Paterson in Warsaw, October 3rd, 2000
The thing is crushing Alpha. His legs flailing wildly. Ed and I pour fire into it's side and back. The damned thing just soaks it up. Black blood leaks for cracks in the scales. Die! Die! Why won't you die?
"Paterson, Captain Paterson!"
That thing has my shoulder and the teeth dig in. I attack, grabbing the limb, and pulling it forward and down to break before fully waking. I've got Emowitz on the ground with his arm at full extension. It takes a moment to get back in the driver's seat and let him go.
Ed, up on the scree with his rifle, chortles, "I told you not to touch her."
The major climbs to his feet working the strain out of his shoulder. "Yes, yes you did."
I give him a grudging apology. He waves it away. "Your man's right. My fault." He grins ruefully, "I came as soon as it was light."
If so left at the twilight. The sun's barely peaking over the horizon as it is.
"We got hit last night Major. A raid on my quarters."
"Any casualties?"
"Dead, both our guards and them. Doc got seriously hit. She's a tough bird. Give her time. My engineering assistant was nearly crushed."
"Crushed? Is he alright? Was the structure unstable?" He looks nervously around at the submerged dwellings.
"Structure's solid. He's walking. Medic wrapped his ribs good. Nope, I just had to have you see what did it before we finish taking it apart."
"See it? What it?"
"No, no major. I wouldn't want to ruin your surprise." Laugh at my little joke. Choke it down once I note the hysteria rising up in it. "Stress."
We start walking back towards my quarters. Not going to ever sleep there again. Ed scrambles down the slope and follows. He keeps flicking the selector back and forth. Little clicks in time with our pace. Soon they're overcome by the thuds of ax work.
Alphabit has one of the Rat Dogs. He's working the head off. Told me he's going to boil it down. Keep the skull. Maybe put it over the mantle. He asked me if I wanted the other one. I could use it for our Company's standard he'd suggested. I politely declined. Maybe he'll take two home.
Rutkowski's finished with the back of the thing. The skin, split down the spine, and flayed out to the sides. He looks like he was just a getting ready to flip it over. The guards stand well back from him. He's got a knife.
"What the hell is that?"
"Just wait till we get this brute flipped. Ed lend me a hand." I join Rutkowski. He wipes sweat from his face. His pits are soaked through. "Rough work?"
"Yes. It does not want part. With the skin." He breaths heavily. I wave Alphabit back. No need to strain himself more.
Together, the three of us wrestle it off it's belly. Emowitz gags at the sight of it's face. Bald, gray, wrinkled, from the eyes up it could have been an old man. Below that. Not a chance. No nose. No structure to hold a nose. Instead the bones help anchor a tentacle an elephant would be proud of. Damn thing is over a meter long.
I hold up the end and force the skin back so Emowitz can see. Two long curved piercing teeth and a ring of inward pointing jagged triangles. I show Emowitz the details. The muscles pull them outwards and then let them snap back in. Whatever went in would be stuck or tear itself apart if it fought off. "He's not from around here."
"No, no, what is it?"
"Don't know. It led the last of the Baron's Lieutenants and those dog things directly after us. Close as I can track, it came up through the sewers."
"Not possible. The sewers are rat infested. Hoards of them."
"Take a good look at this," I wriggle the tentacle, "and those doggies. And then check yourself for preconceived notions." I drop it and stand. "I need every man to come by here today and get a good eyeful. I don't want anyone doubting what's real and what isn't. Cuz they aren't going to believe this at High Command."
Amazing, an officer at a loss for words. He nods.
"You need to speak with Rutkowski here after his jobs done and the tank crew we captured yesterday. Just remember this thing when what they say sounds crazed or wrong. Remember it. Let me know your conclusions later today."
"Right, Captain. I'll do that."
"Arlan," I use his first name, "I need everyone to know that something like this exists. We can't assume it was alone."
Leonid, October 5th, 2000
"You asked for me Comrade General?"
"Please, Leonid, when we are alone you may use Alexi when we are alone."
"I remember." I nod at Commissar. "We are not alone."
"Ah, Illya is like a brother to me." He gathers us both into his arms. "Tonight, we are family, yes?"
"Yes."
"Of course."
"Now then, let us drink!"
Harsh burning all the way down. Not the best, not even close, but good enough to light the fire inside. Relax into the piles of blankets and packs.
"That thing. Paterson thinks there might be more?"
"So she says. Can you see there being only one?"
"No. Illya, you are creative. We need a name. Cannot keep calling thing."
"Call it Zver."
"Da, Brute. Sounds right. It was wasn't it?"
I rub my shoulder where the Zver clamped down. The puncture has healed to a pinkish scar. "Truly a brute. I hope to never see another. I don't feel that lucky."
"Drink more my friend. That will bring you cheer."
"Truth! That and leaving Warsaw. I'll be glad to see the last of this place."
"So, you are really leaving?"
"Yes, Alexi, really. In a day or two. We've accomplished our mission. We have our men. Time to go."
"I had hopes of asking you to stay. I could use you with me again."
"I will tell you. Seeing you again, knowing you'd survived, and that we were on the same side in this madness. It has done much to warm my heart. I wish I could. I have a duty here with Kapitan and to these men. It has been so long since I've used my native tongue for more than hate or anger." The fumes from the liqueur sting my eyes. Nothing more.
The General sniffs. Knocks back his cup. The fumes, they get to him too. "I wish you good travels Leonid Vladimirich. May our paths cross again. To your health!"
He knocks back the empty cup. "Illya! There is a hole in my cup! My drink has all leaked away."
"Yes, my General," Illya smiles as he passes the bottle. "It is on the top."
Moon Pie, October 6th, 2000
"Captain Stone. You can take this 'loyalty oath' and wipe your ass with it. We're outta here. Come on guys."
"Private, you do not address a superior officer in that manner. You need to sign this and fall in. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to consider you a traitor to..."
Palm to face. He's down in the dirt before he knows it. "Shut the fuck up. One, I'm a god damn Corporal. Two, you're not in my chain of command. You got a problem with me, take it up with Paterson, see where that gets you."
"Three," I place my hand on the big .45 in my holster, "you are NOT calling me a traitor. Are you?"
He shakes his head vigorously. No.
"Get out." I give the others my hardest look. "Anybody want to join Captain CIA?"
J-boy grins, "Nah. At least not till he cleans his pants."
General laughter.
Alphabit, October 7th, 2000
Captain Paterson found the little can a the back of galley's fridge. "McGilavery, what the blue hell is this?"
"Just a little snack Cap. Honest."
"Meat, days old too. When were you planning on eating it."
"Oh, it's not for me. I'm saving it for Rex."
"The cat?"
"He's a great mouser Cap. I'm sure he'd like it."
"Its the..."
"Right. Off those big rattie things in Warsaw. Did you forget?"
"Forget. Forget what?"
"I asked if I could. You said I could bring a few souvenirs home. I thought he'd like a taste."
"Er, yes. Yes, I think I did."
"I still got that second skull if you want it. Boiled the flesh right off. Maybe Rataj would like it. He could put it on the mast. Would you ask him?"
"Sure, sure. Look. Wrap it up. Make some freezer space. And label it! I'll go ask Rataj about that skull. thing. Right now."
Showing posts with label ruins of warsaw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ruins of warsaw. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
064: End Game
Eddie's Journal, October 3rd, 2000
The 3rd dawned bright, for once, and cold. We heard vehicles moving in and around the Palace. By mid afternoon there was pitched fighting. Not sure what sparked it, but with dear leader and his closest lieutenants gone there wasn't anyone to stop it. Cap ordered us to maintain our perimeter and wait it out.
She left Leo in charge at New/Old and made her way to the boat that evening. Our worst wounded, including Doc, had been transfered aboard. Aldon was in charge of the wounded with the help of a few field medics. He may have only been a vet, but he'd dealt with more illness, injury, and innards on more species than any GP. He'd been working his trade on men all year. He took Cap aside to brief her. I played fly on the wall.
The man wanted us to know that Doc was stable. Better than she had any right of being. He'd downplayed the severity of the damage to the other medics and taken sole charge of her. As far as he was concerned nobody had to know that Clark Kent was Captain America and he sure didn't need to know who had been bit by the spider. Czarny was dead, the enemy falling apart, and we were leaving once our job was done. Good work, God speed. While he mangled a bunch of continuity he managed to take the worry off of Cap's mind. The way he spoke so earnestly and open, he managed to convince us both he'd keep it quiet.
Doc looked shallow and pale. Aldon told us it was to be expected. Her vitals were good. She needed the rest. Cap sat with her a bit before heading back to shore.
October 4th, 2000
The fighting dies down after dark. The sounds of at least one light track and a few wheels moved off into the night. Nothing tried out walls. The sentries reported all quiet.
At first light cap called the leadership together. We'd push slowly, supported by the one functional tank, up the road to the Palace, securing dwellings as we passed. Slow, obvious and loud, so anyone with a gun would think twice about that nice, open, southern road.
The troops cleared the hovels and holes. Civilians were passed back. They'd be held until we could get a chance to question them. Doubtless a few of Czarny's men would try to sneak out with them. Individual questioning would ferret them out. We even had a few in uniform surrender. Cap said she'd let Filip deal with them.
Leo and Moonie scaled the palace's outer wall. It had been the site of heavy fighting. The smoking remains of a BTR and a BMP were in the courtyard. The east gate was blocked by an M113 sporting this season's swiss cheese style. The ammo bunker was surrounded by the radial swaths of directional mine explosions and scattered bodies. It looked intact.
A short conference later, Leo and Moonie escorted Rutkowski up the wall. He stood on top, identified himself, and hailed the bunker. A Sgt Dern limped out of the bunker to report. They'd held against three assaults after the Palace fell. He'd prevented any Czarny's 'Free Companies' from obtaining the chemical munitions and he was damned if he'd just hand them over to a dead man.
Rutkowski asked for permission to approach, granted. Leo and him descended the wall and made their way to Sgt Dern. Leo promised the men good treatment. Rutkowski concurred he'd been treated well as had others captured in the tank assault. 'They weren't monsters,' he'd said. Dern requested that Rutkowski formally relieve him at his post. Rut did so.
