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."
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
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.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
057: Planning, Again
Leonid, September 29th, 2000
Early hours. Used the last of the unmentionable MRE coffee. Kapitan wants me to take lead at the meeting. The Headsman, Rataj, my General, my Kapitan, and our staffs. Funny that. He with his commissar and one of the LTs. Her with Eddie and me. We make small talk while Ed puts his frustrated artist skills to work sketching out Warsaw in colored chalk.
The Headsman has news from his 'spies'. We've been hearing gunfire, off and on, for the last two days. Some of the Baron's followers have decided that they're not going to win. They take what they can and try to leave. The Baron's men disagree. Once one group did it, it put the idea into others. They're flaking away. We need to put the last nails in their coffin."
They take their seats. I stand by the blackboard.
"Comrade General, honored Headsman, my fellow soldiers. Kapitan Paterson has asked me to present our plans for continued operations in the Warsaw area. Our targets are the communities of Praga and New/Old Town. Both sit astride the only cleared road route to the north. Both areas also possess large cultivated fields, captive civilian populations, and American troops."
"Headsman, I quite understand your feelings regarding their presence. In your place, I would want them dead as well. However, they are our comrades and one of the many reasons we're in Warsaw."
Filip growls, "Yes, but what are you going to do."
"We're going to free them."
Silence. Stunned?
"We are in contact with the commander of the Praga detachment. While they are armed, largely with shotguns and hunting rifles, they are overseen by a squad of Czarny's own house troops and the remains of the pirate forces. They are glorified trustees, freeing more of Czarny's solid troops for combat operations."
"Again," Filip complains, "What will you do."
"We're going to take both Praga and New/Old. Nothing less will free our comrades. Nothing less will break the marauder's hold on Warsaw."
Yes, stunned silence this time followed by nervous laughter.
General Koronov breaks the laughter with his basso rumble. "My friends, you've worked a miracle, no two miracles. But I do not see this. We are still outnumbered 2 or so to 1. I tell you, if you can do this, I will nominate you for sainthood."
"Orthodox, please. As you said, they have us 2 to 1. They do not have the men or material edge to take Sielce by assault. Moreover, they know they are in a worse position than they are. The man we recovered yesterday has well seeded their doubts. It seems Rataj spent lavishly to equip your militia. They believe you have a dozen light mortars, additional PKs, many assault rifles, and AT and fragmentation grenades. You liquidated your fortune to buy those and hire close to two hundred American and Polish mercenaries. You are too strong to take this autumn. You're safe."
"So, it is time for us to go. We'll make a big production out of it. The Americans are taking the boat downriver to link up with allied lines. We'll 'stock' the boat over the course of a day. Have a tearful bon voyage party. Speaches and so forth about our eternal friendship. Then, late afternoon, we sail downriver."
I want to laugh. Headsman Filip and his men look as if I've lost my mind. Koronov nods and mouths, "Maskirovka."
"This is, of course, misdirection, a deception. We'll clear Warsaw by nightfall and be some kilometers downstream. Disembark onto the north shore and make our way back on foot. We'll meet with the American troops they have on night patrol and use them to guide us in. An assault team will take the HQ in Praga. Once that fight starts, other troops will attack the western end of the Praga wall and sweep its length. Our American comrades are quartered between the river and the wall. They'll be free to fight with us once the pirates are gone."
"New/Old is a riskier proposition. We don't have the manpower to stage a second assault simultaneously with the first. Our troops will intermingle with the freed Americans. We'll stage a 'fighting withdraw' over the bridge. Once we're in friendly lines, we turn on the marauders and seize the community."
The General steeples his hands, "This is a high risk operation. You'll need more than your fifty to carry it off."
"Yes, sir, we will. We're counting on your support and that yours Headman. Holding just Praga cuts their lines of communication. By your information, they have few forces, other than garrisons, to the north. It will be very hard for them to cross the Wistula under fire. If we hold New/Old as well their position is completely untenable. We hold most of the fields, food storage, and the all important roads. They can try to deal with us, or, they can collapse. We'll take either outcome."
"What of armor attack?"
"Armor can only proceed with speed up the road from the Fortress to New/Old. The wall has onlt a small gap for trucks. We have RPG-16s and a few RPG-18s. It will only take one tank to block the route. Otherwise, they will have a long treacherous slog through the ruins. We'll be in position before them."
"And infantry?"
