P.D. 948
The Recruit
At Victorian Fleet Training Facility on Aberdeen
One morning late in the third month of training, Sergeant Kaelin assembled Blue Company and told them to stand at ease.
“Alright, most of you know that in five days this training cycle ends and you will rotate to specialized Fleet Training. On that day you will officially become “Cadets” instead of mere recruits. You will begin classes in line with your long-term assignments within the Fleet. Today,” he paused to consult the clipboard he held, flipping several pages before coming to the one he wanted. “Okay, today there is a light schedule in the morning at the weapons range. You’ll be brought back here for your mid-day meal and this afternoon you’ll begin packing your equipment, tagging anything that needs maintenance. Report out front in fifteen minutes with your rifle and two battery packs. No other equipment is needed.” He closed his clipboard with an audible ‘snap.’ “Recruit Skiffington is in charge of the Company for today’s activities. That is all! Dismissed!”
Beside her, Cookie gave a “Whoop!” and grinned broadly. “We are almost outta here! I finally get rid of you candyass Navy pukes and start Marine training.” She turned and started back to the barracks to get her equipment.
Emily laughed and started to join her, then caught sight of Brill. She hesitated. Brill was frowning.
“What?” she demanded. “Aren’t you glad we’re getting out of here? Don’t you want to start all those intelligence school courses you’ve been waiting for?”
Brill glanced at her and then back to the main yard, where transport trucks were already pulling up to take them to the weapons range. “How many days off have we had, Em?”
“What?” she said, confused. “Come on, lighten up, Hiram. What’s your problem?”
“Three days,” he said, answering his own question. “We’ve been here for three months, and in that entire time they have given us three days with no training. Now, with five days left of training, they tell us we have light training today and nothing but packing and cleaning for the rest of the week. Don’t you find that a little…” he groped for the right words, “…too good to be true?”
Emily sucked in a breath, thinking furiously. Five days left…five days to put them in the field, five days to…
“Oh, damn!” She turned and glared in the direction of the Administration Building, where Sgt. Kaelin kept his office.
“What’s with you two?” It was Cookie, who had come back to see what was keeping them.
“Hiram thinks it’s all bullshit. If he’s right, instead of rifle range, we are going to be sent on a major exercise.” Emily quickly explained it. Cookie whirled on Brill.
“Goddammit, tell me you’re makin’ this up!” she said accusingly.
Hiram shrugged. “Think about it. They put us into the field with little ammo, no food or water, then they throw something big at us. It’s perfect, in a gruesome sort of way. Catch us unawares. Lot of stress, have to think on our feet.” He shrugged again. “Think of it as Sgt. Kaelin’s special graduation present as we go off to Fleet School.”
“Aw, bugger me,” Cookie moaned.
In the Administration Building across the field, Sgt. Kaelin stood in the window, watching them through a pair of binoculars.
“You are a mean sonofabitch,” you know that, Sergeant?” Major Korber said pleasantly.
“I never disagree with the Major, sir.”
Korber snorted derisively. “Have they figured you out, Sergeant? Will they escape the full emotional trauma of the dirty trick you are playing on them? Or are they going to be thoroughly and irrevocably screwed, like the last class?”
Kaelin scanned the field once again with the binoculars. “Well, sir, I think some of them sense that something is not quite right.”
Major Korber leaned forward. “Really? Who?”
“Brill, Sir.”
Korber looked blank.
“The smart one. The guy who completely buggered Green and Gold two weeks ago. He’s talking to Tuttle.”
“Ah, the history major. Is she smart enough to figure it out?”
Kaelin grinned ruefully. “Yes, sir. She’s plenty smart. I haven’t thrown much at her yet. Been saving her for this.”
Korber gestured for the binoculars. Kaelin handed them over and the Major peered through them. “Okay, I see Brill. Looks like a bloody accountant, doesn’t he? I recognize Sanchez. She already looks like a Marine.” He moved the binoculars a fraction. “Is that Tuttle?” He snorted. “She’s tiny, for Christ’s sake.” He lowered the binoculars, his smile gone, and his tone serious. “Is she tough, Andy?” he asked, using the Sergeant’s Christian name.
Kaelin shrugged. “Well, sir, that’s what this mission is intended to find out, isn’t it?”
“Has any group ever successfully completed this mission?”
“No, sir. Always a first time, though.”
Korber pursed his lips. “Who is the officer of the day?
Kaelin grinned wolfishly. “Skiffington.”
Korber shook his head in dismay. “You’ve got a mean streak, Andy.
On the parade field, Emily checked her watch: ten minutes left. Grant Skiffington was nearby. She ran to him. “Hey, Skiff! Hold up! There’s a real good chance this is a setup for a surprise mission. You should tell everyone to wear full battle rattle. Extra food and batteries.”
Skiffington stopped and turned to her. He smiled condescendingly. “And you made the jump from a morning at the rifle range to a surprise mission how, exactly?”
