079: The New World

Ed's Journal, December 12th, 2000

I knew things were hard.  I knew we'd been hit.  I knew people had died.  I didn't understand or accept what that had meant.  Crossing the Hudson River brought it home. 

New York City, The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps lay silent off the starboard rail as our 'River Rat' sailors took us up to northern Manhattan.  Small trails of smoke cut across the cold crystal sky.  Too few for the millions that had called this island home.  How many scratched out a living here, thousands, hundreds? 

Through the image intensifiers I can see the broken windows of waterfront buildings and the ragged gaps where others have burned.  Passing River Park, I scope out the ragged workers and guards of Hizzoner's little kingdom.  If that deserter Carter told us straight they're as bad an anything Czarny planned to put into place.  We sail on north.

Passing under the George Washington Bridge.  I can count the cars slammed into the safety rails to make room for traffic to take the middle lanes.  Again, if Carter can be believed, we could have driven over.  Instead, Cap, Major Paterson wanted to take the boat MILGOV negotiated for us.  They'll be making future supply runs, so we need to find a good set of docks near our destination.

The Dyckman Street Marina is our drop-off point.  With luck the piers will check out as functional.  It's well hidden from land being between and behind Inwood Hill and Fort Tyron Park.  Our planned destination is the Cloisters.  Doc remembers it as a large art museum modeled off an European monastery.  In addition to large clear galleries it had interior green space and a walled, with stone, parking lot.  The ideal place for later day king makers and census takers.

Paterson

Just like Doc said...  A solid looking wall, large interior space, and plenty of parkland to clear for firewood and crops.  Someone beat us to it. 

"I count 25 outside the walls."

Leo grunts agreement.  "They have guards, four on the building, three with that work group, two more with those others."

"Yeah, they're facing out though.  Not paying attention to the workers.  And they're all dressed the same."  Ragged, but not rags, guard or laborer, it didn't matter.  Not what I'd expect if they were forced labor.  "Damn, I want that space.  Think they'll accept eminent domain?"

Not in Leo's dictionary yet.  He just shrugs and grunts.

"I don't see anything heavier than a hunting rifle out there.  Let's meet and greet.  We got a lot to offer.  Leo, do the honors."

We're still some 200 yards off.  Leo wiggles up beside a tree and stands in the lee.  He carefully steps out, rifle slung, and gives them a few moments to notice him.  They don't.  He takes a step out into the winter sunlight and projects with his best English.  "Hello, work party!  I want to talk!"

They don't waste time rubbernecking.  The workers leg it towards the Cloisters shouting out an alert.  The guards train rifles on Leo and slowly step backwards.  "Back off soldier boy!  Don't come any closer!"

"I want to talk.  See my hands are empty!"  He takes a single step forward.  One of the rifles fires.  Leo drops back to the ground and quick crawls back to the cover of his tree.

"Hold your fire, Bill!" one of them shouts.  "We don't want no trouble.  Just leave!"  They continue to backup. 

Leo, under the shelter of the tree, lines up on the shooter with his SVD.

"Leo, don't!"  I shout, a moment too late.  The guards hat, a battered fedora, jumps off into the snow.  He dives for cover.  The others follow a heartbeat later.

"Next one in head!"  Leo bawls.

I order a withdraw.

--------------------------------

"Could have been better."

"Da, I go back tonight.  Scout their guards.  We can assault them at dawn."

I give him a cold, hard stare.

"They know I soldier.  They shoot.  We can take that place.  They attacked, they get no choice in this now."

"You can scout, but don't contact or engage.  We'll bypass them in the morning.  Try the docks up here by Baker Field.  There's a stadium on the map and the hospital nearby.  Probably picked clean by now, but it gives us spacious, defensible structures.  And then we can...  Say it."

"You're going to let it go.  That place would be perfect for us.  Space, clear fire lanes, they've got working chimneys!  And they tried to kill me, a soldier, during martial law!  And you'll let it go."

"No, I won't.  But I want to know more before we do anything irreversible.  We're here to help and defend them.  Remember, Leo, they're your countrymen now."

 Ed's Journal, December 14th, 2000

We're settled into Columbia-Presbyterian.  Alphabit had to climb into a third story window, after being attacked by pigeons, to let us all in without trashing the doors.

According to remaining paperwork and wipe boards the complex was evacuated in late '98.  Windows and doors are in excellent shape.  We're occupying the adult ER in the Presbyterian building.    OPs been placed on the towers.  That's a climb.  We've got a good view of the Broadway Bridge and surrounding neighborhoods.  Very little has been sighted.

Some of the men are down in maintenance seeing about converting the diesel generator over to alcohol.  The other ran on natural gas and won't be working ever again.  Major Pat. has a few teams canvasing buildings, that's my assignment, with Doc for remaining medical supplies.  The rest are securing interior doors and windows.

December 15th, 2000

More cardio.  We climbed the center tower with food and water for the day.  Started at the top and worked out way down the first two floors.  Quite the haul by modern standards.  Doc's got herself a little pharmacy and the scrubbed out the ER.  The men down in maintenance got the generator turning at idle.  With the breakers all tripped, except for our small spots, we've got light and heat.  Hot water, but no showers.  maybe next week.

Fuel's going to be a concern shortly.  We can keep things cranking for a week, tops, at 24/7.  We're going to run as needed until we can get a larger still set up and start harvesting Inwood Park.

December 16th, 2000

Major pounded out a letter to the survivors at the Cloisters on an electric typewriter.  We pulled a Xerox machine out of maintenance's stores and made a dozen copies.  Damn that sounds so good.  I forgot how bright they are.

Tomorrow, we're running up the US and hospital flags .  A small team is going out tonight to drop off the mail at the Cloisters.  We'll leave it on the drive where they'll find it in the morning.  Forward Operating Base Columbia is open and accepting patients. 

I know Leo's going.  I'm volunteering too.  Getting tired of looking at walls.

Paterson, December 17th, 2000

I'm plotting out our next moves on a street map of Manhattan.  Really.  Serious work.  I'm not waiting up for my boys to get back.

When the call comes from the guard I know I had reason to worry.  They're way early.

Alphabit is the first to come out of the dark with a limping Ed at his side.  Behind him stretches a coffle, prisoners, linked neck to neck with nylon cord tied in slip knots and, hand bound, and mouths gagged.  Their garb has a common theme of denim and leathers.  The words 'Suicide Kings' emblazoned on backs or down sleeves.  Two in mismatched civilian garb, also bound and gagged, follow behind.  Leo, MP5 at the ready, watchfully brings up the rear.

Leo splits the coffle.  "Stow the Kings.  Underground.  These two, get Doc.  Keep under guard."

As the prisoners are lead away he reports.  "Made our way to Inwood.  Planned to proceed to Cloisters under forest cover.  Saw firelight, just a glimpse.  Diverted to scout."

His voice hardens, "These Svinya cooking a man.  We get sentries.  Use concussion on rest.  Ed took a round.  He fine, just scratched.  Brought them back.  You want to talk."

"We'll start with the pair.  Why'd you leave them bound?"

"I did not know if they were danger.  We can straighten out here.  Apologize if needed."

In the ER Doc's already working on the pair.  The older man, Tom, has mismatched pupils and mutters incoherently.  Classic concussion.  Doc's already fed him some pills to help with inflammation.  The younger man, he can't be more than 15, looks on worriedly. 

"There's some hot food on the way.  Are you alright?"

