Moon-Pie - Praga, September 30th, 2000
It was an effort getting in without being seen. But, hey, that's what I do. Suckers been in camp since '97. They're rusty.
The major took J-boy off to the side to get his version before talking with me. I have, what did she say, 'powers plenipotentiary' to negotiate with the man. Means she's trusting me to cut a deal and she'll follow whatever I decide. Damn, I can really fuck her over hard! Pity I'm such a nice guy.
Major finishes with J-boy. Decides I'm worth a bother. I give him 'the plan'. Downstream run, amphibious landing, quick march overland to attack from the flanks. We'll need a few trusted men to guide in the attack columns and turn a blind eye towards your advance team. It's a real Marine plan. Sniff, Captain's growing up.
Major Emowitz has me walk through it three times. I know he's got artilleryman's ear, but come on. Needs to keep me busy while he thinks. Finally, he lets me know I won't get shot today, "Ok, we can work with this. What does she have planned for after."
I tell him, "Short story, Major. We're heading back upstream to Krakow. Hold out for the winter. Head back to Germany in the spring or summer. Sooner if a good opportunity arrives."
"And how will she be handling command?"
I know she's told J-boy what to tell him. I get to play parrot. "She's not relinquishing command to you. She's got good reasons. The locals trust, Krakow contacts, winter quarters for us, and brass balls. What else is there to know?"
He sighs, "I'm not going to argue the point. You can tell her. Tell her, I'm going to consider this a rescue op. When Delta swoops in and grabs the hostage, the hostage doesn't take command, even if he's a general officer. The problem is. Hell, two problems. First, she can't step into my boots. I'll follow her lead, no questions, but I know these men. Both the good ones and the problems. She needs me here and they'll react poorly to having a Captain of Engineers ordering them about. Second, if we do settle down for the winter, we're going to have pressure to reorganize and integrate. I'm chief heavy. You're Indian heavy, right? Some of these chiefs have been sitting things out since day 2. They want another shot at command and a crack at Ivan."
Man's not done talking. I give him the encouraging nod.
"She needs to know it isn't me. I'll be doing all I can to contain it, but damn if I know if I can."
There. He's done. "Major, sounds about what she wants. You'll stay in charge of your men. She'll stay in charge of hers. You'll both be cooperating on the next set of moves. She wants to see everyone home. Even the knuckleheads."
He chuckles. "Some of those knuckleheads out rank her."
"They're not going to know what hit them." I smile. "Like a force of fucking nature."
---------------------------------------------------
Captain Paterson, October 1st, 2000
We've made our loud, teary goodbyes. The Krowola chugs away downstream. We've got some thirty men visible manning our weapons or preforming deck duties. The others, Russians and Poles, hunker in the bottom of the barge. They've been boarding since the early hours. Five men loading "supplies", three or four come off. Run the groups one right along side of the others. We had the full compliment aboard by mid-afternoon.
We took sporadic small arms fire as we transited Warsaw. The men hunkered down behind sandbags. Our macghinegun's sprayed suppression fire. Usually the shot did not repeat. Since we're riding the center of the Wistuala it would take a stroke of abysmal luck for anyone to get hurt. Our luck stayed good.
Five kilometers downstream from the ruins we maneuvered close to shore. Tadeuz and Uller taking soundings from the barge bow and starboard side. We can't get close enough to wade. Even though the barge is lightly loaded her draft still exceeds two meters. Nobody, except Alphabit, wants to swim it. We have two small inflatables and a captured powerboat. Hours to offload and transfer to shore, two hours to Krakow, more to thread our way through the rubble. Damn, I don't like swimming.
A security team takes the boats to shore. Guidelines trail behind. On their return we load them down with kit bags, small arms and our other necessaries. Alphabit volunteers to show the others how it's done. Into the drink, grab a line, and hand over hand to where he can wade. I tell the others to keep their hands on the line at all times. Three at a time, one to a line, the next jump as soon as the first clear out. Got the 'affirmative's', 'yes ma'am's', and 'da's' out of the way. I'm in the first wave.
God damned cold!
I'll make a note when my teeth stop chattering, do not swim in October. In Poland.
I'm gathering my gear and doing my best to keep warm. Five plus klicks will help with that. Might even be dry at the end. I do my best to be the cheerful ass-kicker. They need an example. After all, if she can do it, a man can. I'll use that against them.
Leo and our best scouts take point. Columns for behind them. I join the lead elements. I use the M60 as a giant baton. With a barked "Oorah!" I use it to wave the columns forward. Back to Warsaw.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
058: Rutkowski
Under the former Palace of Culture, September 29th, 2000
Pain. There is nothing but pain. Pain from over stretched shoulders. Pain from a trunk beaten vivid purple-black. Pain nothing but pain.
The mind grows divorced. Punches register; pressure and impact. Patterns register; Zajac's slower, weaker strikes versus Wosniak's enraged blows
It had said, "You have failed."
The mind falls away from the flesh. Pain happens to someone else.
Like a child playing telephone with a flexible pipe, the voice had blurred and buzzed. "Our God does not accept failure."
Until the body accepts defeat, gives up, shuts down. The world fades, gray then black.
"As Job suffered for the Lord, so shall you. An example, if nothing else." I am Job.
"Cut him down," the thing commands. "Tomorrow, you assemble your men. I will make the example instructive. Show what failing the Baron means." Head scrapping the roof, shoulders touching the walls, the powerful, gray form returns to the depths of the Palace.
The men, Czarny's last Lieutenants, obey with alacrity. One does not refuse an angel.
------------------------------------------------
September 30th, 20000
Saint Andrews cross, a bare metal rectangular frame quartered with lumber. Ropes hand at the corners for hands and feet and another at the X to secure the waist. A simple implement whose sole function is to immobilize the body and leave it vulnerable.
The men are assembled in the courtyard, many ranks deep. They've been silent watching the cross. Not knowing specifics of what is to come, but knowing with certainty that is will. The Baron stands tall, and as silent, beside the cross. Some in the crowd, more sensitive than most, fight headaches.
From the Palace the Lieutenants come. Between them, tight in their grasp, is their fallen comrade, Rutkowski. Stripped to worn boxers his bare feet stumble in the dust. The marks of yesterday's session clear on his skin. A murmur begins. The Baron's glares out silencing the crowd before it gains any momentum. It is if he can see into each man's soul and finds them lacking.
Rutkowski can see the thing by the cross. Why don't the others? Why isn't there shouting, "Dear God, what is that thing!" They have guns. Why aren't they being used?
At the cross, Wozniak takes him by the throat. Fingers digging forcefully into his larynx as Zajac bends to the ropes. They have him on the cross. Yes, his feverish mind drifts, 'The cross for his sins.'
He wanders as the Thing orates to the men. Speaking of their goals, duty, and the costs of failure. It spends an inordinate amount of time relishing the costs. He drifts as the Thing, he won't call it an angel ever again, lists his failing and his punishment.
The men stand sweating in the cold. Before they had though they'd understood Baron Czarny. Yes, there would be punishment for violations of his sparse law; reduced rations, punishment duty, a flogging. But this, this example... too much.
The Baron finishes his declaration. Turns to Rutkowski on the cross. Czarny rips away the boxers. Places his hand on his lower abdomen above the genitals. Rutkowski crashes back into his body at the touch of sandpaper skin.
The watching men shake as Czarny forces his way into Rutkowski's torso. His shiny red hand emerging with a length of small intestine. Hand over hand, foot after foot, as the screams match his efforts. Slowly pulling three, four, five, before Rutkowski's voice and consciousness fail. Six, seven, eight, how much can fit into a man? Nine and ten, a wet pile of rope at slopping over his boots. He tears the glistening rope. Drops it on the pile.
Czarny turns back to the troops. "Remember."
Wozniak steps forward, ramrod straight, "Dismissed!"
-----------------------------------------------------------
The Thing turns to his loyal followers. "Take him to physician. Reattach. Stitch it up. My blessing remains on him. He will be of use."
Zajac wipes the vomit from his chin. He'd almost made it through. Almost. Wozniak cuts Rutkowski down.
"Leave the cross," it rasps, "Later it will be of use."
Tonight there will be more desertions.
Pain. There is nothing but pain. Pain from over stretched shoulders. Pain from a trunk beaten vivid purple-black. Pain nothing but pain.
The mind grows divorced. Punches register; pressure and impact. Patterns register; Zajac's slower, weaker strikes versus Wosniak's enraged blows
It had said, "You have failed."
The mind falls away from the flesh. Pain happens to someone else.
Like a child playing telephone with a flexible pipe, the voice had blurred and buzzed. "Our God does not accept failure."
Until the body accepts defeat, gives up, shuts down. The world fades, gray then black.
"As Job suffered for the Lord, so shall you. An example, if nothing else." I am Job.
"Cut him down," the thing commands. "Tomorrow, you assemble your men. I will make the example instructive. Show what failing the Baron means." Head scrapping the roof, shoulders touching the walls, the powerful, gray form returns to the depths of the Palace.
The men, Czarny's last Lieutenants, obey with alacrity. One does not refuse an angel.
------------------------------------------------
September 30th, 20000
Saint Andrews cross, a bare metal rectangular frame quartered with lumber. Ropes hand at the corners for hands and feet and another at the X to secure the waist. A simple implement whose sole function is to immobilize the body and leave it vulnerable.
The men are assembled in the courtyard, many ranks deep. They've been silent watching the cross. Not knowing specifics of what is to come, but knowing with certainty that is will. The Baron stands tall, and as silent, beside the cross. Some in the crowd, more sensitive than most, fight headaches.
From the Palace the Lieutenants come. Between them, tight in their grasp, is their fallen comrade, Rutkowski. Stripped to worn boxers his bare feet stumble in the dust. The marks of yesterday's session clear on his skin. A murmur begins. The Baron's glares out silencing the crowd before it gains any momentum. It is if he can see into each man's soul and finds them lacking.
Rutkowski can see the thing by the cross. Why don't the others? Why isn't there shouting, "Dear God, what is that thing!" They have guns. Why aren't they being used?
At the cross, Wozniak takes him by the throat. Fingers digging forcefully into his larynx as Zajac bends to the ropes. They have him on the cross. Yes, his feverish mind drifts, 'The cross for his sins.'
He wanders as the Thing orates to the men. Speaking of their goals, duty, and the costs of failure. It spends an inordinate amount of time relishing the costs. He drifts as the Thing, he won't call it an angel ever again, lists his failing and his punishment.
The men stand sweating in the cold. Before they had though they'd understood Baron Czarny. Yes, there would be punishment for violations of his sparse law; reduced rations, punishment duty, a flogging. But this, this example... too much.
The Baron finishes his declaration. Turns to Rutkowski on the cross. Czarny rips away the boxers. Places his hand on his lower abdomen above the genitals. Rutkowski crashes back into his body at the touch of sandpaper skin.
The watching men shake as Czarny forces his way into Rutkowski's torso. His shiny red hand emerging with a length of small intestine. Hand over hand, foot after foot, as the screams match his efforts. Slowly pulling three, four, five, before Rutkowski's voice and consciousness fail. Six, seven, eight, how much can fit into a man? Nine and ten, a wet pile of rope at slopping over his boots. He tears the glistening rope. Drops it on the pile.
Czarny turns back to the troops. "Remember."
Wozniak steps forward, ramrod straight, "Dismissed!"
-----------------------------------------------------------
The Thing turns to his loyal followers. "Take him to physician. Reattach. Stitch it up. My blessing remains on him. He will be of use."
Zajac wipes the vomit from his chin. He'd almost made it through. Almost. Wozniak cuts Rutkowski down.
"Leave the cross," it rasps, "Later it will be of use."
Tonight there will be more desertions.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
057: Planning, Again
Leonid, September 29th, 2000
Early hours. Used the last of the unmentionable MRE coffee. Kapitan wants me to take lead at the meeting. The Headsman, Rataj, my General, my Kapitan, and our staffs. Funny that. He with his commissar and one of the LTs. Her with Eddie and me. We make small talk while Ed puts his frustrated artist skills to work sketching out Warsaw in colored chalk.
The Headsman has news from his 'spies'. We've been hearing gunfire, off and on, for the last two days. Some of the Baron's followers have decided that they're not going to win. They take what they can and try to leave. The Baron's men disagree. Once one group did it, it put the idea into others. They're flaking away. We need to put the last nails in their coffin."
They take their seats. I stand by the blackboard.
"Comrade General, honored Headsman, my fellow soldiers. Kapitan Paterson has asked me to present our plans for continued operations in the Warsaw area. Our targets are the communities of Praga and New/Old Town. Both sit astride the only cleared road route to the north. Both areas also possess large cultivated fields, captive civilian populations, and American troops."
"Headsman, I quite understand your feelings regarding their presence. In your place, I would want them dead as well. However, they are our comrades and one of the many reasons we're in Warsaw."
Filip growls, "Yes, but what are you going to do."
"We're going to free them."
Silence. Stunned?
"We are in contact with the commander of the Praga detachment. While they are armed, largely with shotguns and hunting rifles, they are overseen by a squad of Czarny's own house troops and the remains of the pirate forces. They are glorified trustees, freeing more of Czarny's solid troops for combat operations."
"Again," Filip complains, "What will you do."
"We're going to take both Praga and New/Old. Nothing less will free our comrades. Nothing less will break the marauder's hold on Warsaw."
Yes, stunned silence this time followed by nervous laughter.
General Koronov breaks the laughter with his basso rumble. "My friends, you've worked a miracle, no two miracles. But I do not see this. We are still outnumbered 2 or so to 1. I tell you, if you can do this, I will nominate you for sainthood."
"Orthodox, please. As you said, they have us 2 to 1. They do not have the men or material edge to take Sielce by assault. Moreover, they know they are in a worse position than they are. The man we recovered yesterday has well seeded their doubts. It seems Rataj spent lavishly to equip your militia. They believe you have a dozen light mortars, additional PKs, many assault rifles, and AT and fragmentation grenades. You liquidated your fortune to buy those and hire close to two hundred American and Polish mercenaries. You are too strong to take this autumn. You're safe."
