Henry's sleep was abruptly broken by Jeff's voice.
"We're landing in Australia," Jeff said. "The Pacific is a war series. We need wide open spaces—Australia's perfect. But before shooting, actors train on a military base for a month. Full immersion—soldier habits, discipline. Live it to play it."
'Finally,' Henry thought, sitting upright. 'A real challenge. Not just lines on a page.'
By the time they reached the base, the sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the wide fields. Jeff stepped out to coordinate with staff while Henry waited in the car, letting the warm air settle over him.
Inside the barracks, a dozen bunk beds were packed neatly in tight rows. Henry approached his assigned bed—and froze.
"Hi, Henry Stein. I'll be playing Eugene Sledge," said the man at the bunk beside his.
Henry blinked. Rami Malek. Best Actor at the 91st Oscars for Bohemian Rhapsody.
"Hi, Rami. I'm Merrill 'Snafu' Shelton. Nice to meet you," Henry replied, shaking his hand.
They spent the evening getting to know the other actors, exchanging jokes, quietly assessing one another's focus and energy.
The next morning, military training began. For most of the other actors, it was punishing. For Henry, it was almost… manageable. His previous life, confined by illness, had made him unafraid of extremes. Rock climbing, skydiving, heli-skiing, ice climbing, hang gliding, volcano boarding, bungee jumping—he had done it all. The physicality of training was nothing compared to surviving gravity, fear, and frozen mountain cliffs.
But the discipline, the early mornings, the short meals, and strict schedules—that was a real challenge.
Yet there was a reward. A few veterans on base were willing to talk. Many avoided him, but one middle-aged man became a kind of reluctant guide. Unlike the others, he answered Henry's questions—not because he had to, but because Henry asked things that made him reflect.
That evening, under the starry Australian sky, Henry approached him.
"Mind if I ask you something?" he said softly.
The veteran looked up, skeptical but curious. "Go on, kid. Shoot."
"I want to understand… not tactics or drills, but the feeling. Fear, brotherhood, the small moments that kept you going. How did it shape you?"
The veteran studied him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. "You're different. Most just nod and move on. You… you actually make me think. Makes me remember. Makes me talk."
Henry nodded quietly. 'That's all I want,' he thought.
The man leaned back, gazing at the stars. "Alright… fine. War's messy, brutal. But it's also loyalty, laughter, the stupid little moments that save your life. You ask it the right way—makes me remember the good and the bad. Makes me proud I lived it, if nothing else."
Henry felt a lump in his throat. 'I didn't mean to dredge up the bad…' "Thanks for sharing," he said softly.
The man clapped him on the shoulder, firm but not harsh. "Do your thing on screen, kid. Just… make it count."
"Will do," Henry said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Later, during a short break, Henry spotted Jon Bernthal stretching near the training field. Jon, playing Sgt. Manuel Rodriguez, radiated quiet energy—fit, approachable, and calm even after the grueling drills.
"You Henry Stein?" Jon called out with a grin.
"Yeah, that's me," Henry replied, offering a fist bump.
Jon bumped it lightly. "Alright, Shelton. Survived the first week without face-planting? Not bad."
Henry laughed. "Barely. I was expecting worse."
Jon smirked. "Good. You're gonna get plenty worse, trust me. But at least we're all in it together."
'Finally,' Henry thought. 'Someone I can actually bullshit with.' "Exactly. Misery loves company, right?" he said.
Jon laughed. "Yeah. And maybe a coffee or five after. Early mornings here suck."
"I hear that," Henry said. "Maybe we should start a 'survivor club.' Winner gets the last coffee?"
Jon grinned. "Deal. But fair warning—I cheat at everything."
Henry shook his head, smiling. 'This is better than I expected. A little normalcy in the chaos.' "I'll take my chances," he said.
Over the next few weeks, the training intensified. Henry pushed himself physically, mentally, and emotionally. He learned not just to march and drill, but to inhabit the mindset of a soldier—the camaraderie, the exhaustion, the hunger, and the small victories.
Rami Malek and Jon Bernthal became his daily companions, joking, teasing, and quietly pushing each other to do better. The veteran was still a fixture at night, offering perspective when Henry asked questions that forced him to reflect on the past, the human cost, and the bonds forged in chaos.
By the end of the month, Henry felt the change in himself. Not just physically stronger, but mentally sharper, emotionally attuned. He could see Eugene Sledge forming inside him—the fear, the loyalty, the primal human instincts that drove soldiers to survive.
'This,' he thought, staring at the horizon after a long day, 'is why I act. To feel it, to live it, to make it real. To honor them.'
And for the first time since stepping onto that plane from New York, Henry felt like he belonged.