He looks me over.  The fear is obvious.  He grunts.  I'll take it as a yes.  I take it slow and gentle, asking Doc about Tom and his course of treatment.  She wants to keep him overnight for observation.  The food arrives and after a suspicious look the boy tucks in.  The old man starts to eat as well.

"What's your name?"

"Jim.  That's my uncle Tom.  Can I have some more?"

"In a little while."  He's underweight and I don't want him sicking it back up.  "What happened to you out there?"

Tom murmurs, "Not telling you a thing, ganger."

"We were scavenging.  Looking for food, ammo, meds, whatever.  They hit us on the way back.  Killed Ernie.  Had us cold.  We carried him back to the park.  And then they, they,"

"It's over now.  They won't be hurting you again."

"What are you going to do?"

"Your story checks out with my scout's version.  I'm going to question them.  After I wring out every last bit I'll kill them.  They checked their humanity at the door when they hunted people."  I watch him for any telltale twitches.  There are none.  Good, ten is enough.

"Can I watch?"

"You want to help?"

That cracks him up.  Between a second bowl of hot stew and the promise of a pistol in the morning he opens up.  They're from the Cloisters.  Good job Leo, this is better than any note.

-------------------------------------------

I wish we had a shower.  After dealing with the 'Suicides', I won't dignify them as 'Kings', I need an hour with shampoo, soap and steam.

They're from the Bronx, just across the river to our north, and they'd headed south after their pickets reported the Rat's boats putting to shore.  Fortunately for us, they hadn't detected our operation at Columbia.  They had spotted the Cloister's smoke.  And they grabbed a few stray sheep for interrogation and stock.  We've got names, numbers, and streets.  They're not close.  The loss of fourteen men is a fifth of their strength.  Maybe we'll make a trip.

None of it came easy.  I'm happy about that.  The kid will get his shots in the morning.  Leo and I will finish those he can't.

-------------------------------------

He did four before he couldn't any more.  First time for the boy.  Gives me hope for the next generation.

I tell him, "It's a hard thing."  He looks at me with a sick face.  The smell of loosened bowels and blood fill the enclosed space.  "Remember you have the strength for it if it's needed.  We'll finish."

----------------------------------

We returned Tom and Ernie's guns to Jim.  Tom is in no shape to handle a firearm and the boy knows it.  Their ammo in a prescription bag along with pills for Tom.  It isn't charity, it's free advertising!

We take the Hummer and one truck with us.  The drive between Fort Tryon park and the hospital is clear, we moved the cars blocking the way with Hummer on the way up.  The inhabitants of the Cloisters rabbit for the walls at our approach.  We stop well back and, after shouting we send Jim ahead at a walk.  Five, including Jim, come out.  Politely they listen to my pitch about Columbia-Presbyterian being open for medical care.  Their disbelief is clear.

Alphabit has the 50 on the Hummer.  As they turn to leave he calls down, "Staff Sergeant Zimmerman?  Is that you?"

he'd been giving our gear the once over.  Now he really looks at Alphabit.  "Irish?  Well, I'll be damned.  They'll promote anyone."

Zimmerman, now retired, was Alphabit's DI.  Retired, yeah.  Alpha up swept up in the conscriptions in '98 same as me.  Maybe we'll get the real story later.  We leave him with a hand held radio and an invite to visit Columbia.  He'll talk it over with Chalmbers.  He seems favorable towards a short visit.  Fortunate meeting for us.

------------------------------------

Ed's Journal, December 18th, 2000

New guests at Columbia.  Our tower OP spotted walkers down on 10th Avenue by the subway yards.  Six bodies, no guns visible, just sticks and stones.  No radio reply to our hail.  Leo and Alpha drove out to check them out.

They scattered into the subway yard on their approach, so the two took off after them on foot.  They managed to corner them in a maintenance building.  They had a talk, homemade spear vs guns, and one agreed to come back with them.  Leo figured the others would try to leave, but given their physical condition, they wouldn't get far before the one was convinced we were good guys.

Fellow told us later he figured we would kill or enslave him and he was buying time for his family.  After a quick medical exam, hot food and cleaner clothes he was prepped to talk.  He broke down part way through, crying, "Where were you.  Three years, where were you."  She shocked him back with a sharply worded, "We were in Poland.  Now, we're back and we're going to get to work."

He believed her.  Told us they'd been in Harlem since the riots.  Conditions under the Mau-Maus had gotten so bad they'd had no choice anymore.  The danger of walking out through the Bronx were less than the repeated abuse of the gang.  They'd left on a work detail and just hadn't returned.  Him, his wife, daughter, two other men, and Jose, a Peurto Rican prisoner they were sopposed to "get work out of". 

In exchange she gave him the straight talk.  Where we'd been, what we'd done in Manhattan, and what our orders were (census, salvage, law).  He and his could stay.  Once they'd recovered they would be xpected to help with what work they were physically capable of and qualified for.  Or they'd be free to leave once they'd fed and had a safe night's sleep.  She has a convincing way, more so I think, the presence of black and hispanic soldiers in our outfit helped as well.

Later, they took him back out and recovered his family and friends.  They got the same treatment.  His wife and daughter shed tears of joy when they were told they weren't pregnant.  I don't need to tell you why that was do I?

Mau-Maus, Disciples, Simbas, we've got names of groups and locations for at least some of them.  Looks like the work of months, but we've handled worse.  Warsaw redux, no tanks.

-------------------------------------------

Time indeterminate

-J

They are your hunt, not ours.  Manhattan is Kp's preserve.  Do not interfere in his work.

                                                     Dolor Est Primogenita

078: Homecoming

Ed's Journal, November 27th, 2000

If I ever meet the men responsible for ordering a North Atlantic crossing in late November I don't know if I'll thank or strangle them.  Eleven days of high seas misery.  I spent most of it on my back or over a rail.  I've traveled by ship before, but this was unforgivably harsh.

Leo rode it out well and Cap left me in his tender care.  God, if I hear one more, "Dat looks like our breakfast." or "I saved your lunch, you threw it up on deck."  I will scream and leap.

The Norfolk docks looked like many places we'd seen in Europe.  Damage from overpressure was clear.  There had been a nearby strike, but the docks weren't hit.  A small band was playing, badly, as we disembarked and queued up.  Several lines of 'Army Here' and smaller ones for sailors, airmen, foreign service, and the almighty Corps.  Cap told us all to link up after processing if we could before heading off to her line with a few of the men.  Wish Gunny could have had her back.

We didn't wait long before a few MPs showed looking for Cap.  They were serious bidness with their clean uniforms, black box guns, MACs if you're curious, and attitude.  They shanghaied Doc, Alpha, and me before going after her and then Leo. 

Then I got to meet a general!

Paterson

He's smaller than I expected.  That doesn't take away from the strength of his grip or voice as he shakes my hand.  "Captain Paterson, I am so sorry I could not meet with you or your people in Europe.  I want to personally thank you, thank all your team, for their service and bravery in the recovery and return of RESET.  I have placed commendations in all your jackets and nominated you for awards for valor."

He reaches into his pocket.  "As commanding officer of United States forces in Europe I hereby promote you to Major."  His hands quickly change my rank tabs.  "I have also transferred you from Engineers to Infantry.  All marines are riflemen first.  This makes official the capacity you've already been operating in.  I've nominated you for the Bronze Star with Valor for actions in Warsaw."

