Two days later, three cars pulled up outside our building, and out of them came a dozen old men, straight-backed despite their years, every one in a veterans association cap or blazer, and at the front of them a man whose bearing said he had commanded other men his whole life.
They had come for me.
The old soldier I carried off the parade route on my back was beloved by an entire brotherhood of veterans, and among them were men of real influence, a retired general, a judge, more than one business owner, and they had spent two days finding the young man who would not let one of their own go down on the pavement.
My boss came out to see about the commotion, saw the caps and the bearing of them, and put on his best smile. The old general did not return it.
He asked, in front of the whole office, whether this was the company that had fired the young man who carried Sergeant Ellis to safety. My boss started in about the client lunch, the snub, the priorities.
The general let him finish. Then he said, that man carried one of ours out of the heat when the ambulance could not reach him. You fired him for it. Understand something. The client you were so worried about is a friend of mine, and he will hear from me tonight exactly what kind of company you run.
My boss went the color of paper.
The client did hear. And he did not care for it. My old company lost the account within the month, over the very lunch my boss fired me to protect.
But I was already gone by then, working for one of those old veterans, a business owner who told me a man who carries a fallen soldier on his back is a man he wants at his side, at a wage that made my old salary look small.
Folks ask if I would do it again, knowing what it cost me. I always tell them the same thing. I did not think about the cost for one second in the moment, and I would not think about it now. You do not weigh a paycheck against a person who needs you. And any company that would make you choose was never worth the loyalty I gave it. I understand that now in a way I never did before it happened.
Seven years I gave that company, and my box came down to a mug and a couple of photos over an old man on a curb. It turned out that old man had a brotherhood, and they do not leave anyone behind, not Sergeant Ellis on the parade route, and not the fellow who carried him. Ellis is doing fine, by the way. He calls me son. I would carry him a hundred miles.