We're out of meeting. We're committed.
Alphabit hops and claps like small child. "Time to make the explosives!"
Kat nods and sends him on his way, "Yeah, Alphabit. Use up everything we have."
"Sure thing Cap!" Off he goes.
"I'm going to double check his work. You need to get some sleep." She takes me by the shoulder and gives a good shake. "You, you just make sure to come back. I'll wake you in two hours."
"Do my best Kapitan."
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The militia men give me coveralls, heavily stained and patched, and heavy work gloves. Both camoflage and protection from the ruin they say. It is almost uniform here.
Donald sets out the toys. "Two charges, 1 kilo and 10 kilo, both with radio dets. The small one is for the breach if you can get close enough. Use it on the hinges. They won't be able to repair that in the field."
He opens his mouth wide and gives a hearty laugh. "Now the big one. This one is for throwing or emplacing. If you can emplace it on top you'll ruin the cradle and recoil systems. Last choice throw it underneath. No guarantees, but you might should snap the mount. Either way, jobs a good one."
Donald walks over activating the individual remote detonators and the radio trigger. I bury the charges in my pack under fistfulls of dirty rags, some warped handtools, and a days food and water. My pistol goes under the coveralls with the had set and radio trigger. AKR on the sling and extra mags in the pockets. I have 3 hours till dawn.
"Kiss for luck, Don?"
"You're not the pretty Leo!"
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It takes three hours to cross the no man's land between Sielce and Czarny's territory. Another hour to find a good hide in the ruin where I can observe his "Palace". The joke is, it is a palace. The Palace of Culture, built by Stalin as a gift to the people's of Poland. A multi-story eyesore of reinforced concrete and steel. The only building still standing after two airbursts and the natural headquarters for feudal meglomaniacs.
 |
| I have my little map. The gun and the ammo bunker to the southeast in dugouts. |
The laborers come in from the surrounding, improvised structures. They till the fields inside the haphazard walls. Work in the outbuildings. Armed guards patrol the interior. They're sloppy, I think, knowing the populace is cowed. Large pots are brought out from one wing of the palace. The guards bunch and eat first. Workers take the scraps. Is not quite perfect example of proletariat oppression by aristocracy. Teacher would be proud the lesson stayed.
There is corporal punishment in the afternoon. Announcements of infractions. Lashes given. Czarny is one for whipping. Bet only way to get his sadist dick up. I will enjoy this work.
The gun and bunker positions worry me. The men there pay more attention to their duty. The punishments in the courtyard, are they a pointed reminder?
Evening falls. Laborers take themselves out of the palace in the twilight. I power nap. Wish there were two. Moon-pie or George would do. Wake and observe. Plan and nap.
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Early morning. They aren't stirring, yet. I break down the AKR and stow it away in the pack. Dry swallow a wake-me-up. Move slowly to the edges of the cleared zone. As the morning laborers pass, I join the stream. Flow into the palace courtyard. The guards at the MG check-point barely notice us. Field workers go to the far southeast wing to receive tools. We wait in 'efficient' lines. Some take a moment to step into the dead woods and shrubs and relieve themselves. I take a similar opportunity. The pack stays behind jammed into a window well. I receive my tools.
I am peasant now. I give Czarny a full day of sweat. Work takes me as close as I dare to the bunker and pit. The men at the bunker have steps to see just over the dugout walls, 360, while two stand guard at the breach. Through it I can see the bunker is dug down into the earth. The gun sits in a circular pit. An eight man squad watch the cardinal directions form inside the pit.
I work it through the day. His force is made of the bits and pieces of former armies. Pact browns predominate, but I see Ami-forest, German flecktarn, police, and mixes of all flavors. Orders are barked. Attitude is everything. The gears turn, can you hear them?
Twilight, I stop for a piss and don't come out.
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More waiting. Doc's wake-me-ups go faster than candy. I can't afford to sleep. 4:00 am doesn't come quick enough.
I double damn make sure the remote trigger is off and only then activate the radio detonators. Strip out of the coveralls, reassemble the AKR, and beat my cap into a semblance of shape. I think of that insufferable bastard Gronikov the night before and 'insurgent' snuck in and grenaded his fighting position. Walk just so, back straight, scowl set. Be brisk, you're up at a god awful hour. You have job and damn if they fuck with you. Off to bunker.
They challenge as I come into view. "Padgorny, sergeant. I need Kowalski. Now." The sergeant gobbles something about the challenge.
"Do I look like I give a fuck." Step. "Kowalski. Now!" He stiffens at the snap in my voice.
"Sir, no Kowalski assigned this position." They eat, drink, and breath the fear in this place.
I tap the breach of the AKR slung across my chest. Ting, ting, ting. "I am sent to get Kowalski. Is important to Black." Ting, ting, ting.
"Sir, Kowalczyk?"
I give him one arched eye. "All you fucking Poles sound alike." Hiss, "Where is he?"
"Sir, he's assigned to gun wat..."
I turn and stalk over to the D-30's position. They're already looking our way. I wasn't screaming, but I wasn't quiet by any means. Their sergeant climbs out of the pit as I approach. He gestures up another soldier.
"Kowalczyk. You have a fucking emergency. You're relieved, return home."
"No. Is it Mara?"
"Yes," I lie smoothly, "now go."
His sergeant puts a meathook on his shoulder. "No. Eight men on watch. You're going no where."
"I've told him to go. Are you countermanding me?" Just a hint of threat.
"Eight men, no less." Good, he still has his pride. "Baron's orders, as you know."
I let myself shake with anger. Ting, ting, ting. Bring it visibly under control. "You are.... correct, sergeant. Kowalczyk, I relieve you. Show me his position."
Sergeant show me Kowalczyk's position. Tells me Kowalczyk's Mara is in her seventh month. Fuck you for showing me you're human.
I shrug the pack off and place it on the dug-out as if I'm going to use it as a weapon brace. Scan my assigned sector. Wait five. Roll my neck. No one watching. Sweats running down my back. Give it another five.
Turn, swinging the pack off the wall and under the gun. The sergeant is fast. His gun comes around as I vault the dugout wall. A searing pain along my left arm. I roll into the outer wall. One arm over my head. The other clamps onto the trigger. Contact.
The shockwave drives up and out. In the lee, I survive, deaf and dumb. The world swims as I quick crawl towards the crops. Anyone looking then is flash blind. Anyone looking now sees a confusing dance of ember and shadow. I crawl through the crops to the wall. Along the wall to the corner. Gather my wits.
Back at the pit all is shouting and running. Men everywhere. The wall sentries are all running in to help. I clamber up their steps. Fight off the ringing in my head. I damn near break my leg getting down the east side. Then, stupid me, I turn back and run into the courtyard.
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Czarny's men grab soldiers out of the crowd. Form search teams. Send them back out to look for the attackers. I volunteer.
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