He moves down our short line.  "Captain Padgorny, As you know, all foreign nationals serving with US forces are to be granted citizenship pending verification of service.  I am proud to accept you as an American citizen.  You are hereby commissioned in the Army with your current rank of Captain.  Your previous service will count towards seniority and benefits due to a US officer.  I have nominated you for the Silver Star for actions on the Vistula River and the Bronze Star with Valor for actions in Warsaw.  Thank you."

Leo's in shock as the general turns from him.  I give him an encouraging wink.  He gives a short, curt nod back.  I figure we're in for it.  Brass wouldn't be buttering us up if they intended to let us go.

Doc and Ed are nominated for Bronze Stars.  Alphabit, for reasons known only to the heavens and my reports, is commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant and standing for the Bronze Star with Valor.

"I understand Corporal Chilson could not be found in time for this meeting."  If I know Moonie, he's halfway to Mud Fork by now.

The general proceeds to tell us how bad the situation is stateside and how, why yes, we are going to be retained in service.  My orders are to form a platoon with support elements.  I am given priority to jump the queue and cherry pick from my former command.  No later than the day after tomorrow we are to board transport for the Jersey shore and report to Fort Dix.  There supply and transportation will be provided for our mission in Manhattan.

"Your mission is to find the Federal Gold Reserves.  It was lost in rioting during transfer to Fort Dix somewhere on Manhattan Island.  The 78th Infantry has been contacted by a survivor of the riot and they need experienced personnel to conduct search operations.  I've been told the gold is desperately needed for purposes of trade with the few nations still engaging in it.  No one's giving out credit right now."  Eighty odd tons in a cube little more than 3 feet across, right.

"Eight previous teams have landed on the island.  Once placed ashore, all contact was lost, and they never returned.  Yours will be the largest attempt to date since the 78th withdrew from NYC.  As cover for your operation you'll be conducting the 2000 Census, extending medical support to the locals, conducting and registering salvage operations, and most importantly, not getting killed.  The 78th will continue to supply logistical support for however long your mission takes.  Any questions?" 

The answer to that should be no and thank you, sir.  "Are you expecting us to locate and transport the gold?"

"No, find the location and report back to DIA in Fort Dix.  They'll handle the rest."

He entertains a few more questions, but it's clear this is all he knows, maybe anyone knows.  He's just back from Europe like the rest of us.

He dismisses the rest of the team and addresses me.  "If I had my way, you'd be looking into the Warsaw situation.  There have been more than one substantiated report of strange encounters in Europe.  Yours is one of the few that produced hard evidence.  This operation came with your name on them.  I don't like the implication.  Keep your eyes open and bring your command back."


Ed's Journal, November 28th, 2000

We're on hyper alert this evening.  Leo, Sawicki, and I spent the day arguing with the QM and abusing the Cap's authority.  Cap went headhunting.  Doc plundered the base infirmary. 

On her way back the good Major Jones told her guard to get lost.  They left her there.  Alone.  He pulled a pistol and told her she was coming with him for further 'interrogation'.  Doc did the only sensible thing she could.  She threw her box of supplies at him and ran off screaming "murder, pillage, rape!" all the way home.  Got the MPs attention.  She gave them a description and told them he'd attempted to assault her.  I'm not holding out any hope of him being found. 

Rutkowski's been appointed her bodyguard.  He should be resistant to jedi mind tricks.  The guys eventually recalled leaving her, but insisted or the longest time they'd been on their own. 

Welcome home, boys.

077: Strange Days in Bremerhaven

Leonid

They came for us before the dawn.  Our presence requested by intelligence.  Escorts with guns make clear the alternative.  This is where they pump me for everything I know and shove the Ivan out the gate.  If I'm lucky.

My debriefer, a Major Jones, is the worst sort of rear area apparatchnik.  White flesh, soft hands with a commission granted by his party father.  He scowls to see me.  Points me to a chair.

We begin.  Questions, many questions, many hours of questions.  I am given water only so I can speak.  The gnawing in my belly spreads to my head with pin pricks of pain about the temples.  I shrug it off.  Answer him as best I can.  I give him truth leavened with gristle and gore.  Soft man won't have the stomach for it. 

I've gone through the story three times, triplicate is magic in both our services, when the headache peaks.  His demeanor shifts.  He apologizes for the rough questions.  We all have jobs to do.  Am I supposed to like him now?

He has just a a few more.  He knows they are hard ones, but we have to know.  I agree.

He asks for personal feelings.  I'm distracted for a moment by the incongruity.  How do I feel about the Captain?  A fine officer, well suited to command in difficult circumstances.  He frowns.

Why didn't I act when she refused Colonel Stark's direct orders?  You were alarmed, weren't you?  The temple pain increases.  Damn, I need something to eat.  No, he never gave us an order.  He suggested courses of action.

You know he ordered here.  You were there, remember?  No, he never ordered us.  I remember this pain.  A basement in Warsaw and a large grey Zver.  What are you Major Jones?

He asks more "questions" with leading and provided answers.  I tell him more truth.  Let him choke on it.  I know his game.  He leaves, frustrated.

I am allowed a meal and to stretch my legs around the building.  I do not see any of my comrades.  I returns to a different face.  This one, Captain Walsh, is happy to see me.  He acts like he has crush on first girl.  He walks me through the events since Kalisz.  I can tell some of the questions is is cross checking against one of us.  I give him the same, truth, until evening.

 Miller

Early morning spent with my personal interrogator.  Whoop-de-doo.  Wait, he's shaking my hand, telling me what a fine job I've done, and how proud everyone is?  Where's the bad cop?  Nope just him.

He gives me a bowl of hot slop and a couple primary colored Flintstones chewable vitamins.  He'd rather it had been fruit, but nothing's fresh.  And we talk.  He wants the story in my own works.  He takes copious shorthand notes.  Asks a question here and there for clarification.

We spend mid-morning going back over it.  He made a few mistakes and I correct them as best I can.  He's nice.  No ring.

Charles stays with me through lunch.  He talks about Bremerhaven and living on base.  If the military drops him he's going to Philly.  He has a son living with his parents.  No ex, he's a widower.  I talk about Jana, my adoptive.

Afternoon, I get the bad cop.  Major Jones is angry and lean with a face that would have been handsome if it wasn't so pinched.  He barks questions at me.  I can feel a headache rushing on at the treatment.  I give it back to him with sharp, choppy answers.  Fuck him.

He stops after an hour.  The disgust is plain on his face.  He dismisses me and flees the room.

Nobody knows what to do with me after that so I leave for our barracks wondering if the rest of the team had an asshole encounter.

--------------------------------------------

They are clouded and resistant to suggestion.  Very strange.  Dangerous.  Will attempt alternate tact.
                             --J
                             Sic Omnia Pati


Paterson

We're taking the long walk home, a pair of MPs pulling escort, in the dark.  There's lights elsewhere, and the chug of generators, but not down here, strictly battery or fire.  We get stopped by patrols and waved on through.

At the barracks Leo pulls me aside.  "We need to talk.  All of us."

I've already laid claim to the warehouses offices for myself, Doc and Jana as the girl's clubhouse.  Leo grabs the others. 

He lays out his interrogation ending with, "Major Jones was telling me what he wants me to say.  That you directly undercut a superior officer, usurped command, and refused orders.  He wanted me to help set you up." 

"But there's more.  The whole time, there was pain in my head, right here," He rubs at his temples.  "And behind the eyes.  Just like that thing in Warsaw." 

"I saw a Major Jones in the afternoon," adds Doc.  "We was rushed and frustrated.  I started to get a head ache as well then he just quit and left.  So I left." 