“Hiram thinks they’re going to send us on a major exercise.”
Skiffington pursed his lips and nodded. “Ah, well,” he said sarcastically. “If Brill says it, it must be so, right?” He looked tall and fit and more like a soldier than Brill, and the contrast of the two of them standing side by side somehow made Brill’s hunch sound like a feeble joke.
“Sergeant Kaelin would never give us five days of light duty,” Brill said defensively. Emily winced.
Skiffington laughed then, the tone hovering on the edge of outright scorn. “You want everyone to carry thirty extra pounds because the Sergeant is being nice? You sound like the lunatic fringe, you know that?”
Two bright spots appeared on Brill’s cheeks. Cookie Sanchez pushed forward, thrusting her face close to Skiffington’s. “Show a little respect, you piece of shit,” she growled. “While you busy getting’ our asses shot off time after time, Hiram here is the guy who took out two enemy companies. You got balls, Skiffy, I give you that, but you ain’t got the brains of a gnat. Hiram is smart, you hear? If he says the Sergeant is about to mess with us, that’s good enough for me.”
Emily looked at Cookie in surprise. This was something more than a person just defending a friend. There was a distinct whiff of ownership in her tone and body language. Skiffington’s gaze flickered from her to Brill and back again. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well,” he drawled. “Who would have guessed? The notebook geek and the Amazon lady.”
Emily could sense Cookie sliding towards a fight. “It’s just a smart precaution, Skiff,” Emily said quietly, hoping to defuse the situation. The other members of Blue Company were looking at each other. Not a few laughed. Some look concerned. But Skiffington was in command, and he did not like anyone to disagree with him in public.
Skiffington snorted in amusement. “We’re going to the rifle range. Bring whatever gear you want, just don’t complain about how heavy it is later.”
An hour later Blue Company assembled at the rifle range. As they assembled, about thirty of them wore full battle gear. Sergeant Kaelin shook his head wonderingly.
“I see that some of you recruits are either hard of hearing, just plain stupid, or gluttons for punishment,” he remarked sarcastically. Emily wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn he glanced at her as he said it. She felt a little flicker of doubt. What if she was wrong? Screw it, she thought. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Cookie glanced at her, gave a reassuring wink. Brill kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, his jaw set.
After ninety minutes of target practice, Sergeant Kaelin blew his whistle and shouted, “Cease fire! Cease fire! Blue Company, load up by platoon on the trucks. Back to base for lunch, then we start to pack up the Company equipment. Get a move on, people!”
As they boarded the trucks, Skiffington shot her an “I told you so” look, then they were headed back to camp, down a long gravel spur that led to the main camp road. Emily’s transport was third in a row of five trucks. As the truck lurched and bounced along, Emily glanced at her watch. Just coming on noon; her stomach was grumbling with hunger. She looked at Brill. He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, a little sheepishly.
“Don’t you go be sorry, sugar,” Cookie said from the other side of the truck. “It ain’t over yet. We got ourselves ten miles or more on this back road. Good ambush territory. You keep your safety off and your eyes peeled.”
Emily laughed out loud. Of course! “Hey, folks,” she called to the others. “Weapons ready! Keep your eyes on the trees for bad guys.” The others in the truck collectively blinked. Three shook their heads in disgust and went back to talking, but the rest dutifully unlimbered their rifles and turned in their seats to keep watch outward.
The ambush came two miles later. Shots rang out from a copse of woods and the first truck skidded to a halt. Inside men were already screaming from being hit, and two recruits were flashing a cheerful fluorescent orange.
“Now we’re havin’ fun!” Cookie whooped, firing into the woods. Hiram Brill turned to Emily. “Thank God,” he breathed. And Emily surprised herself by thinking: The road is closed. They’ll have ambush teams all along the road.
It was over in fifteen minutes. Skiffington quickly organized his troops and charged into the ambush site. The ambushers — it turned out to be Green Company — faded back into the forest, leaving behind several dead and wounded. The first truck in the convoy had been hit the worst: four dead, ten wounded. Skiffington returned from pursuing the ambushers, grinning broadly, his rifle cradled in his arms. “Looks like we’re going to get some fun out of this day after all,” he told Emily. She glared at him, annoyed that he did not even have the good grace to apologize for his earlier behavior. Skiffington could care less; he was just happy to be fighting again.
Scowling darkly, Kaelin called on the survivors to assemble in front of him.
“All right, everybody take a knee and listen up. Lesson of the day: Be prepared!” He glanced around sourly. “You all should know that by now. You think the enemy is going to send you a nice little note, ‘Excuse me, but we are going to attack you tomorrow at noon?’” He shook his head angrily. “Why in God’s name do you think we practiced all those ambushes? You want to take the enemy by surprise! Well guess what, people, the enemy wants to take you by surprise, too! We are training you for war, people! Not for a day at the target range. War! Stay alert or die!”
