Red Helmet

by Homer Hickam

  A bell rang, the platform jerked, Song gasped, and she and the others were on their way down, and down, and down. Song looked up at the sky, then at the gray rock of the shaft sliding past. There was a wet, earthy odor in the shaft, and the air was cool and damp. She glanced at the sky again and saw that it had turned into a square of light, framed by the shaft, which kept growing, getting longer and longer as the light got smaller and smaller. Finally, the sky had turned into a bright little star that winked out. “Turn your lights on, boys,” Square said.

  Song reached up and turned the knob on the lamp attached to her helmet. The result was a spoke of light. She turned to look at her fellow red caps just as they all turned to look at one another. “Try not to put your light into your buddy’s eyes,” Square admonished.

  Song pointed her light at the shaft, which was still sliding past as the man-lift kept dropping. Her heart began to slow as she became accustomed to the strange sensation of descending into darkness. She was surprised when a hand sought hers. She didn’t turn to see who it was. Gilberto. He was mumbling something in Spanish, and she supposed it was a prayer. She gave his hand a squeeze, and he let go and took a deep breath.

  “Hey, this is fun!” Ford said.

  “Yeah, like Disney World or something,” Chevrolet said.

  “All you boys doing okay?” Square asked.

  “No problem,” Justin said.

  “Gilberto and I are doing great,” Song said, and heard the Mexican take a deep breath. Very low, Song said to him, “Easy, now.”

  The manlift began to slow. A few seconds later, they were lowered into a vast, bustling cavern filled with lights, men, and machinery. The platform beneath their boots shuddered, then stopped. An attendant opened the gate, and Square and his red caps stepped out onto a concrete landing.

  Square did a quick orientation. “This area is called the bottom. That little brick building there is the motor barn. It’s got a small machine shop in it so equipment doesn’t have to be hauled out of the mine to get fixed unless it’s something truly major. See the tracks? They head down the main line, which is also an airway. That means fresh air blows through it. Most of the miners on the day shift have already caught a mantrip down the main line to their sections.”

  Song saw that there were still some black-helmeted miners standing in knots of twos or threes, talking or laughing at some joke. Others sat on the ground, heads leaned back, fast asleep. Then a mantrip arrived, its electric motor humming. The remaining miners crawled inside and it started up, followed a circular track, and then trundled off into the darkness. Square beckoned his students to another mantrip. “This is ours for the day. Mr. Jordan was mighty generous to let us have it too. This way we’ll be able to cover a lot of territory without having to wait for somebody to give us a lift. Y’all go ahead. Hop in.”

  Chevrolet peered into the low steel interior of the machine. “How do you squeeze in there?”

  Square demonstrated, squirming into the tiny compartment. When his students still held back, he barked out, “You’re not going to get an engraved invitation. Climb in!”

  Song looked around for Gilberto, but he was nowhere to be seen. She shined her light back toward the manlift where she spotted him, staring up into the empty shaft. She quickly walked to him. “They’re waiting, Gilberto,” she said.

  Droplets of sweat were streaming down his cheeks and dripping off his chin. “I can’t do it. I want to go up. I have to go up.” His voice was on the edge of hysteria. “I can’t breathe!”

  She touched his arm. “It’s okay.”

  “My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it is coming out of my chest.”

  “I’m scared too, Gilberto. We all are.”

  “I tell you I can’t breathe.” He moved a hand to his throat. “I try, but I just can’t get any air into my lungs.”

  “Let it out,” she said, after noticing his expanded chest. “Exhale. Come on. You have to let the air out to breathe it back in.”

  Gilberto leaned over, his hands on his thighs. He blew out, then stood up, and tested his breathing several times.

  “Better now?” Song gently asked.

  “Sí. Yes. Thank you.”

  “Hey, you two, let’s go!” Square called. He had climbed out of the mantrip. His light flashed over them, then made quick circles.

  “Gilberto, do you know what it means when Mr. Block makes a circle with his light?” Song asked.

  “He’s saying we are to come to him.”

  “That’s right. You learned that. Think of all the other things you’ve learned. It would be wrong to learn something and not use it, wouldn’t it?”