Alphabit wants to know what this guy looks like so Leo and Doc give us all a good description.  Once he gets it he asks, "Can I kill him?"

"Not yet," I answer, "we need to know more.  Stay together, stay close.  I want one of you on watch at all times in case he or his friends show up.  I'll take first, you get some sleep."

Damn, maybe we should prep some of the guns.

Alphabit

Daylight filters in through the cracked window.  Rex is playing with the dust sparkles while I watch.  In a moment he goes from playful to alert tracking something across the wall.  Nothings there.

His back arches as he stares, mouth open in a soundless hiss, and ears pinned back.  He's ready to fight as I realize he's not looking at the wall.  He's looking past the wall tracking across the front of our building as something goes by.  I pull the hatchet from my belt and trot to the door.

Behind I hear Leo curse.  I pretend not to hear.  Hatchet held low along my thigh.  Next door, that Major we talked about last night, or his eviler twin, is being admitted.  I walk over to the alleyway between our two buildings.  They're identical in layout.  Here is the air venting for the offices.  I can just hear Jones and Emowitz speak.

Leo and Cap are coming up, I signal for silence.  Jones' voice drones, Emowitz is first questioning and then fades to a dull monotone.  Jones bewitching Emowitz.  He dully echoes Jones' accusations.  How Cap usurped his authority.  How he was afraid for his life.  How angry he is and wanting to press charges. 

Leo and Cap murmur to one another.  What to do.  What to do.  I raise my hatchet and slam the blunt side of the head, hard, against the air vent, one, two, three.  Jones' voice halts.  There are cries of alarm from Emowitz' men.  I hustle my officers away.

"Why'd you do that!  We could have learned..."

"Nothing good, he was casting a spell, didn't you hear."

Jones leaves in a rush propelled by angry soldiers.  I should have stayed near.  Cold Iron is a cure for many ills.  Rex curls in the sunlight.

Moments later, Lt. Sonders, rushes over yelling for Doc.  Emowitz collapsed.  Doc grabs kit and runs over.  Leo and I flanking. 

We end with the Major at the infirmary.  They think he's had a stroke.  I know better, man's elf-shot.

----------------------------------------

Options have narrowed.  Too many witnesses to cloud.  May have to pass to brothers in America.
                             --J
                             Sic Omnia Pati

Eddie

At least I'm not cleaning toilets.  Cap's keeping herself closeted while the rest of the team is running after Emowitz.  They left in a hurry.  I get to be Mom and pick up. 

Rex only likes Alpha, so that was a treat with extra scratches.  Jana's sitting guard with Doc's gear.  That leaves Leo.  Shaving kit, bowl, spoon, and junk, it all goes into the bag.  What's this?  Letters home?  I probably shouldn't.  But you know I will.  In English too.

Comrades, 

I just wanted to make mark to leave behind in case everything goes to shit for me when I'm presented to the Amerikan command at Bremerhaven.

We are now two days out from Bremerhaven. I am scared. I am even more afraid than I was while making my escape after deserting the Soviet army. Its funny to feel this way considering all the things I've faced: nuclear attacks, being hunted, shot at, "monsters". I think it is probably because I have no control here, no amount of training or skill will help me. I keep thinking what if... what if they don't believe I am who I say I am, or why I deserted. What if they think I am a Soviet plant and this is my cover. Considering my original training was to infiltrate the US and neutralize launch facilities I find that a reasonable fear. I do not want to have come all this way just to end up a POW.

All of you, I have been living, working, and fighting with for the last four months Kat, Alpha, Doc, Eddie. At first you were just insurance, an insulator between me and those that would like to see me locked up just because I am a Russian. You were "other targets" for when the shooting started because I knew that you were not truly combat troops, you would draw more attention than I would. Now you are my friends, no not friends, you are my семья, my family. The thought of being separated from you terrifies me.

Not much I can do now but wait. You are going home, I have no home now. I would go with you if they had let me.
                            
                                                                          ---Leonid

Shit, damn, fuck.  I should not have read that.  I fold it back over and stuff it well down in his pack.

Paterson

One more day to go.  I haven't been arrested yet.  Emowitz has been returned to his barracks.  The doctors can't find anything wrong with him with the tools available.  No X-Rays, ultrasounds or MRIs anymore.  I saw him briefly in the morning.

He looks at me with confusion.  "Have we been fighting?" he asks.  "I should be furious with you, but I don't know why."

"No, we haven't.  I was worried about you.  How are you feeling?"

"Tired, very tired." Irritation flashes over his face then fades.  "I'm sure we fought.  In Warsaw?"

"We fought together against Czarny.  We did a lot of good for a lot of people."

"Yeah, I keep thinking about him.  I hated him."  He looks away, eyes dull, "supposed to hate you too."

"But you don't."

"No, I get angry.  Angry just seeing you.  You should go.  Now."  Not a request.

"I am.  Get well."

He doesn't answer.

------------------------------

"Give me some answers George."

"No answers, Cap, just more questions.  I have a friend in the intel section.  He tells me they are quite happy with you and the others.  Inventive, tenacious, and unyielding are only some of the words that got added to your file.  The officers of record for Leo's debriefing were Captain Jeremiah Smith and Captain Charles Godwin.  They flipped order for Doc.  There is no Major Jones working for DIA.  I wasn't able to speak with Smith, but I'll put money down he remembers conducting the interviews."

"Thank you.  This sucks!"

"No argument there."

"Any good news?"

"They, whoever they are, can't have infiltrated that deeply.  We haven't been disappeared yet."

"You're a font of welcome observations."

"I try."

--------------------------

     Fratres
Enclosed are debriefing accounts concerning subjects K. Paterson, L. Padgorny, M. Miller, D. McGillafry, E. Cutter.  Pay attention to records of Warsaw.  Subjects are opaque and immutable.  Secure one for vivisection. 
                             --J
                             Sic Omnia Pati

Eddie's Journal

We're aboard and heading out to sea.  All of us!   All of us!  All of us!  I really didn't.......

Alphabit

"C'mon, Eddie, lets get you to the rail."

076: Home Stretch

Specialist Edward Cutter, two days out from Bremerhaven.

Snow hisses against the fabric of our tent in these evening hours.  Most of the men have bedded down only the guard and the troubled are still about.  The six of us, the survivors of the Kalisz Breakout, George, and Major Emowitz are having a final set of talks to plan out our arrival.

Cap'n Kat and Emowitz have a show planned.  We're not coming in as beggars and refugees.  For all we've been through we're still soldiers and will show it.  They're not asking for much from the troops, assembly to observe the lowering of the flag, the transfer of the train to our British friends, and a semblance of a march to wherever they need us to complete processing.  Both our officers have their paperwork to turn over, mostly penned by myself, listing names, ranks, serial numbers, MOS, other skills, and any physical or mental health problems.  Given what the Brits said we're going to be a happy surprise in more ways than one. 

Finally we get down to the last, but most important bits.  I wonder why we always save the hard shit for the end like someones just going to wave their hands and make it go away. 

"George, Major," the Captain begins, "I expect we'll be receiving extensive debriefing once command receives the box.  It'll be an even harder grilling for us if Col. Stark got a report in.  There's some things I'd like for us to get straight before that happens."

"I don't plan on telling any lies," Emowitz answers, "Your methods are unorthodox and inventive, but they've accomplished the goals and saved more lives than I thought possible.  That's all I'm going to say on the matter."

George follows, "I wouldn't worry too much.  I'll run the best interference I know how."

