescue Team, Schuylkill River between Pawlings Rd and Betzwood Bridge." It repeated and gave the unit numbers while the siren on the tower went off.

Before the speakers were finished we were running for the units and grabbing our gear. One unit went to the Bridge at Pawling, another unit went to the Bridge at Betzwood and I went with the unit that went to the railroad station which was about halfway between the bridges.

We took the field unit and went down the highway to the road that went to the station which just happened to go right by Washington's headquarters. I looked at the front of the old farm house and looked at the flags on the front. Old Glory and the Stars and Stripes. My mind drifted and I realized it was 200 years since Washington was here for the encampment.

We pulled up to the station, gathered our gear and took off to make our way to the shoreline along the Schuylkill. The closer we got, the more foggy it became. When we reached the shoreline, Al, who was the Captain, broke us up into two groups, one group would go upstream and the other downstream and we would try to space ourselves about a hundred yards apart. Of course the obvious was stated by someone as to how we were supposed to tell the distance thanks to the fog. Al's only response was one that doesn't deserve printing.

I made my way upstream on the shore. We all had large spotlights that really didn't go too far in the fog but you could make out a glow. The walkie-talkie that each one of us carried provided for an eerie symphony as they all would come alive and each one would echo reminiscent of a reverb with eerie qualities.

As I stumbled along and trying not to trip, the sounds of the others seemed to fade. I noticed up ahead what appeared to be someone sitting on a log and staring at the water, not that one could see too much of the river.

"Yo...hello....you there" and I waited for a reply. The person slowly turned and stood. He was a tall man dressed in a long trench type coat. As I came closer, I hollered for Johnny who was behind me to come up. He responded and I hollered to be quick, I found someone.

I approached the man and was startled to see his manner of dress. He wasn't wet, he was dry. What gathered my attention was the coat and the hat the man held. The coat had wide lapels and his hat was three sided with some type of emblem pinned on the one side.

"Hello there, you alright?" With that the gentleman began to size me up and asked, "What manner of garments are those?"

"It's my uniform. Are you alright? Are there others that were with you?"

"And what ... regiment...wears a uniform as such?" I pretty much began to think that this was some kind of joke. I hollered for Johnny to get up here and quick.

"What manner of insignias are those you have on your ....uniform?" With that and to stall for time until Johnny could get up here I decided to humour the gentleman.

"Well, the emblem on my helmet is the station emblem, on the side is the flag. On my shoulder here," as I pointed to my left shoulder, " is the flag and then on my right is the station emblem in full detail and on my back" and I half turned so that he could see," is my station and station number."

"And what manner of flag is that?" Oh boy, I have a live one here. "Johnny? Where are you?" I just wanted to hear his voice so I could tell where he was at and how far away.

"It's the American flag". And then he said something that blew me away. "That sir, is not the American flag."

"It's not? Okay, then you tell me."

"Well, it looks almost the same except there is no blue field with stars. There is the Union ensign."

Okay, I had enough. "Tell me sir, what is your name?"

"Washington, George Washington. And who are you?"

"I need to sit down" and with that, I sat on the other end of the log. The man sat down as well and then asked again, "and your name?"

"Bob....Bob Paul"

"Nice to meet you Mr. Paul." I sat there in a stupor not knowing what to make of this. I am sitting here on a log in the fog along side of the Schuylkill River with a nut case who thinks he is George Washington.

He then said, " So tell me about that flag and all those stars"

Okay, since Johnny wasn't here yet, I decided that I would continue to humour him. "Well each star represents a state in the Union and the red and white stripes are for the thirteen original colonies".
With that, Johnny made it to the log. "Whose this?".

"Meet George, John".

"Hi George, do you need help?"

"As a matter of fact, I could." With that said I thought he we go. This is going to be good.

"I am in need of rations and clothing for about 8,000 to start with" With that, Johnny looked at me and all I could muster was, "Here, have a seat.", as I scooted over a bit. "Also, we could use clothing and any ammunition you can provide. Clement Biddle's mill on the French Creek is not at capacity."

Johnny looked at me, "Did you radio this in?"

"Nope, why don't you?" We stared at each other for a moment.

