A Lieutenant's Battle

My name is Lieutenant. Most people look at me strange when I tell them that. This is the story of two people who didn’t. But first, let me tell you a bit about myself.

I lived for months with the Aisle Six Target Militia. No one quite understood how I got involved in it. The older troopers, the ones who were wounded in the trip to the Aisle, told me that I was dropped off there on accident by one of the young recruiters. The newer troops liked to joke that the Great Shelver decided I needed to get some backbone. They didn’t mean much by it, but one thing was true; I could have been the strongest, bravest trooper in the regiment and still have had no backbone.

I am a fuzzy, white bear.

Everyday, people came into the aisle and inspected the troops. If they were happy with what they saw, these inspectors would take home a regiment or two to protect and serve the people of their household. While it was a great honor to serve any person, by far the greatest honor was to serve a ‘Chief.’

Most troopers were taken home by small children who used them for a couple weeks before putting them in reserve for months at a time. In contrast, soldiers recruited by older, more mature ‘Chiefs’ were constantly on display, sent into battle, and utilized to their greatest potential. Every trooper hoped to be taken home by a Chief.

A long time ago, I had that same hope. I wished more than anybody to be recruited by a strong Chief. However, I soon realized that I would never be taken home by anybody at all. People who passed by our ranks looked me over with an air of amusement. I guess a white, fluffy bear seemed very out of place in a regiment full of hardened, camouflage green.

The older troopers understood how I felt. They had been passed over by hundreds of recruiters due to their scars. Some of them could no longer stand up straight without toppling over. They told stories too, stories of being dropped on the way to the aisle, of reckless handling by amateur recruiters, and even of foul play by other troopers. However, their struggles were not the same as mine. I was not passed over because I don’t look my best. I was passed over because I was different.

There were times when I didn’t care about being different. Little girls often accompanied Chiefs into the aisle, and I used to get petted and cuddled every single day. I loved it too, until the other troopers started calling me soft. After that, I started shrugging off hugs from young children and focused on the impossible task of being recruited.

One day, during the time when orange and black paper monsters hung from the ceiling, a small family walked into the aisle. Everyone peered at the two boys that followed their mother, assessing if they were real ‘Chiefs’. The smaller boy was practically bouncing off the walls. He reminded me of the small, red monkeys that liked to hang off each other’s arms two aisles down! He was definitely not a Chief. However, the older boy had a calmer demeanor. His brown hair was certainly much less mussed than his companion’s. Maybe… just maybe…

Of course, with a potential Chief amongst our ranks, everyone immediately tried to look their best. I looked down the rows of green, hardened soldiers and knew my white, soft self wouldn’t stand a chance.

You could imagine then how stunned I was then, when the Monkey Boy picked me up out of the ranks! I could feel weeks of dust fall off my back as I left my eternal perch. I was so astonished that I barely caught the family’s conversation.

“Let’s get this!” Monkey Boy yelled, running up to his mother.

“I don’t know,” she frowned, and my heart sank. “Do you think she would like a stuffed bear?”

I bristled. I was not stuffed. I was padded. Stuffed animals were lazy beings who did nothing more than sit on beds all day. I was a padded bear of the Aisle Six Militia! And who was this ‘she’? Before I had time to ponder the question, I had to snap to attention as best I could (my head wobbled slightly) as the Chief spoke.

“I like it!” he quipped, and my heart soared back up again. “She loves rubbing this kiddo’s hair so much, I can’t believe she wouldn’t want a little fuzz on her gift!”

I looked down at the pale fur that covered the Monkey Boy’s head. That might account for its apparent dishevelment. It did look awfully soft. It would be nice to be loved by a kid like that- No. I was a bear of the Aisle Six Militia. I did not have time to be hugged by little children.

“If you say so,” the mother replied, and, so suddenly I almost couldn’t believe it, I was taken to the recruitment counter. I could feel the pride of the older troopers behind me, yet I heard some snickers from the others as well. I ignored them as best I could, but inside I started to have doubts. Who exactly was I being accepted by? Was this really a Chief? And who was this mysterious ‘she’?

I spent the next couple of days standing guard at a small table. I was not the only guardian of this family, however. A dog, designated by the Chief and Monkey Boy as The ‘Fuzz,’ also guarded the entrance to the household. I’m not entirely sure how she felt about me. When she wasn’t jumping at anyone who walked into the door (no tactics utilized whatsoever), The Fuzz would just stare at me.
I sensed this was a test, one that would ensure my place in this household. So I stared back. I often wondered if this was the ‘she’ the Chief spoke of. I also sometimes wondered how fuzzy the dog was. She looked very fuzzy, and I wanted to play with her- No! Those were the thoughts of a stuffed bear, not a bear of the Aisle Six Militia! I tried to look as tough as I could as I stared back.