"Don't make it too good," interjects Leo, "we want out.  Don't make them keep us."

Before George can respond Cap blurts out, "Keep us in pieces.  I don't plan on spending the rest of my life as a research subject."

Emowtiz leans forward.  "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."

Cap, disturbed, starts in again.  Emowitz cuts her off.  "No.  Idea."

George, "You're some of the luckiest soldiers in this war.  Walk through fire and storm with not a scratch to show for it.  No reason to keep you in a hospital."

"Maybe a touch of battle fatigue?" ventures Emowitz, "heard a story about a guy who thought he was immortal because he kept surviving what killed all those around him.  He ended up falling on a grenade.  Don't do it."

Cap has the decency to look embarrassed, "Well, that's that then."

"Not quite," Emowitz again, "What about Rutkowski?"

"He's been on my mind as well.  Any suggestions."

"Two in the head.  Dump him in front of the train or let Irish take him apart."

"Not quite what I had in mind." Kat tells him.  She's clearly uncomfortable with the option.

"He's your prisoner.  You've made that very clear.  You've got four options."  He ticks them off.  "Kill him, free him, hand him over, or co-opt him.  I've told you what I'd do."

George squirms.  I think he'd rather not be admitting to what he really knows.  "You hand him over and they'll know the first time he has an accident on work detail or tries to escape.  I wouldn't trust him on his own either."  He shrugs helplessly.

"Me neither."

"I've been talking to him."

"Yes, Leo?"

"I've been talking to him about things," he puts special emphasis on the word.  "He thinks we're his last chance.  We killed the demon.  We let him make confession and are offering a way for him to make contrition.  More, I've been watching what he does.  Once he was well he threw in on barge and camp tasks.  At the ambush he jumped out and hauled rails.  He's had several chances to make try to escape and he hasn't.  I've watched.  We can use him."

I find myself nodding with Alphabit and Doc.

George shakes a vigorous no.  "I'm biased.  I know more than you what they're willing to do.  What happens the next time he sees God?"

"He's going to be much more skeptical."

"Hope so.  For all our sakes."

 "George, I'm surprised you're willing to let him and us go.  We've got mind clouding mutants infiltrating the ruins and only we can reliably see them." Oh, when will I learn not to open my mouth.  "They could be anywhere.  They could be at home too.  Shouldn't we be on a tight leash?"

Cap's going to have a kitten.  Leo's gone all cold.  Alpha and Doc look like it's the first they've thought of it.  I'm going to be cleaning toilets for weeks.

George takes his time.  "I thought about it.  The whole trip upriver and back down.  They're going to have a hard enough time believing our pickled head and samples.  The rest of it reads like bad fiction any way you put it.  And let's say I did put it in and it worked up the chain.  If one of those things is in a position of power, then it will know and you won't.  So, no, I'm not including any of that."

"Thank you," Cap.

Emowitz stands and dusts himself off, "If that's it, I'm off to bed."  At Cap's acknowledgement he wishes us good night.

"Ed, go wake Rutkowski."

-----------------------------------

He knows a tribunal when he sees it.  Rutkowski braces to attention.

"Rutkowski, we're nearly home.  I've come to a decision regarding your disposition."  She holds a hand out.  Leo slaps the barrel of an AK into it.  "What was your rank?"

"Lieutenant."

"You're a rifleman now." She holds the weapon out.  He gingerly takes it.  He can't quite believe it.  "My reports are going to state you joined us in Warsaw.  I've decided to make it official.  You're in my squad."

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a curved magazine.  "Any questions."

"Will we be killing demons?"

"As we find them."  She hands over the magazine.  He looks it over and pockets it.  "You're dismissed."

He turns, hesitates, and returns to attention.

"Yes?"

"Have the others been told?  About this?"  Cap shakes her head, no.  "Then, I'd like for someone to accompany me.  They see prisoner with rifle," shrugs, "lead to accidents."

The crew chuckles.  Cap orders me out with him.  Let the watch know.  Get the word out.  They're off to bed.  Toilets still in the future.

-------------------------------------------------


Specialist Edward Cutter, Bremerhaven

The man on the other end of the radio keeps making his save.  "Yes, we are elements of the 5th Infantry Division, Mechanized.  We number three hundred.  We are approaching from your south on a train.  We have one train, one T-80 tank, one deuce and a half, and two UAZs.  Our estimated time of arrival is four hours.  Do you have a functional rail yard?  Or just a spur we can reverse on?  Over."

Murmur, murmur, murmur.  I wink at Cap.

"Yes, we need to turn around.  Elements of BAOR are taking the train back to Hamburg.  We negotiated an agreement.  They're going to shuttle back and forth picking up troops until the task force leaves.  Over."

Listen.  "Cap, I think it got through to him." Back on the radio, "Acknowledged, out."

"They think the terminal will accommodate us.  We'll have a two klick walk.  Thye're sending out some armor to meet us.  Got twenty says they think its all a trick."

"No bet."

----------------------------------------------------

Greeting party looks like a company of motor infantry and a pair of M1s.  Glad to be trusted.  Cap hops down first, talks, signals us to dismount.  The men move smartly, bags and arms slung, out into the railyard to form ranks.  It isn't drill yard perfect, not close, but it is disciplined.  We salute as the flag is lowered.  Emowitz takes the colors in hand and calls out directions.  We march.

Cap stayed behind to supervise the unloading of our wounded, prisoner transfer, and formally hand over the train.  She has plenty of time to catch back up at the base's gates.  The guards, and there's a whole bunch, check that we've secured our weapons, hand over all medicines, food, and remaining heavy equipment.  I half expected scales for our allotted 100 kilograms of personal baggage, but no, they do a lift test and wave almost everyone inside.

George, the gurney carrying the box, our samples, including the pickled head, and a flying squad of intel types quickly disappear. Cap and Emowitz get told they'll be talking to them once the men are squared away. Glad to see they know our priorities.

Alphabit and the mighty Rex got waylaid.  No pets allowed.  He's no pet, he's our mouser.  No animals, orders.  He earns his own keep.  I know son, but we're not to allow any inside the perimeter.  Alpha takes Rex away to say goodbye, for about five minutes.  Doc has a kitty sized dose of sedative ready and Rex gets handed off to Griffith.  Alphabit comes back and his whole kit gets searched.  Griffith gives him a thumbs up on the other side.  Op Cat Nap is a success.

We've been allocated two warehouses for barracks.  Cap and Emo split the command along the expected lines.  I can smell something hot cooking.  Thank God, a night behind safe walls with the fricking Army between us and the world.  Safe.

-----------------------------------------------------

Situation developing within USAEUR - Bremerhaven.  Taking matters into hand.  Detailed report to follow.
            -J.
     Sic Omnia Pati

075: Miles Behind Us

Ed's journal, November 3rd, 2000

Doc's a miracle worker.  Sparks continues to hang on.

The Oder.  It's taken us three days to crawl this far.  The train works fine.  The tracks need work.  Between deterioration and outright sabotage the transit is slow.  Another nine dead and three wounded.  Alphabit and Leo claimed two more of theirs.  They're just waiting on the Oder. 

Only one rail bridge over it at Szczecin.  Alphabit came this way when he was assigned to the 5th in '99.  Way he talks it is the freaking Chicago Skyway.  They only need to blow a few supports to stop us crossing or derail the train.  Bonus points for firing that ATGM we know they have at the stopped engine and kiboshing the whole fucking trip. 

