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| Damn, it actually is a castle. |
Major Stranski drives past a vehicle park, 5 or 6 tanks, and right up to a stone tower. He steps up smartly. The three of us are busy gawking.
"Come this way please." Leo didn't really need to translate that. "I'll need your weapons before entering the grounds."
"Major, I don't think we can do that."
"No, this is a secured area. Only authorized personnel can bear weapons inside You'll need to leave your arms here."
I switch to Polish. "I can not allow myself and my men to be unarmed."
"Captain. This is our leader you are going to be speaking with. Our president, no? I would be criminally negligent to allow someone with a gun into his presence."
"Ah, I see that." Shit.
"Good," Stranski rubs the back of his neck. "He needs to talk with your man."
"We'll go." Double shit.
 |
| The man his-self |
The man his-self. Damn. Tall, strong and with eyes that look right into you. I know he can see every bit. I'm the only thing his scary blue eyes are looking at.
"Specialist, please, be seated." Excellent English. One hand on my elbow he leads me across the library to a set of chairs around a small table. He takes a seat of his own. "Captain, please join us."
"I know you have many questions, but please, humor me. I want to speak to you about where you've been. Not recently, you've spoken with my man concerning that, but something years past. I'm not looking for military secret or advantages. This is... personel. My brother, Fabian. Captain. If I ask to much you have only to interrupt your man and we'll move on. Will that be acceptable?"
The captain gives him a smile, "We'll cooperate to our best ability."
"Thank you. Specialist, you've been with the Fifth since the war started, yes? Your were with them at the Battle of Czestochawa..."
Damn it, here we go. I spend the better part of half an hour telling him about trucks, supplies, loading, unloading and more on trucks. He goes back, double-checks, asks questions, more questions, pointed questions. Damn the man. His cold blue eyes read every lie. He calls a halt to the conversation. Runs his hands through short black hair. Looks over from the Captain to me, back to her.
"Captain Paterson, Specialist Cutter." His eyes soften. Shoulders slump as he leans in, elbows resting on his legs. "Please, he, Fabian. He was there as a major of paratroopers. He didn't make it out with his men. And our sides, we, we weren't talking at all. I need to know what you saw, heard, were told. Even if you don't realize it yourself you might know if he was killed or captured."
"Sir, I..."
"Please, Edward." He clasps his hands together as if in prayer. "I swear, I don't care what you've done. We've all done terrible things." He straightens, swallows, mutters, "terrible things."
"I need to know, even if you put a pistol to his head yourself, I don't care. Please, I need to see him taken care of," he gulps air, "properly."
A man shouldn't be so naked in front of another. The Cap and I exchange looks. She nods to me gently, afferatively.
"I'm sorry sir. I was a nuclear weapons tech. My unit was attached to the 5th before Czestochawa and..." I talk on and on dredging every memory I can under his soft, hopeful eyes.
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