He took out a map tacked to a piece of poster board. “Okay, new orders!” He pointed to the bottom of the map. “You are here, about two miles from the main road. The main road leads you due east to the Dunloe River, then follows the river as it curves back north and northwest to the Killarney Bridge. Total distance is forty miles.”
Emily could see the map. The river road described a huge ‘S’, bending counter-clockwise until it reached the Killarney Bridge, where it then crossed the Dunloe River and turned northeast. They were at the bottom of the ‘S’. It would be a lot shorter to go in a straight line, but the terrain was a mix of bogs and steep hills. Sgt. Kaelin started talking again and she gave him her full attention.
“Blue Company’s mission is to secure the river crossing for Gold Company. Gold Company is leading a convoy of trucks that have to reach the Four Corners crossroads-” He pointed to a spot two miles past the Killarney Bridge. “For you to fulfill your mission, the trucks have to be at the Four Corners twenty-four hours from now. Enemy forces hold the Killarney Bridge. Channel 3 on your radios have been assigned to you, and Channel 4 to Gold Company. You’ll be able to speak to Gold Company when they are within five miles of you.”
He turned to Grant Skiffington. “Mr. Skiffington, you have your orders! I will be along as an observer only. You will handle the mission as you deem fit. As a little added incentive, the side that wins the exercise gets two weeks leave before having to start Fleet School.” That triggered an undercurrent of excited murmurs and at least one unabashed cheer.
To Emily’s dismay, Skiffington ordered everyone back on to the trucks. Emily stepped close to him, speaking in a low voice.
“Skiff, the road is going to be blocked. They’ll have ambush teams all along it.”
“And now that we know they’re there, we’ll be ready for them. Relax, Tuttle. Once we blow through their ambushes and get behind them, we’ll have a fast run to the bridge.”
Emily thought that if she were defending the bridge, she would have ambushes set up every mile. With every attack, Blue Company would be whittled down just a little more, until the force that reached the bridge would not be strong enough to do anything. “Skiff, take a look at the map,” she said urgently. “We can cut cross-country-”
“Mr. Skiffington!” Sgt. Kaelin bellowed. “You have a mission to accomplish! Take that bridge!”
Skiffington smiled sardonically. “Their playin’ our song, Tuttle. Time to move.” He put his map back into its pouch. “Everybody on the trucks!” Skiffington shouted. “You, too, Tuttle.”
Emily walked back to her truck, her face red and lips pressed together. “Got a problem, Tuttle?” Sgt. Kaelin asked her. She wheeled on him angrily.
“You’re supposed to be an observer here, Sergeant! Why are you egging him on like that?” she demanded.
The Sergeant shrugged eloquently. “Always somebody egging you on, Tuttle. Get used to it.”
They reached the river road, turned north, and promptly hit an ambush in force. Emily guessed there must have been thirty or more soldiers shooting at them. Skiffington tried to organize a sharp counter-attack, but everyone was so pinned down it took time. They finally drove off the ambushers, who were forced to leave behind one smiling recruit. She blinked a cheerful orange and waved at them. All told it cost Blue Company five dead, seven wounded and delayed them for three hours.
Emily again implored Skiffington to leave the road. “They are going to nibble us to death if we stay on the road! When we make it — if we make it — we won’t have enough troops left to take the bridge.”
Skiffington paused, dug out his field map and inspected it. Emily pointed out an alternate route, cutting across country. “This is not an easy walk,” she said, “but we’ll be hard for them to find in these hills, away from this damn road. With a little luck, we might surprise them.”
Sgt. Kaelin frowned and looked at his watch. “Time’s running out, Mr. Skiffington. You are the commanding officer. You’ve got a mission to accomplish and a lot of ground to cover before you can do it. What are you going to do?” he demanded.
Skiffington pointed down the road. “That’s where the enemy is, Tuttle. We can’t kill them if we don’t fight them.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Everybody on the trucks! We are moving out!”
Sgt. Kaelin sighed and shook his head. “Wrong answer, recruit.” As Skiffington blinked in confusion, Sgt. Kaelin took out a small box and pushed a button. Skiffington’s uniform began to blink fluorescent orange. “Your commanding officer had just been killed by a sniper!” Kaelin turned to Emily. “Tuttle, you are now in charge.” He looked at his watch. “You have twenty-one hours and twenty minutes left to complete your mission.” And while Emily stared at him, open mouthed, he winked at her and walked away.
Fighting back a sudden rush of panic, Emily took stock. She had ninety-four men left, seven of whom were wounded. Only thirty had food, water and extra batteries for their rifles. She quickly stripped the extra batteries from the “dead” soldiers, including the Red Company soldier who had been involved in the ambush. The soldier from Red Company had two water bottles. Emily took them both, along with four packets of field rations. The dead soldier stuck out her hand. “I’m Susan Matt,” she said. “This should be very interesting. Good luck.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me where the rest of Red Company is?” Emily asked.
