The sky was grey, when the sun rose palely over the towering conifers. It was still cold, but the snow had stopped for the moment, allowing Sergeant Lee to wade through the thigh deep drifts of snow, to reach the command center. He entered, and spent several moments shaking himself off, freeing the particles of snow from his clothing. Captain Howell was the only one in the room at the moment, but he was arguing on the radio with a man who Lee could only assume was Brigadier general Schwartz, the man in charge of all of the United States operations in this part of the continent. Howell glanced over at him, and held up a hand, warding him away for the moment. Lee nodded, and sat down in a corner of the room with a packaged emergency field ration.
After opening the packaging, he sniffed dubiously at the contents, and looked at the label. It read that the food in his hand was Salisbury steak. It sure didn’t look like any Salisbury steak he had ever eaten. He shrugged, and giving into the demands of his rumbling stomach, began eating as inconspicuously as possible, looking sidelong at Captain Howell, trying not to make it to obvious that he was listening in on the Captain’s conversation.
“General, I understand, but it just isn’t possible,” Captain Howell was saying into the radio receiver, rubbing his temples in frustration. “My platoon is exhausted. They’ve been going nonstop for three days. What about the 32nd? My reports show them to be twenty miles closer than we are.”
“Captain, I can sympathize with you and your men, but you’re doing this, whether you like it or not. And besides, the 32nd was pulled out the other day. They got hit pretty hard, and had to get airlifted out of the area. Yours is the only company close enough to actually make a difference. You need to be there by tomorrow morning.”
Howell sighed, “We’ll be there sir. If you could send out a couple of choppers, it would be much appreciated.”
“I’ll see what I can scrounge together. We lost a couple of helos in the engagement the other day. Once you get there, you’re to take command of the other platoon, in the event that their commanding officer gets iced.”
“Roger that, over and out.” Howell clicked off the radio and threw the receiver down on the table. He then turned to Lee and stormed over, throwing himself into an empty chair.
“Things going ok?” Lee asked tentatively, nibbling on the edge of a granola bar, which had been packaged along with his steak.
Howell rolled his head over to look at Lee and sighed heavily. “No, Sergeant, things are not ok.”
“Apparently, the 221st got into some shit with two Chinese battalions. They got hammered pretty hard, and we’re the only platoon within two hundred miles who can help them.”
Lee stood up and wandered over to the chart table. “Sir, doesn’t that make us the only intact platoon in the region?”
Howell looked at him pointedly. “Yes, that is exactly what it means. The nearest reinforcements we have are down near Portland.” He joined Lee at the chart table, and indicated several spots on the map. “Not only are we the only ones around, but the Chinese have two battalions about eighty miles north of us, and the Japs have one down near the border. It’s getting awfully crowded around here, and I’m not liking the odds.”
Lee bit his lip and stared at the map.
“May I make a suggestion, sir?”
Howell nodded, and looked towards the door as Lieutenant Abney walked in, tracking snow behind her.
Lee glanced at her, and pointed to a circle on the map. “I know we’ve been avoiding it, but maybe we should get into Edmonton. We’d get better cover, and,” he shook his half eaten granola bar, “we’d be able to get some supplies.”
Howell tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Under other circumstances, I’d have to disagree, but you’re right, once we get hold of the 221st, we’ll need some time to get regrouped. Edmonton is as good a place as any.”
Abney scoffed in disgust, from where she was hanging her coat, by the door. “You can’t be serious. We’ve been avoiding Edmonton, because we knew that the minute we entered the town, the Chinese would just call in an airstrike and level the place.”
Howell pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. “Not if they don’t know we’re there. Once we hook up with the 221st, we send a couple of squads west, away from Edmonton, and lure the Chinese in that direction, then they’ll circle back, once the Chinese are good and convinced. The rest of us slip into town under cover of darkness. They’ll never know we were there.”
Abney looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and then glared daggers at Lee. You’re the boss, sir.”
“That’s right, I am. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lee has made me hungry.” Howell got up, pulled on his coat, and left the room.
Lee laughed, and headed over to the garbage can, to throw away the wrapper from his granola bar. Abney launched herself around the table and grabbed Lee’s left arm, spinning him around to face her. She was not a large woman; Lee had at least eight inches on her, and nearly seventy pounds, but when she got angry, she could be very persuasive.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she hissed at him.