  Gilberto gave that some thought. “I guess so.”

  She took his arm. “Then, come on. Just keep breathing and walk with me. Let’s go use what we’ve learned. That’s it. You’re doing fine.”

  It was slow going, Gilberto taking small shuffling steps, but Song managed to get him inside the mantrip. Square didn’t say anything, just gave her an approving nod. The mantrip’s steel seat was hard, and Song’s hip bones jabbed like knives when she settled down.

  “For the first time in my life,” she quipped, “I wish I had a bigger butt.”

  That earned a laugh from the red caps, even Gilberto. Square thumped the roof with his fist. “Let’s go, Early!” he yelled to the driver and, with a lurch and grinding wheels, the mantrip eased forward. “Sit back, boys,” Square said. “We’re going to Six West, the far end of the mine. It’ll take about half an hour. Any time you’re on a mantrip, you can talk, sleep, do whatever you want to do, but don’t eat your lunch. Save it for when you really need it.”

  The mantrip picked up speed and Song shined her light at the strange world passing by. Instead of everything being black as she expected, a white, powdery crust covered the profusion of vertical posts and crosshatched cribs that held up the gray rock of the roof. “Rock dust,” Square said to Justin’s question about it. “It’s sprayed to keep the coal dust down.”

  There were placards with numbers on them attached to the posts, pointing this way and that, a confusing directory of destinations. “A mine is like a city with streets and boulevards,” Square explained. “Only there ain’t no buildings, just big square blocks of coal. The main line is like an interstate cutting through the city. The entries are like off ramps. Once you get into them, you’ll see the crosscuts, which are like side roads. It’s easy to get lost, so you have to pay attention to where you are all the time.”

  The mantrip roared past myriad equipment and Square did his best to yell out what it all was—electrical switch points, oil storage areas, telephone/pagers, belt lines, welders, SCSR stockpiles, first-aid stations, rock-dusting hardware, water lines, stacks of posts and headers and concrete block stoppers. Every turn, every corner, there was something that needed explanation.

  “I’ll never be able to figure out all this stuff,” Justin said.

  “Sure you will,” Square answered. “A couple of weeks down here, it’ll all make sense.”

  The mantrip slowed, then stopped, its wheels squalling, steel on steel. Square ordered his students out. Their lights swept around like individual lighthouses. “Now, be quiet for a second,” Square said. “Turn your face back down the track. Tell me what you feel.”

  Song was the first to report it. “Air,” she said. “A breeze.”

  “Very good, Song. Air, boys. Life, in other words. In this mine, the main line is one of the primary intakes. Big fans on the surface pull air down this line and then throughout the mine. When we get to a working face, you’ll see it’s not as easy to keep the air moving because there isn’t much room. Figuring out where to hang curtains and brattices for airflow is one of the things Mr. Jordan does. On top of everything else, he’s the main ventilation engineer. That means he spends a lot of his time figuring it all out because if the flow of air stops, it won’t be too long before there’s a buildup of gas and dust. One spark and it blows up.”

  Educat
ed a little more, the red caps crawled back inside the mantrip and it started up again. Song shifted around on the steel seat, trying to get comfortable. She wondered if anyone would mind if next time she brought a pillow along. Then she thought what she had learned about Cable, and what he did for the mine besides supervise. Figuring out how to ventilate a mine, she perceived, required more than engineering skill. It took a great deal of experience and a high level of confidence since even a tiny error could cost lives.

  But another question on a different subject formed in her mind. “There’s a lot of lost time just getting to work,” she said to Square, raising her voice over the grinding wheels of the mantrip.

  Square looked at her with approval. “That’s right. Some mines sink another shaft so the men can get to their sections quicker. It’s an expensive proposition, though. The shaft itself, and the new track that has to be laid, and everything else. It’s a trade-off.”

  “Would it help production in this mine?”

  Square shrugged. “Don’t know. Somebody would have to study it.”