Tonight we're headed out.  A small team secures the bridge and searches it for charges.  Two platoons will sweep the edge of Szczecin for good hiding spots for an ATGM.  Given the area's build-up and the height of the bridge they'll need a tall building with good line of sight.  Can't drive the missile around buildings you'll snag the wire. 

Cap's leading the bridge team.  He picked Leo, Alphabit and Doc.  I told her she's not leaving me behind this time.  I can at least hump ammo. 

Novemeber 4th, 2000

Good news, bad news.

Good news, Alphabit wasn't joking about working high steel.  He was a cross between monkey and tightrope walker as he and Cap went through the girders to get behind the russian OP on the Skyway.  Took them down with minimal fuss.  Found another thirty in charges on the bridge.  Do these guys ever run out of explosives?

Bad news is we flubbed their radio check.  They know we're here and their men aren't. 

-------------------------------------------

Late evening.

Our men in Szczecin lost six with another 4 wounded to the delaying team Ivan left behind.  Thye got away clean.

The rest of their troop, twelve all told, engaged us at the end of the bridge.  We lived, torn to hell and back, but all alive.  Not the same for them.  Two prisoners, a nameless private and 'Brother Lang'.

cap had a long talk with the man that night on the trian.  Came close to shooting him.  She'll have to put a sign out that the line forms here.  We should just hang him and be done with it.

November 5th, 2000

Berlin.  Didn't find any postcards.  Haven't seen anyone in the open all day.  Countryside is deserted.  Guess the Poles weren't telling tales about the Germans pulling way back. 

We're heading southwest towards Hamburg.  Less rivers to cross and estimated the same transit time if the rails hold.  We're making very good time.

November 6th, 2000

God did we startle the Brits.  I'm going to remember that stunned hail on the emergency frequency for some time.  "American flagged vehic, er, train, you are entering a controlled area!"  With a  side of "where the bloody hell did that come from" over the mike.

God is it good to be back. 

November 7th, 2000

Left Hamburg a platoon of Brits richer.  Captain cut a deal.  They get the train after we get to Bremerhaven.  In exchange, they chug back and forth on the line picking up any American stragglers for delivery until 15th. 

I'm preparing handbills.  We're going to nail every RR crossing from here to Bremerhaven lettting our men know to stick to the tracks their ride is coming!

They also get the keys to the T-80.  We're all bearing a bit of a grudge toward the Germans this year.  We wouldn't have suffered so much and lost so many friends and fellow soldiers if they hadn't broken the line theis summer. 

Almost there.

November 9th, 2000

Bremerhaven.

------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note
Sorry to all the followers for the rush job on this post.  I've had some sad news regarding my Grandmother who suffered a mini stroke.  It is one more step on her deterioration, she's already suffering from dementia, and physical infirmity.  Ninety plus years will do that to a person!  I'm going to be away for a bit dealing with it. 

Anyway, the blog has caught up with the games for now.  It may be a week or more before I feel up to posting again.  Till then, you're on your own.

074: Out of the Station

October 31st, 2000


Leonid

Down at the work site a man collapses with an explosion of gore.  A second joins him.  The distant crack of the shots follow.  Sniper.

Men are dropping for the cover of the crater or huddling behind the rails and ties.  Too many are still in the open.  A third drops.  Just from the sound it is a big gun, 12mm or larger.  Should have a huge muzzle blast.

A fifth drops.  There, a drift of gun smoke behind a rise, that's where they are.  I bellow back down the length of the train.  "Emowitz!  Emowitz!"  He pokes up from the sandbags.  "That ridge, can you see it!"

"NO!"  The man has a voice.

"Look over there!"  I raise my rifle.  "Spot on the splash!"  They've reloaded.  Dirt fountains on the crater edge.  I space my shots.

Emowitz bellows, "Got it!"

Relayed shouts come from the back of the train, vehicle contact.  The chatter of MGs and thunk of grenades competes with the first round of mortar fire. 

I'm not doing any more good here.  Drop down to the engine deck.  Back to Polish for the old engineer, "Jan, get ready to move.  Back us up so the side guns can get into play."

"I have steam.  Say when."

There's the muffled whumpf of a grenade from the HQ car. 

"After the next round of mortars.  I'm going."  Someone's on board.

Paterson

Doc, Sparks and I are in the comm shack.  I've been sickly monitoring Rataj's transmissions.  They've lost all power to their screws and are taking on water.  He reports the pumps are managing.  For now.  No sign of enemy contact.  They'll come for him this evening, I know, to use for leverage.  I'm telling him to take to the powerboat and tow the inflatables while he's telling me where to put that advice when the shooting starts. 

Doc and I take position at the windows, looking for targets when the mortars cough.  I can hear my men playing telephone as contacts are reported to the rear.  The mortars cough again, the full battery this time.

"Doc, stay here and," I start.  Something metallic thunks in the wood flooring.

"Grenade!"  Sparks screams.  Everything slows down.  The door clicks shut.  I scramble for grenade.  Fingertips brush it away towards Sparks.  His hand closes around it and pulls it in under his falling body.  Detonation.  His body absorbs the blast.

The door slams back on the hinges.  One of the German signals crew storms through, pistol raised, shouting silently at us.  He's practically swimming through the air, he moves so slowly.  The pistol flashes in his hands as I close.  I feel the impact against my vest.  He's offering me his arm in the confined cabin space so I grab it.  Twist it just so.  His shouts turn to screams as his elbow bends the wrong way.  I bring him down to his knees and follow with a strike to the exposed throat.

Pockmarks appear on either side of the door as Doc empties her M-16.  She reloads as a grenade goes off on the other side of the door.  Must have hit someone.

No way to play it safe.  My pistol in hand I step into the hallway.  Blast damage, no fragments, they dropped a concussion grenade.  Three bodies on the floor, all in fleck tarn, one crawling away.  I flip him over.  The LT in charge.  They get a prisoner after all.

---------------------------------------

Ten dead, half again as many wounded serious enough to count, and a chewed up boxcar.  Our field medics are doing the best they can.  Doc's elbow deep in Sparks.  He's on his fourth blood donor.

They've lost twenty-two, four UAZs, one prisoner.   We've got him in the smallest cabin in the HQ car.  A chain locked tight around his waist with the hands locked to it.  The whole rig bolted to the wall.  He's not going anywhere.  We need to talk.

Leo lays out the tools.  My Russian is very poor.  I don't need it to know he's lovingly describing each item as they are set out and exactly how they are used.  The prisoner looks away to me.

"Senior Sergeat Akim Kozloff, identity number," he begins in English.

Leo cuts him off.  "No, you are not soldier.  Are spy, out uniform, no rights."  He's genuinely angry.  He always looses his pronouns and articles when he's emotional.  He picks up a scalpel, holds it as I would a pen, "I question, you answer.  Simple, no."

"You use that, Sergeant Padgony, and you'll get answers.  Anything to stop the pain."

"Captain Padgorny."

"Is that all it takes to buy your loyalty?  Two shiny bars." 

Akim's head snaps back under Leo's fist.  Leo's dropped the scalpel.  Both hands up ready to beat.  Time to stop.

"Enough, Leo."  He holds himself together breathing hard.  "Will you talk?"

Akim straightens from his defensive curl.  "You haven't asked," he spits out.

"Your situation is dire.  You've lost twenty to thirty effectives and four armed transports.  The only reason we're not chugging along is our physician is conducting emergency surgery.  We still have the notes, the device, and our train.  There is no rescue coming.  He will question.  You will answer.  When we reach Bremerhaven you'll be identified as a POW.  You already know much about us.  You know I keep my word.  Now, will you answer our questions?"