"So, it is time for us to go. We'll make a big production out of it. The Americans are taking the boat downriver to link up with allied lines. We'll 'stock' the boat over the course of a day. Have a tearful bon voyage party. Speaches and so forth about our eternal friendship. Then, late afternoon, we sail downriver."
I want to laugh. Headsman Filip and his men look as if I've lost my mind. Koronov nods and mouths, "Maskirovka."
"This is, of course, misdirection, a deception. We'll clear Warsaw by nightfall and be some kilometers downstream. Disembark onto the north shore and make our way back on foot. We'll meet with the American troops they have on night patrol and use them to guide us in. An assault team will take the HQ in Praga. Once that fight starts, other troops will attack the western end of the Praga wall and sweep its length. Our American comrades are quartered between the river and the wall. They'll be free to fight with us once the pirates are gone."
"New/Old is a riskier proposition. We don't have the manpower to stage a second assault simultaneously with the first. Our troops will intermingle with the freed Americans. We'll stage a 'fighting withdraw' over the bridge. Once we're in friendly lines, we turn on the marauders and seize the community."
The General steeples his hands, "This is a high risk operation. You'll need more than your fifty to carry it off."
"Yes, sir, we will. We're counting on your support and that yours Headman. Holding just Praga cuts their lines of communication. By your information, they have few forces, other than garrisons, to the north. It will be very hard for them to cross the Wistula under fire. If we hold New/Old as well their position is completely untenable. We hold most of the fields, food storage, and the all important roads. They can try to deal with us, or, they can collapse. We'll take either outcome."
"What of armor attack?"
"Armor can only proceed with speed up the road from the Fortress to New/Old. The wall has onlt a small gap for trucks. We have RPG-16s and a few RPG-18s. It will only take one tank to block the route. Otherwise, they will have a long treacherous slog through the ruins. We'll be in position before them."
"And infantry?"
The New/Old wall is again our friend. We'll have combined some 200 American troops, plus any commitment from yourself. We can evacuate civilians and food to Praga. Fight from the wall until it can't be held. Then conduct a real fighting withdraw across the bridge. We bleed them every step of the way. Together we can hold the Vistula crossing indefinitely. They'll have to move south around the city to find a bridge to the west. With the battery on the barge we can interdict that crossing as well."
My friend the General has a gleam in his eye. He's on board. "I have fifty men on hand with another forty due to infiltrate over the next few days. I can pledge those fifty. The new arrivals will take their place."
Kapitan Paterson nods her thanks. Turns to Filip. He and Rataj put their heads together. Grudgingly, "I can provide an additional 60 men." He has to beat the Russian contribution. Save face.
The Kapitan stands, "Thank you both. I will be in overall command of the expedition." She points to the map. "Our troops will still be taking the wall. It would be best to have Americans close to Americans to reduce any chances of friendly fire. General, your men will be sweeping to our left, clearing any pirate holdouts and seizing their small mortar battery. Headsman, your men will be to the Russian left. Their task will be to block any retreating pirates from getting to the civilians and food stocks. I know there's many details to work out. We've got the day to do it. We should break so you can assemble small unit leaders and we can work details out over lunch."
"Agreed."
"Da."
Early hours. Used the last of the unmentionable MRE coffee. Kapitan wants me to take lead at the meeting. The Headsman, Rataj, my General, my Kapitan, and our staffs. Funny that. He with his commissar and one of the LTs. Her with Eddie and me. We make small talk while Ed puts his frustrated artist skills to work sketching out Warsaw in colored chalk.
The Headsman has news from his 'spies'. We've been hearing gunfire, off and on, for the last two days. Some of the Baron's followers have decided that they're not going to win. They take what they can and try to leave. The Baron's men disagree. Once one group did it, it put the idea into others. They're flaking away. We need to put the last nails in their coffin."
They take their seats. I stand by the blackboard.
 |
| Ed really needs art lessons or 'This is a place holder' |
"Comrade General, honored Headsman, my fellow soldiers. Kapitan Paterson has asked me to present our plans for continued operations in the Warsaw area. Our targets are the communities of Praga and New/Old Town. Both sit astride the only cleared road route to the north. Both areas also possess large cultivated fields, captive civilian populations, and American troops."
"Headsman, I quite understand your feelings regarding their presence. In your place, I would want them dead as well. However, they are our comrades and one of the many reasons we're in Warsaw."
Filip growls, "Yes, but what are you going to do."
"We're going to free them."
Silence. Stunned?
"We are in contact with the commander of the Praga detachment. While they are armed, largely with shotguns and hunting rifles, they are overseen by a squad of Czarny's own house troops and the remains of the pirate forces. They are glorified trustees, freeing more of Czarny's solid troops for combat operations."
"Again," Filip complains, "What will you do."
"We're going to take both Praga and New/Old. Nothing less will free our comrades. Nothing less will break the marauder's hold on Warsaw."
Yes, stunned silence this time followed by nervous laughter.
General Koronov breaks the laughter with his basso rumble. "My friends, you've worked a miracle, no two miracles. But I do not see this. We are still outnumbered 2 or so to 1. I tell you, if you can do this, I will nominate you for sainthood."
"Orthodox, please. As you said, they have us 2 to 1. They do not have the men or material edge to take Sielce by assault. Moreover, they know they are in a worse position than they are. The man we recovered yesterday has well seeded their doubts. It seems Rataj spent lavishly to equip your militia. They believe you have a dozen light mortars, additional PKs, many assault rifles, and AT and fragmentation grenades. You liquidated your fortune to buy those and hire close to two hundred American and Polish mercenaries. You are too strong to take this autumn. You're safe."
"So, it is time for us to go. We'll make a big production out of it. The Americans are taking the boat downriver to link up with allied lines. We'll 'stock' the boat over the course of a day. Have a tearful bon voyage party. Speaches and so forth about our eternal friendship. Then, late afternoon, we sail downriver."
I want to laugh. Headsman Filip and his men look as if I've lost my mind. Koronov nods and mouths, "Maskirovka."
"This is, of course, misdirection, a deception. We'll clear Warsaw by nightfall and be some kilometers downstream. Disembark onto the north shore and make our way back on foot. We'll meet with the American troops they have on night patrol and use them to guide us in. An assault team will take the HQ in Praga. Once that fight starts, other troops will attack the western end of the Praga wall and sweep its length. Our American comrades are quartered between the river and the wall. They'll be free to fight with us once the pirates are gone."
"New/Old is a riskier proposition. We don't have the manpower to stage a second assault simultaneously with the first. Our troops will intermingle with the freed Americans. We'll stage a 'fighting withdraw' over the bridge. Once we're in friendly lines, we turn on the marauders and seize the community."
The General steeples his hands, "This is a high risk operation. You'll need more than your fifty to carry it off."
"Yes, sir, we will. We're counting on your support and that yours Headman. Holding just Praga cuts their lines of communication. By your information, they have few forces, other than garrisons, to the north. It will be very hard for them to cross the Wistula under fire. If we hold New/Old as well their position is completely untenable. We hold most of the fields, food storage, and the all important roads. They can try to deal with us, or, they can collapse. We'll take either outcome."
"What of armor attack?"
"Armor can only proceed with speed up the road from the Fortress to New/Old. The wall has onlt a small gap for trucks. We have RPG-16s and a few RPG-18s. It will only take one tank to block the route. Otherwise, they will have a long treacherous slog through the ruins. We'll be in position before them."
"And infantry?"
The New/Old wall is again our friend. We'll have combined some 200 American troops, plus any commitment from yourself. We can evacuate civilians and food to Praga. Fight from the wall until it can't be held. Then conduct a real fighting withdraw across the bridge. We bleed them every step of the way. Together we can hold the Vistula crossing indefinitely. They'll have to move south around the city to find a bridge to the west. With the battery on the barge we can interdict that crossing as well."
My friend the General has a gleam in his eye. He's on board. "I have fifty men on hand with another forty due to infiltrate over the next few days. I can pledge those fifty. The new arrivals will take their place."
Kapitan Paterson nods her thanks. Turns to Filip. He and Rataj put their heads together. Grudgingly, "I can provide an additional 60 men." He has to beat the Russian contribution. Save face.
The Kapitan stands, "Thank you both. I will be in overall command of the expedition." She points to the map. "Our troops will still be taking the wall. It would be best to have Americans close to Americans to reduce any chances of friendly fire. General, your men will be sweeping to our left, clearing any pirate holdouts and seizing their small mortar battery. Headsman, your men will be to the Russian left. Their task will be to block any retreating pirates from getting to the civilians and food stocks. I know there's many details to work out. We've got the day to do it. We should break so you can assemble small unit leaders and we can work details out over lunch."
"Agreed."
"Da."
Monday, April 23, 2012
056: Status Update
September 28th, 2000
Cooking. The sizzle of eggs fills the galley's small space. Firm whites, gooey yellows, just a bit of seasoning. A little bit of my home so many miles away. I part out the lion's share for George. A small helping for Doc and I. We have rough grained bread to mop it up.
"Eat up!"
George chews slowly and only on one side of his face. He wasn't a handsome man to begin with, but the new gaps don't help. The ugly bruises will fade with time. Doc's adjusted his ribs by feel before tightly taping them up. We wolf our meals before George is a third through.
I run my hands through short sweaty hair. "Crazy day, Doc. How are Gunny and Andrejz doing?"
"You should have asked on the way out. How about on the way in?" Her eyes are dilated way out with dark rings under them. "Or, hell, during the post-op, the autopsy or any damn time." She twitches.
"Have you gotten any sleep?"
"Nope, not a wink. Been saving lives. Chopping up dead men. Had my ass hauled all over town. So you can just. Shit. talking fast, thirsty, anger issues." She tries for sheepish, "Rataj has some good stims." She too wired to pull it off. I'll let it slide.
"Right, Gunny. Deep tissue damage, both legs. No nerve damage. That I can tell. Severe pain. Give him one to three months before he's walking. I've dosed him with broad spectrum antibiotics. Dropping into the midden didn't help with infection. We'll see." She pauses, drinks down her glass. "Andrejz is lucky, lucky to be alive or too stubborn to die. Broken leg, arm, crushed ribs and internal bleeding. Damn near collapsed a lung. We got it stopped. We'll see. Got to watch him. He needs good food, warm quarters, and time. If he doesn't infect he'll be down four to six months. Think they'll have it for him. Yeah, they will, do, whatever."
George has stopped eating. Pushes the plate aside.
"And him?" I ask the Doc.
"Beaten, sprained ribs, mild concussion, missing three teeth and five fingernails. I want him convalescing until those ribs stop hurting. And let me fucking know if your vision blurs, head aches worse, or the room starts spinning again. Got it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"George, I need to know happened and what you told them. No repercussions. I would have talked after the beating and the first nail."
"I did. They," he swallows. Looks down at his hand swathed in bandages. "They had to be sure."
"I told them whatever they wanted,' he rallies. Tries to smile. "All of our plans to disembark the tank and use it as a mobile strong point. The two hundred men we'd brought downriver to reinforce Rataj's relatives. Our cargo of anti-personel mines, Wojo's special 60mm mortars, all twelve of them. The cases of frags and AT grenades. I kept the numbers consistent. They believed me after they'd finished with two, three, and four. I think so."
Both Doc and I sit quiet. She's twitching. I'm trying to think of something to say. Confusion to our enemies is a good. I couldn't have asked him to pay that price. My fault he did. I know I can't guard point and tail. Still my fault.
Doc perks up, asking before thinking, "But you're missing five."
"Yeah," bitterly, "said it completed the look. He was going to do the other side today. Anything else, Doc." The hard emphasis on her handle says there better not be.
I give Doc the shut-up NOW look. I tell him, "No, George, that'll be all. Get some rest." I push some warmth into my voice. "If you need anything, at all, let me know."
He pushes off the table. Makes his way down the short passage to my cabin. I don't sleep there anymore it seems. I'll double with Doc.
"How long till you come down?"
"Hour or two?"
"Good, fill me in on Mr. Black's physical."
Cooking. The sizzle of eggs fills the galley's small space. Firm whites, gooey yellows, just a bit of seasoning. A little bit of my home so many miles away. I part out the lion's share for George. A small helping for Doc and I. We have rough grained bread to mop it up.
"Eat up!"
George chews slowly and only on one side of his face. He wasn't a handsome man to begin with, but the new gaps don't help. The ugly bruises will fade with time. Doc's adjusted his ribs by feel before tightly taping them up. We wolf our meals before George is a third through.
I run my hands through short sweaty hair. "Crazy day, Doc. How are Gunny and Andrejz doing?"
"You should have asked on the way out. How about on the way in?" Her eyes are dilated way out with dark rings under them. "Or, hell, during the post-op, the autopsy or any damn time." She twitches.
"Have you gotten any sleep?"
"Nope, not a wink. Been saving lives. Chopping up dead men. Had my ass hauled all over town. So you can just. Shit. talking fast, thirsty, anger issues." She tries for sheepish, "Rataj has some good stims." She too wired to pull it off. I'll let it slide.
"Right, Gunny. Deep tissue damage, both legs. No nerve damage. That I can tell. Severe pain. Give him one to three months before he's walking. I've dosed him with broad spectrum antibiotics. Dropping into the midden didn't help with infection. We'll see." She pauses, drinks down her glass. "Andrejz is lucky, lucky to be alive or too stubborn to die. Broken leg, arm, crushed ribs and internal bleeding. Damn near collapsed a lung. We got it stopped. We'll see. Got to watch him. He needs good food, warm quarters, and time. If he doesn't infect he'll be down four to six months. Think they'll have it for him. Yeah, they will, do, whatever."
George has stopped eating. Pushes the plate aside.
"And him?" I ask the Doc.
"Beaten, sprained ribs, mild concussion, missing three teeth and five fingernails. I want him convalescing until those ribs stop hurting. And let me fucking know if your vision blurs, head aches worse, or the room starts spinning again. Got it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"George, I need to know happened and what you told them. No repercussions. I would have talked after the beating and the first nail."
"I did. They," he swallows. Looks down at his hand swathed in bandages. "They had to be sure."