Dern returned to the bunker. Leo told me later he fully expected to hear a gunshot. Instead, Dern's men slowly emerged. There were three effectives and two wounded. They also had their women and children, another 12 bodies. They'd packed in like sardines when everything fell apart.
The palace stood abandoned. The looted harvest lay scattered from the storage cellars to the exits. Even with all they could carry away much still remained. The surviving locals would need it.
We'd completed our sweep well before dark and took the remaining populace back with us to New/Old. A strong detachment kept the bunker secured.
October 5th, 2000
Coordinated with Filip. Offered terms to the die hards in the cut off communities. They had a choice, leave now with what they could carry or surrender to us. They'd be worked over the winter clearing fields for the spring planting. If they worked well and hard and there were no outstanding charges, rape or murder, against them they'd be offered a place in one of the communities. Otherwise they'd be freed to leave. To my surprise some took the offer. Others left through the rubble. They ran a gauntlet of Filip's militia and other locals. I doubt any of them made it through.
October 6th, 2000
Cap sat down with Emowitz, Filip and Koronov. They split the new acquisitions. Cap laid claim to the T-80. The tank on the barge was to be dragged off at the Praga docks. Koronov would loot it for parts and remove the engine before draging it back to Sielce where it would serve as a bunker. He'd use the track to repair the T-80s. In exchange, they got the other functional T-72 and a choice selection of items from the bunker, mainly mortar rounds and parts. No one wanted the riddled M113, Sielce received it by default. They'd be able to use it as an earthmover or tractor. They split out the remaining small arms and explosives as evenly as possible.
The blood agents were a problem. None of the participants wanted them loose and none had the means to destroy them. Instead the bunker would be filled with earth and the site buried with the rubble from fields cleared over the winter. If anyone wanted them, they'd be a long time digging.
October 7th, 2000
Despite many teary good-byes and promises of eternal friendship Rataj got us underway by midmorning. Cap gave orders not to be disturbed unless Emowitz led a mutiny or the sky fell. It was time for her to catch up on her beauty rest.
I spent most of the day below decks with Iosef talking shop. He grudgingly allowed as how I knew a thing or two.
Doc's up and took a tour of the deck I'm told.
October 8th, 2000
Cap held morning meetings with Emowitz and Rataj. It is going to be another five days to Krakow. Going upstream is slower than down. Wonders never cease.
Iosef proudly shared the 'boiled lobster' divert on the steam engine that he'd used to great effect on the pirate boarders. A five count clears the deck and only lost him a fifth of the pressure. Rataj still had maneuverability even if he lost some top speed.
October 9th, 2000
Cap set me down in her cabin with an empty notebook and the RESET notes. She told me I probably had the best physics background on the boat. Today, I should read them. When I was done, I was to make a complete copy them. I was relieved of all other duties until finished.
This is some serious X-files shit here.
October 12th, 2000
Been writing so much I haven't been keeping up on this or wanting too.
Doc's declared herself fit for duty and is raising all sorts of grief among the new men. Physicals and dietary plans. Turn your head and cough.
Iosef's the only one keeping me sane. I spend my few free hours down in engineering. I take a turn at whatever project needs machining. On this boat, something always needs tending. We talk about tolerances, strain, and simple machines.
Tomorrow we should make landfall at Nowy Hut. Krakow's a short march away.
The 3rd dawned bright, for once, and cold. We heard vehicles moving in and around the Palace. By mid afternoon there was pitched fighting. Not sure what sparked it, but with dear leader and his closest lieutenants gone there wasn't anyone to stop it. Cap ordered us to maintain our perimeter and wait it out.
She left Leo in charge at New/Old and made her way to the boat that evening. Our worst wounded, including Doc, had been transfered aboard. Aldon was in charge of the wounded with the help of a few field medics. He may have only been a vet, but he'd dealt with more illness, injury, and innards on more species than any GP. He'd been working his trade on men all year. He took Cap aside to brief her. I played fly on the wall.
The man wanted us to know that Doc was stable. Better than she had any right of being. He'd downplayed the severity of the damage to the other medics and taken sole charge of her. As far as he was concerned nobody had to know that Clark Kent was Captain America and he sure didn't need to know who had been bit by the spider. Czarny was dead, the enemy falling apart, and we were leaving once our job was done. Good work, God speed. While he mangled a bunch of continuity he managed to take the worry off of Cap's mind. The way he spoke so earnestly and open, he managed to convince us both he'd keep it quiet.
Doc looked shallow and pale. Aldon told us it was to be expected. Her vitals were good. She needed the rest. Cap sat with her a bit before heading back to shore.
October 4th, 2000
The fighting dies down after dark. The sounds of at least one light track and a few wheels moved off into the night. Nothing tried out walls. The sentries reported all quiet.
At first light cap called the leadership together. We'd push slowly, supported by the one functional tank, up the road to the Palace, securing dwellings as we passed. Slow, obvious and loud, so anyone with a gun would think twice about that nice, open, southern road.
The troops cleared the hovels and holes. Civilians were passed back. They'd be held until we could get a chance to question them. Doubtless a few of Czarny's men would try to sneak out with them. Individual questioning would ferret them out. We even had a few in uniform surrender. Cap said she'd let Filip deal with them.
Leo and Moonie scaled the palace's outer wall. It had been the site of heavy fighting. The smoking remains of a BTR and a BMP were in the courtyard. The east gate was blocked by an M113 sporting this season's swiss cheese style. The ammo bunker was surrounded by the radial swaths of directional mine explosions and scattered bodies. It looked intact.
A short conference later, Leo and Moonie escorted Rutkowski up the wall. He stood on top, identified himself, and hailed the bunker. A Sgt Dern limped out of the bunker to report. They'd held against three assaults after the Palace fell. He'd prevented any Czarny's 'Free Companies' from obtaining the chemical munitions and he was damned if he'd just hand them over to a dead man.
Rutkowski asked for permission to approach, granted. Leo and him descended the wall and made their way to Sgt Dern. Leo promised the men good treatment. Rutkowski concurred he'd been treated well as had others captured in the tank assault. 'They weren't monsters,' he'd said. Dern requested that Rutkowski formally relieve him at his post. Rut did so.
Dern returned to the bunker. Leo told me later he fully expected to hear a gunshot. Instead, Dern's men slowly emerged. There were three effectives and two wounded. They also had their women and children, another 12 bodies. They'd packed in like sardines when everything fell apart.
The palace stood abandoned. The looted harvest lay scattered from the storage cellars to the exits. Even with all they could carry away much still remained. The surviving locals would need it.
We'd completed our sweep well before dark and took the remaining populace back with us to New/Old. A strong detachment kept the bunker secured.
October 5th, 2000
Coordinated with Filip. Offered terms to the die hards in the cut off communities. They had a choice, leave now with what they could carry or surrender to us. They'd be worked over the winter clearing fields for the spring planting. If they worked well and hard and there were no outstanding charges, rape or murder, against them they'd be offered a place in one of the communities. Otherwise they'd be freed to leave. To my surprise some took the offer. Others left through the rubble. They ran a gauntlet of Filip's militia and other locals. I doubt any of them made it through.
October 6th, 2000
Cap sat down with Emowitz, Filip and Koronov. They split the new acquisitions. Cap laid claim to the T-80. The tank on the barge was to be dragged off at the Praga docks. Koronov would loot it for parts and remove the engine before draging it back to Sielce where it would serve as a bunker. He'd use the track to repair the T-80s. In exchange, they got the other functional T-72 and a choice selection of items from the bunker, mainly mortar rounds and parts. No one wanted the riddled M113, Sielce received it by default. They'd be able to use it as an earthmover or tractor. They split out the remaining small arms and explosives as evenly as possible.
The blood agents were a problem. None of the participants wanted them loose and none had the means to destroy them. Instead the bunker would be filled with earth and the site buried with the rubble from fields cleared over the winter. If anyone wanted them, they'd be a long time digging.
October 7th, 2000
Despite many teary good-byes and promises of eternal friendship Rataj got us underway by midmorning. Cap gave orders not to be disturbed unless Emowitz led a mutiny or the sky fell. It was time for her to catch up on her beauty rest.
I spent most of the day below decks with Iosef talking shop. He grudgingly allowed as how I knew a thing or two.
Doc's up and took a tour of the deck I'm told.
October 8th, 2000
Cap held morning meetings with Emowitz and Rataj. It is going to be another five days to Krakow. Going upstream is slower than down. Wonders never cease.
Iosef proudly shared the 'boiled lobster' divert on the steam engine that he'd used to great effect on the pirate boarders. A five count clears the deck and only lost him a fifth of the pressure. Rataj still had maneuverability even if he lost some top speed.
October 9th, 2000
Cap set me down in her cabin with an empty notebook and the RESET notes. She told me I probably had the best physics background on the boat. Today, I should read them. When I was done, I was to make a complete copy them. I was relieved of all other duties until finished.
This is some serious X-files shit here.
October 12th, 2000
Been writing so much I haven't been keeping up on this or wanting too.
Doc's declared herself fit for duty and is raising all sorts of grief among the new men. Physicals and dietary plans. Turn your head and cough.
Iosef's the only one keeping me sane. I spend my few free hours down in engineering. I take a turn at whatever project needs machining. On this boat, something always needs tending. We talk about tolerances, strain, and simple machines.
Tomorrow we should make landfall at Nowy Hut. Krakow's a short march away.
Friday, May 4, 2012
063: Very Little Rest
Leonid, October 2nd, 2000
So many thoughts spinning round my head. I have questions and questions, but Rutkowski doesn't have the answers. Not really. Oh, he has what he thinks are answers. We know it is not true. Angels and Demons and God's Will are not a part of the plans for Poland. Only men and something not-men. I can't stop rolling it around my head.
The troops have us set in a basement dwelling. It must have belonged to some of Czarny's minders. The room is well apportioned. Two cubicles blanketed, one with a raw wood bunks and the other with double mattresses on the floor, a number of piles of bedding near a oil drum stove, and a table with four rickety chairs. High living by the local standards. The Doc and Kapitan take the bunks. Eddie grabs the other mattresses. Alphabit takes a bundle of blankets near the small fire in the stove. I take a chair. I don't have lice or fleas yet. Like to keep it that way.