Matt gestured to her blinking uniform. “Dead men tell no tales,” she intoned solemnly, then ruined it by giggling.
Emily divided the Company into five platoons. She considered who to make platoon leaders. One choice was easy: Cookie Sanchez. She took Hiram Brill by the arm and pulled him aside. “Do you want to be a platoon leader, Hiram?” she asked out of hearing of the others.
Fresh beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and the color drained from his face. “Listen, Em-Emily,” he stammered. “If you need me, I’ll do it, but I’d much rather be, you know, like you staff officer or something. I’m real good with maps and-” He paused, looking away from her. “I really don’t like making battlefield decisions,” he said miserably. He took out his notebook and held it in front of him, as if he were offering her a gift of great worth. “But I’ve got everything you need to know about everyone in Blue Company.”
Emily remembered the look on Brill’s face after he led the Blue Company victory over Green and Gold. And she recalled the brilliant analysis that allowed him to do it. She made a decision. “Okay,” she said briskly. “You are my aide de camp, chief advisor and right hand man. But,” she said sternly. “When I want advice, I want it because I need it right then and there. You can’t get all nervous and close up on me. Deal?”
Brill breathe in relief. “I won’t let you down.”
“Okay, Mr. Advisor, I need four platoon leaders right now. Suggestions?”
Brill thought for a moment, his face taking on that peculiarly blank expression that she had seen before when he was concentrating intently. Cookie called it his “village idiot” look. Then, abruptly, he was back.
“Okay,” he said. “You want Kimball, Lee, Zavareei and,” he smiled grimly, “Skiffington.”
Emily considered. Rob Kimball was a tall, beanpole recruit with a shock of unkempt hair who had shown an unbridled enthusiasm for tactical exercises. What’s more, he had shown a talent for devious and cunning tactics, always doing something that caught his opponents by surprise. Sandra Lee was slow talking, calm and steady, but incredibly focused. She wasn’t afraid to take risks and Emily thought she would walk through fire if that is what it took to accomplish the mission.
“I don’t know Zavareei and Skiffington is FOF,” she said, a little more sharply than she intended. In the back of her mind a voice was screaming at her that time was running out. They had to get going!
“Kara Zavareei is a high energy type who will keep her troops motivated and moving,” Brill replied easily. “And Skiffington is ten feet behind you, looking fine. If we have to break through enemy defenses at the bridge, put his platoon out front.”
Emily turned. Grant Skiffington was standing there with a nonchalant grin, eating a ration bar. “Sergeant said I could finish the maneuver with you,” he said, explaining his rebirth. “And I hope you don’t mind if I took one of your ration bars. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Her staff problem resolved, Emily took stock of logistics. The Company’s biggest problem was immediately evident. Even after the extra “ammunition” had been passed out, there were still twelve soldiers without working batteries to power their rifles. Others had only a few shots left. They had depleted their batteries at the rifle range. Emily thought furiously, then, borrowing an idea from Hiram Brill, called for the four fastest long-distance runners. When they stepped forward, she took them aside.
“We are about four miles from the camp as the crow flies, she explained. “You take the truck back up the road about a mile. That will put you closest to the camp. Leave the truck there, in case Red Company has more ambushes set up. Cut through the fields to the camp and beg, borrow or steal as many batteries as you can find. Field rations, too. Don’t load your packs too heavy, because you’ve got to catch up to us. Come back a different route and don’t go near the truck. If the enemy sees it, they’ll stake it out.”
She showed them on the map which route she intended to take, and gave them one of the radios, along with code words in case Red or Green Companies were listening in on Blue’s designated channel.
As soon as the runners had left, she assembled the Company. “Listen up, everybody!” she said loudly, conscious that her soft voice did not carry well. To her ear she sounded ten years old. She held up the map. “We are marching cross-country, skirting this big swamp and these hills. Maybe twenty miles or a little more. It is rough country and it will be slow going, but we should make it to Killarney Bridge in plenty of time. The key is stealth. If we can get there unseen, we’ll have a huge advantage. Red and Green will have some patrols out, but I am betting that most of their forces are tied up either defending the bridge or setting up ambushes along the river road.” Emily paused to take a breath. The troops in Blue Company watched her intently. Please, she prayed silently. Let me do this without screwing up too badly.
“I’ve sent runners for more food and ammo. With luck they’ll catch up to us in four or five hours. For now, everyone get a drink of water and have something to eat. If you are carrying a water bottle, share it with someone who doesn’t have one. Fill it every time we pass a stream. We leave in ten minutes.”