“No, Lieutenant, I don’t think so,” Lee said, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“You think this is funny, you little shit. The captain has always liked you, and that’s fine, but even you can’t be stupid enough to suggest we go into Edmonton.”
Lee looked at her, concerned. “I think we can do it, especially with the 221st with us.”
“It’s not your job to think.” She let go of his arm and turned back to the table. “Get your men ready to go.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lee said and turned, storming out of the room, slamming the door a little more forcefully then he’d intended.
On the walk back to his room, Lee reflected on the conversation he’d just had. He hadn’t been in the Army long, but it seemed to him that this was always how it was with an inexperienced officer. While he couldn’t confirm it, he suspected that Abney had spent her entire term up to this point sitting behind a desk, giving orders, but never having to improvise in the field. She’d joined the platoon during their last stay in Portland, before shipping up to Canada. He was particularly bitter over her comment about his job. He reflected wryly that he probably knew more about running a company, then she did, and he’d never had the benefit of officer training.
Finally, he shrugged, and pushed the door to his room open, gathering up his gear, and shaking Sergeant Pryce, his roommate’s, shoulder.
Pryce groaned, and opened his eyes, squinting at Lee. “What time is it?”
Lee glanced at his watch. “It’s almost seven o’clock.”
“Jesus Christ mate, you could have let me sleep in a little.”
Lee laughed, and poked him with the barrel of his rifle. “Yeah, but we have a job. Gotta go rescue the 221st. We’re leaving in an hour.”
“Shit man, why didn’t you say so!” Pryce scrambled out of the bed and, his feet tangled in the sheets, fell to the ground. He swore and spent the next several minutes trying to extricate himself from the blankets.
Lee stepped around him, gathered up the rest of his gear, and left the room, laughing.
Lee looked at his watch, once all of his men were ready to go. They’d gotten themselves ready admirably, and with three minutes until eight o’clock, Lee left the formation and went to the command center to inform Captain Howell that they were ready to move out.
Howell was just finishing packing up the map from the chart table when Lee entered the room.
“Captain,” Lee said, saluting, “The platoon is ready to move out.”
“Ahh, good.” Howell finished stowing the map in his pack, and slung it over his shoulders. “Then let’s go, shall we?”
Abney was waiting for them with the rest of the platoon, and they started off, the platoon stringing out in a loose formation.
Howell looked up into the sky. “Well, if the weather stays they way it is, we should make good time.”
“If I may ask,” Lee said hurrying his pace, so that he could walk beside Howell, “How far is it?”
“Forty miles; if we can make good time, we might make it to the 221st tonight.”
Lee nodded, staring into the sky, willing the snow to hold off until they could make it to their comrades.
They stayed on the roadway for much of the morning and early afternoon. After that, they were forced to move through the forest. Here, their pace slowed to a crawl. At every step, roots and deadfall threatened to trip up any unwary passerby, and by three o’clock, every member of the platoon was soaking wet, from near constant falls into the snow.
It was well after dark when the point men began to pick up the faint sounds of gunfire. Howell called a halt, and pulled his radio out of a shirt pocket.
He pressed the transmit button. “This is 64th infantry division, calling anyone from the 221st, over.”
There was silence and static from the radio for several seconds. Howell repeated his call, and waited, motioning the men to spread out in a defensive formation.
After several more seconds of silence, the radio crackled, and a woman’s voice could be heard, tinny and scratchy through the radio’s small speaker.
“This is Sergeant Ras from the 221st. We read you, over.”
Howell snapped his fingers. “Now we’re talkin’.”
He pressed the transmit button again. “Sergeant Ras, what is your situation, over?
“We’re pinned down. We’ve taken heavy casualties…” The sound of a bullet ricocheting of a rock close by Sergeant Ras drowned out the next words. “Get us some fucking help!” She screamed into the receiver.
“We’re on our way, ETA five minutes.”
He clicked off the radio and replaced it in its pocket.
“Alright,” He said, chambering a round in his rifle, “Let’s go.”
They crept silently through the trees, night vision goggles perched over their noses. In the washed out world of green and black, Lee could see flashes of gunfire in the distance, partially obscured by trees. There were nineteen soldiers strung out in a ragged line, covered behind trees, rocks, and whatever other cover could be found.