The others are soon snoring. I lean back in the chair, MP5 on my chest, try to sleep. My mind keeps going in circles. I need a drink. The good vodka's back on the boat. Maybe I should talk to our guards about some rotgut. No, last thing I need is to be drunk if there's a night action. Head down, I try to sleep.
Maybe I succeeded. There's a sound by the stairs. One of our guards, Henry or Tom, looks around. He motions for silence and waves me up. I pinch at a growing headache as I go to him. He holds the drape over the entrance aside so I can pass. I squeeze past, damn, he's a big man.
"Your wanted topside," he growls.
I head up. Damn if I'm going to sleep now. Where does Doc stash the aspirin?
I'm almost at the top of the stairs when the guard grabs me from behind and lofts me out into the open. My breath stolen as I slam into the ground. A foot kicks me over before I can inhale. It's clawed, grey hands rip the MP5 away. Nonexistent God, Rutkowski was right.
I bat feebly as one hand grips my throat and hauls me upright. The restless tentacle where it's mouth should be strikes into my shoulder. I feel a numbness spreading from the wound. I'm slammed back into the ground as it wretches out a mouthful of my blood.
From the ground I can see two more men clutching guns. AKR and HK-CAW a part of me catalogs. The slim form of greyhounds stand ready at our door. The things contemplates me with disgust. "Wrong," it snarls.
I have only a pistol and scarce seconds left to act. I convulse. Give out shuddering breaths, convulse, arch my back, beat my feet against the pavement. A final shudder and a hissing breath. Be still. Be dead.
The men step back. The thing lashes that tentacle about. The end moves forming harsh words. "Not right. You," points at AKR, "watch it.
Turns to HK, "You, finish this." It spits and chitters at the dogs. They head down.
It stands at the entrance to our quarters, listening, as the gunfire begins. It seems relaxed.
Alphabit
Trying to sleep. Leo keeps fidgeting. Finally, he decides to go take a walk. I roll onto my back and listen to the small sounds of the fire. Now, maybe, some sleep. Closing my eyes I give out a happy sigh. Yes, now some sleep.
Except Da let the hounds in. I hear them racing down the basement stairs. Ma is going to be so angry with the man. I love our hounds and they love me. They're coming now to jump and bark and lick my face.
Some other part of me knows what's a dream and what isn't. My hatchets in my hand as the chitter and squeal of rats close. I swing an arm up under a throat forcing snapping teeth away from my face. The hatchet swings in at an awkward angle scrapping at it's thigh. My bellow over powers it's screech.
It's the size and weight of a hound, but the sounds and teeth scream rat. With an effort I throw it away and roll to all fours. Another one closes from the left. It meets my hatchet face first as it charges. It scream as the steel bites. I clutch at its hide and raise the axe.
The one I'd lofted away skids against the cement as turns back towards me. Gathers speed for a charge. the sharp crack of Doc's M-16 smacks it back to the ground. Pinned the one in my hand I bellow as the axe rises and strikes again.
Doc's M-16 cracks again and again in controlled semi-automatic before the deafening roar of a shotgun drowns it out. Doc staggers back under the impact. She crumples to the ground mewling in pain. I scramble on all fours behind the stove as the shotgun speaks again.
The shotgunner showers the dark with harsh Polish obscenities. A shadow running low to the ground, a third rat-dog, rushes towards Doc and the curtain. Damn, my gun's back in the bedding.
The Pole strokes the trigger twice. Buckshot rattles off the stove and wall above me. Blind bursts from Ed's M-16 answer him. The shotgun roars back, too fast for a pump or semi, firing a long burst into the curtains. The Pole curses again. In the sudden silence I hear something, a magazine, hit the floor.
In the pause I Throw my hatchet at the shotgunner. He jerks at the impact and drops the spare mag in his hand. Someone else will get him. I rush the rat-dog as it bites into Doc. I take it in the shoulder. Arms lock around the trunk. We roll over the concrete. I end on top. With both hands I force away it's snarling snout. I bring in a knee and let my full weight fall on it's ribs. The bones crunch. Again and a third time. Blood splatters from it's mouth as it slowly stills.
While I struggled, Ed's M-16 fired burst after burst. I turn in a crouch. The Pole and his shotgun are on the floor. Ed's replacing his magazine. I hear Cap yelling for light and a medic. Ed covers the stairs while I grab my weapons. Once armed I snap on a flash.
Captain Paterson has a both hands on Doc's abdomen holding things in. I know I'm next to useless with wounds. "Ed, help Cap. I'll get the stairs." We swap. Another light switches on.
"I'll get her pack!" Ed shouts.
"Hurry, God damn you!" Cap reaches out, grabs one of my blankets, and uses it as a compress. I can see red and grey things slither under Doc's skin. That's bad. Worse, I'm not watching the stairs.
My M-16 is wrenched from my hands. A thick grey arm smashes it into the ceiling. The butt stock shares raining hard plastic shards down over me. It's big.
I'm so jumped up on adrenalin that I don't think, just react. Pulling my pistol I step under the out thrust arm. I shove it into the middle and start pulling the trigger. Great arms surround me in a bear hug trapping my arms close in. But the pistol's still in it's gut and I empty out the Makarov's magazine.
I try to keep all my chest muscles tight, but I can't beat it's strength. My breath hisses out painfully and I can't draw another in. Shouts and screams, orders, echo around me. Head swimming I kick and thrash to no effect. In the dark basement a greater darkness closes in around me.
Distantly I hear Cap and Ed shouting. I wish they would shut-up. I need my sleep. The buzz of the alarm grows to a growl then a hammer of automatic fire. The floor, I'm on the floor. I stare numbly as silhouettes approach me. Cap, "Don!" She never calls me Don. "Don, can you move?"
"Ta," I answer in the Mother tongue, "Ta."
"He's delirious," was that Ed or Leo?
"No," I struggle to say, "I can move." To show them I put my hands on the pile of grey sacks beside me and lever my self up. They come back covered in sticky black blood. "Oh, damn."
Leonid
What do the Americans call it. Yes, I have the time to think, playing possum. The thing stands at the stairs enjoying, somehow I can tell, the death and violence it's man is visiting on us below. The throaty crash of the HK-CAW is overridden by the bark of one or more M-16s. The M-16s win. It's shoulders tense with anger. Down it goes.
The last man's nervous. I watch him in my peripheral vision. He licks his lips compulsively, attention switching from me to the stairs. As the gunfire resumes he gives me one last look and turns to the stairs. I may have lost the MP5, but I've got that big 1911 strapped to my waist. The snap of the holster is lost in the reports from below. I shift to a sitting position. Two hands steady the automatic. I space my fire. Two into the back, another in an arm as he twists in his fall. One in the side. One in the upper chest. His head rolls back to face me as he settles on the ground. Shock writ large on features. The last two into the face.
The monsters down there with my comrades. This must be one of the blessed; Wozniak or Zajac, I don't give a fuck which. I reload as I stand and walk to him. Blood seeps from his ruined face. It sticks to my hands as I unbuckle his helmet and toss it aside. Empty the new magazine, all seven rounds, into his head. Not enough left to even resemble a head.
I take the AKR. From the stairwell I hear Cap and Eddie shouting. With my back to the remains of the houses wall, clear of the stairwell, I shout down. "Kapitan! It Leo! May I come down!"
She snarls back, "Stay there! A patrol should be coming at a run. Tell them we need a medic. Now!"
I leave the AKR by the wall at the sound of running feet. Taking no chances, I drop to my knees in the open with my hands on my head. I explain who I am to the bright glare of flashlights and the open mouths of guns. Fortunately, one of our men from the 5th is with them and I stand with his help.
Paterson
A stretcher crew takes Doc away. We don't have the competency to care for her. She's in the vet's hands now. I wonder what it'll take to buy his silence. Fuck.
Alphabit, his ribs taped, sits by the stairs. Ed stands look out. Leo's down below helping haul up the bodies. I'm going to chew someone a new one. I'm never going back into a hole with only one way out. Never.
They drag the corpse of Rutkowski's demon up the stairs. It takes five men to move it. They'd be better with a block and tackle. Sure, maybe you should have told them.
"Lieutenant!" I'm still barking. "Bring me our high value prisoner. You can make him walk, but keep his hands bound." He jumps to it.
Three rat-things, two men, and one demon. I keep the anger on. The other troops keep stealing looks at the things. I snarl. Put them back to their tasks.
God damn it! I suddenly lash out. Kick the shotgunner savagely in the head. Leo pulls me back after I start stamping on his groin. He's beyond feeling it. But by god I can. If Doc dies? Who am I going to kill. The murdering motherless sons are right fucking here. There's always Rutkowski. He's one of them.
I have to let the anger go. Visualize a clench fist. L:et all the rage fill it. Open it wide. Just let it fall to the ground. Mist into the air. The adrenaline slowly ebb away.
"So, Lieutenant Rutkowski," I ask as he approaches, "this your angel?"
He stares. I have to repeat it for him. Empty eyes, "Yes."
"Good," I draw my knife, "now turn around."
He looks from the bare blade to me and back. "Be quick about it." He turns lifting his head to bare his throat.
I'm not gentle. He leaves some skin and a bit of blood behind as I cut through his bonds. With his back to me I ask, "Ever skinned a buck?"
He carefully steps back and around. He stands there, studying me as he rubs his wrists. He nods once.
I flip the knife around offering him the hilt. "Good, start with the big one."
So many thoughts spinning round my head. I have questions and questions, but Rutkowski doesn't have the answers. Not really. Oh, he has what he thinks are answers. We know it is not true. Angels and Demons and God's Will are not a part of the plans for Poland. Only men and something not-men. I can't stop rolling it around my head.
The troops have us set in a basement dwelling. It must have belonged to some of Czarny's minders. The room is well apportioned. Two cubicles blanketed, one with a raw wood bunks and the other with double mattresses on the floor, a number of piles of bedding near a oil drum stove, and a table with four rickety chairs. High living by the local standards. The Doc and Kapitan take the bunks. Eddie grabs the other mattresses. Alphabit takes a bundle of blankets near the small fire in the stove. I take a chair. I don't have lice or fleas yet. Like to keep it that way.