Emily called together the platoon commanders and Brill spread his map out on the ground. She pointed a hill directly overlooking Killarney Bridge. “I am calling this hill ‘Sunflower.’ If I were Red and Green, I would have people up there with binoculars. It gives a good view of the river road and some view of this area as well. We are going to have to stay in woods and dead ground until sunset. The enemy will certainly have occupied it. If we are to attack the bridge, we are going to have to take that hill first.”
They discussed the best route, finally decided on skirting between the two swamps, then entering a large ravine that ran close to Sunflower. Emily sent out flankers and scouts, armed with binoculars and radios. She warned them to stay off the radio except in extreme emergency. She tried to reach Gold Company without success. As the rest of Blue Company moved out, Emily checked her watch. The Gold Company convoy had to be at Four Corners in less than twenty-one hours.
The day was hot. Much hotter than she had expected. Water was going to be a problem. They crossed two small, dusty stream beds before they reached the gap between the swamps. Even the swamps had retreated under the summer sun, leaving vast sheets of hard-caked mud. Everyone was sweating and they were rapidly going through what little water they had. The Company slipped through the gap between the two swamps, then turned north. Well off to the east, they could see the hill Emily dubbed “Butterfly,” beyond which would be the river road. She tried to reach Gold Company again; still no luck. Somewhere ahead of them was Sunflower and the Killarney Bridge.
Five hours later, as they crept through a stand of pine trees, one of the scouts ran back to them, flushed and breathless, to report an enemy patrol less than a mile away, crossing the open ground in front of the forest.
“We can take them out!” Skiffington said. “We can lay an ambush and they’ll never know what hit them.” He looked thrilled at the prospect of a fight.
Emily shook her head. “Our target is the bridge. As long as they don’t know where we are, we’ve got a chance. One radio call from this patrol and they would swarm all over us.”
They sat and waited for ninety minutes until the patrol left the area. Skiffington grumbled and chaffed at the inaction. Emily was glad of the rest. The water was almost gone and many in Blue Company were painfully thirsty. They had at least ten more miles in front of them and she wasn’t sure all of them would make it.
Then they caught a lucky break. While they were waiting, the four runners sent to fetch supplies caught up to them. They carried full packs bulging with ammunition and food and collapsed to the ground, chests heaving.
Emily tore open one of the packs and dozens of battery packs spilled out. A second pack had two hundred ration bars and the third pack had more batteries.
“And a special surprise,” one of them, Odackal, said. Emily made a “tell me” gesture. Odackal smiled and opened his haversack to reveal bottles and bottles of water. Emily felt a rush of relief.
“Oh, thank God!” she exclaimed. “I could kiss you!”
“Hmmm…Really?” Odackal raised one eyebrow in amused question.
Emily snorted. “Just a figure of speech.”
“When we got to the base, we were all dying of thirst, so we figured that a little water wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He looked sheepish for a moment. “On the way back I had to drink two bottles just to keep going.”
“You did great.” Emily distributed the ammunition and made sure everyone had some water. By the time they finished, it was full dark.
Cookie joined her then, carrying a map. She calculated they were ten or twelve miles from Killarney Bridge. “Moon will be up soon, enough light to travel, at least for a few hours. We could be at the bridge by dawn if we push.
Emily smiled. They had ammunition, food and enough water to keep them going. And they had not been spotted by the enemy. They could do this. They could take Killarney Bridge with hours to spare.
Eight hours later, Emily sat back in despair. There was no way she could take the bridge by assault. None at all.
They had reached the top of Sunflower just before dawn, only to find four Green Company soldiers sound asleep. They were “killed,” then woken and told to stay off the ridge so that their comrades on the bridge would not see them Flashing Orange Forever. One of them had a radio, which Emily gave to Kimball. “If anyone calls looking for a report, just tell them you don’t see anything,” she ordered.
Now Emily lay atop the ridge, binoculars to her eyes, studying the bridge through the first light of dawn. Cookie and Hiram lay beside her, touching hip to hip. The other platoon leaders waited just behind them.
“I would kill for a cup of coffee,” Hiram grumbled. He swung his binoculars the length of the bridge. “My, my…they have been little busy little beavers, haven’t they?”
Emily stifled a curse. The bridge was small, only the length of a football field, and only one lane in each direction. The Green and Red soldiers had dragged tree trunks and rocks to block off both ends of the bridge, rendering them impassible to the trucks in the convoy. Also, at each end of the bridge there were two roughhewn bunkers, built from more logs, with firing slits cut into them. Blue Company was armed only with the Bull Pup laser rifles. There were no grenades, mortars or artillery. To take out a bunker they would have to storm it, then physically tear open the bunker walls and kill the defenders. Each bunker was positioned so that it could fire on anyone attacking the other bunker. As they watched, more “enemy” soldiers carried logs onto the middle of the bridge, where they began erecting yet another barricade.
