Chapter 4 - Farewells


Cabbie had been adamant that he wasn't going to have a funeral or formal memorial service or anything that would draw attention to his passing. As Maru glanced across the tarmac, it was pretty clear that the mass gathering of current and former Piston Peak Air Attack vehicles had already broken the spirit of that request. Whether or not the old plane had ever realized it, he had been deeply loved and his 'kids' really did need an opportunity to say a proper goodbye.

Still, Maru was a mechanic of his word, which is why he had arranged for Superintendent Jammer to handle Cabbie's final send-off from the park. That way if the tug ever met the C-119 in the hereafter, Maru would have proper deniability.

It had been just over two weeks since Cabbie's passing when it was time for the old aircraft to make his symbolic final flight out of the park and to the location to the factory that would remake him into something new. Most of his mortal remains had already been scattered to the four winds…many of his pieces were going to keep the two airworthy C-119 flying or that were going to be preserved in museums had been picked up by various cargo aircraft…most of the pieces that were going to be remade were had been shipped off by truck in the dead of night. Even his cockpit had left the park earlier that morning, even though it would traditionally be the final piece to be moved. Unfortunately, Cabbie had been a big enough aircraft that the cockpit was simply too large for Pickles to carry in his cargo hold, which had led to an American flag wrapped bundle containing his tails to be selected to represent everything that Cabbie once was. The smokejumpers had all agreed, that they would be hard-pressed to find a part of Cabbie's frame that had been more distinctive.

The whole crew, both active and former alike, made their way down to the lodge in the predawn hours. The mountain roads had been cleared and closed off which allowed even those vehicles who were not road legal to follow the truck carrying the last of Cabbie's mortal remains through the roads that wound through the forests he had dedicated so much of his life to protect.

The procession came to an end at Pulaski's firehouse on the edge of the lodge's airstrip. The flag-wrapped bundle was loaded into Pickles and then everyone waited for the world to turn underneath them and the time to be right. Pulaski and Rake kept the coffee flowing and the various members of the Air Attack Team took turns keeping the stories flowing as the sky turned from black to a deep purple to a pink that only existed just before the sunburst over the horizon.

With that signal Pickle started warming up his engines, signaling that the wait was over. Without a word, Pulaski…as well as several county firefighting apparatuses lined up on either side of the tarmac. Pulaski then gave the Superintendent a quick nod of approval, and Jammer rolled out onto the cold runway tarmac and cleared his throat.

"Today we gather to celebrate the ending of a great life. Cabbie McHale touched all of our lives in different ways." Jammer gave a pained smile as he allowed his eyes to drift the collection of large aircraft gathered on the edge of the tarmac. "To some he was a loving parent and grandparent." The vehicle allowed his eyes to drift to Blade and Windlifter. "To some he was a trusted teammate." He looked directly at where the smokejumpers sat with their sides practically pressed against each other. "To some he was an 'uncle' they trusted to see them through any danger. To all of us, he was a friend, and he will be deeply missed."

Jammer took a deep breath before glancing towards the line of firefighting aircraft. "At this final goodbye, it is only right that we send off our friend with the respect that he has so clearly earned. That is why I am honored to give my formal approval for the giving of a water salute."

The crowd was silent, except for Pickles who let out a single choked sob, as Jammer left the tarmac. Everyone present knew just how rare and precious this ceremony was…it was something usually reserved for the first or last flight of an airline into an airport, the first or last flight of a type of aircraft, or to mark important moments in aviation history. The use of a water salute at this moment cemented the end of the C-119's role in firefighting in a way that no other act could.

Pickles faltered for just a moment, as he tried to his best to breathe through his emotions. The aircraft knew that this would likely be the only time he would witness this ceremony in person and that only deepened emotions. He took a long steadying breath and braced his wings at the edge of the tarmac. With a spin of his propellor, he signaled to Pulaski to proceed.

Pulaski's order to ready the salute echoed in the chill of the winter air, then the spray from four firefighting apparatuses hoses arched through the air forming an arch that caught the light of all of the vehicles that present. Pickles unlocked his breaks and carefully navigated through the water and the mist to a dry space on the tarmac beyond the salute. Only once his tail was clear, did the firefighters shut off their nozzles and Pickles looked towards the tower.

"Piston Peak's Lodge, this is Honor Guard 51, over." The plane's words were broadcasted to the crowd using the PA system on Pulaski's firehouse.

"Honor Guard 51, this is Piston Peak's Lodge." The flight controller on the station replied.

"Honor Guard 51, is requesting permission for taking off."

"Permission granted."Then the voice on the other side of the radio broke. "Blue skies my friend."

At this point there wasn't a dry eye in the crowd, but no one spoke as Pickle's engines roared to their full power. Then the C-130 made his run down the tarmac, letting his tires leave the runway within moments of the sun cresting the nearby mountain peaks. Pickles made a few gentle banking maneuvers to gain altitude before turning his nose to the east.

Everyone sat quietly on the tarmac as the sounds of Pickles' engines faded and the C-130's shape disappeared into the rising sun. Only once the aircraft was completely gone from view did the spell of the moment finally break and several vehicles started to recognize just how badly they were shivering from the cold. Then the whole lot organically, started moving back into the shelter of Pulaski's firehouse for another mug of coffee and the chance to bid each other one last farewell before finally heading back home to work and family.


Most of the jumpers were gone by noon the day that Cabbie left the park for the last time, and the rest of them were gone by nightfall…with one major exception, Avalanche stayed.