The others are soon snoring. I lean back in the chair, MP5 on my chest, try to sleep. My mind keeps going in circles. I need a drink. The good vodka's back on the boat. Maybe I should talk to our guards about some rotgut. No, last thing I need is to be drunk if there's a night action. Head down, I try to sleep.
Maybe I succeeded. There's a sound by the stairs. One of our guards, Henry or Tom, looks around. He motions for silence and waves me up. I pinch at a growing headache as I go to him. He holds the drape over the entrance aside so I can pass. I squeeze past, damn, he's a big man.
"Your wanted topside," he growls.
I head up. Damn if I'm going to sleep now. Where does Doc stash the aspirin?
I'm almost at the top of the stairs when the guard grabs me from behind and lofts me out into the open. My breath stolen as I slam into the ground. A foot kicks me over before I can inhale. It's clawed, grey hands rip the MP5 away. Nonexistent God, Rutkowski was right.
I bat feebly as one hand grips my throat and hauls me upright. The restless tentacle where it's mouth should be strikes into my shoulder. I feel a numbness spreading from the wound. I'm slammed back into the ground as it wretches out a mouthful of my blood.
From the ground I can see two more men clutching guns. AKR and HK-CAW a part of me catalogs. The slim form of greyhounds stand ready at our door. The things contemplates me with disgust. "Wrong," it snarls.
I have only a pistol and scarce seconds left to act. I convulse. Give out shuddering breaths, convulse, arch my back, beat my feet against the pavement. A final shudder and a hissing breath. Be still. Be dead.
The men step back. The thing lashes that tentacle about. The end moves forming harsh words. "Not right. You," points at AKR, "watch it.
Turns to HK, "You, finish this." It spits and chitters at the dogs. They head down.
It stands at the entrance to our quarters, listening, as the gunfire begins. It seems relaxed.
Alphabit
Trying to sleep. Leo keeps fidgeting. Finally, he decides to go take a walk. I roll onto my back and listen to the small sounds of the fire. Now, maybe, some sleep. Closing my eyes I give out a happy sigh. Yes, now some sleep.
Except Da let the hounds in. I hear them racing down the basement stairs. Ma is going to be so angry with the man. I love our hounds and they love me. They're coming now to jump and bark and lick my face.
Some other part of me knows what's a dream and what isn't. My hatchets in my hand as the chitter and squeal of rats close. I swing an arm up under a throat forcing snapping teeth away from my face. The hatchet swings in at an awkward angle scrapping at it's thigh. My bellow over powers it's screech.
It's the size and weight of a hound, but the sounds and teeth scream rat. With an effort I throw it away and roll to all fours. Another one closes from the left. It meets my hatchet face first as it charges. It scream as the steel bites. I clutch at its hide and raise the axe.
The one I'd lofted away skids against the cement as turns back towards me. Gathers speed for a charge. the sharp crack of Doc's M-16 smacks it back to the ground. Pinned the one in my hand I bellow as the axe rises and strikes again.
Doc's M-16 cracks again and again in controlled semi-automatic before the deafening roar of a shotgun drowns it out. Doc staggers back under the impact. She crumples to the ground mewling in pain. I scramble on all fours behind the stove as the shotgun speaks again.
The shotgunner showers the dark with harsh Polish obscenities. A shadow running low to the ground, a third rat-dog, rushes towards Doc and the curtain. Damn, my gun's back in the bedding.
The Pole strokes the trigger twice. Buckshot rattles off the stove and wall above me. Blind bursts from Ed's M-16 answer him. The shotgun roars back, too fast for a pump or semi, firing a long burst into the curtains. The Pole curses again. In the sudden silence I hear something, a magazine, hit the floor.
In the pause I Throw my hatchet at the shotgunner. He jerks at the impact and drops the spare mag in his hand. Someone else will get him. I rush the rat-dog as it bites into Doc. I take it in the shoulder. Arms lock around the trunk. We roll over the concrete. I end on top. With both hands I force away it's snarling snout. I bring in a knee and let my full weight fall on it's ribs. The bones crunch. Again and a third time. Blood splatters from it's mouth as it slowly stills.
While I struggled, Ed's M-16 fired burst after burst. I turn in a crouch. The Pole and his shotgun are on the floor. Ed's replacing his magazine. I hear Cap yelling for light and a medic. Ed covers the stairs while I grab my weapons. Once armed I snap on a flash.
Captain Paterson has a both hands on Doc's abdomen holding things in. I know I'm next to useless with wounds. "Ed, help Cap. I'll get the stairs." We swap. Another light switches on.
"I'll get her pack!" Ed shouts.
"Hurry, God damn you!" Cap reaches out, grabs one of my blankets, and uses it as a compress. I can see red and grey things slither under Doc's skin. That's bad. Worse, I'm not watching the stairs.
My M-16 is wrenched from my hands. A thick grey arm smashes it into the ceiling. The butt stock shares raining hard plastic shards down over me. It's big.
I'm so jumped up on adrenalin that I don't think, just react. Pulling my pistol I step under the out thrust arm. I shove it into the middle and start pulling the trigger. Great arms surround me in a bear hug trapping my arms close in. But the pistol's still in it's gut and I empty out the Makarov's magazine.
I try to keep all my chest muscles tight, but I can't beat it's strength. My breath hisses out painfully and I can't draw another in. Shouts and screams, orders, echo around me. Head swimming I kick and thrash to no effect. In the dark basement a greater darkness closes in around me.
Distantly I hear Cap and Ed shouting. I wish they would shut-up. I need my sleep. The buzz of the alarm grows to a growl then a hammer of automatic fire. The floor, I'm on the floor. I stare numbly as silhouettes approach me. Cap, "Don!" She never calls me Don. "Don, can you move?"
"Ta," I answer in the Mother tongue, "Ta."
"He's delirious," was that Ed or Leo?
"No," I struggle to say, "I can move." To show them I put my hands on the pile of grey sacks beside me and lever my self up. They come back covered in sticky black blood. "Oh, damn."
Leonid
What do the Americans call it. Yes, I have the time to think, playing possum. The thing stands at the stairs enjoying, somehow I can tell, the death and violence it's man is visiting on us below. The throaty crash of the HK-CAW is overridden by the bark of one or more M-16s. The M-16s win. It's shoulders tense with anger. Down it goes.
The last man's nervous. I watch him in my peripheral vision. He licks his lips compulsively, attention switching from me to the stairs. As the gunfire resumes he gives me one last look and turns to the stairs. I may have lost the MP5, but I've got that big 1911 strapped to my waist. The snap of the holster is lost in the reports from below. I shift to a sitting position. Two hands steady the automatic. I space my fire. Two into the back, another in an arm as he twists in his fall. One in the side. One in the upper chest. His head rolls back to face me as he settles on the ground. Shock writ large on features. The last two into the face.
The monsters down there with my comrades. This must be one of the blessed; Wozniak or Zajac, I don't give a fuck which. I reload as I stand and walk to him. Blood seeps from his ruined face. It sticks to my hands as I unbuckle his helmet and toss it aside. Empty the new magazine, all seven rounds, into his head. Not enough left to even resemble a head.
I take the AKR. From the stairwell I hear Cap and Eddie shouting. With my back to the remains of the houses wall, clear of the stairwell, I shout down. "Kapitan! It Leo! May I come down!"
She snarls back, "Stay there! A patrol should be coming at a run. Tell them we need a medic. Now!"
I leave the AKR by the wall at the sound of running feet. Taking no chances, I drop to my knees in the open with my hands on my head. I explain who I am to the bright glare of flashlights and the open mouths of guns. Fortunately, one of our men from the 5th is with them and I stand with his help.
Paterson
A stretcher crew takes Doc away. We don't have the competency to care for her. She's in the vet's hands now. I wonder what it'll take to buy his silence. Fuck.
Alphabit, his ribs taped, sits by the stairs. Ed stands look out. Leo's down below helping haul up the bodies. I'm going to chew someone a new one. I'm never going back into a hole with only one way out. Never.
They drag the corpse of Rutkowski's demon up the stairs. It takes five men to move it. They'd be better with a block and tackle. Sure, maybe you should have told them.
"Lieutenant!" I'm still barking. "Bring me our high value prisoner. You can make him walk, but keep his hands bound." He jumps to it.
Three rat-things, two men, and one demon. I keep the anger on. The other troops keep stealing looks at the things. I snarl. Put them back to their tasks.
God damn it! I suddenly lash out. Kick the shotgunner savagely in the head. Leo pulls me back after I start stamping on his groin. He's beyond feeling it. But by god I can. If Doc dies? Who am I going to kill. The murdering motherless sons are right fucking here. There's always Rutkowski. He's one of them.
I have to let the anger go. Visualize a clench fist. L:et all the rage fill it. Open it wide. Just let it fall to the ground. Mist into the air. The adrenaline slowly ebb away.
"So, Lieutenant Rutkowski," I ask as he approaches, "this your angel?"
He stares. I have to repeat it for him. Empty eyes, "Yes."
"Good," I draw my knife, "now turn around."
He looks from the bare blade to me and back. "Be quick about it." He turns lifting his head to bare his throat.
I'm not gentle. He leaves some skin and a bit of blood behind as I cut through his bonds. With his back to me I ask, "Ever skinned a buck?"
He carefully steps back and around. He stands there, studying me as he rubs his wrists. He nods once.
I flip the knife around offering him the hilt. "Good, start with the big one."
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
062: Interrogation
Paterson, October 2nd, 2000
We've got our high value prisoner strapped to a board. "Possible spinal cord injuries," says Doc. Stashed away in a hole. "Got to keep him safe and isolated until we can question him," says I. Moon-pie offered me a thermite grenade. "Let's see him get up after a 2500 degree suntan." Maybe after.
Doc briefs me on his status, "He's alive. The concussion alone should have killed him." She ticks off symptoms, "Very underweight, fever, scarring across the abdomen. The abdomen's sunken inward as well. Feels loose."
"When will he wake?"
"Should be dead. Damn if I know." Her face tightens up, "Look, Captain, there's others that need me still. Why we wasting time on him?"