The New/Old wall is again our friend. We'll have combined some 200 American troops, plus any commitment from yourself. We can evacuate civilians and food to Praga. Fight from the wall until it can't be held. Then conduct a real fighting withdraw across the bridge. We bleed them every step of the way. Together we can hold the Vistula crossing indefinitely. They'll have to move south around the city to find a bridge to the west. With the battery on the barge we can interdict that crossing as well."
My friend the General has a gleam in his eye. He's on board. "I have fifty men on hand with another forty due to infiltrate over the next few days. I can pledge those fifty. The new arrivals will take their place."
Kapitan Paterson nods her thanks. Turns to Filip. He and Rataj put their heads together. Grudgingly, "I can provide an additional 60 men." He has to beat the Russian contribution. Save face.
The Kapitan stands, "Thank you both. I will be in overall command of the expedition." She points to the map. "Our troops will still be taking the wall. It would be best to have Americans close to Americans to reduce any chances of friendly fire. General, your men will be sweeping to our left, clearing any pirate holdouts and seizing their small mortar battery. Headsman, your men will be to the Russian left. Their task will be to block any retreating pirates from getting to the civilians and food stocks. I know there's many details to work out. We've got the day to do it. We should break so you can assemble small unit leaders and we can work details out over lunch."
"Agreed."
"Da."
Early hours. Used the last of the unmentionable MRE coffee. Kapitan wants me to take lead at the meeting. The Headsman, Rataj, my General, my Kapitan, and our staffs. Funny that. He with his commissar and one of the LTs. Her with Eddie and me. We make small talk while Ed puts his frustrated artist skills to work sketching out Warsaw in colored chalk.
The Headsman has news from his 'spies'. We've been hearing gunfire, off and on, for the last two days. Some of the Baron's followers have decided that they're not going to win. They take what they can and try to leave. The Baron's men disagree. Once one group did it, it put the idea into others. They're flaking away. We need to put the last nails in their coffin."
They take their seats. I stand by the blackboard.
 |
| Ed really needs art lessons or 'This is a place holder' |
"Comrade General, honored Headsman, my fellow soldiers. Kapitan Paterson has asked me to present our plans for continued operations in the Warsaw area. Our targets are the communities of Praga and New/Old Town. Both sit astride the only cleared road route to the north. Both areas also possess large cultivated fields, captive civilian populations, and American troops."
"Headsman, I quite understand your feelings regarding their presence. In your place, I would want them dead as well. However, they are our comrades and one of the many reasons we're in Warsaw."
Filip growls, "Yes, but what are you going to do."
"We're going to free them."
Silence. Stunned?
"We are in contact with the commander of the Praga detachment. While they are armed, largely with shotguns and hunting rifles, they are overseen by a squad of Czarny's own house troops and the remains of the pirate forces. They are glorified trustees, freeing more of Czarny's solid troops for combat operations."
"Again," Filip complains, "What will you do."
"We're going to take both Praga and New/Old. Nothing less will free our comrades. Nothing less will break the marauder's hold on Warsaw."
Yes, stunned silence this time followed by nervous laughter.
General Koronov breaks the laughter with his basso rumble. "My friends, you've worked a miracle, no two miracles. But I do not see this. We are still outnumbered 2 or so to 1. I tell you, if you can do this, I will nominate you for sainthood."
"Orthodox, please. As you said, they have us 2 to 1. They do not have the men or material edge to take Sielce by assault. Moreover, they know they are in a worse position than they are. The man we recovered yesterday has well seeded their doubts. It seems Rataj spent lavishly to equip your militia. They believe you have a dozen light mortars, additional PKs, many assault rifles, and AT and fragmentation grenades. You liquidated your fortune to buy those and hire close to two hundred American and Polish mercenaries. You are too strong to take this autumn. You're safe."
"So, it is time for us to go. We'll make a big production out of it. The Americans are taking the boat downriver to link up with allied lines. We'll 'stock' the boat over the course of a day. Have a tearful bon voyage party. Speaches and so forth about our eternal friendship. Then, late afternoon, we sail downriver."
I want to laugh. Headsman Filip and his men look as if I've lost my mind. Koronov nods and mouths, "Maskirovka."
"This is, of course, misdirection, a deception. We'll clear Warsaw by nightfall and be some kilometers downstream. Disembark onto the north shore and make our way back on foot. We'll meet with the American troops they have on night patrol and use them to guide us in. An assault team will take the HQ in Praga. Once that fight starts, other troops will attack the western end of the Praga wall and sweep its length. Our American comrades are quartered between the river and the wall. They'll be free to fight with us once the pirates are gone."