"I told them whatever they wanted,' he rallies. Tries to smile. "All of our plans to disembark the tank and use it as a mobile strong point. The two hundred men we'd brought downriver to reinforce Rataj's relatives. Our cargo of anti-personel mines, Wojo's special 60mm mortars, all twelve of them. The cases of frags and AT grenades. I kept the numbers consistent. They believed me after they'd finished with two, three, and four. I think so."
Both Doc and I sit quiet. She's twitching. I'm trying to think of something to say. Confusion to our enemies is a good. I couldn't have asked him to pay that price. My fault he did. I know I can't guard point and tail. Still my fault.
Doc perks up, asking before thinking, "But you're missing five."
"Yeah," bitterly, "said it completed the look. He was going to do the other side today. Anything else, Doc." The hard emphasis on her handle says there better not be.
I give Doc the shut-up NOW look. I tell him, "No, George, that'll be all. Get some rest." I push some warmth into my voice. "If you need anything, at all, let me know."
He pushes off the table. Makes his way down the short passage to my cabin. I don't sleep there anymore it seems. I'll double with Doc.
"How long till you come down?"
"Hour or two?"
"Good, fill me in on Mr. Black's physical."
055: Trades
Ruins of Warsaw, September 28th, 2000
The radio whispers and pops. Between our camps is a valley. Your locals can guide you. It runs southwest to northeast for 150 meters and digs deep into the rubble. Pick a side. I'll take the other. We'll bring your dead to the middle. After my workers return we'll both send out our men. Rutkowski can drag Baron Czarny. Once our man arrives, we will withdraw and you may retrieve your bodies. Over.
"You'll stay until we've retrieved our dead. We leave at the same time. I'll take the southwest. Over."
Agreed. We'll be there an hour after first light. Over.
"Agreed. Over."
---------------------------------------------------------
"J-boy?"
"What?"
"Were you serious?"
"They took us out of one hellhole and used us in another. We're the fuckin' trustees. Yeah, I was god-damned serious." He sighs and rubs his face. "He'd lose."
"It won't come to that."
"Might."
"Right, goodnight John-boy."
"Go the fuck to sleep."
--------------------------------------------------------
Cold and damp, I find my spot. Good fire lane down the drift valley. Good cover right, left, front. Drop behind to a covered route out. Set the SVD on its bipod, cover with tarp and wait for light.
I'd check with my thermal and seen no one. I keep a close watch. If they have a man he's not in my field of vision. Wait.
--------------------------------------------------------
Small party as agreed. Myself, Alphabit, Doc and three of my men off the barge. Back on the boat, the mortar crews are standing by. We'll play it straight, despite Alphabit's 'suggestions', so long as they do.
Alphabit, Alphabit, Alphabit. He's had a nasty turn of mind. 'I got five kilos let,' he'd said, 'fill the body cavity. We'll use a remote det. Catch'em all.' I told him it was a good idea and if we weren't so low on plastic I'd approve it. He'll check Halleb and Frandszk for boobies before we move them. Black's boys are nasty too.
The going is as tough as I remember. The early morning rains don't help, concrete and mud. Hope they left early. I'm not putting in a show until Leo tells me they've arrived. The damned Palace gives them a wonderful post for a forward observer.
-----------------------------------------------------
They arrive. Six men in Pact uniforms and George. No black fatigues, why stand out? They carry the bodies out to the middle space on stretchers. Move back as fast as the muck permits. They assume poition in what cover there is. One man stands out in the open with a tight grip on George's arm. Three clicks on the hand held.
----------------------------------------------------
"That's it. Gentlemen go." The men move out of our position to the head of the valley. One by one they take position and cover the gap. I pick up the end one end of Czarny's stretcher. Rutkowski's tied to the other. "Get a move on boy."
"Greeting Captain!" I recognize the voice from the radio. "I am here, your men are there. Shall we send over our respective prisoners."
"Wait one." He pauses, frowning, and cocks a hand beside his ear. I take that as go ahead. "My subordinate has suggested that you may have trapped the bodies. I will send a man down to inspect them first. Once he returns we will make the exchange."
"As you will, captain. I intend no treachery. You'd be less inclined to surrender when your resistance fails."
"Go ahead, Alpha."
Rifle slung, hands out, Alpha approaches the bodies. He preforms a thorough search for wires and planted explosives. Checks under the shirts for incisions on the body. Finally, manhandles them onto their stomachs and repeats. Gives me a thumbs-up.
"Satisfied?" Zajac shouts as Alpha returns. His impatience screams off him.
"Yes, let's get this over with."
Both the men make their slow way towards friends. George holds tight to his ribs. His passage is a drunken stagger. Rutkowski, still tied to the stretcher, brute forces his way through the sucking mud. They meet, somewhat in the middle, and pass with hostile glares. Rutkowski spits on George. My man keep going.
"Welcome back George," Damn good to have him. "Doc, take him back, check him out."
On the far side Zajac slices Rutkowski's bonds. Two men take the stretcher. Hustle out of sight. I should have listend to Alpha. Too late now. Rutkowski rubs life back into his hands, throws off Zajac's clasp, and marches off. Man's got a grudge. One by one they withdraw, Rutkowski, Zajac, then the rest.
I hold the men back. If they intend treachery now is the time for the mortars to fall into the drift. Nothing. I give it five minutes. Nothing.
We take our dead.
--------------------------------------------------
Kapitan and the men leave. I wait under my tarp. They had to have a sniper in position as well. I wait for him to show as he leaves. Where did he hide.
Hour, two, three. Sun's high in the sky. I don't know. He's out of my LOS, much better than me, or wasn't there at all. Fuck it, time to go home.
The radio whispers and pops. Between our camps is a valley. Your locals can guide you. It runs southwest to northeast for 150 meters and digs deep into the rubble. Pick a side. I'll take the other. We'll bring your dead to the middle. After my workers return we'll both send out our men. Rutkowski can drag Baron Czarny. Once our man arrives, we will withdraw and you may retrieve your bodies. Over.
"You'll stay until we've retrieved our dead. We leave at the same time. I'll take the southwest. Over."
Agreed. We'll be there an hour after first light. Over.
"Agreed. Over."
---------------------------------------------------------
"J-boy?"
"What?"
"Were you serious?"
"They took us out of one hellhole and used us in another. We're the fuckin' trustees. Yeah, I was god-damned serious." He sighs and rubs his face. "He'd lose."
"It won't come to that."
"Might."
"Right, goodnight John-boy."
"Go the fuck to sleep."
--------------------------------------------------------
Cold and damp, I find my spot. Good fire lane down the drift valley. Good cover right, left, front. Drop behind to a covered route out. Set the SVD on its bipod, cover with tarp and wait for light.
I'd check with my thermal and seen no one. I keep a close watch. If they have a man he's not in my field of vision. Wait.
--------------------------------------------------------
Small party as agreed. Myself, Alphabit, Doc and three of my men off the barge. Back on the boat, the mortar crews are standing by. We'll play it straight, despite Alphabit's 'suggestions', so long as they do.
Alphabit, Alphabit, Alphabit. He's had a nasty turn of mind. 'I got five kilos let,' he'd said, 'fill the body cavity. We'll use a remote det. Catch'em all.' I told him it was a good idea and if we weren't so low on plastic I'd approve it. He'll check Halleb and Frandszk for boobies before we move them. Black's boys are nasty too.
The going is as tough as I remember. The early morning rains don't help, concrete and mud. Hope they left early. I'm not putting in a show until Leo tells me they've arrived. The damned Palace gives them a wonderful post for a forward observer.
-----------------------------------------------------
They arrive. Six men in Pact uniforms and George. No black fatigues, why stand out? They carry the bodies out to the middle space on stretchers. Move back as fast as the muck permits. They assume poition in what cover there is. One man stands out in the open with a tight grip on George's arm. Three clicks on the hand held.
----------------------------------------------------
"That's it. Gentlemen go." The men move out of our position to the head of the valley. One by one they take position and cover the gap. I pick up the end one end of Czarny's stretcher. Rutkowski's tied to the other. "Get a move on boy."
"Greeting Captain!" I recognize the voice from the radio. "I am here, your men are there. Shall we send over our respective prisoners."
"Wait one." He pauses, frowning, and cocks a hand beside his ear. I take that as go ahead. "My subordinate has suggested that you may have trapped the bodies. I will send a man down to inspect them first. Once he returns we will make the exchange."
"As you will, captain. I intend no treachery. You'd be less inclined to surrender when your resistance fails."
"Go ahead, Alpha."
Rifle slung, hands out, Alpha approaches the bodies. He preforms a thorough search for wires and planted explosives. Checks under the shirts for incisions on the body. Finally, manhandles them onto their stomachs and repeats. Gives me a thumbs-up.
"Satisfied?" Zajac shouts as Alpha returns. His impatience screams off him.
"Yes, let's get this over with."
Both the men make their slow way towards friends. George holds tight to his ribs. His passage is a drunken stagger. Rutkowski, still tied to the stretcher, brute forces his way through the sucking mud. They meet, somewhat in the middle, and pass with hostile glares. Rutkowski spits on George. My man keep going.
"Welcome back George," Damn good to have him. "Doc, take him back, check him out."
On the far side Zajac slices Rutkowski's bonds. Two men take the stretcher. Hustle out of sight. I should have listend to Alpha. Too late now. Rutkowski rubs life back into his hands, throws off Zajac's clasp, and marches off. Man's got a grudge. One by one they withdraw, Rutkowski, Zajac, then the rest.
I hold the men back. If they intend treachery now is the time for the mortars to fall into the drift. Nothing. I give it five minutes. Nothing.
We take our dead.
--------------------------------------------------
Kapitan and the men leave. I wait under my tarp. They had to have a sniper in position as well. I wait for him to show as he leaves. Where did he hide.
Hour, two, three. Sun's high in the sky. I don't know. He's out of my LOS, much better than me, or wasn't there at all. Fuck it, time to go home.
Friday, April 20, 2012
054: Answers Don't
Eddie's Journal, September 27th, 2000
Ms. Alice got nothing on us. We're going down that rabbit hole and puling it in after us. Doc did the honors on Czarny with the 'assistance' of Aldon Teporski former vet and de facto doc of Sielce. I took shorthand. The report's disappeared into the Krowola's safe. I probably shouldn't be writing this down here. Security and all. Forget about it. You can take this as the ramblings of a man who should have been drawn out of service a long time ago.
I'll give them this, Doc and Aldon stayed clinical throughout. Clinical, see what I did there?
Doc says, if his head wasn't missing, you'd have thought he'd spent a week in the hospital. The gunshot wounds were closed and well on their way to full healing. The knife wounds had scabbed over and stopped bleeding. Hell, maybe we could stitch his head on and say, "Carry on Colonel!"
They had a hard time opening the body cavity. Thick blood welled out of the incisions. Neat trick when your heart has stopped and gravity's the only thing working on you. It scabbed fast. Trying to seal the wounds. Doc and Vet had to keep reworking the Y. They elected to remove the organs and examine them individually instead of in situ.
The organs are odd. Yeah, right, odd. I've seen the insides of a man before. Too many. Slick, pink/red/dark blue, smooth and lumpy. These were scabrous, rough and discolored, with greys and yellows layered over the innards. I thought cancerous? Doc wouldn't WAG.
She scapaled off thin slices and put them under the scope. Cells were similar to the host organs, but more compact and tightly grouped. They formed spirals and mandalas. They went all the way down out of sight. All the way down the hole.
They had a purpose. Czarny had been shot multiple times in the torso. His liver and one of the kidneys had been heavily damaged. On them the growths had blossomed. They were absorbing the damaged organ. replacing it. Was it the same? Or something else. I'm not volunteering.
Other, anomalous, structures are independent of the organs. Some distributed above the diaphragm in conjunction with the lungs and heart. Others eeling through the intestines.
Most, similar to blood marrow, little production factories for the things in his blood. Little black things swimming about. They're too small to resolve with the crap high-school microscope Teporski carried over, but they're there. All over the major wounds and the scabs and swimming in the blood.
We kept samples of the blood, organs, his whole fucking brain, for shits and giggles. Doc wanted formaldehyde. We pickled them in Eth. I was ready to drink it down by the end. Hope command respects my sacrifice.
--------------------------------------------
Captain Paterson
Filip can tell his people whatever lies he wants. The kids are safe at home in their beds. There's been sporadic gunfire and vehicle traffic moving away since the raid. He's happy on both counts. Meanwhile, Doc's down in the pantry. Czarny has his spot in hell. I have a date with a shower and a bunk. Not to be.
"Welcome back, major," greetings from the deck watch. "Corporal Chilson has returned to duty. He brought a guest. Radio shack reports attempted contact at 12 last hour. They're asking for you by name."
"Thanks. Have someone chase Moonpie and his friend down to the galley. I'll debrief them there. Tell the shack to immediately inform me if they have any other contact. Do we have any coffee left?"
"Yes, ma'am and no, but I'll see if anyone's holding out."
Below decks. Black tea, bitter, no sugar.
"Corporal Chilson, reporting for duty."
"Sergeant Jon Schmidtz, 82nd Airborne, reporting."
"Not for duty, I note."
"No ma'am. I've been sent by Major Emowitz to," he searches for an appropriate word.
"Evaluate our capabilities, ascertain our intentions, see if I'm a mad woman? Any would do Sergeant. I understand and applaud his caution. I'm in the same fix."
"Ma'am?"
"I'll get to that. Moonie, what's the situation?"
Moonie lays out Praga as he saw it. American positions, quarters fanned out between the rubble wall and the river. Pirates, crews with their boats (no more than a dozen) and support behind the defensive wall. They're able to take position, with machine guns, overlooking the Americans if they got frisky. The Baron's personal overseers, further back from the wall, safe among the fields and with easy access to civilians. New/Old Town has the Americans in a more centralized position with the Baron's men integrated. Split about 150 in Praga and 75 in New/Old.
In return I lay out our successes. The gun, destroyed. Czarny, dead. His coalition, splintering. "Someone's going to pick up the pieces and soon. We need to keep hitting them. Not give them the time to stabilize. I want your people to be part of that step."