A bullet whizzed past Lee’s head, and he dove for cover beside one of the soldiers from the 221st. The rest of his company did the same, adding their fire to the others.
Lee looked over at the soldier beside him. The soldier returned his stare, behind matching night vision goggles. His eyes went to the nametag on the soldier’s shirt. It was Sergeant Ras.
“Hello Sergeant, we heard you needed some help.” He shouted over the deafening sound of gunfire.
She stared at him for a moment longer then returned to shooting. “Just fire your damn gun!”
He leaned out and fired a few bursts from his M-4 at the people shooting at them. A bullet spranged off the rock in front of him, and glanced off his helmet. He ducked back behind the rock, and swore. The next time he leaned out, he fired off a shell from the grenade launcher underneath the barrel of his rifle. It exploded spectacularly at the base of a smallish tree several hundred feet away, directly in the midst’s of the opposing force.
The other men in his platoon with grenade launchers got the same idea, and soon most of the forest in front of them was aflame.
Beside him, Ras swore and leaned over to shout in his ear. “I’m out of magazines.”
He fumbled in a side pouch on his equipment harness and fished out a couple of clips of ammo and handed them to her.
Slowly the enemy fire diminished until either all of their soldiers were dead, or they’d all retreated. Lee turned, and sat back against the rock. He took off the night vision goggles, and laid his rifle across his lap, careful to avoid letting the red hot barrel touch his skin.
“Damn, he said, exhausted, “I need a cigarette.”
Ras flopped down beside him and watched him pull the pack and lighter out of the left breast pocket of his uniform. He lit himself one, and held the pack out to Ras who tentatively took one. He lit it, and she inhaled deeply, and then spent the next several minutes coughing violently.
“You don’t smoke, do you?” he asked, the cigarette between his lips.
She shook her head and inhaled again.
Lee’s radio crackled. “Report in.” It was Howell.
One by one, the clusters of soldiers spread across the forest answered. None of them had sustained wounds more grievous then a blown off pinkie finger.
Lee pressed the transmit button of his radio. “This is Sergeant Lee. I’m here with Sergeant Ras. We’re fine. I’m on my way.”
His radio clicked off. “Well,” he said, turning his head to Ras, “Duty calls.”
With that, he scrambled to his feet, brushed the snow off his uniform and headed over to bandage Private Evans’ missing finger. He heard Ras get up and follow him over to where the majority of the two platoons were clustered.
Private Evans was sitting in the snow, holding his right hand to his chest with his left. Lee sat down in front of him.
“Give me your hand.”
Evans complied and Lee surveyed the wound. The bullet had blown of his finger, right above the knuckle, and it was bleeding slowly. “Oh, this isn’t bad; I don’t even need to give you morphine.”
“You don’t?” Evans asked, eyeing the syringes in Lee’s medical pack.
“No. Anyways, didn’t I tell you to always keep to cover?”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Lee laughed. “I had better not; you’re running out of fingers.”
Evans grinned sheepishly, and then winced as Lee pulled the bandage tight.
“You’re gonna have to come to me every day, to get this bandage changed, and I know it’s hard with this weather we’re having, but try and keep it as dry as possible,” Lee said and stood up, returning the medical kit to its pouch.
Howell strode up and addressed Ras. “Who’s in charge?”
She thought for a moment, and then looked at him pointedly. “You are, sir. Captain Hannigan and Lieutenant Parris were killed yesterday.”
“Oh, well then this is easy.” He paused and turned to Lieutenant Abney. “Alright, the 221st is now part of my company. We’ll let headquarters know when we get to Edmonton.”
He turned back to the rest of the company. “How are we on ammo?”
Ras said, “We’re completely out.”
Lee waited till she finished, then spoke up. “I’m out of grenades, and I’m down to my last mag.”
There were a chorus of ‘me too’s and Howell sighed. “Alright people. We’re going to Edmonton. We’ll camp here for now. Get a few hours of sleep. We’re moving out at 0400.”
The group disbanded and Lee returned to where he’d been during the firefight, and sank into the snow, leaning his head back on his arm. He heard guards taking up positions in the area, and after a long while, finally dozed off to sleep.
Gender:
Points: 8231
Reviews: 214