"Life is sweet.  I will answer as I can."

I give him my best don't jerk me around look.

"Not all you ask may be known to me."

  --------------------------------------

The story comes out in dribs and drabs with a few pointed reminders about his other options.  They're a special signals detachment trained to infiltrate enemy lines posing as a German communications unit.  Special Forces, spetsnaz in other words, trained in EW warfare, foreign languages, and customs.  His men were the best at this deception.  They were picked from the rest of the unit after their mole reported we were the most likely to have the device.

"Your mole."

"The good Brother Lang says you play a fair game of chess, but you lacked the fortitude to sacrifice for a win."  Evil, two-faced, lying son of a whore.  He'd had weeks to gain the men's trust in Krakow and mine as well.

Akim wasn't privy to the details of how 'Lang' had come to his decision.  He'd been told to introduce himself, get in, await further orders.  The whole 'radio intercept' operation had been a charade to try to separate our best combatants out. 

Finally, after we'd made the trade and our little bomb had gone off they'd received orders to take me and any of the command staff they could prisoner.  Our men would then be forced to trade off the device for our safe release.  Akim opined they'd been used a as distraction so the real assault team could get in and storm the train.

We left him to stew in the dark.

--------------------------------------

"Do you intend to keep him alive and turn him over?  He's just as dangerous as me.  I'd feed the enemy just enough to keep myself alive and try to escape.  Nothing he's told us is sensitive information any longer."

"No, but a rep for fair dealing and humane treatment goes a long way.  They think they know us.  They think I'd trade it away for love of friends and my own safety.  I'll carry it on my back if I have to.  We're not giving up."

"As for Akim," I continue, "he can live as long as Doc keeps working miracles.  He's got until Sparks goes."

073: Trade Day

Paterson, October 31st, 2000

Happy Halloween.  Can there be a better day for tricks? 

Leo signaled the go ahead from the meet point.  We're in the deuce and a half and make our stop 500 meters out from their UAZs.  Martens, dismounts, scans them with a set of binocs.  "That's them.  All of them."  Good to know.

My men have already piled out and formed a line.  Alphabit and I lug the "box" out to the halfway point.  One of their men approaches on his own.  He's a brick, Koko was bigger, but he's more solid and confident. 

"Captain Paterson?"

"Yes."

"I am Captain Fedorenko.  I am to examine your items.  Once I have verified all is in order your men will be sent over one at a time.  After the last transfer we will take the box and book to our vehicles.  Clear?"

"Quite," I play it down, dejected, beaten.

"Once we're back at camp the good major will contact you and provide instructions for dismantling the charges on your train and the mine on the hull of the Wistula Krowola." 

I don't have to fake the flare of anger, "Charges, mines!  What have you done!"  Rataj had decided to stay in the area in case the train was not operational.  If he'd left he'd be well out of radio range.  Damn it.

"Insurance, Captain, insurance."  He taps the box.  "Is there anything you need to tell me?  Do I need to wait for another box?"

"No, you fuck, that's what you wanted."

"Temper."

He lets me fume and bends to his task.  He pulls out a volt meter, checks the sockets for charge, tries to lift the lid.  "Did you seal it?"

"Came that way.  We decided not to cut our way in."

He takes a seat on it.  Thumbs through the notes.  He's counting pages, looking at pictures, not reading through.  "It looks to be in order." 

He turns and bellows, "Send me the first."

Alphabit does a pat down, checking for wires and charges.  Clean.  Repeat until done.  The rail crew first, then the soldier.  I grip his shoulder before he leaves, "Thanks for the warning."  His grin reveals freshly lost gaps.  Then the son and finally the engineer.  Fedorenko cleans his nails. 

"Satisfied?"

"No, you have bombs on my train and our friend's livelihood.  I'll only be satisfied once they're cleared and we're in Germany."

"You should receive notice within the next two hours.  Our pet scientist will need to review the notes and the device."  He waves his men forward.  Two lift the box and muscle it back to the waiting UAZs.  "Have a rapid journey, we don't want you here any more than you want to be here."  He leaves.

We hustle back to the truck.  Our crew loads up and we leave.  Leo has his own transport.  I warm up the vehicle radio. 

Rataj gets a fair warning.  I suggest he head towards the north bank and shallow water.  They can put ashore if anything happens... and it will.  We're leaving, he's on his own.  He wishes me godspeed.  There's too much on the line to go back for him.  I wish him the same.

I shout at the engineer, Jan Strazinski, huddled in the back of the truck.  "We're leaving as soon as we get back.  Is there anything I need to know about the train?"

He speaks only Polish, "You already find bombs?"

"Yes, one's in that box they took away."

"Delightful, train has been ready for days.  As long as you loaded coal and water."

"We have."

He gives me a thumbs up and a shit eating grin "Soon as we build steam, we go!"  He laughs delightedly, "Best fun I've had in years."

--------------------------------------------------

Our last sentries pull back after Leo pedals into the yard, knees almost banging into the handlebars.  The bike''s Doc's, we've been lugging it in the back of the truck for months.  Nearly forgot we had the damn thing.  Leo hands it off to one of the men sitting on the flatbeds.  He's soon in position with binocs and rifle on the roof of the engine. 

We're packed and ready to go.  The train looks like something out of a historical drama, men packed in the cars, riding on flatbeds, and perched on the roofs.  We've got MG nests on the scattered on the tops as well.  Takes the charm right out of it.

Jan gives one long blast on the horn.  He nods in satisfaction.  The train lurches as he engages the gears.  Martens starts jumping like a kid, slapping Jan on the back, pounding his son Casimir's shoulder, and grabbing me in a hug.  We're going!  A joyous noise rises from the packed cars.  We're going!

I disengage from Martens.  He resumes bouncing until he smacks his head on a roof support.  I head back to the passenger car, aka the HQ (comms, med bay, kitchen, and beds all in one).  Alphabit's standing self appointed guard at the door.

From the east we hear a faint thoom over the chug of the engine.

I look at Alpha.  "Sounds like mine," he says.

"How much did you pack in there?"

"All of it.  Took the axle charge, boiler charge, and added some from my own stash.  Plus a dash of love."  He nods excitedly.  "Must be enough for all of them."

"We should be so lucky."  I clasp him on the shoulder and head into the comms shack.  Sparks is just getting up.  "Cap, Ivan on the line."  He starts to hand the headset over.  I wave it away.

"Tell him to go fuck himself.  Be creative."

"Glad to Captain."

Outside the window we've cleared the yard.  I imagine Volkhov's putting hand to detonator.  I hope Rataj survives.  He deserves to return to his family.  Nothing more I can do.  The click-clack of the tracks gathers speed.  We all do.

--------------------------------------

Five klicks out of the station the train jerks to a halt.  As I make my way forward I can see the plume of smoke and falling dirt from where the track used to be.  A mine underneath.  They still want the box.

I've got men heading out to secure a perimeter around the train.  Martens and one of the rail crew, a German named Karl (again), head forward under guard.  They take a quick look before running back.  "Damn near a twenty meter hole.  God knows how much they packed in.  No fixing it.  We'll need to rail around."

"How long."

Karl speaks up his English rough and interspersed with German.  "Nicht lange, nicht permanent.  Travel once, leave."

"We'll just tack the rails together," Martens explains, "only need to cross once, not like laying a permanent bed."

"How long?"

"Hour," he shrugs.

"Is that a real hour or a Scotty hour?"