By listening into casual conversation, I learned that The Fuzz was not the ‘she’ I was destined to meet. This mysterious girl had a real name, but the Chief sometimes called her ‘Eagle.’ Every soldier in the Aisle Six Militia had a nickname, so it was encouraging that this female had one too. Still, I was apprehensive. I knew from stories that girls had the tendency to waste military talents. I also heard that they loved hugs. That would be nice, to be hugged again- NO! I had to quench these thoughts of love and cuddles!

One day, I sensed something was different. The Chief was very tense, while Monkey Boy was practically jumping off the walls again. Everyone was so excited, I wondered if I was about to be sent into a real battle! Suddenly, I was picked up, placed in a dark, box-like container, and given a sweet-smelling bag as my only weapon. Before I had a chance to think, the box, which must have been some sort of vehicle, was moving. I knew this was it, my moment to shine, to show my worth and skill in battle-

A single ring filled the house, followed by loud barks as The Fuzz raced towards the door in her traditional means of attack. My transport vehicle shook as the Chief struggled to restrain the wild animal. I knew I only had a few seconds to evaluate the situation before I was sent into my first real challenge, so I peered curiously through the dark at the blue bag I had been given. It smelled sweet, like the sticky fingers of little children eating ice cream cones; it smelled like chocolate! I inhaled the delicious aroma for a long moment before light poured into my vehicle and snapped me out of my reverie. I had to focus on the task ahead, and push all thoughts of happy children from my mind-

Suddenly, I heard a noise, and before I knew it, I had been immobilized in a binding grasp. It was so sudden and fierce that I couldn’t react or fight back. I was helpless. I could see nothing but a mane of brown hair and a single, golden eagle. I stared at it, certain it would be the last thing I ever saw, until I realized something. Eagle.

With a flash, I realized that this wasn’t a fight. I wasn’t being captured. This tight embrace was nothing more than that. For the first time in months, I was being hugged. The mysterious ‘she,’ the obscure ‘eagle,’ was nothing more than an ordinary girl. As I came to that realization, I allowed myself to relax into her arms. Feelings of relief and happiness flooded through my body as I listened to the conversation around me.

“It’s so cute and fuzzy!” the girl exclaimed.

“We thought you’d like it,” the Chief replied, “seeing as how much you love petting Fuzz!”

“And me!” a small voice laughed as the Monkey Boy ran around the corner

The girl named Eagle laughed, and pulled away long enough to rub the top of my head, allowing me to see her face. Long, wavy brown hair covered her shoulders, gold earrings with small eagles hung from her ears, and, while her fingers were busy tickling my scalp, her laughing brown eyes were fixed on the Chief. I would have guessed she was a bit older than him, sixteen or seventeen perhaps, but she had the energy and smile of the little girls I met in the aisle.

“You know,” the boy continued, “the bear was technically just supposed to escort the chocolate! We didn’t realise you would like it so much!”

Eagle and I both looked down to see the small blue bag I still had clutched in my paws. She pulled it out and set it aside, enveloping me in another bear hug as the Chief’s mother walked into the room.

“Thank you so much!” the girl exclaimed.

“Happy Birthday from all of us!” the woman replied.

As I sat amongst the happy group, I realised I had gained and lost something. The happy, loving feelings I had suppressed for so long had come out, leaving behind the feelings of guilt that often accompanied them. I knew that I was not meant to fight battles or win wars for this Chief. I was meant to be a fuzzy, white piece of friendship for this girl named Eagle. For once, I wasn’t ashamed of that.

“What are you going to call him?” Monkey Boy asked.

“Well, if he was escorting such an important package,” she began, smiling, “I suggest we name him appropriately.” She looked at the Chief and laughed. “Leiutenant.”

My heart leaped as she said my name. How did she know?

“Perfect! Speaking of which,” the Chief looked at the small clock on his arm, “we’d better head upstairs if we are going to have time to fight some aliens this afternoon!”

“Oh yes!” Eagle cried as she sprinted up the stairs with me in her arms. “First one upstairs gets to drive the tank!”

“No fair!” the Chief yelled as he raced after her.

As the girl named Eagle pushed a glowing button on a small black box, I smiled quietly to myself. Maybe I’ll still be able to assist my Chief in some military battles.

After all, who says I can’t be a stuffed bear of the Aisle Six Militia?