"Because I want you to. Can you wake him?"
"I can give him a stimulant. Might wake him. Might push him over the edge."
"Like you care. Give it to me and get back to the troops."
Right now, my choice. I call our 'principles' back for the interrogation. Leo, Moonie, Ed. Alphabit tells me to call him when we need his ax. He'll go back to minding the gap. I honor that choice, he can have the Cliff Noted version later if he wants it.
My needle slides home in his arm. Moments later he wakes with a gasp. "Good day, Rutkowski."
He gawps at me. Panics a moment as he pulls at the bonds before visibly bringing himself under control.
English, "Do you understand me? How many fingers?"
"Yes. Two." In English, that'll make this easier. On me anyway.
"Correct, how are you?"
His eyes close. He convulsively swallows before blurting out, "Damned. I will burn forever in hell."
"Undoubtedly, why do you say that?"
"It is truth." He pants, panic or the stims, "You won't believe, but it is all that is left to me."
"I have found a great capacity for belief these days."
"So you say now. I'll tell you anything you want. Just one request, please."
"You're in no position to be asking."
His eyes open. Search out mine. Nothing put desperation swimming in there. "Please, before you kill me. Let me make confession to a priest. For my soul's sake."
He's a rat bastard, a murdering, enslaving, probably raping bastard. This much I can give him. "Yes, I promise you. You'll have a chance for confession and absolution before your execution."
He actually smiles. Then first in trickles that grow into a torrent he tells me of Czarny, himself, and the other lieutenants. Their unit was stripped to the bone in mid '99 to reinforce others in the Polish Second Army. Czarny, a colonel of infantry, and his closest followers, were surplus to needs. They could carry a rifle or, as they did, desert and return home to Piskonia. There Czarny assumed control of the local militia, reached out to surrounding towns, tied them all together with pledges of assistance and mutual defense. They gathered other deserters, formed a trained core, the start of his army.
Rutkowski swallows dryly. Asks for water. Resumes. "It all changed in November . Czarny, he liked to hunt. In the cold of winter he went out and didn't return. We searched, the next day and the one after, but found no sign of him. He came back out of the woods five days later. He'd always been a strong, charismatic man, but now he had a fire burning in him. He brought together those of us from the old division; Zajac, Wozniak, me. He told us of his revelation. How an angel of God came to him in the wilderness. The blessing laid upon his head and the plan to reunite Poland under God's Will. God's Will, Wozniak opined he'd suffered from a fever. If only it had been a fever. Czarny countered. The angel was waiting for him. He was to gather those closest to him. Bring them to it. They'd see the truth of the matter. We figured, we'd go. We'd be able to talk him back down when nothing happened. If only."
Moonie has his patented 'how long are you going to listen to this shit' look on him. Ed's queasy. Leo, calm. "Then what happened." Moonie snorts disgustedly.
"In the Bible the angel appears to man and says, 'Be not afraid.' There is reason for that. You can't look at it directly. It shines with light. There are wings and eyes and scales. Nothing connects as it should. It is holy. We, men, are not worthy. It spoke to us, a thunder in our ears, heads, at the moment our souls. We knew it was true. Czarny and us had been chosen. God wanted Poland, his blessed country, to throw off the yolk of the atheist Russians and the money-loving West. We'd build it again as a new Holy Land. It starts here, now. It laid the Lord's blessing upon us. Zajac, then Wozniak, then me. They screamed with the power of it. I did too. Every nerve alight, every muscle pulled tight, I thought I would die. Instead, I woke a day later. It took us two to stand again. Czarny cared for us until we could return to town."
Moonie flips Rutkowski the bird as he leaves. Ed's broken out in a nervous sweat. Leo and I, calm rocks..
"It told Czarny to take the high tower in the waste. To make it his castle. The Lord's Temple. We came to Warsaw. We took the Palace of Culture from those who'd come before us. Made them work the ruins and fields. Czarny worked with whoever he could. River raiders and bandits joined us for the safe base and food. Other communities fell to sweet words or an overwhelming show of force. Only Sielce stood at the end."
"We tried to take it by storm. The defenses were too strong. The people too stubborn. They kept to their defiance even after we obtained the D-30 howitzer and spent our shells on their land. If anything, it made them fight us harder. Who would blame them, they're true Poles."
"We gathered more men. Bought more men. Traded for more rounds for the D-30. Both explosives and blood agents. We would crush them!"
"And then you came," bitterly, "with your big boat and tank and men. You broke the Admiral and his fleet like they were matchsticks. You blew the big gun just before the chemical rounds arrived. And you took the Baron and I. Would that you did not give me back."
"Why?"
"It came back and spoke to the three of us. Only the voice was the same. The form had changed. It told us that it had worn the other because men are cowed by it. Now that we were blessed it could show us its true nature."
"You hadn't seen it before?"
"Not since it had blessed us. Only Czarny saw it. Until he was dead." His eyes close. I wonder if he needs another shot. No, he's gathering his courage. "It was shaped like a man, powerfully built. Over two meters tall, nearly one wide. Thick gray skin, like plates, covering all except the eyes. It had no mouth, instead a long tentacle with clashing teeth at the end. It spoke through there. It condemned me. I had been faithless and that was why Czarny was dead. I needed to be purified."
"The other two beat me while it watched. I could see, the eyes feeding on my pain, this was not a angel. It was a demon and we had served it. Willingly, eagerly, worshipfully. Then I knew how damned I was. It all came crashing down."
"The next day, Zajac and Wozniak drug me out into the courtyard. They strapped me to a frame. The demon was there and all the men. It spoke to them. Telling them of the price of failure. How their lives belonged to it. As it finished it turned to me. In a whisper it told me only I had the eyes to see it. The others saw their beloved Baron. They would see his strength, determination, and power. How wrong it was. They saw a madman. They saw a madman reach into his subordinates guts and pull out coil after coil of guts."
"I woke in a cell. Zajac was outside. Crying into his hands. He told me they'd cut off the section of gut and stitched it closed. I was to be kept for a future use. Perhaps to lead the next assault. Perhaps to feed the angel when it grew hungry. He wouldn't elaborate. I'd been placed on a starvation diet. My body would eat itself to heal the would. I should remember that as the least expression of it's displeasure. He gave me half a sausage and a number of pills. Antibiotics for the gut."
"You came again. Taking that which we'd stolen. It gave me this chance. Take the gateway and be forgiven. Fail and die."
Rutkowski winds down, spent with the effort of talking. Leo fills the silence. "It rode the tank, the T-80, yes?
"You saw it?"
"I saw something, through the thermals. Something like you described. I believe you. How do we kill it?"
"You can't. It is a demon. A fallen angel. How do you kill the lord's first work?"
Ed chuckles mirthlessly, "Bell, book, and candle. Hey, Cap, how's your faith."
I answer him sharply, "My faith is fine. It's been using men as cat-paws. Its not all powerful."
Leo smiles grimly, "Yes, it ran when I tracked the tank. It ran away. Rutkowski, what angel runs from men?"
"They, they don't."
"No, they don't," I tell him. "We'll handle this the same old way. First an overdose of lead. Then high explosives."
"Right on, Cap," Ed brightly kibitz. "There are few personal problems that cannot be solved by a suitable application of high explosives!"
We questioned him hard on mundane details. Troops, vehicles, stores as last he saw them until we became punch drunk. He begged, sobbing, for the priest as we left.
"Deal with it. This is the start of your atonement. You can die shriven tonight or you can save lives. More people, innocent and not, are going to die before this ends. You can save them. Sleep on it."
We've got our high value prisoner strapped to a board. "Possible spinal cord injuries," says Doc. Stashed away in a hole. "Got to keep him safe and isolated until we can question him," says I. Moon-pie offered me a thermite grenade. "Let's see him get up after a 2500 degree suntan." Maybe after.
Doc briefs me on his status, "He's alive. The concussion alone should have killed him." She ticks off symptoms, "Very underweight, fever, scarring across the abdomen. The abdomen's sunken inward as well. Feels loose."
"When will he wake?"
"Should be dead. Damn if I know." Her face tightens up, "Look, Captain, there's others that need me still. Why we wasting time on him?"
"Because I want you to. Can you wake him?"
"I can give him a stimulant. Might wake him. Might push him over the edge."
"Like you care. Give it to me and get back to the troops."
Right now, my choice. I call our 'principles' back for the interrogation. Leo, Moonie, Ed. Alphabit tells me to call him when we need his ax. He'll go back to minding the gap. I honor that choice, he can have the Cliff Noted version later if he wants it.
My needle slides home in his arm. Moments later he wakes with a gasp. "Good day, Rutkowski."
He gawps at me. Panics a moment as he pulls at the bonds before visibly bringing himself under control.
English, "Do you understand me? How many fingers?"
"Yes. Two." In English, that'll make this easier. On me anyway.
"Correct, how are you?"
His eyes close. He convulsively swallows before blurting out, "Damned. I will burn forever in hell."
"Undoubtedly, why do you say that?"
"It is truth." He pants, panic or the stims, "You won't believe, but it is all that is left to me."
"I have found a great capacity for belief these days."
"So you say now. I'll tell you anything you want. Just one request, please."
"You're in no position to be asking."
His eyes open. Search out mine. Nothing put desperation swimming in there. "Please, before you kill me. Let me make confession to a priest. For my soul's sake."
He's a rat bastard, a murdering, enslaving, probably raping bastard. This much I can give him. "Yes, I promise you. You'll have a chance for confession and absolution before your execution."
He actually smiles. Then first in trickles that grow into a torrent he tells me of Czarny, himself, and the other lieutenants. Their unit was stripped to the bone in mid '99 to reinforce others in the Polish Second Army. Czarny, a colonel of infantry, and his closest followers, were surplus to needs. They could carry a rifle or, as they did, desert and return home to Piskonia. There Czarny assumed control of the local militia, reached out to surrounding towns, tied them all together with pledges of assistance and mutual defense. They gathered other deserters, formed a trained core, the start of his army.