Emily shook her head. It was just too much. Her troops would be swept with fire the moment they started down the hill. Once on the bridge they would have no cover at all and would be charging into fortified positions defended by twice the number of soldiers at her command. It was exactly the type of stupid frontal assault that she had criticized others for. So…so…
So who says it has to be a frontal assault? What if they by-passed the bridge altogether? But where, and how? She brought the binoculars back up to her face and began to scan the bridge pilings. The pilings were made of cement. They were large, round and dirty. No, she realized, not dirty, but stained. There was a clear water line mark about six feet above the water.
“You’ve got five hours to accomplish your mission, Tuttle,” a voice suddenly said into her ear. “You better get your ass in gear and take this bridge!” Emily turned and saw Sgt. Kaelin lying prone just behind her. Cookie and Hiram had discretely withdrawn.
“Well, well, Sergeant Kaelin, and just as I thought you had taken a vow of silence.” She turned back to the river. No doubt about it, the summer’s drought had left the river running much lower than normal.
“Are you paying attention, recruit?” Kaelin demanded.
“Are you egging me on, Sergeant?” she asked mildly, still scanning the river. “Trying to panic me into charging the bridge and getting us all killed?” She looked up at him. “You wouldn’t do that now, would you, Sergeant Kaelin?”
Sergeant Kaelin frowned. “You are running out of time, recruit. If you don’t-” Suddenly Emily, in a surprisingly intimate gesture, leaned forward and put a finger on his lips, silencing him. He blinked in surprise. She leaned in close to his ear.
“You are here as an observer, Sergeant, remember?” she whispered softly. “Just observe. I know what I need to do.” She rolled to her feet and walked away. Kaelin was shocked. If any other recruit had done that, he would have bitten off their head. He watched her go, his surprise gradually giving way to a jumbled stew of mild annoyance and bemusement. Well, by God, he had put her in this situation because he wanted to see what she could do. This had better be good, he mentally warned her.
“What do you see?” Emily asked the platoon leaders. The sun was just creeping up and Killarney Bridge was still deep in the shadow of the hill. They all had binoculars trained on the bridge.
“Heavy defenses,” said Lee.
“A lot of targets concentrated in a very small area,” replied Skiffington with relish. “Once we pin ‘em down, they won’t be able to move worth shit.”
“Static defenses,” Kimball said thoughtfully. “We can put a platoon over the river and attack from the flank. They’ll be caught in cross-fire from the side and this hill.”
“Take us hours to pry them out of there,” complained Kara Zavareei, “and we don’t have too many hours left.”
Cookie was counting. “They got most of their men right here, Em, camped out by the bridge. If we can pin them down…”
“And go around!” Emily confirmed. “The river is low. We need to get upriver and find a spot to take the trucks across. Push a feint at them here and cross someplace else.”
Skiffington laughed. “My platoon will go across and attack the bridge from the flank. This will be fun.”
Now, wondered Emily, where was Gold Company with the convoy?
Odackal supplied the answer as soon as the platoon leaders had slithered back from the crest of the hill. “Gold Company just called in. They are four miles away. The Company commander wants to hear from you as soon as you’re free.”
Emily radioed immediately. The Gold Company commander was Rafael Eitan. “Are you on the river road?” she asked. “Oh, yes,” he replied. “It took us a while to get here, but now we are making good time. I still have all the trucks, but I am down to seventy three men.”
“Now listen carefully,” Emily said slowly. “I need to know your exact orders.” There was a pause as Eitan considered this.
“Well, I have a convoy of ten trucks, with cargo. I have to get the cargo to a location on the map called ‘Four Corners’ by noon today.”
“And what do you orders say about the Killarney Bridge?”
“Well, it is the only bridge across the river, isn’t it?”
Emily grinned wolfishly. She was right. Kaelin, you are a devious sonofabitch. “Okay, Rafael, I want you to drive exactly three miles, then stop. Do you understand? Three miles, no more. And Rafael, do any of your trucks have a winch?”
She left Skiffington and Kimball with their platoons and strict orders to wait for her signal before attacking. “Once you start, you have to keep them occupied for at least three hours.” She looked hard at Skiffington. “No heroic charges, Skiff, you understand? If you get your platoon wiped out, they’ll be able to mob Kimball’s platoon, and then wonder just where the rest of us might be. You need to keep them occupied.”
Skiffington gave her his best devil-may-care grin. “Don’t worry, Tuttle. ‘Prudence’ and ‘caution’ are my middle names.”
“Kick your ass you screw this up, Skiffington,” Cookie said.
Careful to stay out of view of the bridge, Emily led the rest of the Company to the River Road. Cookie’s platoon shucked most of their gear and went ahead at a fast trot, looking for the convoy and keeping an eye out for a shallow crossing. As Emily led her group, Hiram Brill gave her a piece of paper torn from his notebook. “A list of everyone in these three platoons with any engineering or construction experience. We’ll need it to get the trucks across the river.”