  Song salted the information away. Was the long run to the working faces part of the problem with this mine? Could it be that simple? Surely Cable had thought of it. But maybe not. She smiled. It was going to be fun solving Cable’s problem for him. Then she could go back to New York and be happy. In fact, she was already happy. Being a red cap was just the adventure she’d needed. It had already made her feel closer to her mother. At every clack of the wheels beneath her, Song was beginning to understand what K2 was all about.

  AT THE SURFACE, the red caps stepped blinking into the light. Cable was there talking to Elbow. He ignored Song as she walked by, so she tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Good job, Cable,” she said. “You’ve done a first-class job of ventilating your mine.”

  Startled, he managed a stuttered thank you. Then he took her in. “You almost look like a coal miner,” he said.

  “Why, thank you, sir,” she answered, inordinately pleased.

  He turned away from her. “Too bad you’ll never actually be one.”

  Gilberto had to restrain her from kicking him in the leg with her hard-toe boot.

  Twenty-One

  The red caps were back in their classroom. Gilberto was aglow with success. The coal dirt that had stuck to their faces was scrubbed off. They were in clean clothes. In short, it had been a good day, they had watched coal miners in action, and they had learned.

  Square, looking proud, sat on the edge of his table. “You red caps acted right good down there. Gilberto, you get a big attaboy. I was worried for a while, but I think you’re gonna do fine from here on. Y’all got homework to do over the weekend, but it won’t take long. Just read the chapters in the book I gave you. First thing Monday morning, you show up for work at five thirty sharp. I’m not gonna be there because you don’t need me. The foremen will take care of you. From here on in, you work a regular shift. Tuesdays and Thursdays, though, we meet here after work to talk about what you’ve done, what you learned, and I’ll cover some more things you need to know. Any questions?”

  “When do we get paid?” Justin asked.

  “End of the month. You got credit in Omar’s store until then.”

  “Thank you for a good day, Square,” Song said. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Yeah, you got us down there and back in one piece,” Ford said with a big grin.

  “My pleasure, boys, I swan.” Square looked away to cough. “I have to confess the dust at the face was hard on me. I’ll be paying for it tonight, I expect. You just remember to keep your masks on when you’re in a dusty situation. Don’t end up like me.”

  The red caps strolled back to the Cardinal, happy within their cocoon of accomplishment. “Boy, miners work hard,” Chevrolet said. “They never seemed to stop.”

  “Guess we’ll find out what that’s like on Monday,” Justin said.

  “We didn’t talk to hardly nobody,” Ford noted.

  “Well, them miners kept looking us over. My eyes were full of their lights all the time,” Ford recalled.

  “I heard they can be pretty rough on new miners,” Justin worried.

  “Aw, we can take it,” Ford replied. “How bad can they make it?”

  Gilberto took a deep breath and let it out. “I just can’t believe I did it. Song got me through it.”

  Song took Gilberto by his arm. She had gotten him through and she was proud of it.

  “I weren’t scared none,” Chevrolet said. “Not at all.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ford demanded. “How come you wouldn’t go back into the gob to take a pee unless I went with you?”

  “Hell, I kept looking for the porta-potty but then Square said there weren’t none. Never knew miners just went in the dirt like that. Seems nasty.”

  “I guess we’ll get used to it,” Ford replied. “Don’t seem like we got any choice. Did it bother you, Song?”

  It had, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Nope.” She left it at that. Learning how to mine coal was strange enough. Discussing toilet habits with a group of men—well, she’d rather not go there.

  Still, she already sensed she was going to miss her fellow red caps after this was all over. And Square. And Rhonda and Young Henry and Preacher, all of them. But she still eagerly looked forward to going home. New York was her home and nothing was about to change that. Even friendship.

  SATURDAY DRAGGED BY for Song since she was essentially alone. The Harper boys had gone home to their mountain, Justin was holed up in the parlor watching football with the other bachelor miners, and Gilberto and Rosita had borrowed an old truck from somebody and headed out to visit Mexican friends who had settled elsewhere in West Virginia. Song sat at the little table in her room and read the handouts Square had given them as homework, and then looked out the window. Unable to be alone a minute longer, she went downstairs to see if she could find Young Henry and ask him if he’d take her to the movies in Beckley or Bluefield. When she didn’t find the boy in the parlor, she sought out Rhonda in the kitchen.