"YOU NEED AT LEAST THREE VEHICLES UP HERE TO KEEP THE BASE OPEN." The little dozer had said when Maru had woken up to him cooking breakfast in Cabbie's hanger the following morning. "PLUS, I DON'T TRUST EITHER OF YOU TO COOK WITHOUT BURNING WATER IN THE PROCESS, SO I FIGURED I WOULD STICK AROUND AND MAKE SURE NEITHER OF YOU STARVED."

"I am not that bad." Blade harrumphed as he made his way to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug before settling himself in front of the cheerfully burning wood stove. Avalanche rolled his eyes at the Chief's statement. Maru actually managed a laugh.

"Blade. You are truly that bad at cooking." Maru couldn't help but keep the mirth from his voice as he poured his own mug of coffee…then he took a sip and it threw him completely out of the moment.

"YEAH, THE FIRST MUG OF COFFEE HURT FOR ME TOO." Avalanche said as he focused his complete attention on the pancakes cooking in front of him. "IT JUST…IT JUST TASTES WRONG, BUT I KNOW THAT I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO MAKE COFFEE THAT TASTES EXACTLY LIKE HIS, SO I HOPE THAT THE FACT THAT IT IS CAFFEINATED WILL BE ENOUGH TO ALLOW YOU TO FORGIVE MY FLAWS IN THE KITCHEN."

"There is nothing to forgive." Blade moved to allow his rotor blades to gently brush Avalanche's canopy in a rare moment of physical contact. "Cabbie was a unique old plane, and while our team will find vehicles able to fill in the jobs he did around base, no one will ever be able to replace him."

Avalanche did a quick bob of agreement and then served breakfast. The meal was eaten in silence, but not in a bad way. All the vehicles in the room had a lot of things to still process and they knew that their fellow firefighters were perfectly willing to give them the space they needed to work through those thoughts at their own speed without any judgment.


The act of cleaning out Cabbie's hanger proved to be more of an emotional rollercoaster than the old plane's breaking. During the chaos of the preparations for the breaking, Maru had been busy enough that he didn't have time to dwell what it meant to have to find a replacement for Cabbie on the team. Cabbie was just Cabbie, and while Maru had known that there was a good chance that the C-119 would be lost on his watch, the mechanic had always had a feeling deep in his engine that Cabbie would somehow manage to outstay Blade and himself.

Now with him buried tines deep in the process of cleaning out the jump plane's hanger the fact that Cabbie wasn't coming back was inescapable. The mechanic decided the best way to face the problem was just to keep moving and let the momentum carry him through the ordeal…but then found a box tucked on an out of the way shelf that stopped him in his tracks.

It was labeled 'In Case Of My Death' scrolled across the top. While Cabbie's large size had made it difficult for the plane to write, Maru had seen enough of his penmanship to recognize his distinctive print. Gingerly Maru opened the box and saw a thick pile of manilla envelopes, each one addressed with a family name. Curious Maru took the envelope off the top, undid the little metal prongs, and peaked inside only to find what looked like a stack of paper. The mechanic carefully pulled the top sheet out to find a letter. As his eyes scanned the text it was clear what this letter was.

To The Gyllenhaal Family,

I am so sorry that this letter has arrived at such a time of grief and mourning. Avalanche was a dozer who was willing to put his life on the line to protect his team and his community. He led the smokejumpers with skill, humor, and an iron will. He was deeply trusted by all those who followed into the path of the raging fire and I was incredibly blessed to be part of his crew.

Though none of these words can ever bring back your son, I hope that you can at least find comfort in the fact that Avalanche died as he lived…facing danger with his team. For obvious reasons I cannot speak about the specifics, but know that though in his last mission death won, he did not make his final drive into the sunset alone.

Sincerely,

Cabbie McHale

So many conversations that Maru had had with Cabbie in the past as well as the plane's request for no funeral suddenly made so much more sense. Cabbie had lived with the weight that there was a good chance that when he died he would be taking a load of smokejumpers with him. He had internalized that fear so deeply that he felt that has the vehicle of so much destruction he wouldn't deserve to be mourned.

Maru sat stunned by the realization that he had failed to recognize the depth of a dear friend's anxieties until it was too late to do anything about it. He clutched that fragile piece of paper and let the guilt full sink in…but then he allowed his eyes to stray to the rest of the papers tucked within the heavy manilla envelope. Pulling out the stack he discovered that the painstakingly careful handwriting continued.

P.S. Though I know is cold comfort, I felt it was important for you to understand just how many lives Avalanche touched during his time as a Piston Peak Air Attack Smokejumper, so I have taken the liberty of attaching a list of every vehicle he rescued during his time with us.

Beneath the cover sheet was page after page of individualized mission notes. Each mission describing every rescue that Avalanche had been credited for. It was an incredibly touching gesture that Maru knew would have been deeply appreciated by the family of a fallen teammate.

"CAN I KEEP THAT?" Avalanche's voice startled Maru from his work…and nearly stopped his engine in the process.

"What?" Maru asked trying to get his mind back in gear, once it was he could see how Avalanche's eyes were locked on the letter in front of them.

"I know it wasn't meant for me…but can I keep it?" Avalanche spoke his voice little more than a breathless whisper and all of the sudden tears started to flow freely from the dozer's eyes. Maru quickly found himself softly patting Avalanche until the sobs that shook his frame slowly quieted and smokejumper fell into a fitful slumber.

Once Maru was convinced that Avalanche was fully asleep, Maru turned his attention to the letters in front of him and the painstaking process of identifying which letters should be sent, and who/where those letters should be sent to.