"New/Old is a riskier proposition. We don't have the manpower to stage a second assault simultaneously with the first. Our troops will intermingle with the freed Americans. We'll stage a 'fighting withdraw' over the bridge. Once we're in friendly lines, we turn on the marauders and seize the community."
The General steeples his hands, "This is a high risk operation. You'll need more than your fifty to carry it off."
"Yes, sir, we will. We're counting on your support and that yours Headman. Holding just Praga cuts their lines of communication. By your information, they have few forces, other than garrisons, to the north. It will be very hard for them to cross the Wistula under fire. If we hold New/Old as well their position is completely untenable. We hold most of the fields, food storage, and the all important roads. They can try to deal with us, or, they can collapse. We'll take either outcome."
"What of armor attack?"
"Armor can only proceed with speed up the road from the Fortress to New/Old. The wall has onlt a small gap for trucks. We have RPG-16s and a few RPG-18s. It will only take one tank to block the route. Otherwise, they will have a long treacherous slog through the ruins. We'll be in position before them."
"And infantry?"
The New/Old wall is again our friend. We'll have combined some 200 American troops, plus any commitment from yourself. We can evacuate civilians and food to Praga. Fight from the wall until it can't be held. Then conduct a real fighting withdraw across the bridge. We bleed them every step of the way. Together we can hold the Vistula crossing indefinitely. They'll have to move south around the city to find a bridge to the west. With the battery on the barge we can interdict that crossing as well."
My friend the General has a gleam in his eye. He's on board. "I have fifty men on hand with another forty due to infiltrate over the next few days. I can pledge those fifty. The new arrivals will take their place."
Kapitan Paterson nods her thanks. Turns to Filip. He and Rataj put their heads together. Grudgingly, "I can provide an additional 60 men." He has to beat the Russian contribution. Save face.
The Kapitan stands, "Thank you both. I will be in overall command of the expedition." She points to the map. "Our troops will still be taking the wall. It would be best to have Americans close to Americans to reduce any chances of friendly fire. General, your men will be sweeping to our left, clearing any pirate holdouts and seizing their small mortar battery. Headsman, your men will be to the Russian left. Their task will be to block any retreating pirates from getting to the civilians and food stocks. I know there's many details to work out. We've got the day to do it. We should break so you can assemble small unit leaders and we can work details out over lunch."
"Agreed."
"Da."
Monday, April 23, 2012
056: Status Update
September 28th, 2000
Cooking. The sizzle of eggs fills the galley's small space. Firm whites, gooey yellows, just a bit of seasoning. A little bit of my home so many miles away. I part out the lion's share for George. A small helping for Doc and I. We have rough grained bread to mop it up.
"Eat up!"
George chews slowly and only on one side of his face. He wasn't a handsome man to begin with, but the new gaps don't help. The ugly bruises will fade with time. Doc's adjusted his ribs by feel before tightly taping them up. We wolf our meals before George is a third through.
I run my hands through short sweaty hair. "Crazy day, Doc. How are Gunny and Andrejz doing?"
"You should have asked on the way out. How about on the way in?" Her eyes are dilated way out with dark rings under them. "Or, hell, during the post-op, the autopsy or any damn time." She twitches.
"Have you gotten any sleep?"
"Nope, not a wink. Been saving lives. Chopping up dead men. Had my ass hauled all over town. So you can just. Shit. talking fast, thirsty, anger issues." She tries for sheepish, "Rataj has some good stims." She too wired to pull it off. I'll let it slide.
"Right, Gunny. Deep tissue damage, both legs. No nerve damage. That I can tell. Severe pain. Give him one to three months before he's walking. I've dosed him with broad spectrum antibiotics. Dropping into the midden didn't help with infection. We'll see." She pauses, drinks down her glass. "Andrejz is lucky, lucky to be alive or too stubborn to die. Broken leg, arm, crushed ribs and internal bleeding. Damn near collapsed a lung. We got it stopped. We'll see. Got to watch him. He needs good food, warm quarters, and time. If he doesn't infect he'll be down four to six months. Think they'll have it for him. Yeah, they will, do, whatever."
George has stopped eating. Pushes the plate aside.
"And him?" I ask the Doc.
"Beaten, sprained ribs, mild concussion, missing three teeth and five fingernails. I want him convalescing until those ribs stop hurting. And let me fucking know if your vision blurs, head aches worse, or the room starts spinning again. Got it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"George, I need to know happened and what you told them. No repercussions. I would have talked after the beating and the first nail."
"I did. They," he swallows. Looks down at his hand swathed in bandages. "They had to be sure."