At the bridge, the Green Company commander nervously looked at his watch. Where was the damn convoy? He knew the ambush had not gotten them, and all the surviving ambushers were now back at the bridge. He wheeled to the Red Company commander. “I don’t like this,” he said worriedly. They should have been here by now. They’re up to something. We need to send out some more patrols.”
The Red commander yawned. “Take it easy. We’ve got the hill and we’ve got the bridge. They have to come over this bridge to reach the Four Corners. Relax and let them come to us.” She looked at her watch. “Only three hours left.”
The Green commander picked up his radio. “This is Messina on the bridge, calling the observation detail. Do you have anything to report?”
On top of the hill they labeled Sunflower, Kimball picked up some pebbles and shook them in his hand, making a scratchy, rough noise. While still shaking the pebbles, he thumbed the radio they had taken from the Red Company lookouts.
“Nothing to report,” he said, praying the background noise would adequately disguise his voice
“See?” said the Red leader. “They’re not within two miles of here or the lookouts would have seen them.”
Emily shook sweaty hands with Rafael Eitan. “Boy am I glad to see you!” she said fervently. Eitan was medium height, stocky and sported a thick black mustache. He smiled in return and bobbed his head. “And I you. It has been a very long day, yes?”
His accent told her he came from Refuge. His uniform was torn and filthy. Emily wondered if he had spent the day driving a truck or rolling around in the dirt. From the corner of her eye she could see Sergeant Kaelin join Drill Instructor Johnson, who had climbed out of one of the trucks. They stood to the side, conferring quietly. DI Johnson looked at his watch and shrugged.
A radio buzzed. Kara Zavareei trotted over. “Our patrol on the flank reports all is clear.”
“How far is the bridge?” Eitan wanted to know.
“Forget the bridge,” Emily told him. “We are taking the trucks across the river just up past that stand of trees. We found a sand bar that is only three feet deep.” She didn’t mention that it stopped thirty feet short of the far bank and the water there was deeper and faster. One thing at a time.
Eitan looked doubtful, but had the good grace not to say anything. Emily’s curiosity finally got the better of her. “Just what is this precious cargo you’ve been carrying?”
Eitan shrugged. “Boxes. One per truck, but I don’t know what’s in them.” Emily followed him to the back of the truck. Eitan swept back the tarp. The floor was cluttered with tools, pry bars, a coil of rope and a square wooden box measuring roughly two feet per side. She hoisted herself into the truck and gave the box an experimental push. Heavy, but two men could carry it. She eyed the tools scattered around the floor.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“I think these are the trucks used by the grounds crews to clear brush and trees back at Camp Gettysburg,” Eitan said. He frowned. “Don’t we have to hurry?”
Emily nodded, preoccupied. “Do you have axes in the other trucks?”
Eitan thought a moment. “Yes, in the third truck. Maybe half a dozen. Some saws, too.”
Emily clapped her hands in delight, startling him. She scrambled down off the tuck, shouting a flurry of orders. “Not much time! Move your asses!”
On the bridge, a soldier suddenly pointed to a bend where the river road turned toward the bridge. “See, right there, just sticking out a little past that big rock. That is the front of a truck!”
The Green commander lifted his binoculars and adjusted the focus. By God, it was the front of a truck! The Gold team had finally made it. He glanced at his watch. Too late, too damn late. Blue and Gold had less than two hours to make it to Four Corners. He looked at the bunkers squatting on the bridge like three shabby trolls. No way in hell they were going to get past that, he thought with satisfaction. He lifted the binoculars again. But why weren’t they attacking?
In answer to his question, eight men on the bridge suddenly screamed and fell to the ground. Arms and legs flashed orange. Two men just stood there, not quite understanding they were already FOF.
“Where the hell are they?” someone shouted. “I can’t see them.”
“On the hill! Snipers on the hill!”
The Green commander threw himself behind one of the bunkers, out of the line of fire from the hilltop. More shots, and he was shocked to see the two men with him blink orange. Another shot nicked his shoulder and pain lanced through him. Dammit! “They’re behind us!” he shouted. “Take cover! They’ve sent troops across the river.” Well, he had a surprise for them. He spoke urgently into his radio. He had a team of fifty men hiding in the forest just to deal with this possibility, and they would come in from behind and crush the enemy against the river.
But as the troops hiding in the forest came forward to crush the attackers, they came within reach of the attackers on the hill. More Red and Green soldiers fell. The Red commander ordered fire from the bridge, but to get a decent firing angle the soldiers had to leave the protection of the bunkers. FOFs began to pile up.
“Fall back!” the Green commander ordered disgustedly. “Get back into the forest and the bunkers. Make them come to us.” He shook his head in frustration: fifteen dead after only ten minutes of fighting. He looked at his watch. Not much longer.
