A Man's Real Strength
by Charlie Kirby

This above all: To thine own self be true

Pretty words for a pretty day, I can remember thinking. I didn't stop to actually think about them. It was my graduation - all of life stretched out in front of me like some giant ice cream sundae. All there for me to take my fill, all ready to welcome the new me, the man. I was young, strong and very fit - I knew the strength of a man came in how good he looked to the women surrounding him. And I looked very good.

As if anyone can be a man at eighteen, but I was pretty full of myself and my possibilities until I got that special invitation from my Uncle Sam. I didn't think much about it. It was what you did. You graduated, you did your tour and you came home. Well, the lucky ones came home.

The war in Korea was raging, but I was lucky. I scored high enough that I had an option and I chose the Army Corp of Engineers. As a risk factor, it was pretty low, certainly better than actual combat. I was a quick learner and shot to the top of my class. Hell, I was even offered officer's candidate school if I wanted, but I didn't. I was happy doing what we did, designing flood protection, restoring roads and the like to the devastated countryside. I learned the strength of a man wasn't just physical, it was also mental.

It was during that point in my career that I met Napoleon for the time. It was in one of those song cities: Ulsong, Kusong, Pusan, Osan, I don't really remember. I was going over blueprints with an engineer. The only place big enough to accommodate us adequately was the mess tent, so we set up shop there in between meals. We were arguing about some small point when this guy limped in, looking for some coffee.

He was the sort of guy you saw and immediately liked. He was so skinny he looked like a sneeze could topple him; he had his helmet tipped back and a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

A second later, he glanced over, saw me and grinned. We became nodding acquaintances, finally pausing to learn each other's name. Napoleon Solo - can you figure that? What kind of parents would name their kid that? Still, he wore it well and never begrudged anyone their jokes at his expense.

Because of that, as well as a host of other things, he was well liked, a favorite with both men and women, especially the ladies. He always had a smile on his lips, but it always seemed as if it stopped just short of his eyes.

That's when I began to suspect that there was a lot of Napoleon Solo no one saw and he liked it that way. And the more we talked, the less I knew about him. I began to think the real strength of a man was not just physical or even mental, it was doing what it took to get the job done.

The war never stops for long and before I knew it, I was off in one direction and Napoleon in another.

I finished up my hitch and went home. The problem was that there was nothing for me in my tiny little New England village. I had a choice, change my career or change my life. I chose the second and headed for the first big city I could find. It was New York. And being strong took on another aspect - it was being willing to turn your life upside down to achieve a desired effect.

And who'd even think it? I'm wandering around, staring up at the buildings, like some hick, and bumped into someone.

"Hold on there, son." A hand instantly steadies me and my mouth drops open.

"Napoleon?"

"Woody?" He was a little older and had filled out a bit, but I swear even more handsome (yes, we do notice that too) than before. But his eyes were still the same, still guarded and sad. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a job. You?"

"Getting ready to head out to the airport and pick up a new employee. A job you say?" We talked for a couple more minutes and the next thing I knew, I was being ushered into a whole new world - the world of International Law Enforcement. I'm not a cop; that's Napoleon's job, not mine. I was still an engineer and I liked that just fine. And I learned the real strength of a man wasn't always something you bragged or even really talked about. It was a private thing, something that was just yours alone. And I thought my lesson was through. To thine own self be true. I finally knew what that meant - know yourself. Why didn't Shakespeare just say that?

Strangely enough, even though we worked for the same company, we rarely saw each other. It was always by accident. As much as I like him, there was never the impetus on my part to seek him out. Napoleon wasn't a man you went to; he came to you.

So, I was right surprised to hear him calling my name late one morning. I was on my way to Supply - why I can't keep No. 2 pencils in my office is beyond me - when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Napoleon was standing at the door of a conference room and gesturing to me.

"Woody, do you have a minute?" His jacket is off and he's wearing a shoulder holster and a gun, three guesses what my answer was and the first two don't count.

"What's going on, Napoleon?"

"Woody, have you met my partner?"

Like many others, I hadn't, but we all knew of him. You didn't work long at HQ before you heard of these two, thick as thieves and twice as dangerous. Kuryakin was a man you didn't want to cross.

"Illya, this is Woody, an Army buddy of mine. Woody, Illya Kuryakin."

We exchanged handshakes and head nods. What was really surprising was the change in Napoleon. Everything about him seemed, I dunno know, settled? It was like he'd finally found what he'd been missing all those years. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Napoleon flattened some of the sheets of wrinkled, water stained drawings out on the table. "We have a bit of a quandary, Woody, and perhaps you can help us out. Remember back in Hwaseong when we first met?" (I told you.) "You were discussing the safety of a dam?"

"How do you even remember that?" I ask and he gave me a ghost of a smile and tapped his forehead. "Incredible."

"You were arguing about reinforcement points along the base?"

"If you say so." I recognized the set of drawings they had - rough sketches of a dam I'd helped design a lifetime earlier.

"If you were going to take out something like that, where would you set the charges?"

"I don't take dams out, I put them in," I started to argue and Napoleon's mouth twitched into a half smile, a 'isn't he cute, folks?' sort of thing. "Sorry, wasn't thinking."

"It's reinforced concrete." Kuryakin's voice startled me. I don't know why I expected it to be thick and heavily accented. "We were thinking of here, here, and here." He pointed to each spot in turn. "It must look like an accident."

"Why?" I asked even though I didn't want to know the answer.

"Town in its path."

"You're going to wipe out a town?" I vaguely remembered a village of some sort. It was a few years and a whole lot of projects ago.

"It's empty except for a handful of THRUSH scientists and a weapon that could destroy most of the plant life on this planet."

"What? How?"