"Look, I came downriver because I knew American prisoners had been sold to this 'Baron'. I didn't expect to find you working as janissaries. We can change that. I've been on my own since July. I started with half a dozen. Today, I'm commanding a detachment of fifty and have another two hundred prepping winter quarters in Krakow. Come summer we're heading west. Will you be with us?"
He's hungry. I can see it. He wants out of the ruins. As far as he can from this desolation. He licks his lips, sits forward, "I, I'll need to talk with some of your men."
"Take your pick Sergeant. Crew or locals too. I've got nothing to hide."
"And your 'fix', Captain?"
"Major Emowitz, Captain Paterson. Water isn't the only thing flowing downhill. By rights, once I've liberated him, he's over me. I'm not going to let him waste my men. We need an accommodation."
His eyes glaze, "Do you need him dead?"
"Jesus Christ, no! I didn't want him dead! Get that out of your head. He needs to understand. I have the plans, the contacts, and the people to get us all out of here. He needs to follow my lead until we can get back. After that, he can bring my ass up on charges. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
A sharp rap on the galley door. Ed sticks his head in before I can answer. "Ring, ring. Spark's needs you on the bridge."
"Ed, show these two to my bunk. It's small. One of you'll have to take the floor. Good night."
---------------------------------------------
On the bridge specialist Dixon is waiting on radio watch. The radio is murmuring. This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw. Come in Captain Paterson. Over. His English has a British accent.
I take the mike from Dixon, "How long."
"Third repetition. He gave us six last hour."
This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw. Come in Captain Paterson. Over.
"Captain, keep it short. You don't want him triangulating your position."
"I'll keep that in mind. But between you, me and that big building over there." I towards Place of Culture, a dark shadow against the sky. "He knows."
This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw. Come in Captain Paterson. Over.
"Zajac, this is Paterson. Over."
Captain, I wish to open negotiations. Over.
"I gladly accept your surrender. Over."
The American sense of humor. No. I want the Baron returned. Over.
"To what point. He's dead, Zajac. Over."
I, I knew as much. I want to negotiate a transfer of remains. The bodies of two of your assault team for his. Over.
Two, should be three. "Why? Over?"
You don't know the people you're working for. The depths of barbarity they're capable of. I want him taken home for a proper Christian burial. Do you understand? Over.
Oh, do I ever. Nothing like having me give back your hibernating, healing leader on a platter for a couple of corpses. Jokes on you. "I understand. Provided we can arrange a meeting, I agree to your offer. Over."
It is good we can reach an agreement. Very reasonable. I would broach another. Over.
"Go ahead. Over."
George, say hello to the nice Captain. His voice is broken, riddled with pain, but it's George. I do hope Rukowski is still with us. Over.
"Yes, yes he is. Over." Shit yeah, you've got a deal.
Ms. Alice got nothing on us. We're going down that rabbit hole and puling it in after us. Doc did the honors on Czarny with the 'assistance' of Aldon Teporski former vet and de facto doc of Sielce. I took shorthand. The report's disappeared into the Krowola's safe. I probably shouldn't be writing this down here. Security and all. Forget about it. You can take this as the ramblings of a man who should have been drawn out of service a long time ago.
I'll give them this, Doc and Aldon stayed clinical throughout. Clinical, see what I did there?
Doc says, if his head wasn't missing, you'd have thought he'd spent a week in the hospital. The gunshot wounds were closed and well on their way to full healing. The knife wounds had scabbed over and stopped bleeding. Hell, maybe we could stitch his head on and say, "Carry on Colonel!"
They had a hard time opening the body cavity. Thick blood welled out of the incisions. Neat trick when your heart has stopped and gravity's the only thing working on you. It scabbed fast. Trying to seal the wounds. Doc and Vet had to keep reworking the Y. They elected to remove the organs and examine them individually instead of in situ.
The organs are odd. Yeah, right, odd. I've seen the insides of a man before. Too many. Slick, pink/red/dark blue, smooth and lumpy. These were scabrous, rough and discolored, with greys and yellows layered over the innards. I thought cancerous? Doc wouldn't WAG.
She scapaled off thin slices and put them under the scope. Cells were similar to the host organs, but more compact and tightly grouped. They formed spirals and mandalas. They went all the way down out of sight. All the way down the hole.
They had a purpose. Czarny had been shot multiple times in the torso. His liver and one of the kidneys had been heavily damaged. On them the growths had blossomed. They were absorbing the damaged organ. replacing it. Was it the same? Or something else. I'm not volunteering.
Other, anomalous, structures are independent of the organs. Some distributed above the diaphragm in conjunction with the lungs and heart. Others eeling through the intestines.
Most, similar to blood marrow, little production factories for the things in his blood. Little black things swimming about. They're too small to resolve with the crap high-school microscope Teporski carried over, but they're there. All over the major wounds and the scabs and swimming in the blood.
We kept samples of the blood, organs, his whole fucking brain, for shits and giggles. Doc wanted formaldehyde. We pickled them in Eth. I was ready to drink it down by the end. Hope command respects my sacrifice.
--------------------------------------------
Captain Paterson
Filip can tell his people whatever lies he wants. The kids are safe at home in their beds. There's been sporadic gunfire and vehicle traffic moving away since the raid. He's happy on both counts. Meanwhile, Doc's down in the pantry. Czarny has his spot in hell. I have a date with a shower and a bunk. Not to be.
"Welcome back, major," greetings from the deck watch. "Corporal Chilson has returned to duty. He brought a guest. Radio shack reports attempted contact at 12 last hour. They're asking for you by name."
"Thanks. Have someone chase Moonpie and his friend down to the galley. I'll debrief them there. Tell the shack to immediately inform me if they have any other contact. Do we have any coffee left?"
"Yes, ma'am and no, but I'll see if anyone's holding out."
Below decks. Black tea, bitter, no sugar.
"Corporal Chilson, reporting for duty."
"Sergeant Jon Schmidtz, 82nd Airborne, reporting."
"Not for duty, I note."
"No ma'am. I've been sent by Major Emowitz to," he searches for an appropriate word.
"Evaluate our capabilities, ascertain our intentions, see if I'm a mad woman? Any would do Sergeant. I understand and applaud his caution. I'm in the same fix."
"Ma'am?"
"I'll get to that. Moonie, what's the situation?"
Moonie lays out Praga as he saw it. American positions, quarters fanned out between the rubble wall and the river. Pirates, crews with their boats (no more than a dozen) and support behind the defensive wall. They're able to take position, with machine guns, overlooking the Americans if they got frisky. The Baron's personal overseers, further back from the wall, safe among the fields and with easy access to civilians. New/Old Town has the Americans in a more centralized position with the Baron's men integrated. Split about 150 in Praga and 75 in New/Old.
In return I lay out our successes. The gun, destroyed. Czarny, dead. His coalition, splintering. "Someone's going to pick up the pieces and soon. We need to keep hitting them. Not give them the time to stabilize. I want your people to be part of that step."
"Look, I came downriver because I knew American prisoners had been sold to this 'Baron'. I didn't expect to find you working as janissaries. We can change that. I've been on my own since July. I started with half a dozen. Today, I'm commanding a detachment of fifty and have another two hundred prepping winter quarters in Krakow. Come summer we're heading west. Will you be with us?"
He's hungry. I can see it. He wants out of the ruins. As far as he can from this desolation. He licks his lips, sits forward, "I, I'll need to talk with some of your men."
"Take your pick Sergeant. Crew or locals too. I've got nothing to hide."
"And your 'fix', Captain?"
"Major Emowitz, Captain Paterson. Water isn't the only thing flowing downhill. By rights, once I've liberated him, he's over me. I'm not going to let him waste my men. We need an accommodation."
His eyes glaze, "Do you need him dead?"
"Jesus Christ, no! I didn't want him dead! Get that out of your head. He needs to understand. I have the plans, the contacts, and the people to get us all out of here. He needs to follow my lead until we can get back. After that, he can bring my ass up on charges. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
A sharp rap on the galley door. Ed sticks his head in before I can answer. "Ring, ring. Spark's needs you on the bridge."
"Ed, show these two to my bunk. It's small. One of you'll have to take the floor. Good night."
---------------------------------------------
On the bridge specialist Dixon is waiting on radio watch. The radio is murmuring. This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw. Come in Captain Paterson. Over. His English has a British accent.
I take the mike from Dixon, "How long."
"Third repetition. He gave us six last hour."
This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw. Come in Captain Paterson. Over.
"Captain, keep it short. You don't want him triangulating your position."
"I'll keep that in mind. But between you, me and that big building over there." I towards Place of Culture, a dark shadow against the sky. "He knows."
This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw. Come in Captain Paterson. Over.
"Zajac, this is Paterson. Over."
Captain, I wish to open negotiations. Over.
"I gladly accept your surrender. Over."
The American sense of humor. No. I want the Baron returned. Over.
"To what point. He's dead, Zajac. Over."
I, I knew as much. I want to negotiate a transfer of remains. The bodies of two of your assault team for his. Over.
Two, should be three. "Why? Over?"
You don't know the people you're working for. The depths of barbarity they're capable of. I want him taken home for a proper Christian burial. Do you understand? Over.
Oh, do I ever. Nothing like having me give back your hibernating, healing leader on a platter for a couple of corpses. Jokes on you. "I understand. Provided we can arrange a meeting, I agree to your offer. Over."
It is good we can reach an agreement. Very reasonable. I would broach another. Over.
"Go ahead. Over."
George, say hello to the nice Captain. His voice is broken, riddled with pain, but it's George. I do hope Rukowski is still with us. Over.
"Yes, yes he is. Over." Shit yeah, you've got a deal.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
053: Dead Man
September 27th, 2000
Ten hours. Ten hours, humping a corpse, a wanna-be corpse, and the walking wounded. In the parlance we extracted. Ten hours dodging the Czarny's men, killing Czarny's men, and keeping my own alive. None of us were unwounded when we reached Sielce.
I turned over Czarny, Rutkowski, and Weasel to the combined command. Gave them my report. Found a corner to collapse.
-------------------------------------
"Cap Kat.... Cap Kat" Eddie, urgent and shaking my shoulder.
"Wha," coming around, "What's happening?" I don't hear any gunfire.
He leans in close hissing in my ear, "Czarny's gone."
No, Czarny's dead. He's not gone. The corpse has gone missing. Yes, he could not have gotten gone.
Alphabit and a glassy eyed Leo are in the hall. Together we join Filip and his closest men. They take us deep under the stadium into the dark, cold storage rooms.
Filip spills out what happened while I slept. How they'd showed the body to select members of Sielce. Their plans to display him this evening for the entire community. Memorialize the dead and honor us for our efforts. He's near a panic and all I can do is growl at him to shut up and man up. We'll deal with it.
I have Leo give the room a sweep. He finds bullets, just bullets, marred with impact deformations. We are so fucked.
--------------------------------------
Lying through my teeth. Czarny was badly hurt. He'd gone down so deep that we'd just thought he'd died. It's happened before. Dead man sits up in his coffin, the morgue, under Sielce. He'd be slow, weak and easily apprehended. We just had to find him before he found a hole and died in it.
Filip wants to believe me. He really does. I pretend not to hear him muttering about upior. He doesn't, but he gets out of the way. His most trusted men spread out underground, checking other stores and living spaces. They find Czarny's black uniform shirt, complete with bullet holes and caked with blood. Filip looks at that, looks at me, he can't believe. Is he giving me rope?
Topside it is late afternoon. We spread out search the entrances to the underground. One of Filip's men finds blood splatter heading out northwards into the fields. Growing up on a farm I'd had many opportunities to track small game and varmints. This man leaves a bigger trail than a fox, but my skills are rusty. Still, the trail leads north.
People are out working the fields. The women and children harvesting the fields while men guard the walls. Small knots scattered about. They work in teams; several women together for muscle work, one women and two or three children for light detail work. At least Filip has kept it close to the chest. No panic. We're gaining, he is weak and slow.
We find the woman in a drainage ditch. Stab wounds low in the body and angled up into the organs. Small footprints show where a child was caught and another two came close. The three children and our man head east towards the river and uncleared rubble drifts. The trails fresh, very fresh. It goes down a hole.
-------------------------------------
Leo breaks out his precious thermal. "Two small, one large. They're in there."
The hole goes down. Leo indicates the heat sources are high. The little tunnel must swing down and then up into a hollow. They're common, and unstable, in the rubble. And Czarny's sitting at the end ready for us.
We try to sketch out a plan of action. I let it get away from me and we degenerate into an argument. I'd like to think I'm just exhausted because I want to drop a handful of grenades into the hole and let the shrapnel and falling stones finish the work. Filip's men are appalled. The protests involve shouts and gun waving. Alphabit and I have them covered quick as can be. The shouts redouble.
"Drop them, drop them right fucking now!" Angry compliance.
"Leo, collect their weapons. Leo. Leo?"
--------------------------------------
That's it, all blown. Go now or lose them all. No way that fucker won't take some kids with him. While the shouts rise I drop my rifle, strip out of my LBE, and eel down the hole. Knife in hand.
Quick. Quiet. It's a fight. I hope my progress is covered by the yelling. A child screams ahead. I can feel someone moving up on the exit. I push forward into the hollow.
Collision. My feet dig in, dig forward, and power him into the stone roof. His knife scores a rib. Mine sinks into soft flesh. A hand grips my throat. Mine catches a flailing limb. I have his knife arm. Stab, stab, stab as my head swims. Die, die, die.
--------------------------------------
The kids, three of them, crawl out first; screaming, crying, and babbling about the bad man. We hear a scrapping. "Leo?"
"Da, Kapitan. Got him. Got him."
He waves me off. Pulls himself out of the hole before turning and muscling Czarny's corpse onto the surface. Carefully, he tilts the head back to expose the throat.
"Alpha," he asks glumly, "still got that axe?"
Donald puts his back into it.
Come back from that.
Ten hours. Ten hours, humping a corpse, a wanna-be corpse, and the walking wounded. In the parlance we extracted. Ten hours dodging the Czarny's men, killing Czarny's men, and keeping my own alive. None of us were unwounded when we reached Sielce.