“Pull, dammit! Pull!” Emily shouted. Fifty men pulled on the rope and the first truck lurched off the sand bar. Its nose started to sink into the water, then the two tree trunks jammed behind its front tires gave it some buoyancy. Five of the miners from Christchurch thrust more logs under the back of the truck just as the rear wheels reached the end of the shallows. Then the truck was floating — precariously, perhaps, but floating. The men on the far side of the river pulled, the rope tightened and the truck jerked forward, bobbing toward the far shore.
Emily laughed out loud. It was working! One of the men from Christchurch called to her: “Give us more time, Little Sister, we build you a proper bridge, eh?” The others laughed with him. And Emily looked at the scene; dozens of men splashing through the river, men pulling on the tow rope, trucks being readied for the crossing. We’re going to do this, she thought. And I am their commander!
Once the first truck was across, Emily sent two platoons led by Cookie and Sandra Lee ahead to take the Four Corners. She was taking a risk that Green and Red had it heavily defended, but she was betting they had thrown everything into securing the bridge.
They used the first truck to tow the second truck, and the pace picked up. The miners waded waist deep in the river, stuffing logs under each truck as it was dragged off the sand bar. Crews on the far shore received the trucks, pulled the logs out and swam them back across to use with the next truck. Emily had already taken the precaution of sending all of the precious, mysterious boxes across and they were loaded into the lead truck.
Sergeant Kaelin stood behind her, hands on his hips. “Got an hour and a half left, Tuttle. You just might pull it off.”
“Just might, Sergeant.” She couldn’t suppress a grin. “Just might at that.”
“Catch a ride, Little Sister,” one of the miners called as the last truck splashed past her. She leapt onto the passenger side door runner. The driver smiled broadly. “All honor to you! By my life, this is a great day!” The truck reached the end of the sand bar and another miner tied the rope to its tow ring. On the far shore the truck started to pull. The tow rope lifted out of the water, spraying droplets everywhere. Emily wanted to sing.
She was never sure exactly what happened next. Maybe the truck had not been lined up properly, or maybe the previous trucks had weakened the sand bar. As the truck lurched forward, the entire side of the sand bar suddenly collapsed. The truck shuddered, creaked loudly, then fell over on its driver’s side as if in slow motion. When it crashed to the river bottom, Emily’s face cracked into the door frame. Her nose broke in an agonizing spray of blood and pain lanced all the way to the back of her skull. Black dots suddenly crowded her vision, growing larger and larger and-. Suddenly she was in the water, sputtering, coughing, then under water, choking, then she felt herself grabbed hard by the shoulders and hauled to the surface.
Pain ravaged her head and overwhelmed her senses, but she became dimly aware that people were still shouting and someone was screaming and more people came running, and only then did she realize that there were people trapped under the fallen truck.
When it was over, two soldiers — two of her beloved miners — were dead.
Sergeant Kaelin cursed. He exchanged a long look with DI Johnson. Something passed between them, then Johnson shrugged. “Fuck it, Andy. I’ll back you either way,” he told Kaelin.
Emily felt thick-headed, fuzzy. What was Johnson talking about? She looked at the two bodies laid on the shore. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she scrubbed them with the back of her hand.
“Tuttle,” Sergeant Kaelin said quietly.
She thought about the two men and wondered if they had girlfriends waiting for them. Did they-
“Emily!” Kaelin said more sharply. She looked up at him. He looked tired, she thought. He was soaked to the skin and his thinning hair was plastered to his head.
“Emily, listen, I have to call for a chopper to evacuate the casualties. If I call now, it will come within minutes, but the Major will insist that the maneuver be stopped. Do you understand?” He looked at her hard. But why was he telling her this? The men were dead, of course they had to-
And then she did understand. There was still time for her to take the convoy to the Four Corners. Still time to complete the mission. But if they called in the fatalities now, the operation would end. She shook her head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All a game and now two men were dead forever. She looked up at Kaelin and the tears came freely now, almost invisible against her wet cheeks, but there.
“I hate this,” she said. “Gods of Our Mothers, I hate this.” Then she turned to the river and waived her arms until she caught Rafael Eitan’s attention on the far shore. Her radio was on the bottom of the river somewhere. She checked her watch and saw they still had forty minutes. She cupped her hands to her mouth.
“Go!” she shouted. “Take it to the Four Corners!”
“Come across, Emily,” he shouted back. “We’ll wait for you!”
Emily waived him away. “Go! Complete the mission. You’re running out of time.” Eitan stood for a moment, then climbed into the truck without another word and the convoy drove across the field.
Emily turned and walked to edge of the water. Men who were standing there silently moved aside. She knelt down between the two bodies. She knew them both. They were two of the men who had teased her, offered her fruit they had taken from the mess hall, kept an eye on her on some of the brutally long marches. Nodded at her in approval when she did something well. Followed her orders.
She placed a hand on each of the two dead men. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.” The sun felt warm on her face. She closed her eyes and waited for word that Four Corners had been taken.