"Real hour." 

"Pull whoever you need."

------------------------------------

They've been hauling rail for twenty minutes when the first shot hits home.

072: Armed Negotiations

Paterson, October 30th, 2000

"Bastard."  The curse carries clearly across the train yard as the German LT exits our temporary comms shack.  "Mother lover, whore's son, bastard."  Leo's frustrated.

I nod at my German friend, Schmidt, Schultz, S-something.  Damn, too many faces and names, we're only optimized for a hundred or so.  Thank you college psych.  "Sounds upset.  Any progress on your end?"

"Some, Captain,"  he frowns, "They're to the south or the north.  I've got enough to establish a line.  He needs to talk more so we can triangulate.  He keeps asking for you by name."

"So I'm famous.  Get your gear spread out.  I'll get him talking in twenty minutes."

"Ja, wohl!"  He jogs off shouting orders to his subordinates.  We've had good luck adding them to the team.

Leo's run out of English and moved right into the mother tongue as I enter the shack.  He points at a seat as I close the door.  "This is bad, Kapitan.  They address me as sergeant, they refuse to talk with Major Emowitz, and they ask for you by name.  They know too much."

"We've been larger than life these past few months.  Take it as a compliment, we have a rep."

"I hope is all we have.  Maybe we have mole." 

Maybe we do.

I let Leo get back to creative ranting.  I know I can trust my team.  There's others who've been with us long enough to know are solid as well; Aaron, Jana, everyone Gunny counted on, George, even Rataj.  We're left with Emowitz' crew, some of the other men, maybe someone off the boat.  Karl might have sold info or Tadeuz to support his drinking habit.  Hell, Stark, maybe for stealing his man and turning from his direction.  George said he'd been unstable.  F-ton of suspects.

Enough going round circles.  No telling who it was.  Time to talk to someone who knows.  "Captain Paterson here, over."

"Captain Paterson here, over."

The radio crackles with an incoming transmission.  He sounds pleased, smug, whore's son bastard.  "Captain Paterson, I am pleased to speak with you.  I am Major Nikolia Volkhov, Soviet Army, over."

"Get on with it, over."

"Very well.  I understand you wish to leave Poland.  I wish you a speedy departure.  I am prepared to return your men and open your route out after you return the device and the research reports, over."

"What device, what reports?  All I know is you have the people we need to leave.  You're nothing but a kidnapper and extortionist.  If you know me, you know how I deal with marauders and criminals, over."

"Let us not be like this Captain.  I greatly admire the work you have already done for the betterment of Poland.  You've cleared the Vistula of undesirables and broken the back of a fledgling warlord. All good works that will speed the recovery of this brave country.  You are to be applauded for setting to rights the work of your government.  However, I know you bear an item belonging to the Polish people, over."

"I still don't have the faintest idea, over."

"No, Captain, you do.  It was a clever double shuffle with the stolen ORMO OT-64.  The KGB took the bait.  I imagine they are still trying to track it down.  But we know better.  You have it, the box that makes electricity and the notes on how to build more.  I will trade the engineer, his son, the soldier, and your rail crew for the box and the notes.  Otherwise, we'll wait.  Nothing matters to you know except the approaching date.  I can wait two weeks, over."

 "Who the fuck told you!" I roar into the mike.  "Stark put you up to this!  This is because of the fucking helicopter.  You can tell him to shove it up his ass!"

I wink at Leo.  Watch the blood return to his face.  Wait a set of heartbeats.  Softly into the mike, "Two conditions, over."
 
"Your bargaining position is not strong.  Tell me, over."

"One, I need to hear the from the men you're holding.  I need to verify their identity with Martens before we trade, over."

"Agreed.  The second, over."

"We do this trade in daylight.  I want a big open area to prevent any double crosses, clear, over."

"Agreed.  I will get your men so you may talk to them.  I will contact you when they are ready, over and out."

"Leo, do a runner.  I need Ed, Alpha, and Martens."  He rabbits.  I've bought some time.  We need to gainfully employ it.

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"Ed, Alpha, I need you to build a box.  Use a 3/4 full jerry can to give it some slosh.  Put a truck battery linked to some sockets in the back.  Make it work if you can, but get current to the plugs.  Alpha help him out.  When you're done booby trap the hell out of it.  Use two sets of detonators, one of the russian ones you took from the train and one of ours.  I want it to go either way.  Now get."

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Martens does the talking for the next stretch.  He plays his part well, asking for repeats from the prisoners claiming radio reception problems.  Volkhov lets the engineer and his son talk at length.  Andre, Marten's friend, gets to speak only a little.  Now we know they have an ATGM.  He got beaten down for his effort, but was able to talk again after the rail crew identified themselves and affirmed their health. 

I, playing the role of overwhelmed and defeated, agree to meet two hours past dawn some ten kilometers down the river road to the east.  They'll get their box and their notes.  We'll get the hell home.

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"Lieutenant, do you have a fix?"

The German grins nastily.  "Yes, Captain."  He runs his fingers over the map.  "Here, ten, eleven kilometers south of our position.  Probably along the rail line, but the fix is general, give a radius of uncertainty, one kilometer."

"Thank you, dismissed."  He leaves us.  "Still game Leo?"

"Yes, I'll take Moon-man.  Scout them out.  If they're small we'll take them down. Otherwise I'll come back."

"Do you want more men?"

"No, just us.  If there were enough to make a difference we'd get spotted.  Best to keep it small."

"Let me know before you head out.  I've got a report to make up."  See how much I can change in one of our copies.  It has to look good and make nothing.  Wish I was going.


Leonid, October 30th, 2000

Long walk in cold night.  Their camp is small.  One UAZ with PK mounted.  A single ten-man tent.  Thermal says they're piled high in there.  Could be ten to fifteen.  The sources bleed into one another.  No sentries.  Are they that confident or that undermanned?

The two of us make a slow circuit.  No changes.  We could walk right in.  Something's not right.  I can see it in Moon-man's face too before the crack of a rifle rips it away.

I drop into a fold in the ground.  A single shot passes through where I'd been.  SVD.  Moon-man, also down, pulls the shattered night vision goggles from his face.  "Fucker, I've had there for three years!"

"Stay down, popping smoke."  I flip the grenade out beside our position.  The cloud blanket's us.  I shift position before exposing myself.  The thermal cuts through the smoke.  Hope they don't have one as well.

I make a sweep.  Odd, the tent hasn't shifted.  But there, to the south, two blobs, head and shoulders, maybe.  No others visible in all 360 degrees.  No shots either.  Good they can't see.

I sight in on who I think is their sniper.  They start to move, pulling back as I stroke the trigger.  The gun man jerks.  The spotter slides smoothly out of sight. 

"Come on!" I bellow to Moonie.  My rifle trained on the nest we charge out of the smoke.  We're halfway there when we hear the distant thunk-thunk-thunk from the south east of an automatic grenade launcher.  Dropping down we feel the impacts through air and earth.  Back up and move, Moonie in hand, at a tangent to the west.

The rounds spiral out from their impact point near the smoke cloud.  Whoever it is is not worried about husbanding rounds.  Bet they had the tent rigged too.  Time to leave.

---------------------------------

Safe at camp, report made, end note.  "The camp never moved while we extracted.  If we went their during light, I'd bet you a bottle of vodka we'd find craters from where they zeroed the AGL on the whole site."

Paterson nods tiredly, "Get some sleep, I need you to be in position at the trade site before dawn."

She's back into her notebook before I leave, editing and pruning