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.
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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."
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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.
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"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."
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