"I told them whatever they wanted,' he rallies. Tries to smile. "All of our plans to disembark the tank and use it as a mobile strong point. The two hundred men we'd brought downriver to reinforce Rataj's relatives. Our cargo of anti-personel mines, Wojo's special 60mm mortars, all twelve of them. The cases of frags and AT grenades. I kept the numbers consistent. They believed me after they'd finished with two, three, and four. I think so."
Both Doc and I sit quiet. She's twitching. I'm trying to think of something to say. Confusion to our enemies is a good. I couldn't have asked him to pay that price. My fault he did. I know I can't guard point and tail. Still my fault.
Doc perks up, asking before thinking, "But you're missing five."
"Yeah," bitterly, "said it completed the look. He was going to do the other side today. Anything else, Doc." The hard emphasis on her handle says there better not be.
I give Doc the shut-up NOW look. I tell him, "No, George, that'll be all. Get some rest." I push some warmth into my voice. "If you need anything, at all, let me know."
He pushes off the table. Makes his way down the short passage to my cabin. I don't sleep there anymore it seems. I'll double with Doc.
"How long till you come down?"
"Hour or two?"
"Good, fill me in on Mr. Black's physical."
Cooking. The sizzle of eggs fills the galley's small space. Firm whites, gooey yellows, just a bit of seasoning. A little bit of my home so many miles away. I part out the lion's share for George. A small helping for Doc and I. We have rough grained bread to mop it up.
"Eat up!"
George chews slowly and only on one side of his face. He wasn't a handsome man to begin with, but the new gaps don't help. The ugly bruises will fade with time. Doc's adjusted his ribs by feel before tightly taping them up. We wolf our meals before George is a third through.
I run my hands through short sweaty hair. "Crazy day, Doc. How are Gunny and Andrejz doing?"
"You should have asked on the way out. How about on the way in?" Her eyes are dilated way out with dark rings under them. "Or, hell, during the post-op, the autopsy or any damn time." She twitches.
"Have you gotten any sleep?"
"Nope, not a wink. Been saving lives. Chopping up dead men. Had my ass hauled all over town. So you can just. Shit. talking fast, thirsty, anger issues." She tries for sheepish, "Rataj has some good stims." She too wired to pull it off. I'll let it slide.
"Right, Gunny. Deep tissue damage, both legs. No nerve damage. That I can tell. Severe pain. Give him one to three months before he's walking. I've dosed him with broad spectrum antibiotics. Dropping into the midden didn't help with infection. We'll see." She pauses, drinks down her glass. "Andrejz is lucky, lucky to be alive or too stubborn to die. Broken leg, arm, crushed ribs and internal bleeding. Damn near collapsed a lung. We got it stopped. We'll see. Got to watch him. He needs good food, warm quarters, and time. If he doesn't infect he'll be down four to six months. Think they'll have it for him. Yeah, they will, do, whatever."
George has stopped eating. Pushes the plate aside.
"And him?" I ask the Doc.
"Beaten, sprained ribs, mild concussion, missing three teeth and five fingernails. I want him convalescing until those ribs stop hurting. And let me fucking know if your vision blurs, head aches worse, or the room starts spinning again. Got it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"George, I need to know happened and what you told them. No repercussions. I would have talked after the beating and the first nail."
"I did. They," he swallows. Looks down at his hand swathed in bandages. "They had to be sure."
"I told them whatever they wanted,' he rallies. Tries to smile. "All of our plans to disembark the tank and use it as a mobile strong point. The two hundred men we'd brought downriver to reinforce Rataj's relatives. Our cargo of anti-personel mines, Wojo's special 60mm mortars, all twelve of them. The cases of frags and AT grenades. I kept the numbers consistent. They believed me after they'd finished with two, three, and four. I think so."
Both Doc and I sit quiet. She's twitching. I'm trying to think of something to say. Confusion to our enemies is a good. I couldn't have asked him to pay that price. My fault he did. I know I can't guard point and tail. Still my fault.
Doc perks up, asking before thinking, "But you're missing five."
"Yeah," bitterly, "said it completed the look. He was going to do the other side today. Anything else, Doc." The hard emphasis on her handle says there better not be.
I give Doc the shut-up NOW look. I tell him, "No, George, that'll be all. Get some rest." I push some warmth into my voice. "If you need anything, at all, let me know."
He pushes off the table. Makes his way down the short passage to my cabin. I don't sleep there anymore it seems. I'll double with Doc.
"How long till you come down?"
"Hour or two?"
"Good, fill me in on Mr. Black's physical."
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