Rutkowski swallows dryly. Asks for water. Resumes. "It all changed in November . Czarny, he liked to hunt. In the cold of winter he went out and didn't return. We searched, the next day and the one after, but found no sign of him. He came back out of the woods five days later. He'd always been a strong, charismatic man, but now he had a fire burning in him. He brought together those of us from the old division; Zajac, Wozniak, me. He told us of his revelation. How an angel of God came to him in the wilderness. The blessing laid upon his head and the plan to reunite Poland under God's Will. God's Will, Wozniak opined he'd suffered from a fever. If only it had been a fever. Czarny countered. The angel was waiting for him. He was to gather those closest to him. Bring them to it. They'd see the truth of the matter. We figured, we'd go. We'd be able to talk him back down when nothing happened. If only."
Moonie has his patented 'how long are you going to listen to this shit' look on him. Ed's queasy. Leo, calm. "Then what happened." Moonie snorts disgustedly.
"In the Bible the angel appears to man and says, 'Be not afraid.' There is reason for that. You can't look at it directly. It shines with light. There are wings and eyes and scales. Nothing connects as it should. It is holy. We, men, are not worthy. It spoke to us, a thunder in our ears, heads, at the moment our souls. We knew it was true. Czarny and us had been chosen. God wanted Poland, his blessed country, to throw off the yolk of the atheist Russians and the money-loving West. We'd build it again as a new Holy Land. It starts here, now. It laid the Lord's blessing upon us. Zajac, then Wozniak, then me. They screamed with the power of it. I did too. Every nerve alight, every muscle pulled tight, I thought I would die. Instead, I woke a day later. It took us two to stand again. Czarny cared for us until we could return to town."
Moonie flips Rutkowski the bird as he leaves. Ed's broken out in a nervous sweat. Leo and I, calm rocks..
"It told Czarny to take the high tower in the waste. To make it his castle. The Lord's Temple. We came to Warsaw. We took the Palace of Culture from those who'd come before us. Made them work the ruins and fields. Czarny worked with whoever he could. River raiders and bandits joined us for the safe base and food. Other communities fell to sweet words or an overwhelming show of force. Only Sielce stood at the end."
"We tried to take it by storm. The defenses were too strong. The people too stubborn. They kept to their defiance even after we obtained the D-30 howitzer and spent our shells on their land. If anything, it made them fight us harder. Who would blame them, they're true Poles."
"We gathered more men. Bought more men. Traded for more rounds for the D-30. Both explosives and blood agents. We would crush them!"
"And then you came," bitterly, "with your big boat and tank and men. You broke the Admiral and his fleet like they were matchsticks. You blew the big gun just before the chemical rounds arrived. And you took the Baron and I. Would that you did not give me back."
"Why?"
"It came back and spoke to the three of us. Only the voice was the same. The form had changed. It told us that it had worn the other because men are cowed by it. Now that we were blessed it could show us its true nature."
"You hadn't seen it before?"
"Not since it had blessed us. Only Czarny saw it. Until he was dead." His eyes close. I wonder if he needs another shot. No, he's gathering his courage. "It was shaped like a man, powerfully built. Over two meters tall, nearly one wide. Thick gray skin, like plates, covering all except the eyes. It had no mouth, instead a long tentacle with clashing teeth at the end. It spoke through there. It condemned me. I had been faithless and that was why Czarny was dead. I needed to be purified."
"The other two beat me while it watched. I could see, the eyes feeding on my pain, this was not a angel. It was a demon and we had served it. Willingly, eagerly, worshipfully. Then I knew how damned I was. It all came crashing down."
"The next day, Zajac and Wozniak drug me out into the courtyard. They strapped me to a frame. The demon was there and all the men. It spoke to them. Telling them of the price of failure. How their lives belonged to it. As it finished it turned to me. In a whisper it told me only I had the eyes to see it. The others saw their beloved Baron. They would see his strength, determination, and power. How wrong it was. They saw a madman. They saw a madman reach into his subordinates guts and pull out coil after coil of guts."
"I woke in a cell. Zajac was outside. Crying into his hands. He told me they'd cut off the section of gut and stitched it closed. I was to be kept for a future use. Perhaps to lead the next assault. Perhaps to feed the angel when it grew hungry. He wouldn't elaborate. I'd been placed on a starvation diet. My body would eat itself to heal the would. I should remember that as the least expression of it's displeasure. He gave me half a sausage and a number of pills. Antibiotics for the gut."
"You came again. Taking that which we'd stolen. It gave me this chance. Take the gateway and be forgiven. Fail and die."
Rutkowski winds down, spent with the effort of talking. Leo fills the silence. "It rode the tank, the T-80, yes?
"You saw it?"
"I saw something, through the thermals. Something like you described. I believe you. How do we kill it?"
"You can't. It is a demon. A fallen angel. How do you kill the lord's first work?"
Ed chuckles mirthlessly, "Bell, book, and candle. Hey, Cap, how's your faith."
I answer him sharply, "My faith is fine. It's been using men as cat-paws. Its not all powerful."
Leo smiles grimly, "Yes, it ran when I tracked the tank. It ran away. Rutkowski, what angel runs from men?"
"They, they don't."
"No, they don't," I tell him. "We'll handle this the same old way. First an overdose of lead. Then high explosives."
"Right on, Cap," Ed brightly kibitz. "There are few personal problems that cannot be solved by a suitable application of high explosives!"
We questioned him hard on mundane details. Troops, vehicles, stores as last he saw them until we became punch drunk. He begged, sobbing, for the priest as we left.
"Deal with it. This is the start of your atonement. You can die shriven tonight or you can save lives. More people, innocent and not, are going to die before this ends. You can save them. Sleep on it."
061: Armor at the Wall
Paterson, October 2nd, 2000
The troop in New/Old didn't hold to the plan. As soon as the fighting started in Praga they fell on their minders with gun and blade. By the time we mopped up the survivors in Praga they'd seized the cantonment and manned the walls. A small reaction force from the Palace was caught and slaughtered by the time we joined them. Ballsy and outstanding.
We radioed Rataj that the river communities had fallen. He could proceed back at first light. I set Emowitz the task of guarding the northern road. He took 40 men and two of our RPG-16 launchers. The rest of the men were seconded to me. We reinforced New/Old Town.
My troops and the Russians formed two mobile reserves. The men I'd brought over joined with the New/Old garrison and took to positions at or near the wall. I gave them orders to stand down half the men for sleep leaving the rest to watch the ruins. I expected action in the next few hours.
I was wrong. We heard plenty of movement down towards the Palace. Some gunfire too. Sorting out the unmotivated the only way they knew how.
Dawn broke and still no attack. I received reports of movement outside the walls. Occasional shots passing back and forth as they infiltrated as close as they dared. We could handle an infantry assault. What where they waiting for?
I was answered a hour later when the distant squeals and grinding of tanks sounded up the road.
Alphabit, October 2nd, 2000
"Get up, get up!" Ed's shouting at me. "Armor heading up the gap!"
Doc sleepily curses. I rub the sand away. "Didn't Cap blow it?"
"No! Keeping it open for the locals!"
God damn! I scrapped up my kit and raced for the town's 'gateway'. Like most of the construction in Warsaw, the wall isn't a sturdy structure. It grew as the locals cleared the rubble to make homes and fields. The weight of the upper layers keeps the lower from shifting out. More of a steep mound of scree than a proper wall. Only in a few spots, here and there along the length are older walls that survive the cities bombing. They give something for the rubble to lean on. The New/Old gateway is on such spot with two story walls anchoring the gap.
We'd argued, before the mission, about blowing it. Flooding the gap with rubble would keep armor out of New/Old or at least slow it enough for the RPG teams to take them apart. They'd decided to keep it. It would take months to clear. Well, they've got all winter to do that. I need to close it now.
The distant crump of mortars sounded from the Palace. I grabbed what cover I could. The rounds fell inside the walls. Begin to walk back.
God have mercy. I am one stupid git. The rounds are back that a-way, coming closer, but they're not here. I push off the ground and move. Grin. I'll race you to the gap!
I beat them. Mortar shells impact on both sides of the wall, but none in the space between. Then they start spilling smoke. Tanks coming next.
I spill out my kit; explosive bricks, detonators, and wire. I know them all, my old friends, by feel. The old walls in the gap. I walk their length, hand trailing along, feeling for the strain. The stone, it'll sing to you if you listen, let you know where the strain is. I hum along. Here a brick, trail out the wire, here another. The crunch of treads and howl of engines grows closer. Here, a third should do. Blind fire tears through the cloud, wild and high. Time to go. Wires trailing I sprint back and around the wall. Just need to wait a moment.
Leonid
Kapitan calls out from the other side of the gap as the clouds roll over us. "Leo! Get me another tank. Ours is broke!"
Damn smokescreen. Down the long road Czarny's tanks and IFVs are ready to push through us. I settle the thermal into my helmet's cradle. Take the scope from the SVD. See what I can see.
Out there, two tanks lead way. I can see both the drivers and the commander unbuttoned. They're safe in the smoke. Nyet.
Line up on the right tank's drive. Take the breath in. Let it out. In the quiet space between his head snaps back from impact. Still accelerating the tank curls to my right chewing into the ruin before stopping.
Blind fire from coax MGs and pintle mounts rake the wall at random. Most is low, some high, beside me a an RPG gunner screams at one just right. The other tank's still pushing forward. My second shot misses, close enough to send the driver ducking back in his station. The commander follows suit. There's a strange shape on the rear deck. Did they weld one of the big 120's there?
Behind the tank I count 2 BTRs and a BMP. Switch up the SVD for the dead man's RPG. Rounds rake back and forth. I grab up his satchel of rockets. One in the tube and two in the bag. Back up. They're halfway here. RPG to the shoulder. Flash and pressure as the motor kicks in. The tank shudders at the hit and it spins left as the track disintegrates. Mobility kill.
I drop to reload. Pop back up. The BMP is entering the gap, too close to arm the warhead. I sight on the rear BTR. It comes apart. I drop back down. I'm reloading when the wall crashes and shifts underfoot.
Alphabit
Cap wants a tank! Can do. Can do!
Just wait till you're in the gap. The engine shouts change, reverberating off both sides, amplifying the growl. Give it one heartbeat. Trigger.