Kuryakin frowned at me, like you would a backward child. "It alters a plant's structure, making it unable to create chlorophyll. No chlorophyll, no oxygen. No oxygen -"

"No us."

"Exactly." Napoleon shot a look of superiority at his partner. "I told you he was good."

I cut in before Kuryakin could come back with anything. "But why does it have to look like an accident?"

"We are playing the divine intervention card this time... for reasons best left not discussed." Napoleon slapped his hands together. "So, will you help us out here?"

I frowned, trying to remember. "Do you have anything besides these drawings? Blueprints?" Napoleon shook his head. "Old photos?" Again, a headshake. "Sketch on the back of a placemat?"

"There was a fire at the storage facility where all those were kept. It's a mystery as to how these survived."

"Well, without proper drawings, you really need an onsite inspection." Oh boy, these guys were in trouble.

Correction, I was in trouble. I squatted by a bush not far from the dam site and focused my binoculars. Somewhere up ahead, Kuryakin was setting charges. Napoleon and I had spent a day on recon, another day just studying two or three possible sites for where we could plant the explosives. It was an older dam and there was already stress showing. Water escaped from several points along the base and it wasn't going to take much more than a good jolt to let the lake stored behind it break loose. I now knew why the town had been evacuated. THRUSH, however, had more balls than brains it seemed.

All the time, Kuryakin had sat quietly, listening, offering his opinion when it mattered. We made our decision and he picked up a knapsack, full of explosives, I deduced, and headed out.

Napoleon caught his elbow and they spoke, quietly; once spies, always spies, I guess. Kuryakin smiled, just a little bit, nodded, and was gone. I mean literally, he was there and then he wasn't. I never saw anything like it in my life. Napoleon didn't even seem to notice.

"How much longer?" I whispered. I was hot, itchy, tired, and, honestly, I would kill for a nice cool shower. Napoleon looked like he'd stepped out of a man's fashion magazine, in spite the fact that he was wearing a dusty gray jumpsuit. Not a hair was out of place and he didn't even have the decency to sweat. It was like he was eating this up, but why I didn't understand.

"Illya will signal when he's through. I have learned through long association not to rush him at times like these. He knows what he's doing."

"So, catch me up, Napoleon, what's been happening with you?"

"Happening? Nothing much, just work."

"Really. No new lady?"

He laughed then and brought up his own pair of binoculars. "Right, like Illya gives me any time."

"Pardon?"

"What?" He looked a bit confused.

"You said like Illya would give you any time."

"He... ah... makes a habit of getting caught just when I'm getting to the best part of a date." His answer was smooth, it was slick and it was the biggest lie I'd ever heard. No matter what, Napoleon was still keeping things close to his chest. That was when I decided things hadn't changed that much.

Then the ground rumbled beneath our feet and I staggered. Earthquake, but this region wasn't prone to earthquakes - the dam would never stand up to... That was when I thought of Kuryakin at the base of the dam, planting explosives. Then there was a roar.

Napoleon took a step towards the dam. He too knew what had happened. The quake had further weakened the dam and it had collapsed.

"Oh my God, Illya," he murmured, then his eyes widened. "Run!"

Trying to outrun water is a Sysphean task. It can't be done, but it wasn't like we weren't going to give it our best shot. We tore through that jungle, letting the braches whip and cut us. As I ran, I thought about my wife, Sarah, and our two little girls. I hoped UNCLE would help them, provide for them now that my death was imminent. My thoughts were scattered, reliving your life apparently isn't just a saying, you really do. I remembered my wedding day, losing our first baby prematurely, the joy I felt when they put Sophie in my arms the first time, the war, UNCLE, the memories were all jumbled up.

Just as the water was threatening to cut us down, Napoleon grabbed my arm and yanked me to one side. How he knew that cave was there was a mystery, but I guess that's why he is who he is. The water raced over the top of us, going too fast to even rush in immediately.

He grabbed my hand and continued to drag me through the dark, even as the first gallons of water found their way in behind us. A minute later, we were going up a ladder. I felt as if we were climbing to the moon, but that didn't stop me. The adrenaline and the water gurgling below me kept me from tiring. Just when I thought I couldn't take one more rung, daylight caught me.

Napoleon had pushed away the concealment plug from the other end of the tunnel. It had been an escape tunnel, one of many in the region and I'd totally forgotten about them.

We collapsed on the ground and panted. The tunnel had taken us up a man-made berm, above the water line, and we watched as the newly formed river sped by just a few yards away, as trees, plants, other bits of detritus drifted by.

I laughed and whooped. "How did you--?" I started, looking over at him.

"I remembered finding it when we were doing recon here. I checked it out last night, just in case we needed someplace to hide out from THRUSH interference. " He was saying the words, but his eyes were constantly scanning the water. He was looking for his partner's body... and I suddenly felt like chicken shit.

"God, Napoleon, I'm so sorry... "

"For what?" Kuryakin had walked up behind us and I watched Napoleon's face register surprise, then joy. He grabbed his partner in a rough bear hug and laughed, tears streaming down his face, although later he would argue that it was sweat. Kuryakin was grinning and hugged him back. Neither man knew I was there, that a raging river had very nearly subsided to a quiet trickle or even that the birds had started to sing again. It was just them and the joy of knowing the other was still alive.

That was when I decided that I'd finally figured out what the strength of a man really is. And Shakespeare had it right. A man's strength is in his honesty to himself, ignoring what others might think or the image they might try to assign you. It's knowing your strengths and weaknesses and being okay with them. It's being happy in your skin and taking pleasure where you find it. It was an incredible lesson to learn and although I can't say much for his teaching technique, I had to give it up for Napoleon. I watched him cup Kuryakin's head and turn it so he could examine a cut. He really did have his world in his hands.