I turned over Czarny, Rutkowski, and Weasel to the combined command. Gave them my report. Found a corner to collapse.
-------------------------------------
"Cap Kat.... Cap Kat" Eddie, urgent and shaking my shoulder.
"Wha," coming around, "What's happening?" I don't hear any gunfire.
He leans in close hissing in my ear, "Czarny's gone."
No, Czarny's dead. He's not gone. The corpse has gone missing. Yes, he could not have gotten gone.
Alphabit and a glassy eyed Leo are in the hall. Together we join Filip and his closest men. They take us deep under the stadium into the dark, cold storage rooms.
Filip spills out what happened while I slept. How they'd showed the body to select members of Sielce. Their plans to display him this evening for the entire community. Memorialize the dead and honor us for our efforts. He's near a panic and all I can do is growl at him to shut up and man up. We'll deal with it.
I have Leo give the room a sweep. He finds bullets, just bullets, marred with impact deformations. We are so fucked.
--------------------------------------
Lying through my teeth. Czarny was badly hurt. He'd gone down so deep that we'd just thought he'd died. It's happened before. Dead man sits up in his coffin, the morgue, under Sielce. He'd be slow, weak and easily apprehended. We just had to find him before he found a hole and died in it.
Filip wants to believe me. He really does. I pretend not to hear him muttering about upior. He doesn't, but he gets out of the way. His most trusted men spread out underground, checking other stores and living spaces. They find Czarny's black uniform shirt, complete with bullet holes and caked with blood. Filip looks at that, looks at me, he can't believe. Is he giving me rope?
Topside it is late afternoon. We spread out search the entrances to the underground. One of Filip's men finds blood splatter heading out northwards into the fields. Growing up on a farm I'd had many opportunities to track small game and varmints. This man leaves a bigger trail than a fox, but my skills are rusty. Still, the trail leads north.
People are out working the fields. The women and children harvesting the fields while men guard the walls. Small knots scattered about. They work in teams; several women together for muscle work, one women and two or three children for light detail work. At least Filip has kept it close to the chest. No panic. We're gaining, he is weak and slow.
We find the woman in a drainage ditch. Stab wounds low in the body and angled up into the organs. Small footprints show where a child was caught and another two came close. The three children and our man head east towards the river and uncleared rubble drifts. The trails fresh, very fresh. It goes down a hole.
-------------------------------------
Leo breaks out his precious thermal. "Two small, one large. They're in there."
The hole goes down. Leo indicates the heat sources are high. The little tunnel must swing down and then up into a hollow. They're common, and unstable, in the rubble. And Czarny's sitting at the end ready for us.
We try to sketch out a plan of action. I let it get away from me and we degenerate into an argument. I'd like to think I'm just exhausted because I want to drop a handful of grenades into the hole and let the shrapnel and falling stones finish the work. Filip's men are appalled. The protests involve shouts and gun waving. Alphabit and I have them covered quick as can be. The shouts redouble.
"Drop them, drop them right fucking now!" Angry compliance.
"Leo, collect their weapons. Leo. Leo?"
--------------------------------------
That's it, all blown. Go now or lose them all. No way that fucker won't take some kids with him. While the shouts rise I drop my rifle, strip out of my LBE, and eel down the hole. Knife in hand.
Quick. Quiet. It's a fight. I hope my progress is covered by the yelling. A child screams ahead. I can feel someone moving up on the exit. I push forward into the hollow.
Collision. My feet dig in, dig forward, and power him into the stone roof. His knife scores a rib. Mine sinks into soft flesh. A hand grips my throat. Mine catches a flailing limb. I have his knife arm. Stab, stab, stab as my head swims. Die, die, die.
--------------------------------------
The kids, three of them, crawl out first; screaming, crying, and babbling about the bad man. We hear a scrapping. "Leo?"
"Da, Kapitan. Got him. Got him."
He waves me off. Pulls himself out of the hole before turning and muscling Czarny's corpse onto the surface. Carefully, he tilts the head back to expose the throat.
"Alpha," he asks glumly, "still got that axe?"
Donald puts his back into it.
Come back from that.
Friday, April 13, 2012
052: CQB
September 26th, 2000
We left at twilight, 8 hours and a short 3 klicks later, we were in a sheltered position overlooking the back of the Palace of Culture. The trip had been slow and uneventful. A matter of God setting us up for later excitement, no doubt. Leo and I took up watch. The others tried to get some rest.
Alphabit took his exclusion hard. We've been together, had each others backs, since I'd been mis-shipped to the 5th. And that's why he had to stay. Someone has to take care of the box if we didn't make it back. Stark would grab it and talk some hotheads into making a run at Krakow's chopper. That would leave all the rest, refugees, stranglers, and our unit, in deep, deep trouble. He'd do it if he had to.
I made it up to him. He got a chunk of our short stores of plastic explosives and told to make us some portables. He had fun. We've got near a dozen hubcabs smeared with plastic on the inside and filled with nuts, nails, bolts, and other assorted junk. They've got a metal spike welded to the bottom at an angle so they can be rammed into the ground. Ersatz claymores. My troop is imaginative.
Leo's uncased his precious, the thermal sight.
Whispers, "Talk to me."
"As expected, patrols are heavier. Twice the men on the gate checkpoint. They still have MG nests in the big outbuilding, one at either corner. Gives them good crossfire on entrance. Crews the same; gunner and assistant."
"Still doable."
"Da."
The entry plan's simple. We're going to get as close as we dare. Leo removes the building detail with the suppressed SVD. Meanwhile, Gunny'll dial in a call for fire from our boys on the boat. They'll drop one for range, if the Russian in our tac-net doesn't correct, then they'll go to rapid fire on the 82's. We run like hell for the back doors. Simple.
"So, you going to tell me about your General?"
"What to tell. We served together in Afghanistan."
"Sure, Valdimirovich. I'm not the best on Russian customs, but that implies something much closer than basic service."
Sigh. He gestures at the palace. "Yes, after, maybe."
Once we're in, simple is done. I can hope for a set of signs saying "Meeting on 6, south wing". Somehow I doubt that, waste of paper. We're going to do some en-route interrogations. And keep moving. If we slow and get pinned it's all over but the shouting.
"I heard my name dropped more than once. What'd he say."
Grins, gives me a sidelong look. "He knew that we had a woman commander. He was expecting someone a little more... slim."
"Slim?"
"Da, American women wax fat on the exploitation of the proletariat or they're slim and pretty."
What a crock. "Instead?"
"Instead, he wanted to know how we got an East German Bodybuilder."
They've been arriving since late morning. The growl of an APC, putter of a failing auto, and the nicker of horses. I feel bad about the horses. I've tried not to think about the civilian laborers harvesting the courtyard fields either.
Positions. Team One (Leo, Doc, Andrejz's man Halleb, and I) are on the point. We're going to carve through any opposition and get the target. Team Two (Gunny, George, Andrejz, and his other man Frandszk) will follow. Once we're in it's their job to plant Alpha's toys along our trail and discourage any heroics on the part of the Baron's men.
Leo is as good as he claims. His first round takes the gunner in the head, his second through the lungs of the assistant. Before the first mortar round has fallen he's switched to the other nest. That gunner catches his in the throat. The assistant receives a gut shot as he stands in response to the whistling sound from the courtyard. BOOM.
The experienced troops already dropped from the sound of incoming. For the others, it is a moment of pure indecision. They freeze as the screams start. Then panic as another distant thump sounds. It's later than I'd like. Must have had to correct. We're in motion.
We boil out of the rubble onto the road. Andrejz is screaming at the checkpoint, "Mortar attack! Get into cover!" The man has a good loud command voice. BOOM. They make for the outbuilding. We cut around, running for the palace. The distant thumps start a regular beat, punctuated by the louder cough of the 120.
The guard on the heavily warped fire door props it open and desperately waves us in. Good man. Andrejz, last in, clocks him in the face with his shotguns butt and gives him a savage kick where it counts while he's down. George takes the chains hanging from a hook and secures the door. I imagine fists pounding against it from the outside.
Halleb leads the way. He'd been a janitor here, prewar. Leo follows close behind him, working the MP5 over anyone with weapons in our way. We move quick through former maintenance spaces and administrative offices to the entry hall. They're focused out, on the fire striking the courtyard, as we fall upon them. Done.
We break, right and left, to take both sets of stairs up to the second floor. Storm and fire. Clear the overlook. They have a fucking desk with a fucking functionary huddling under its strong wooden surface. Leo gets with the talking. Gunny checks the barrage, order phase 2 of the fire plan. The other Team Two boys plant mines at the top of the stairs.
Leo shouts, "Northeast wing, fourth floor!" He barks out a laugh, "Sign on the stairwell and end of the hall!"
"Are you fucking with me!"
"No!"
The tubes begin an intermittent harassing fire, just enough time to make you think you could scramble to better cover. Then you're back in your hole at the thump. Hard to get organized with that going on.
We're getting spread out down the corridor. Team Two plants half their stock down our path, moving by bounds. It takes time. Guards, or a response team, boil out of the target stairwell. They get some fire off before being cut down. Something low powered strikes my vest, but doesn't penetrate. Halleb yowls as a round takes his ear. Don't stop.
As we climb to three, one of Alphabit's contraptions detonates. Teach them some caution. We weren't going out that way anyhow. Damn, I should have brought some empty pie tins.
Four doesn't have a door. Halleb, still on point, charges right through. He gets chewed and spit out by automatic fire. I catch myself on the door frame before joining him. Push back away from the slaughter. I'm wearing bits of him.
Doc ducks around me. "Fire in the hole!" Without exposing herself, she powers a grenade off the far wall and down the corridor. Shouts, CRASH, a wild, trailing scream. "Come on!" She takes point till the hallway splits into a T. More grenades to prep the way. More alarmed cries for the east. CRASH, CRASH.
I take point after the T. Doc secures the west passage until team two can, while Leo advances with me. Firing the 60 on the move does shit for accuracy. I just want to fill the area with as much danger as I can. Leo takes the more accurate shots that we need.
Big conference room on the north east corner. Ill fitting doors in the frame. Leo tries to power them open and bounces. Good for him as pistol fire punches through. He staggers back around the corner. Splinters in his face and a gash, clotting, down his arm. "I AOK!"
Dimmly, through my ringing ears, I can hear team two engaging. No time, no time. The doors have stopped shaking from fire. Quiet as I can I step up. Det cord up the left hinge crack, diagonal down the width, looping the doorknobs, and back up the right hinge crack. Doc and Leo prep our last two concussion grenades. Might as well take someone home. We can always kill them later. Back as far away as I can. Good-bye door.
Desks and chairs were barricaded behind the door. Our grenades are thrown high deep into the room. After the twin claps we're bulling through. They'd piled half the furnishings here. The remaining desks had been overturned to provide cover in a semicircle against the back and far corners. Doc takes the right, Leo the left, me straight up the middle. Scattered, staggering men fall under our fire.
Doc and Leo reach the makeshift cover. Fire into the down men, fire, fire, reload, repeat. I knew our real targets would be at the very back. There! A man in all black fatigues trying to cover himself with another's body. How, melo-fucking dramatic.
I advance past Leo and Doc's clean-up work. Get over around a desk. The little fuck looks at me with fear filled eyes planted in a narrow weasel face. Empty hands shot up. He screams, "Not me, not me, I surrender!"
"Czarny! Now!"
"Not me! He's the one you want!" Pointing back behind me. I wish I'd fell for the oldest trick in the book. I'm too high to feel the pain. I do feel the rip through my leg, the staggering impacts against my pack, and torso armor. I fall. More impacts, arm and armor, before his pistol clicked empty.
Leo comes up quick as I fell, laying suppressing fire down the length of the room's back, driving my attacker around the corner of the desks. Reloading, he scuttles right into Doc's sights. Two bursts, center of mass, advance, two more just to be sure.
I could walk. The wounds weren't telling. Bloody, already stopping, but not costing me any motion. I squash Doc's demand to look them over right now. There would be time for that after extraction or no need at all.
We spared the weasel and one more MIB, a big fit fella. Weasel because he was telling us everything he could to save his own life. The big man, a Lt. Rutkowski according to weasel, because we needed a strapping young man to carry the Czarny corpse.
"Gunny! Sit-rep!"
"Holding, they're down at the far end. We beat off two pushes. They've just about cleared the stairwell."
Frandszk is slumped against the inner wall, holding his gut, his hands covered with red. George and Andrejz have the T. George is bleeding from the arm. Andrejz looks pale and shocked, but I don't see any obvious wounds.
"Weasel says there's a midden pile off the far northwest wing at least six feet deep. We use it to get off the roof and extract. Battery is to give us five and then go to phase 3!"
"Roger!"
George tosses a grenade into the stairwell as I suppress the corridor. Our team crosses. Weasel, hands tied tight behind him, babbling assurances about the exit. The new LT gets cuffed to shut him up from threatening our new friend. George helps up Frandszk while Gunny and Andrejz take up covering fire at the T.
We hit the exit in record time, bursting out into the sunlight on the exposed northwest wing. It isn't a roof, just what's left of the wing. George takes up covering position in the doorway as the last two fall back.
I drag Weasel over to confirm the pile. Right where he said it was. Hope it's deep enough.
"You first!" I shout as I test the pile with Weasel. He screams like a girl, but struggles out of the mush. Me and Leo next. We make sure Czarny mule doesn't suffocate. Doc clears the wall in a leap. Who's she trying to impress.
Gunny's about to make the jump when there's an explosion behind him. He cries out as he makes an uncontrolled fall onto his back. Leo drags him out, blood runs down Gunny's legs and the man-pack is a sparking ruin. Leo slashes Weasel's bonds. "Carry him." No need for 'or else'. He takes Gunny's M-16 and 203.
No other faces. We can't help and we can't wait. The mortars are falling heavily again. Around the wing to the entry point. Gunfire from the wing. A shape appears, a body levered up and over the sill, falls into the worked earth behind the palace. I see George's face at the sill and he turns away, back into the building, gunfire.