The charges blow out the retaining structure. Scree, piled high against it, settles then slides down into the gap. A wave of rubble washes around the track, lapping up to the deck, trapping it in tons of rock. Get through that!
Leonid
The walls drops from under me a sudden half-foot. I can feel the stone shudder to a stop. Tremors as it shifts. On all fours I crawl away from the gap till I can't feel the shaking anymore.
In the distance I can hear the infantry assaulting other spots on the wall. The men will hold them. Here is where the battle was to be won. To the accompaniment of rifles the smoke clears.
I've lost the 16 after the wall shifted. I pull my last RPG-18 from my pack.
Alphabit
Not a tank! Little turret on a flat deck. It looks like my Squishmobile back in Krakow, a BMP. Hope Cap still wants it.
Doc's here at last. I shout to her, "Mine!" point at the BMP. She says something back. Wish my ears weren't ringing so loud.
She gets right close and bellows, "Hatch!"
Oh damn, men inside, recovering from the shake-up. We've both got the same idea. Grenades.
Soldiers muscle aside the rubble on their deck hatches. Arms reach out to climb from the vehicles. My grenade hits an open hatch, bouncing back into the drift of concrete. Doc's is good. Launched in a high arc it drops into a hatch. "Just like softball," she'll tell me later. Men scream. Desperately they try to scramble out before the detonation claims them. If not that one, then mine a second later.
Leonid
The last mobile vehicle, the BTR, tries to slalom backwards through the wrecks. Hard going made harder when the RPG-18 takes it on the forward deck. The death trap burns.
Paterson
Our walls held. The mortar battery on the Krowola gave the Palace a working over. Don't know if we got their mortars, but we didn't take any further fire.
Casualties, as they have us report, were 'acceptable. Between the mortar attack and fighting I had 21 dead. That would be sure to rise as Doc dealt with the wounded. Even with Rataj opening his stocks of antibiotics we'd be looking at follow on deaths and crippling injuries. Back to butchery as Doc said. I didn't bother with an enemy body count. Lots was good enough for me.
Leo reported on the shape he'd seen on the near tank. Nothing there now. Maybe there'd been tank riders? He disagreed. I'd been joking about a new tank. He got me two.
Two tanks stuck outside the walls. The nearer tank, a T-80, had been tracked by Leo. The crew hadn't bailed. Where would they have run, being right under our guns. I promised them fair treatment under the laws of war. I could afford to be generous and kept my word. I'll get the Russians on it as soon as things are settled.
The second tank, over a hundred meters down the road, near the bend had been abandoned by the commander and gunner. We shifted it close to our wall.
I press ganged the T-80 crew and some of the locals into shifting rock. We'll clear the gap to salvage the BMP as well.
Leo came back to me after talking to the T-80 crew. It hadn't been tank riders. Just one rider. They claimed it was Baron Czarny. Could. not. be. Was not. Like a bad joke, "Leo we kept his brain". He was shook. I convinced him the Baron had a body double. I think I convinced him anyway. Whoever it had been. Czarny is D E A D. Period.
I got my final surprise of the day towards evening. Russians clearing the BMP of bodies shouted for a medic. They'd found a survivor inside. Rutkowski.
The troop in New/Old didn't hold to the plan. As soon as the fighting started in Praga they fell on their minders with gun and blade. By the time we mopped up the survivors in Praga they'd seized the cantonment and manned the walls. A small reaction force from the Palace was caught and slaughtered by the time we joined them. Ballsy and outstanding.
We radioed Rataj that the river communities had fallen. He could proceed back at first light. I set Emowitz the task of guarding the northern road. He took 40 men and two of our RPG-16 launchers. The rest of the men were seconded to me. We reinforced New/Old Town.
My troops and the Russians formed two mobile reserves. The men I'd brought over joined with the New/Old garrison and took to positions at or near the wall. I gave them orders to stand down half the men for sleep leaving the rest to watch the ruins. I expected action in the next few hours.
I was wrong. We heard plenty of movement down towards the Palace. Some gunfire too. Sorting out the unmotivated the only way they knew how.
Dawn broke and still no attack. I received reports of movement outside the walls. Occasional shots passing back and forth as they infiltrated as close as they dared. We could handle an infantry assault. What where they waiting for?
I was answered a hour later when the distant squeals and grinding of tanks sounded up the road.
Alphabit, October 2nd, 2000
"Get up, get up!" Ed's shouting at me. "Armor heading up the gap!"
Doc sleepily curses. I rub the sand away. "Didn't Cap blow it?"
"No! Keeping it open for the locals!"
God damn! I scrapped up my kit and raced for the town's 'gateway'. Like most of the construction in Warsaw, the wall isn't a sturdy structure. It grew as the locals cleared the rubble to make homes and fields. The weight of the upper layers keeps the lower from shifting out. More of a steep mound of scree than a proper wall. Only in a few spots, here and there along the length are older walls that survive the cities bombing. They give something for the rubble to lean on. The New/Old gateway is on such spot with two story walls anchoring the gap.
We'd argued, before the mission, about blowing it. Flooding the gap with rubble would keep armor out of New/Old or at least slow it enough for the RPG teams to take them apart. They'd decided to keep it. It would take months to clear. Well, they've got all winter to do that. I need to close it now.
The distant crump of mortars sounded from the Palace. I grabbed what cover I could. The rounds fell inside the walls. Begin to walk back.
God have mercy. I am one stupid git. The rounds are back that a-way, coming closer, but they're not here. I push off the ground and move. Grin. I'll race you to the gap!
I beat them. Mortar shells impact on both sides of the wall, but none in the space between. Then they start spilling smoke. Tanks coming next.
I spill out my kit; explosive bricks, detonators, and wire. I know them all, my old friends, by feel. The old walls in the gap. I walk their length, hand trailing along, feeling for the strain. The stone, it'll sing to you if you listen, let you know where the strain is. I hum along. Here a brick, trail out the wire, here another. The crunch of treads and howl of engines grows closer. Here, a third should do. Blind fire tears through the cloud, wild and high. Time to go. Wires trailing I sprint back and around the wall. Just need to wait a moment.
Leonid
Kapitan calls out from the other side of the gap as the clouds roll over us. "Leo! Get me another tank. Ours is broke!"
Damn smokescreen. Down the long road Czarny's tanks and IFVs are ready to push through us. I settle the thermal into my helmet's cradle. Take the scope from the SVD. See what I can see.
Out there, two tanks lead way. I can see both the drivers and the commander unbuttoned. They're safe in the smoke. Nyet.
Line up on the right tank's drive. Take the breath in. Let it out. In the quiet space between his head snaps back from impact. Still accelerating the tank curls to my right chewing into the ruin before stopping.
Blind fire from coax MGs and pintle mounts rake the wall at random. Most is low, some high, beside me a an RPG gunner screams at one just right. The other tank's still pushing forward. My second shot misses, close enough to send the driver ducking back in his station. The commander follows suit. There's a strange shape on the rear deck. Did they weld one of the big 120's there?
Behind the tank I count 2 BTRs and a BMP. Switch up the SVD for the dead man's RPG. Rounds rake back and forth. I grab up his satchel of rockets. One in the tube and two in the bag. Back up. They're halfway here. RPG to the shoulder. Flash and pressure as the motor kicks in. The tank shudders at the hit and it spins left as the track disintegrates. Mobility kill.
I drop to reload. Pop back up. The BMP is entering the gap, too close to arm the warhead. I sight on the rear BTR. It comes apart. I drop back down. I'm reloading when the wall crashes and shifts underfoot.
Alphabit
Cap wants a tank! Can do. Can do!
Just wait till you're in the gap. The engine shouts change, reverberating off both sides, amplifying the growl. Give it one heartbeat. Trigger.
The charges blow out the retaining structure. Scree, piled high against it, settles then slides down into the gap. A wave of rubble washes around the track, lapping up to the deck, trapping it in tons of rock. Get through that!
Leonid
The walls drops from under me a sudden half-foot. I can feel the stone shudder to a stop. Tremors as it shifts. On all fours I crawl away from the gap till I can't feel the shaking anymore.
In the distance I can hear the infantry assaulting other spots on the wall. The men will hold them. Here is where the battle was to be won. To the accompaniment of rifles the smoke clears.
I've lost the 16 after the wall shifted. I pull my last RPG-18 from my pack.
Alphabit
Not a tank! Little turret on a flat deck. It looks like my Squishmobile back in Krakow, a BMP. Hope Cap still wants it.
Doc's here at last. I shout to her, "Mine!" point at the BMP. She says something back. Wish my ears weren't ringing so loud.
She gets right close and bellows, "Hatch!"
Oh damn, men inside, recovering from the shake-up. We've both got the same idea. Grenades.
Soldiers muscle aside the rubble on their deck hatches. Arms reach out to climb from the vehicles. My grenade hits an open hatch, bouncing back into the drift of concrete. Doc's is good. Launched in a high arc it drops into a hatch. "Just like softball," she'll tell me later. Men scream. Desperately they try to scramble out before the detonation claims them. If not that one, then mine a second later.
Leonid
The last mobile vehicle, the BTR, tries to slalom backwards through the wrecks. Hard going made harder when the RPG-18 takes it on the forward deck. The death trap burns.
Paterson
Our walls held. The mortar battery on the Krowola gave the Palace a working over. Don't know if we got their mortars, but we didn't take any further fire.
Casualties, as they have us report, were 'acceptable. Between the mortar attack and fighting I had 21 dead. That would be sure to rise as Doc dealt with the wounded. Even with Rataj opening his stocks of antibiotics we'd be looking at follow on deaths and crippling injuries. Back to butchery as Doc said. I didn't bother with an enemy body count. Lots was good enough for me.
Leo reported on the shape he'd seen on the near tank. Nothing there now. Maybe there'd been tank riders? He disagreed. I'd been joking about a new tank. He got me two.
Two tanks stuck outside the walls. The nearer tank, a T-80, had been tracked by Leo. The crew hadn't bailed. Where would they have run, being right under our guns. I promised them fair treatment under the laws of war. I could afford to be generous and kept my word. I'll get the Russians on it as soon as things are settled.
The second tank, over a hundred meters down the road, near the bend had been abandoned by the commander and gunner. We shifted it close to our wall.
