While they maneuvered toward the air base, they started to hear the distinctive popping of a shoot-out in a nearby neighborhood. Schoolman pointed to the area and asked, “What unit is over there?”
The young communications lieutenant consulted his map and then responded, “That’s 1st BN, Royal Irish Regiment, Sir.”
“They're kicking the tar out of those Russians over there,” the colonel said with a wry grin on his face.
As they continued approaching the air base, a series of heavy machine guns opened fire on the troop nearest the perimeter. Putting his binoculars to his face, the colonel could see several of his Stryker vehicles engaging the enemy positions. The back hatches had dropped, and the infantry was now disgorging from their armored chariots as they advanced on foot toward the enemy.
The infantrymen steadily advanced with fire support from the Strykers, silencing one gun position after another. Suddenly, a missile streaked out of the tree line from just inside the perimeter. At first, it was just the one missile, but seconds later, six more joined the fray. Three of the missiles were destroyed by the vehicles’ antimissile systems, causing them to swerve or veer off course at the last minute. Unfortunately for the Americans, the other missiles hit their marks, destroying four of the Strykers.
“Damn Kornets. See if we can get some mortar fire to suppress those missile teams in the tree line,” barked the colonel, angry that a dozen of his troopers had just been killed.
The fight for the airport lasted nearly three hours. The squadron had to clear each building and the area around the airfield without the use of air strikes or heavy artillery. Because the Allies didn’t know if there were still nuclear weapons stored at the facility, they were barred from destroying any buildings or munition bunkers, no matter how stout a defense the enemy was putting up in those places.
“Colonel, Nemesis Troop is requesting your presence at one of the bunkers they just secured,” one of the staff officers said, his voice barely audible over the sound of rifle and machine-gun fire that was still raging around other parts of the city.
“Let’s go, Sergeant Major,” Schoolman responded. He grabbed his own rifle and trudged off in the direction of his troop commander. Childers followed close behind.
Several additional soldiers headed out with the colonel and the sergeant major to see what they had stumbled upon. As they approached the bunker, they spotted a number of dead enemy soldiers, along with the remains of a few of their own troops. Not far from the bunker, a small cluster of wounded soldiers was being treated by a couple of the medics while they waited on a medevac helicopter to come in and take them back to a higher-level trauma center.
They walked up to the gaggle of soldiers. “Captain Taylor, what do you have for us?” asked Colonel Schoolman.
“Colonel, Sergeant Major, I think we may have found some nuclear weapons,” he said, to the shock and concern of the soldiers who had just walked up to the bunker.
Sergeant Major Childers immediately barked at the soldiers standing around. “Set up a wider perimeter around the bunker!” he yelled. “You, over there, start clearing some of the overgrowth around the entrance.”
They rushed off to follow his orders. Sure enough, as they cleared brush along the outer wall of the bunker, they found a yellow metal placard with the universal pinwheel symbol that indicated nuclear material.
“Send a message back to regiment,” Schoolman directed. “Tell them what we found, and ask them to send an explosive ordnance specialist over here to inspect them. I want to make sure these infernal things are secured and not going to go off on us.”
Every moment that passed felt like eternity as they waited for EOD to arrive. Childers started daydreaming, thinking about what Jack Bauer would do in an episode of 24, and how he would grab his flashlight from his vest and boldly announce, “Sir, I’m going to take a peek at them and make sure none of them are rigged to detonate.”
In his thoughts, all of the younger soldiers stepped aside for him, and before the colonel could object, he’d storm his way in there. He’d probably have some eager young gun follow him, and he’d ask him to hold his flashlight. He imagined searching for visible wires, LED timers, or anything that might indicate these warheads had been rigged to detonate. Of course, he’d have to open them up in some glorious show of heroism, just to be sure.
In reality, they just continued waiting until it felt like he would fall asleep. In a very anti-climactic ending, the EOD specialist finally emerged from the warehouse and announced, “Your families won’t be cashing in those life insurance policies just yet.”
Suddenly, his friend, Captain Jack Taylor, walked up and greeted him. “How’s it going, Sergeant Major?”
Childers smiled. “It looks like we’ve just been given a new lease on life,” he answered.
Taylor came over, and then, before anyone could object, he poked his head into the warehouse. He must have known he was breaking all kinds of protocol, because he snapped himself back outside before there was a chance to complain. “I just had to see them,” he mumbled. “They really do look like in the movies… it’s hard to believe that such a small device can wipe out an entire city.”
Schoolman must have overheard Taylor talking. He walked over. “It was a device a little larger than this that wiped out San Francisco. My wife, my daughter, and my twin boys were visiting my parents in Alameda, near Oakland,” he said quietly, wiping a tear away.
The colonel had been carrying a heavy burden of guilt for some time now. When the war in Europe had started, he had sent his wife and kids to stay with his parents in California; he’d figured they’d be safe there, far away from the fighting. As things heated up in North Korea, he decided it might be better for them to go stay with his brother in Montana, but he was unable to make a call back home, and less than 24 hours later, his wife, children and parents were all dead, part of the hundreds of thousands who had been vaporized when the bomb had gone off over the port of Oakland.
Taylor didn’t know what to say. The awkward silence hung in the air. Finally, Schoolman cleared his throat and addressed Childers. “I want the squadron to bivouac here for the night while we wait for new orders,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” Childers answered.
They went around the corner to start issuing the new orders and saw that a small group of Russian prisoners had been collected and were being questioned by a couple of the intelligence members of Schoolman’s staff. Lieutenant Colonel Schoolman walked over. “Have you gotten anything useful from them?” he asked.
Chief Warrant Officer 3 Fillips just shook his head. “Nothing yet, Sir. From what I can gather, none of them were even aware that there were nuclear weapons still being stored here. Then again, my Russian is a bit rusty. Regiment said they’re sending a couple of Russian translators and an interrogation team over here ASAP.”
“I speak Russian pretty well. Let me give it a try,” Schoolman responded. He walked toward the prisoners, with the warrant officer quickly following him.
Childers sensed something wrong in the way his boss said he wanted to “try” and talk to the Russians, so he followed him to the group of prisoners. He didn’t know Schoolman very well, but he could tell that he was obviously emotionally distraught over the loss of his family.
When the colonel approached the group of prisoners, he identified the two officers among the gaggle of prisoners and proceeded to single them out. He grabbed what appeared to be a young private to join the group and lined the three of them up.