  “He’s playing touch football,” Rhonda reported. She guessed Song didn’t much want to play touch football with Young Henry and his friends. “You look lost as a bird dog in the city,” she concluded.

  “I guess I’m at loose ends,” Song confessed.

  “Well, I’m going to choir practice. You wanna go?”

  “No. Yes.”

  “Make up your mind.”

  “Yes. Just to listen.”

  Rhonda nodded. “Get your coat.”

  THE CHURCH FELT warm and inviting, a refuge from the cold wind that had blown into town. The choirmaster was Mrs. Carlisle. Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Petroski were also in the choir. Their full names, as now introduced by Rhonda, were Trudy Carlisle, Billie Petroski, and Dreama Williams. There were six other ladies in the choir and they were all introduced. Song felt like a specimen on a glass slide as they stared at her.

  “Why don’t you sing something for us, Song?” Trudy Carlisle asked. She was Bossman’s wife. “That way we can see how you might fit in.”

  “I don’t want to join the choir,” Song said. “I just came to listen.”

  Frowning, Trudy said, “Nonsense. You’re not going to get off that easy. Sing something for us.”

  Song gave in, not seeing any harm, and sang “Silent Night,” even if it was a little early in the season for a Christmas carol. At the end, she waited to be laughed at, but the choir members were all nodding with approval.

  “Very nice,” Dreama said. “I think I speak for all of us. You can join the choir. We need a soprano.”

  “But I’m not here to join.” When there was suddenly a solid wall of choir lady frowns directed at her, she sighed and gave in. What was the harm? She was lonely. The women were all potential friends and she reasoned she needed all the friends she could get.

  “Well, all right—I mean, if you really need me.”

  “Of course we need you,” Dreama said,
“or we wouldn’t have asked you. By the by, did you enjoy your day in the mine?”

  “I did, actually,” Song answered. “It’s an interesting world down there. Have any of you ever been inside?”

  All shook their heads. “Used to be, miners thought a woman in the mine was bad luck,” Billie said. “But I guess I’d go inside and work if I had to. Thank God I don’t have to. The way I see it, raising our kids and keeping the house is my job. My Chester thinks so too. He does the mining, I do the kids.”

  Rhonda said, “That’s the way most ladies in Highcoal see things.”

  An elegant black woman named Serena spoke up. “Why are you working in the mine, honey? Are you after a man down there in the dark?”

  Song laughed. “No. I didn’t know what to do with the one I had.”

  “Ladies, it’s time to practice,” Trudy said, interrupting the grilling. “Song, we like to warm up with a—” she smiled at the repetition “—a song. It don’t have to be religious. You got something you like?”

  Song was feeling mischievous. She was no longer bored or lonely. She liked the women of the choir, and she did have a song. “When I was at Princeton, my roommate and I used to sing something that was guaranteed to relieve all our tensions. We called it “the lion sleeps tonight song.” Do you know it?”

  “Hell, yes!” Trudy cried. Then looked up at the rafters. “Sorry, Lord. Didn’t mean to cuss in Your house.” She lowered her eyes and her voice. “I used to love to sing that song with my sister. Used to drive my daddy nuts, we’d sing it so much. Ladies? What say we sing and keep that lion asleep tonight?”

  Soon the choir ladies of the Highcoal Church of Christian Truth were singing at full voice with joyful “aweemaways” while Song sang the main stanza about the jungle, the mighty jungle, and the lion sleeping in the night. Preacher popped in from his office to see what was going on. Laughing, he came over to join in. Soon his wife and kids charged inside too. Preacher’s family put their arms around one another and sang as loud as they could.

  Then the front door of the church opened and there stood Cable in his khaki work clothes, his fedora in hand. He had a smile that faded when he saw Song. Her happy expression also waned, and she stopped singing while the choir and Preacher roared on. For a few seconds that seemed to Song a long time, she and Cable held each other’s eyes. Finally, to break the spell between them, Song pretended to write in the air, and silently mouthed: “Have you signed?”