I race to the body, Andrejz, breathing wetly with a thready pulse. I sling the 60, lift the big Pole into a fireman's carry, and race back. East German indeed. I'd laugh, but I can feel his ribs shifting over my shoulders. He won't make it.
Get a good distance, find a hole, take stock. We'll move, as best we can, after darkness falls. Doc and Leo lead the way. Damn you George, you should have jumped.
We left at twilight, 8 hours and a short 3 klicks later, we were in a sheltered position overlooking the back of the Palace of Culture. The trip had been slow and uneventful. A matter of God setting us up for later excitement, no doubt. Leo and I took up watch. The others tried to get some rest.
Alphabit took his exclusion hard. We've been together, had each others backs, since I'd been mis-shipped to the 5th. And that's why he had to stay. Someone has to take care of the box if we didn't make it back. Stark would grab it and talk some hotheads into making a run at Krakow's chopper. That would leave all the rest, refugees, stranglers, and our unit, in deep, deep trouble. He'd do it if he had to.
I made it up to him. He got a chunk of our short stores of plastic explosives and told to make us some portables. He had fun. We've got near a dozen hubcabs smeared with plastic on the inside and filled with nuts, nails, bolts, and other assorted junk. They've got a metal spike welded to the bottom at an angle so they can be rammed into the ground. Ersatz claymores. My troop is imaginative.
Leo's uncased his precious, the thermal sight.
Whispers, "Talk to me."
"As expected, patrols are heavier. Twice the men on the gate checkpoint. They still have MG nests in the big outbuilding, one at either corner. Gives them good crossfire on entrance. Crews the same; gunner and assistant."
"Still doable."
"Da."
The entry plan's simple. We're going to get as close as we dare. Leo removes the building detail with the suppressed SVD. Meanwhile, Gunny'll dial in a call for fire from our boys on the boat. They'll drop one for range, if the Russian in our tac-net doesn't correct, then they'll go to rapid fire on the 82's. We run like hell for the back doors. Simple.
"So, you going to tell me about your General?"
"What to tell. We served together in Afghanistan."
"Sure, Valdimirovich. I'm not the best on Russian customs, but that implies something much closer than basic service."
Sigh. He gestures at the palace. "Yes, after, maybe."
Once we're in, simple is done. I can hope for a set of signs saying "Meeting on 6, south wing". Somehow I doubt that, waste of paper. We're going to do some en-route interrogations. And keep moving. If we slow and get pinned it's all over but the shouting.
"I heard my name dropped more than once. What'd he say."
Grins, gives me a sidelong look. "He knew that we had a woman commander. He was expecting someone a little more... slim."
"Slim?"
"Da, American women wax fat on the exploitation of the proletariat or they're slim and pretty."
What a crock. "Instead?"
"Instead, he wanted to know how we got an East German Bodybuilder."
They've been arriving since late morning. The growl of an APC, putter of a failing auto, and the nicker of horses. I feel bad about the horses. I've tried not to think about the civilian laborers harvesting the courtyard fields either.
Positions. Team One (Leo, Doc, Andrejz's man Halleb, and I) are on the point. We're going to carve through any opposition and get the target. Team Two (Gunny, George, Andrejz, and his other man Frandszk) will follow. Once we're in it's their job to plant Alpha's toys along our trail and discourage any heroics on the part of the Baron's men.
Leo is as good as he claims. His first round takes the gunner in the head, his second through the lungs of the assistant. Before the first mortar round has fallen he's switched to the other nest. That gunner catches his in the throat. The assistant receives a gut shot as he stands in response to the whistling sound from the courtyard. BOOM.
The experienced troops already dropped from the sound of incoming. For the others, it is a moment of pure indecision. They freeze as the screams start. Then panic as another distant thump sounds. It's later than I'd like. Must have had to correct. We're in motion.
We boil out of the rubble onto the road. Andrejz is screaming at the checkpoint, "Mortar attack! Get into cover!" The man has a good loud command voice. BOOM. They make for the outbuilding. We cut around, running for the palace. The distant thumps start a regular beat, punctuated by the louder cough of the 120.
The guard on the heavily warped fire door props it open and desperately waves us in. Good man. Andrejz, last in, clocks him in the face with his shotguns butt and gives him a savage kick where it counts while he's down. George takes the chains hanging from a hook and secures the door. I imagine fists pounding against it from the outside.
Halleb leads the way. He'd been a janitor here, prewar. Leo follows close behind him, working the MP5 over anyone with weapons in our way. We move quick through former maintenance spaces and administrative offices to the entry hall. They're focused out, on the fire striking the courtyard, as we fall upon them. Done.
We break, right and left, to take both sets of stairs up to the second floor. Storm and fire. Clear the overlook. They have a fucking desk with a fucking functionary huddling under its strong wooden surface. Leo gets with the talking. Gunny checks the barrage, order phase 2 of the fire plan. The other Team Two boys plant mines at the top of the stairs.
Leo shouts, "Northeast wing, fourth floor!" He barks out a laugh, "Sign on the stairwell and end of the hall!"
"Are you fucking with me!"
"No!"
The tubes begin an intermittent harassing fire, just enough time to make you think you could scramble to better cover. Then you're back in your hole at the thump. Hard to get organized with that going on.
We're getting spread out down the corridor. Team Two plants half their stock down our path, moving by bounds. It takes time. Guards, or a response team, boil out of the target stairwell. They get some fire off before being cut down. Something low powered strikes my vest, but doesn't penetrate. Halleb yowls as a round takes his ear. Don't stop.
As we climb to three, one of Alphabit's contraptions detonates. Teach them some caution. We weren't going out that way anyhow. Damn, I should have brought some empty pie tins.
Four doesn't have a door. Halleb, still on point, charges right through. He gets chewed and spit out by automatic fire. I catch myself on the door frame before joining him. Push back away from the slaughter. I'm wearing bits of him.
Doc ducks around me. "Fire in the hole!" Without exposing herself, she powers a grenade off the far wall and down the corridor. Shouts, CRASH, a wild, trailing scream. "Come on!" She takes point till the hallway splits into a T. More grenades to prep the way. More alarmed cries for the east. CRASH, CRASH.
I take point after the T. Doc secures the west passage until team two can, while Leo advances with me. Firing the 60 on the move does shit for accuracy. I just want to fill the area with as much danger as I can. Leo takes the more accurate shots that we need.
Big conference room on the north east corner. Ill fitting doors in the frame. Leo tries to power them open and bounces. Good for him as pistol fire punches through. He staggers back around the corner. Splinters in his face and a gash, clotting, down his arm. "I AOK!"
Dimmly, through my ringing ears, I can hear team two engaging. No time, no time. The doors have stopped shaking from fire. Quiet as I can I step up. Det cord up the left hinge crack, diagonal down the width, looping the doorknobs, and back up the right hinge crack. Doc and Leo prep our last two concussion grenades. Might as well take someone home. We can always kill them later. Back as far away as I can. Good-bye door.
Desks and chairs were barricaded behind the door. Our grenades are thrown high deep into the room. After the twin claps we're bulling through. They'd piled half the furnishings here. The remaining desks had been overturned to provide cover in a semicircle against the back and far corners. Doc takes the right, Leo the left, me straight up the middle. Scattered, staggering men fall under our fire.
Doc and Leo reach the makeshift cover. Fire into the down men, fire, fire, reload, repeat. I knew our real targets would be at the very back. There! A man in all black fatigues trying to cover himself with another's body. How, melo-fucking dramatic.
I advance past Leo and Doc's clean-up work. Get over around a desk. The little fuck looks at me with fear filled eyes planted in a narrow weasel face. Empty hands shot up. He screams, "Not me, not me, I surrender!"
"Czarny! Now!"
"Not me! He's the one you want!" Pointing back behind me. I wish I'd fell for the oldest trick in the book. I'm too high to feel the pain. I do feel the rip through my leg, the staggering impacts against my pack, and torso armor. I fall. More impacts, arm and armor, before his pistol clicked empty.
Leo comes up quick as I fell, laying suppressing fire down the length of the room's back, driving my attacker around the corner of the desks. Reloading, he scuttles right into Doc's sights. Two bursts, center of mass, advance, two more just to be sure.
I could walk. The wounds weren't telling. Bloody, already stopping, but not costing me any motion. I squash Doc's demand to look them over right now. There would be time for that after extraction or no need at all.
We spared the weasel and one more MIB, a big fit fella. Weasel because he was telling us everything he could to save his own life. The big man, a Lt. Rutkowski according to weasel, because we needed a strapping young man to carry the Czarny corpse.
"Gunny! Sit-rep!"
"Holding, they're down at the far end. We beat off two pushes. They've just about cleared the stairwell."
Frandszk is slumped against the inner wall, holding his gut, his hands covered with red. George and Andrejz have the T. George is bleeding from the arm. Andrejz looks pale and shocked, but I don't see any obvious wounds.
"Weasel says there's a midden pile off the far northwest wing at least six feet deep. We use it to get off the roof and extract. Battery is to give us five and then go to phase 3!"
"Roger!"
George tosses a grenade into the stairwell as I suppress the corridor. Our team crosses. Weasel, hands tied tight behind him, babbling assurances about the exit. The new LT gets cuffed to shut him up from threatening our new friend. George helps up Frandszk while Gunny and Andrejz take up covering fire at the T.
We hit the exit in record time, bursting out into the sunlight on the exposed northwest wing. It isn't a roof, just what's left of the wing. George takes up covering position in the doorway as the last two fall back.
I drag Weasel over to confirm the pile. Right where he said it was. Hope it's deep enough.
"You first!" I shout as I test the pile with Weasel. He screams like a girl, but struggles out of the mush. Me and Leo next. We make sure Czarny mule doesn't suffocate. Doc clears the wall in a leap. Who's she trying to impress.
Gunny's about to make the jump when there's an explosion behind him. He cries out as he makes an uncontrolled fall onto his back. Leo drags him out, blood runs down Gunny's legs and the man-pack is a sparking ruin. Leo slashes Weasel's bonds. "Carry him." No need for 'or else'. He takes Gunny's M-16 and 203.
No other faces. We can't help and we can't wait. The mortars are falling heavily again. Around the wing to the entry point. Gunfire from the wing. A shape appears, a body levered up and over the sill, falls into the worked earth behind the palace. I see George's face at the sill and he turns away, back into the building, gunfire.
I race to the body, Andrejz, breathing wetly with a thready pulse. I sling the 60, lift the big Pole into a fireman's carry, and race back. East German indeed. I'd laugh, but I can feel his ribs shifting over my shoulders. He won't make it.
Get a good distance, find a hole, take stock. We'll move, as best we can, after darkness falls. Doc and Leo lead the way. Damn you George, you should have jumped.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
051: Intermission - Planning Session
September 24th, 2000
Under Sielce Stadium
We're making small talk while waiting for our good Russian friends to arrive; Major General Alexi Koronov and his adviser Captain John Stone. I've been worrying about this sort of thing ever since the POW raids. I'm more than willing to work with anyone on my side, but I'll be damned if my men are going to be used up by some higher ranking SOB. There's sounds of men coming down the hallway. Moment of truth.
I thought he'd be taller. Shouldn't be surprised, I've tried fitting down the turret hatch of the T-72, but damn he's short. Just the level to be staring at my tits... Lt. Zalesky makes the introductions.
The good general gives me a quick once over and locks eyes. He starts in Polish, "Captain Paterson, I am pleased, very pleased, to meet you. My liaisons have informed me of the work your men have already accomplished. As allies, I hope we may work together to secure this community and make the Black Ass pay."
"Thank you, sir, I have every intention of bleeding him white." Koronev laughs at the pun.
"I'm sure we will." He starts ever so slightly as his gaze shifts over my people. "Valdimirovich!" And he lapses into lighting fast Russian. Leonid returns his greeting. The two grasp hands and then go into the bear hugs and cheek smooching.
Lt Zalesky clears his throat to catch my attention. "This comrade Captain is captain Jon Stone, our adviser from the American government." He gives special stress to adviser and government.
"Captain," coolly as I give him my hand. "Captain Katriona Paterson, 5th Infantry Division, commanding." Rather assumptive on my part, they can court martial my ass later.
"I understood the 5th had been destroyed, Captain."
"Scattered, not destroyed. I've been busy picking up the pieces."
"So you're still following the chain of command back to Milgov."
"Captain Stone, the chain gives all something to hold onto in these desperate times." The things I can make my mouth say. "Our last orders placed us on our own. Until I can return to friendly lines this command is operating independently."
Stone has an insincere smile. "I can see the meeting is about to start. We have much to talk about. Perhaps you can spare some time afterwards."
"I'm sure I can."
-----------------------------------------
Headman Filip still looks grim, maybe it's the lamp light, maybe it is just him. We use polish as our lingua franca, thank you Leo and Jana for the drilling. "Thank you for coming. I hope we'll all be able to work together well for for the common good. I have new information from our patrols and brave informants. First, they found the man responsible for sabotaging the gun. He and his family were executed for their treason. He was one of the guards on the gun the night of the explosion. Czarny extracted a full confession."
Eddie can't resist, "Leo, you're looking good for a dead man."
Filip resumes after the laughter dies down. "How would you say it, 'intended for domestic consumption'. I doubt Czarny believes it."
He pauses for comments so I provide. "It wouldn't be the first time a charismatic head case believed his own propaganda."
"True, Captain, but they have stepped up security."
"Headman, do you have anything on the composition of the security?" asks Leo.
"I don't have any reports of 'composition' changes." Filip replies tentatively.
"I ask, Headman, because they had a mix of regulars and 'free company' types, marauding bastards, providing external security. As I noted in my debrief, they spent as much time watching each other as they did on their job. More of the same is going to make them less effective, not more."
Koronov smiles, "So Leonya, their quantity has no quality, da?"
"Yes, Sir. We can use that."
Filip call us back to his briefing before we can further digress. "we may have to friends. A convoy bearing the shells arrived on the 22nd. Plans were already in place to launch an attack by the 30th. No longer."
He lets himself smile and take a sip of water. "The gun was the keystone of their plan. Colonel Czarny has had to make some strenuous efforts to hold his coalition together. Those fucks know the price we would exact from them. They aren't so eager now."