I press ganged the T-80 crew and some of the locals into shifting rock. We'll clear the gap to salvage the BMP as well.
Leo came back to me after talking to the T-80 crew. It hadn't been tank riders. Just one rider. They claimed it was Baron Czarny. Could. not. be. Was not. Like a bad joke, "Leo we kept his brain". He was shook. I convinced him the Baron had a body double. I think I convinced him anyway. Whoever it had been. Czarny is D E A D. Period.
I got my final surprise of the day towards evening. Russians clearing the BMP of bodies shouted for a medic. They'd found a survivor inside. Rutkowski.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
060: Night Action
Alphabit, October 1st, 2000
Finally back in. Had to wring her arm some, but I'm not pulling guard duty on creepy box tonight. I want this. Got a sackful of explosives, the M-16, the Mak, and my hatchet. One way or another some bastards going to die.
We met our guides as promised. Cap Kat asked about their minders. J-boy gestured off into the rubble. Two stripped bodies hidden away. I complimented him on his new boots.
They were split to guide the columns. The Americans here all have a smattering of Polish and Russian so communication won't be a problem. We're getting a ten minute lead time. Each column will radio check once in position. Our man Ed is wired in. He'll let us know.
J-boy tells us there are local patrols from the pirate shore parties. They more used to chasing down civilians and beating on their own than looking for infiltrators. They make ample use of lights, flashes and torches. They're like lighthouses in the night, we steer clear of the rocks.
The HQ is a small house made of stone, excavated from the rubble, built into the scree. J-boy reports its mainly one big room with partitions at the back for 'entertainment'. There's a small room for the commander's privacy and a little alcove with door and vent for the night soils. They've gun loops on the three sides and one big, sturdy door. I got the answer for that.
Hell, I'd tried to talk Cap into letting me just take the whole place down. I used to do that in the before. I like that work. She reminded me of the 'entertainment'. Yeah, I'd feel like a right shit if I did that. But she promised me the door. We've long run out of concussion grenades, so I've got a little one improvised out of a fistful of plastic and one of our remote dets. It'll do.
Ed gives us the sign. All checks made. We're go.
Two guards, each on opposite corners of the front of the house. Kat checks with Ed. Columns have reached position. Its on us now.
Leo passes the MP5 over to Moonie, tells him to take the far one. He'll take the close. Draws his knife. Quiet as a church mouse. Lethal as a serpent. No St. Patrick's here. The first goes down to his blade. The second to the chatter of an open bolt. We rush the building. Doc and Ed take the near side gun loops. Cap and Moonie get the far side. J-boy stands look out with his new AK and boots. Leo and I have the door.
I stifle the urge to whistle while I work. I loving solving problems. This one is easier than the hubcap claymores, but I'll get to see the results. Fun, fun, fun. Ready? I pitch my voice to carry round the corners, "Cover!"
Four calls back, "Covered." click-BAM! Door goes down. Leo tosses my concussion bomblet through the breach. Screams and cries of alarm start to rise from within. Trigger two, overpressure pushes around the door frame. Screams and moans accompany Leo and I through the breach. Leo clears the commander's room. I take the main one. Right and left gun barrels poke through the walls. I ignore them, they're the resort if I fail. I don't.
Leo joins me. Together we finish the last of them men mewling on the floor. As we move to sweep the partitions shots ring out from the one in the left hand corner. Blind fire into the wall. I take the adjacent one. Poor woman looks at me with fear filled eyes. Fucking fuckers tied her to the bed. Finger to lips, Mak in the other hand, I step around her to peer over the partition. Fucker's in the corner, pistol in hand, with a woman in his lap. He's covering the doorway.
Leo's calling out in Polish, "Surrender and you won't be hurt." I aim. He's screwing up to reply when I put one through his crown. The woman screams and pulls away from his limp grip. I make sure of him with two more to the torso. I would have enjoyed taking my time.
"Sorry, Ms." I leave my roommate. "Doc, we've got ladies!" They won't want to see me or any men again for awhile.
Cap orders Doc, Ed and J-boy to hold the HQ. Take anyone who comes looking for orders. Across the fields the first shots are being fired. Someone quick on the mortar's sends up an ILLUM round. I swap out for a fresh mag in both the M-16 and the Mak. Cap's ordering us out.
We're charging across the fields. I can't help it. I scream "Faugh a Ballagh!" Clear the way!
Up on the wall they're manhandling a MG about. Down in the fields they're trying to form a line and hold our Russian friends off. Cap finds a remaining bit of uncleared wall to prop her 60 on. She begins to lay down the smack while Leo and I charge across the open ground.
Rounds are flying everywhere. I can hear their whine as they pass. Feel the pluck of something against my uniform. I am untouchable! Leo drops to one knee engaging the foe. I power on, M16 bouncing on the strap, as I prep a grenade.
The mortar crews looks up as I race, shouting, out of the field. The grenade flies true in the pit. I'm laughing as they scramble out. The M16 barks in my hands. I feel Leo close up beside. Together we finish the crew.
Above us the MG crew dances as Cap's rounds land home. The fragile defensive line cracks under the Russian assault. I pick up their chant, "Hurrah!" Leo puts his hands into the air as the first Russians approach. He's talking really fast in his native tongue. The guns pointed out way waver. The troops pass in pursuit of the pirates bastards. I'm smiling.
Leo trying to tell me something. What's he pissed for? I laugh, "Let's do that again!"
Finally back in. Had to wring her arm some, but I'm not pulling guard duty on creepy box tonight. I want this. Got a sackful of explosives, the M-16, the Mak, and my hatchet. One way or another some bastards going to die.
We met our guides as promised. Cap Kat asked about their minders. J-boy gestured off into the rubble. Two stripped bodies hidden away. I complimented him on his new boots.
They were split to guide the columns. The Americans here all have a smattering of Polish and Russian so communication won't be a problem. We're getting a ten minute lead time. Each column will radio check once in position. Our man Ed is wired in. He'll let us know.
J-boy tells us there are local patrols from the pirate shore parties. They more used to chasing down civilians and beating on their own than looking for infiltrators. They make ample use of lights, flashes and torches. They're like lighthouses in the night, we steer clear of the rocks.
The HQ is a small house made of stone, excavated from the rubble, built into the scree. J-boy reports its mainly one big room with partitions at the back for 'entertainment'. There's a small room for the commander's privacy and a little alcove with door and vent for the night soils. They've gun loops on the three sides and one big, sturdy door. I got the answer for that.
Hell, I'd tried to talk Cap into letting me just take the whole place down. I used to do that in the before. I like that work. She reminded me of the 'entertainment'. Yeah, I'd feel like a right shit if I did that. But she promised me the door. We've long run out of concussion grenades, so I've got a little one improvised out of a fistful of plastic and one of our remote dets. It'll do.
Ed gives us the sign. All checks made. We're go.
Two guards, each on opposite corners of the front of the house. Kat checks with Ed. Columns have reached position. Its on us now.
Leo passes the MP5 over to Moonie, tells him to take the far one. He'll take the close. Draws his knife. Quiet as a church mouse. Lethal as a serpent. No St. Patrick's here. The first goes down to his blade. The second to the chatter of an open bolt. We rush the building. Doc and Ed take the near side gun loops. Cap and Moonie get the far side. J-boy stands look out with his new AK and boots. Leo and I have the door.
I stifle the urge to whistle while I work. I loving solving problems. This one is easier than the hubcap claymores, but I'll get to see the results. Fun, fun, fun. Ready? I pitch my voice to carry round the corners, "Cover!"
Four calls back, "Covered." click-BAM! Door goes down. Leo tosses my concussion bomblet through the breach. Screams and cries of alarm start to rise from within. Trigger two, overpressure pushes around the door frame. Screams and moans accompany Leo and I through the breach. Leo clears the commander's room. I take the main one. Right and left gun barrels poke through the walls. I ignore them, they're the resort if I fail. I don't.
Leo joins me. Together we finish the last of them men mewling on the floor. As we move to sweep the partitions shots ring out from the one in the left hand corner. Blind fire into the wall. I take the adjacent one. Poor woman looks at me with fear filled eyes. Fucking fuckers tied her to the bed. Finger to lips, Mak in the other hand, I step around her to peer over the partition. Fucker's in the corner, pistol in hand, with a woman in his lap. He's covering the doorway.
Leo's calling out in Polish, "Surrender and you won't be hurt." I aim. He's screwing up to reply when I put one through his crown. The woman screams and pulls away from his limp grip. I make sure of him with two more to the torso. I would have enjoyed taking my time.
"Sorry, Ms." I leave my roommate. "Doc, we've got ladies!" They won't want to see me or any men again for awhile.
Cap orders Doc, Ed and J-boy to hold the HQ. Take anyone who comes looking for orders. Across the fields the first shots are being fired. Someone quick on the mortar's sends up an ILLUM round. I swap out for a fresh mag in both the M-16 and the Mak. Cap's ordering us out.
We're charging across the fields. I can't help it. I scream "Faugh a Ballagh!" Clear the way!
Up on the wall they're manhandling a MG about. Down in the fields they're trying to form a line and hold our Russian friends off. Cap finds a remaining bit of uncleared wall to prop her 60 on. She begins to lay down the smack while Leo and I charge across the open ground.
Rounds are flying everywhere. I can hear their whine as they pass. Feel the pluck of something against my uniform. I am untouchable! Leo drops to one knee engaging the foe. I power on, M16 bouncing on the strap, as I prep a grenade.
The mortar crews looks up as I race, shouting, out of the field. The grenade flies true in the pit. I'm laughing as they scramble out. The M16 barks in my hands. I feel Leo close up beside. Together we finish the crew.
Above us the MG crew dances as Cap's rounds land home. The fragile defensive line cracks under the Russian assault. I pick up their chant, "Hurrah!" Leo puts his hands into the air as the first Russians approach. He's talking really fast in his native tongue. The guns pointed out way waver. The troops pass in pursuit of the pirates bastards. I'm smiling.
Leo trying to tell me something. What's he pissed for? I laugh, "Let's do that again!"
Sunday, April 29, 2012
059: Going Active
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.
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.
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.
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.
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