"Uh...I see your point."

The stranger then asked, "Tell me about station 68 and where you hail from."

John and I looked at each other as if to say, you first so I decided to go first.

"We are from the other side of the tracks. The station is on Valley Park rd right off route 23."

"I mean what colony are you from?" Okay I thought, I'll go along with this.

"Pennsylvania, and you?"

"I'm from Virginia."

I looked at Johnny and said, "well, someone needs to radio this in and tell them we have a survivor. In fact, radio in and ask how many individuals we are looking for and a description of each". John got on the walkie and started asking for information which aroused the attention of our new friend George.

"Not to be a niffynaffer fellow but why is your friend talking into a box?" At this point the box started to answer John and George about fell over backward.

"And what manner of witchery is this?"

"Its a radio George, its okay just calm down". All I could think was how we were going to get him back.

"Johnny, let's just start walking back. Come on George, follow us. We'll get you that help".

"Actually, It's General if you please."

"Okay General, follow us." We trudged along the shoreline headed back in the direction we came.

As we made our way back along the shoreline, the fog slowly began to thin out. Johnny was going on about how who would appear next, General Grant? And I commented about how Gettysburg was a bit west of where we were and other comments about the Civil War. He then said maybe we should go up to the Freedom Foundation on the top of the hill and we could run into General Pershing or Eisenhower and talk about the First and Second World War.

George asked, "Civil War?" And I responded with, "Yeah, between the states, the North and the South."

"And what became of it?"

"The Union won..the north".

"And what about these World Wars?"

"We won those as well, George...er, I mean General" of which my tone might have sounded a bit weary and sarcastic.

It was about this time I mentioned to Johnny that whatever the case, we needed to get George back and get some help for him. As I turned to look back I noticed the fog began to thin around George and with it he did too. I quickly called for Johnny to turn around and he just caught the image of George slowly fading away. We both ran back but our arms flailed through the air and he was gone.
We looked at each other and calmly said to each other, "Let's go back to the station.", and with that, we did.

Sitting at the bar, I ordered a Rock and Rye, with a look from Mary that was of amazement if not confusion and I replied with, "Please". As she poured the drink, Johnny asked for some Jack Daniels and said to leave the bottle.

Staring into my shot glass I said, "What the hell was that?" and all Johnny could muster was, "What was what?" With that, Charlie came over and commented about my drinking something libacious. Johnny and I looked at each other and we both commented that he sounded like the General. With a bemused if not confused look, Charlie asked what we were talking about. As Johnny poured another shot all he could say was, " You saw him first."

So with that I proceeded to tell Charlie what happened. Slowly, others over heard the story and crowded around. When finished, Charlie commented that if it were not for the fact that I always drink coffee, he would write me up for going out on a call drunk.

At the other end of the bar, this old fellow who was sitting and listening to the story started to speak. He told of a story that was told about General Washington in that he had a vision during the encampment at Valley Forge that was during a time of great despair and that this vision gave him strength to continue.

The crowd dispersed and went back to whatever conversations they were having leaving only Johnny and I alone at the bar.

As I sipped at my second Rock and Rye I slowly said to Johnny......"This is almost as bad as the time we came back from that plane crash in Charlestown on the mountain from Hollow Rd".

"You mean the one where the Government showed up?"

"Yeah, the one where we saw those creatures"

And this is what happens at the firehouse, no wonder my wife never believes me.

[Mikado14]

I was a member of the firehouse at the time and I was on the dart team which was a part of the dart league in Phoenixville. It was in on a Tuesday in February and it was a foggy night. I enjoyed history and remembered reading a story about a vision Washington had at Valley Forge. On my way home that night, it was terribly foggy and as I always do when driving, my mind wonders a bit. While driving I was thinking about the vision that I had read and this story came about.

It really isn't all that good but at the time, the editor enjoyed it, I made his corrections and he published it. The only thing I edited in from the original was the date and I did so by looking up the weather for February of '78 to figure out the day it was to add a bit of realism of the reality for as I mentioned, it was a Tuesday night and it was foggy as hell. The original read, "It was a Tuesday in February and I was on my way to the firehouse."

Mikado