"Still, he has the shells. I don't know what he intends to do with them and neither does he. He's called a meeting of the heads of his companies and their specialists for the afternoon of the 26th. At the 'palace'. I wouldn't like for them to discover a use for them. What are our options?"
Koronov gives a suitable space of time to see if anyone else will start. "Captain Paterson, I've been told you have many mortar tubes on board your vessel as well as a tank. Can you get line of sight for direct fire?"
"The Wisula Krowola is Captain Rataj's vessel, not mine. However, from the riverfront, we can see the very top of the building. I have a very accurate distance measurement, but no LOS on the inhabited portions."
"And, Captain Rataj, how are the wave conditions?"
"General, we're anchored in the Turning Basin. The moorage is well insulated from the river currents. There are no waves."
"With a stable surface and accurate distance. Laser accurate, yes? We can plot good fire missions. We'll need to infiltrate a forward observer. The commanders will trickle in, but after the meeting, they should all leave together. That is when we hit them." He looks at all of us. "Time to pick it apart."
They roll it around, each man getting a word in, but they're missing the obvious flaw. As discussion starts to wind down I throw my hat in the ring.
"We're picking at details here. While the plan is solid and low risk, we're missing two factors." Koronov smiles like I'm the prize student. "One, they'll have already made a plan for the attack with the shells. Two, the bastard carrying out the plan will be still inside a building that weathered a nuke. We'll delay them and damage the 'free companies' resolve as they shake out a new command structure, but it won't stop them."
"Do you have another option Captain?"
"I do. The men believe the gun was an inside job, a betrayal. As Leo pointed out, their security is hamstrung by a lack of coordination and trust. This exacerbates it. What will happen if we start shelling the courtyard and the building frontage?"
"The good men will go to ground immediately and ride it out. The unsteady ones will panic, run for cover."
"And the best cover is the palace."
"Da."
"And that's when a small assault team inserts through the back of the place, riding in with the runners."
Koronov laughs and says something to Leo.
---------------------------------------------
It took some more jawing and three other half-assed proposals before they settled on mine. We'll be small; 8 men. My plan, I'm going. Leo for the previous experience. George has shown me he's damn quiet and a good shot. Gunny Walters to carry the man-pack and call fire as needed. Andrejz because I couldn't talk him out of it. Two more rubble specialists picked by him. Finally, Doc Miller. I know it's stupid to bring your only physician on what might be a suicide raid, but we'll need more than a slap dressing if someone gets hit and we're miles from help. Besdies she is freakishly fast and doesn't know when to quit.
Our Russian friends are seconding an FO and translator to us. They'll be in position to implement Koronov's plan if we fail.
They also offered to inspect the tank after they learned of the motor damage. Doubt it will help, but Leo keeps pointing out they are the experts. 10th Guards Tank.
Meeting adjourned, we've got to run.
---------------------------------------------
Except not.
"Captain Stone, you've got ten minutes. Make'em good ones."
"Kat, may I ca..."
"Captain Paterson, please."
"I'm sorry. Captain Paterson, how familiar are you with the conditions back home and the rift in the government."
"I'm a mining engineer by trade. I got picked up by a Marine unit outside Norfolk where I assisted with disaster relief. When they were redeployed I was offered the "opportunity" to sign-up with them. As it seemed everyone hale was being vacuumed up for service, and I'd established a good working relationship, I took the offer. I got shipped to Europe where I've been serving ever since. If there was a rift, then I slept through the briefing."
"Thank you, Captain. I'm not surprised you're ignorant of the situation. The Congress reconstituted itself in Omaha last year. Senator John Broward was elected to the Presidency by the House of Representatives in accordance with their constitutional authority. General Cummings, head of the Joint Chiefs, refused to recognize the validity of his election. He's continued to exorcise martial law in CONUS and refused to step down as directed by the President."
"Are we killing each other yet."
"Not that I am aware of. Although several divisions in the US and on the Yugoslavian front have declared for the civilian government. Captain, are you going to stand for the usurpation of the United States by a military junta?"
"Captain, that's a question for me to answer when I know you're not snowing me. We may talk again when I get back. Good Day."
------------------------------------------------
Turning Basin, on the barge
I'm sitting at the table in the small mess. Leo standing at my right side. Eddie is batman outside the door. He knocks.
"Enter. George, good to see you. Leo has a request."
"Da, comrade George. We're going on raid again. No need to blend in. I want your MP5SD. You give it to me." He's laying on the accent thick.
He looks to me as I nod then hands off the weapon and ammo. Leo sets his AKR on the table and takes the MP5. "Love German engineering, so smooth." Settle the sling, insert mag, and racks the action.
"George," I say, "When were you and Stark going to tell me about the second Civil War?"
He looks from me to Leo, holding a live weapon, "May I have a seat?"
"No, George, you may not have a seat. You may provide an answer."
A helpless shrug. "I thought you knew, Captain."
"I didn't know, full stop. Now, give it all to me."
It's largely Stone's tale about a reconstituted Congress. It has the details Stone accidentally, on purpose, left out. Shootings between congressmen over who got to sit a seat, reps who'd never seen the district they claimed, and strongmen appointing themselves. President Broward, governor of Arkansas, had used his power to appoint himself senator and then climbed into the Presidency. General Cummings had refused to accept the legitimacy of the Congress until such time as a census could be undertaken, districts reapportioned, and a democratic election held. Fucking mess.
"I am very disappointed to be told this way. Very disappointed."
"I am sorry as well. I thought you knew."
"Now, tell me where you've hid the research notes on the box."
"I..."
"No, there has been plenty of time to copy them. You'd send one of them downstream with the box in case circumstances permitted them to get to friendly lines. I want them."
"I can honestly say that I have not hidden the notes anywhere."
"Fuck, George, stop playing word games."
"Habit." He pulls his sling bag over his head and puts it on the table. "In there. Do you want my sidearm too?"
"George, I've always been straight with you. I need to know where you're standing."
"This thing has to get home, regardless of which side has it. If it can be replicated, then damn near free electricity will do much to jump start America's recovery. The Colonel's been mission oriented. He wants it out and headed west ASAP, hang the consequences, or the risks. You've been thinking long term. I think you'll get it home without burning all the bridges. But mostly, I'm standing wherever I need to be to get the damn thing done."
"No, George, keep it. Have a seat. We've got an ops plan."
After he sits, I give him all the details of the run. And that he's been tapped to come.
"I had you picked before my little talk with Captain Stone. I still want you. You in?"
"I'll need my gun back."
Leo, "No, you got spare."
"Ah, no, the second MP5SD went back into stores. In Krakow."
"No, mine now. Familiarize self with AKR. I help."
"Captain?"
"Go familiarize yourself with the AKR.
"...."
"Part of the cost of secrets. It's a small one."
Under Sielce Stadium
We're making small talk while waiting for our good Russian friends to arrive; Major General Alexi Koronov and his adviser Captain John Stone. I've been worrying about this sort of thing ever since the POW raids. I'm more than willing to work with anyone on my side, but I'll be damned if my men are going to be used up by some higher ranking SOB. There's sounds of men coming down the hallway. Moment of truth.
I thought he'd be taller. Shouldn't be surprised, I've tried fitting down the turret hatch of the T-72, but damn he's short. Just the level to be staring at my tits... Lt. Zalesky makes the introductions.
The good general gives me a quick once over and locks eyes. He starts in Polish, "Captain Paterson, I am pleased, very pleased, to meet you. My liaisons have informed me of the work your men have already accomplished. As allies, I hope we may work together to secure this community and make the Black Ass pay."
"Thank you, sir, I have every intention of bleeding him white." Koronev laughs at the pun.
"I'm sure we will." He starts ever so slightly as his gaze shifts over my people. "Valdimirovich!" And he lapses into lighting fast Russian. Leonid returns his greeting. The two grasp hands and then go into the bear hugs and cheek smooching.
Lt Zalesky clears his throat to catch my attention. "This comrade Captain is captain Jon Stone, our adviser from the American government." He gives special stress to adviser and government.
"Captain," coolly as I give him my hand. "Captain Katriona Paterson, 5th Infantry Division, commanding." Rather assumptive on my part, they can court martial my ass later.
"I understood the 5th had been destroyed, Captain."
"Scattered, not destroyed. I've been busy picking up the pieces."
"So you're still following the chain of command back to Milgov."
"Captain Stone, the chain gives all something to hold onto in these desperate times." The things I can make my mouth say. "Our last orders placed us on our own. Until I can return to friendly lines this command is operating independently."
Stone has an insincere smile. "I can see the meeting is about to start. We have much to talk about. Perhaps you can spare some time afterwards."
"I'm sure I can."
-----------------------------------------
Headman Filip still looks grim, maybe it's the lamp light, maybe it is just him. We use polish as our lingua franca, thank you Leo and Jana for the drilling. "Thank you for coming. I hope we'll all be able to work together well for for the common good. I have new information from our patrols and brave informants. First, they found the man responsible for sabotaging the gun. He and his family were executed for their treason. He was one of the guards on the gun the night of the explosion. Czarny extracted a full confession."
Eddie can't resist, "Leo, you're looking good for a dead man."
Filip resumes after the laughter dies down. "How would you say it, 'intended for domestic consumption'. I doubt Czarny believes it."
He pauses for comments so I provide. "It wouldn't be the first time a charismatic head case believed his own propaganda."
"True, Captain, but they have stepped up security."
"Headman, do you have anything on the composition of the security?" asks Leo.
"I don't have any reports of 'composition' changes." Filip replies tentatively.
"I ask, Headman, because they had a mix of regulars and 'free company' types, marauding bastards, providing external security. As I noted in my debrief, they spent as much time watching each other as they did on their job. More of the same is going to make them less effective, not more."
Koronov smiles, "So Leonya, their quantity has no quality, da?"
"Yes, Sir. We can use that."
Filip call us back to his briefing before we can further digress. "we may have to friends. A convoy bearing the shells arrived on the 22nd. Plans were already in place to launch an attack by the 30th. No longer."
He lets himself smile and take a sip of water. "The gun was the keystone of their plan. Colonel Czarny has had to make some strenuous efforts to hold his coalition together. Those fucks know the price we would exact from them. They aren't so eager now."
"Still, he has the shells. I don't know what he intends to do with them and neither does he. He's called a meeting of the heads of his companies and their specialists for the afternoon of the 26th. At the 'palace'. I wouldn't like for them to discover a use for them. What are our options?"
Koronov gives a suitable space of time to see if anyone else will start. "Captain Paterson, I've been told you have many mortar tubes on board your vessel as well as a tank. Can you get line of sight for direct fire?"
"The Wisula Krowola is Captain Rataj's vessel, not mine. However, from the riverfront, we can see the very top of the building. I have a very accurate distance measurement, but no LOS on the inhabited portions."
"And, Captain Rataj, how are the wave conditions?"
"General, we're anchored in the Turning Basin. The moorage is well insulated from the river currents. There are no waves."
"With a stable surface and accurate distance. Laser accurate, yes? We can plot good fire missions. We'll need to infiltrate a forward observer. The commanders will trickle in, but after the meeting, they should all leave together. That is when we hit them." He looks at all of us. "Time to pick it apart."
They roll it around, each man getting a word in, but they're missing the obvious flaw. As discussion starts to wind down I throw my hat in the ring.
"We're picking at details here. While the plan is solid and low risk, we're missing two factors." Koronov smiles like I'm the prize student. "One, they'll have already made a plan for the attack with the shells. Two, the bastard carrying out the plan will be still inside a building that weathered a nuke. We'll delay them and damage the 'free companies' resolve as they shake out a new command structure, but it won't stop them."
"Do you have another option Captain?"
"I do. The men believe the gun was an inside job, a betrayal. As Leo pointed out, their security is hamstrung by a lack of coordination and trust. This exacerbates it. What will happen if we start shelling the courtyard and the building frontage?"
"The good men will go to ground immediately and ride it out. The unsteady ones will panic, run for cover."
"And the best cover is the palace."
"Da."
"And that's when a small assault team inserts through the back of the place, riding in with the runners."
Koronov laughs and says something to Leo.
---------------------------------------------
It took some more jawing and three other half-assed proposals before they settled on mine. We'll be small; 8 men. My plan, I'm going. Leo for the previous experience. George has shown me he's damn quiet and a good shot. Gunny Walters to carry the man-pack and call fire as needed. Andrejz because I couldn't talk him out of it. Two more rubble specialists picked by him. Finally, Doc Miller. I know it's stupid to bring your only physician on what might be a suicide raid, but we'll need more than a slap dressing if someone gets hit and we're miles from help. Besdies she is freakishly fast and doesn't know when to quit.
Our Russian friends are seconding an FO and translator to us. They'll be in position to implement Koronov's plan if we fail.
They also offered to inspect the tank after they learned of the motor damage. Doubt it will help, but Leo keeps pointing out they are the experts. 10th Guards Tank.
Meeting adjourned, we've got to run.
---------------------------------------------
Except not.
"Captain Stone, you've got ten minutes. Make'em good ones."
"Kat, may I ca..."
"Captain Paterson, please."
"I'm sorry. Captain Paterson, how familiar are you with the conditions back home and the rift in the government."
"I'm a mining engineer by trade. I got picked up by a Marine unit outside Norfolk where I assisted with disaster relief. When they were redeployed I was offered the "opportunity" to sign-up with them. As it seemed everyone hale was being vacuumed up for service, and I'd established a good working relationship, I took the offer. I got shipped to Europe where I've been serving ever since. If there was a rift, then I slept through the briefing."
"Thank you, Captain. I'm not surprised you're ignorant of the situation. The Congress reconstituted itself in Omaha last year. Senator John Broward was elected to the Presidency by the House of Representatives in accordance with their constitutional authority. General Cummings, head of the Joint Chiefs, refused to recognize the validity of his election. He's continued to exorcise martial law in CONUS and refused to step down as directed by the President."
"Are we killing each other yet."
"Not that I am aware of. Although several divisions in the US and on the Yugoslavian front have declared for the civilian government. Captain, are you going to stand for the usurpation of the United States by a military junta?"
"Captain, that's a question for me to answer when I know you're not snowing me. We may talk again when I get back. Good Day."
------------------------------------------------
Turning Basin, on the barge
I'm sitting at the table in the small mess. Leo standing at my right side. Eddie is batman outside the door. He knocks.
"Enter. George, good to see you. Leo has a request."
"Da, comrade George. We're going on raid again. No need to blend in. I want your MP5SD. You give it to me." He's laying on the accent thick.
He looks to me as I nod then hands off the weapon and ammo. Leo sets his AKR on the table and takes the MP5. "Love German engineering, so smooth." Settle the sling, insert mag, and racks the action.
"George," I say, "When were you and Stark going to tell me about the second Civil War?"
He looks from me to Leo, holding a live weapon, "May I have a seat?"
"No, George, you may not have a seat. You may provide an answer."
A helpless shrug. "I thought you knew, Captain."
"I didn't know, full stop. Now, give it all to me."
It's largely Stone's tale about a reconstituted Congress. It has the details Stone accidentally, on purpose, left out. Shootings between congressmen over who got to sit a seat, reps who'd never seen the district they claimed, and strongmen appointing themselves. President Broward, governor of Arkansas, had used his power to appoint himself senator and then climbed into the Presidency. General Cummings had refused to accept the legitimacy of the Congress until such time as a census could be undertaken, districts reapportioned, and a democratic election held. Fucking mess.
"I am very disappointed to be told this way. Very disappointed."
"I am sorry as well. I thought you knew."
"Now, tell me where you've hid the research notes on the box."
"I..."
"No, there has been plenty of time to copy them. You'd send one of them downstream with the box in case circumstances permitted them to get to friendly lines. I want them."
"I can honestly say that I have not hidden the notes anywhere."
"Fuck, George, stop playing word games."
"Habit." He pulls his sling bag over his head and puts it on the table. "In there. Do you want my sidearm too?"
"George, I've always been straight with you. I need to know where you're standing."
"This thing has to get home, regardless of which side has it. If it can be replicated, then damn near free electricity will do much to jump start America's recovery. The Colonel's been mission oriented. He wants it out and headed west ASAP, hang the consequences, or the risks. You've been thinking long term. I think you'll get it home without burning all the bridges. But mostly, I'm standing wherever I need to be to get the damn thing done."
"No, George, keep it. Have a seat. We've got an ops plan."
After he sits, I give him all the details of the run. And that he's been tapped to come.
"I had you picked before my little talk with Captain Stone. I still want you. You in?"
"I'll need my gun back."
Leo, "No, you got spare."
"Ah, no, the second MP5SD went back into stores. In Krakow."
"No, mine now. Familiarize self with AKR. I help."
"Captain?"
"Go familiarize yourself with the AKR.
"...."
"Part of the cost of secrets. It's a small one."
Friday, April 6, 2012
050: Intermission - Scattered Voices
September 20th, 2000
"Cap, Cap, get up! Did you hear that?"
I rub the sleep from my eyes. "I heard it. Anything else?"
"Chinese fire drill. Run about, scream and shout. I didn't hear any shots."
"Look, it is too soon for Leo to be back and Filip will let us know, 'k. Go back to sleep."
"Yes, ma'am."
----------------------------------
J-boy finished his shift before doing a fade. We caught up in the rubble outside his 'town'.
"Mr. Black brought us out. After a days march north he had us gathered and gave us the big talk. He's split from the national government. He needed soldiers, disciplined soldiers, rather than the untrained men and banditos he had now. Over the winter, once Warsaw had settled, we'd assist him it training up his army. We'd be a terrible thorn in the Red's side and a safe haven for any future NATO pushes. If we didn't want in, he was willing to let us try to head west on our own."
"How'd that work out."
"Major Emowitz sat down with the senior officers. They chewed it over. They accepted.
"No dissent?"
Sure as hell was. Didn't matter, we could all see this was a solid bet. We could try to head west with winter coming. Or we could hunker down under this guy. Food, shelter, and no slave labor over the winter. Hell, yeah." He spits.
"Guessing you aren't thrilled."
No, Moonie, not a bit. These fuckers are just as bad as the camp commandant. We're a step up from prisoners, more like trustees. We got guns, bolt-action rifles mostly, but they got assault rifles, MGs, and more. We're trustees. I'm damn glad to see you live. You'd better keep moving though."
"Nah, J-boy, I'm not running solo. My crazy captain hit your POW camp about 2 weeks too late. She wants to shake the rest of you loose and take down any bastards along the way. She's got a real attitude."
flash - BOOM!
J-boy and I turn towards the center of Warsaw doing it's best impression of a kicked ant-hill.
"That's... that's Black's HQ."
"Yeah, she's got a bad attitude."
----------------------------------------------
September 21st, 2000
Headman Filip, Captain Rataj, Doc, the excitable LT twins, anyone who could wrangle their way loose, and me; we're waiting. Word came back 30 minutes ago that 'our man' had reached the perimeter. We got together, fast, and waited.
Leo came in under his own power. The twins snapped to and offered crisp salutes. Leo gave them a goggle eyed stare, ducked his head, and attempted to wave them down. Andrejz, the big lug, grabbed Leo in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet, twirling in a circle while shouting, "God, I love you, I love you!"
Eddie leaned in to me, "Cap, I'm going to have to follow him around whispering, 'Caesar is mortal.'"
"I don't think that's quite the quote. Close enough."
Filip shouts out, "Order, order. Let the man breath. Andrejz, put him down."
Leo gets his well deserved seat. Food and water is brought. The rubber neckers are chased out. We grill him. Troops, emplacements, security, routines, vehicles, and anything else he noted. Four hours.
Four hours that was bested summed up in three lines;
They don't know each other. They aren't well integrated. And their security sucks.
Here be opportunities.
-------------------------------------------
J-boy's major has listened to all I've been willing to say. Between all the ships that didn't return to Praga port, the stories of a big surface warship heading down from Krakow, and a Ker-Boom at the right moment, he knows I'm not spinning any old tale.
He's quiet for a loooong time. Has me eyeballing the exit he doe.
"Son, you're asking me to take a lot on the faith of your CO's good intentions. I need a solid plan and my own pair of eyes checking out your tale before we budge. You take Sgt Schmidtz and show him everything. Then you'll get my decision."
"Begging your pardon Major, but wouldn't it be better to have one of the officers go."
"No," he sighs. "Best not to let anyone else know what might happen. You know some of them are starting to enjoy their privileges." He grimaces and spits on the floor.
"No, son, you don't want to know."
--------------------------------------------------------
Eddie's Journal, September 21st, 2000
We're taking the Wisula Krowola into Warsaw. With the big gun gone it should be safe. For certain measures of safe!
Everyone is happy and relived, but Cap's got her poker face on. I know that look, Cap's got a plan. She ain't sharing. Yet.
I think she wants to wait for tomorrow. The Russkies big men are coming over. Along with maybe fifty rifles. I think she wants to see if they're bringing anything else to the party.
Me, I'm looking forward to a hot shower.
"Cap, Cap, get up! Did you hear that?"
I rub the sleep from my eyes. "I heard it. Anything else?"
"Chinese fire drill. Run about, scream and shout. I didn't hear any shots."
"Look, it is too soon for Leo to be back and Filip will let us know, 'k. Go back to sleep."
"Yes, ma'am."
----------------------------------
J-boy finished his shift before doing a fade. We caught up in the rubble outside his 'town'.
"Mr. Black brought us out. After a days march north he had us gathered and gave us the big talk. He's split from the national government. He needed soldiers, disciplined soldiers, rather than the untrained men and banditos he had now. Over the winter, once Warsaw had settled, we'd assist him it training up his army. We'd be a terrible thorn in the Red's side and a safe haven for any future NATO pushes. If we didn't want in, he was willing to let us try to head west on our own."
"How'd that work out."
"Major Emowitz sat down with the senior officers. They chewed it over. They accepted.
"No dissent?"
Sure as hell was. Didn't matter, we could all see this was a solid bet. We could try to head west with winter coming. Or we could hunker down under this guy. Food, shelter, and no slave labor over the winter. Hell, yeah." He spits.
"Guessing you aren't thrilled."
No, Moonie, not a bit. These fuckers are just as bad as the camp commandant. We're a step up from prisoners, more like trustees. We got guns, bolt-action rifles mostly, but they got assault rifles, MGs, and more. We're trustees. I'm damn glad to see you live. You'd better keep moving though."
"Nah, J-boy, I'm not running solo. My crazy captain hit your POW camp about 2 weeks too late. She wants to shake the rest of you loose and take down any bastards along the way. She's got a real attitude."
flash - BOOM!
J-boy and I turn towards the center of Warsaw doing it's best impression of a kicked ant-hill.
"That's... that's Black's HQ."
"Yeah, she's got a bad attitude."
----------------------------------------------
September 21st, 2000
Headman Filip, Captain Rataj, Doc, the excitable LT twins, anyone who could wrangle their way loose, and me; we're waiting. Word came back 30 minutes ago that 'our man' had reached the perimeter. We got together, fast, and waited.
Leo came in under his own power. The twins snapped to and offered crisp salutes. Leo gave them a goggle eyed stare, ducked his head, and attempted to wave them down. Andrejz, the big lug, grabbed Leo in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet, twirling in a circle while shouting, "God, I love you, I love you!"
Eddie leaned in to me, "Cap, I'm going to have to follow him around whispering, 'Caesar is mortal.'"
"I don't think that's quite the quote. Close enough."
Filip shouts out, "Order, order. Let the man breath. Andrejz, put him down."
Leo gets his well deserved seat. Food and water is brought. The rubber neckers are chased out. We grill him. Troops, emplacements, security, routines, vehicles, and anything else he noted. Four hours.
Four hours that was bested summed up in three lines;
They don't know each other. They aren't well integrated. And their security sucks.
Here be opportunities.
-------------------------------------------
J-boy's major has listened to all I've been willing to say. Between all the ships that didn't return to Praga port, the stories of a big surface warship heading down from Krakow, and a Ker-Boom at the right moment, he knows I'm not spinning any old tale.
He's quiet for a loooong time. Has me eyeballing the exit he doe.
"Son, you're asking me to take a lot on the faith of your CO's good intentions. I need a solid plan and my own pair of eyes checking out your tale before we budge. You take Sgt Schmidtz and show him everything. Then you'll get my decision."
"Begging your pardon Major, but wouldn't it be better to have one of the officers go."
"No," he sighs. "Best not to let anyone else know what might happen. You know some of them are starting to enjoy their privileges." He grimaces and spits on the floor.
"No, son, you don't want to know."
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Eddie's Journal, September 21st, 2000
We're taking the Wisula Krowola into Warsaw. With the big gun gone it should be safe. For certain measures of safe!
Everyone is happy and relived, but Cap's got her poker face on. I know that look, Cap's got a plan. She ain't sharing. Yet.
I think she wants to wait for tomorrow. The Russkies big men are coming over. Along with maybe fifty rifles. I think she wants to see if they're bringing anything else to the party.
Me, I'm looking forward to a hot shower.
Monday, April 2, 2012
049: Intermission
Sure as he made little green apples, God hates the radio. Sniper by the roadside, hits the radio. Bone jarring pothole, there goes the radio. Bird flies overhead, shit on the radio works its way inside. I've been through four since I left Krakow. I'm going back to mirrors and smoke.
Cap Kat wants those men back from Baron Black-ass. I figure it would be easiest if I found them first. Easy, right? About as easy as finding an ice cold RC Cola. Warsaw's a shit pile. Surprised it doesn't glow. Bright boy could give me a dozen reason's why it doesn't. All I need to know is the Geiger isn't chattering.
So, I find a good spot to stash the UAZ, shoulder my pack, and ready the carbine. Time to go hunting. Can I get a blue-nose hound?
-----------------------------------------
Fuck, don't anybody speak English around here? Went in for a day and half before finding three rejects from Road Warrior. They forgot the ganger gear and are outfitted with oven mitts, tarp ponchos, and face scarves. Were all industrious shifting rubble for whatever could be found. Got all riled up when I announced myself. Quieted down after I tapped the carbine. Guns, a language we all speak!
Settled on charades. I point to my shoulder flag, "Americans," and make like Tonto scanning the horizon. Numb nuts sit there. Point to myself, "American." Play Tonto. "Where Americans?" Don't look at each other. Tell me.
One shrugs, points west, waves his hand, far-far away, "American NATO."
"Czarny." That gets their attention. Grab my arm and make like I'm pulling it off. "Take Americans"
The brave one slowly stands, hands held far out to the sides, see empty. "Czarny," cringes, fearfully.
"Czarny," I spit to the side.
He stands. "Czarny, ha ha ha," mimes a rifle. "Americans," mimes a rifle. "Pole," cringes.
I make my hands into kiddie pistols. Point at each other. "Czarny, Americans, bang-bang?"
He shakes his head. Fucking idiots. He grabs one of his friends, stands him up, makes him aim a rifle. "Czarny." Pulls his other friend up. Puts him in front of Czarny. Has him take up a air rifle as well. "Americans." Goes to the head of the line, cringes down, "Pole."
I point all about, "Where?"
He points north and north west. Holds his hands about a foot apart, "Kilometre." Moves his hands to the side, "Kilometre." Points again to the north and northwest.
I really should kill them now. They won't tell no stories that way. But then Cap would get all weepy. I give them the roll of sweets from my third to last MRE. Hearts and minds, man, hearts and minds.
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"Hey, J-boy, jumped out of any new planes?"
I remember meeting him in '92. He loved to pump iron. His arms was as big around as my thigh. Now look at him, skin tight over bone, and an ancient Mauser cradled in his arms. Sergeant Jonathan Schmidtz, 82nd Airborne has seen better days.
He makes a slow careful turn. Hope he remembers the nickname after all this time. He quints trying to see in the dark, J-boy needs his vitamins, but I'm too far back. "Moonie," he coughs into his elbow, "Moonie won't eat it, he hates everything."
"Less you got a Moon-Pie."
"No Pies, no pies. Come forward," he looks around, "less chance of being heard." He puts the rifle butt on the ground. Parade Rest.
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