Baldwin was the first to check in. “Got ’em all, Sergeant Parker. Wignowski got a scratch, nothing serious. The company medic’s taking care of him.”
Macintosh walked up, three figures trailing behind him.
“How’s your squad, Macintosh?”
“We lost Arlen. The turkey, he hung around out in the open two seconds too long.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” said Macintosh, looking at the floor, “me too.”
Parker formed them up and they cleared the rest of the storage room, counting eight dead Germans. At the end of the room another corridor beckoned. Macintosh halted there, ready to continue the mission. From other parts of the storage level, the sounds of other fire-fights rang off the walls. Macintosh wondered if those were as screwed up as this one had been.
“Okay, Macintosh,” Parker said, “move it out, but be careful. You could bump into their people or ours.”
Macintosh nodded and waved his soldiers down the hall. They got about fifty meters before rifle fire drove them to the floor. As Macintosh inched his people back, he bumped into Baldwin, who was crawling forward.
“Macintosh, I think those people up there are ours. That’s Ml6 fire.”
“Then why are they shooting at us?”
“They must think we’re Germans.”
“I’ve never been so insulted in my life.” He lifted his head. “Hey, knock it off, we’re Americans!” The answer was another burst just over his head.
“I don’t think they believe me.”
“Lemme try,” Baldwin said. “Cease fire, will you? You’re shooting at your relief force.”
“Screw you,” answered a woman’s voice from somewhere down the hall. The answer was followed by another bullet spray. “You bastards tried that earlier. It only works once.”
Macintosh and Baldwin rolled to dodge the incoming.
At the other end of the hall, Pvt. Mary Phillips and her partner were beginning to hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a trick.
“Maybe we could ask them something that only Americans would know,” Mary whispered.
“It’s worth a try.”
“Something about football?”
“Now what do I know about football?”
“True. It’ll have to be something else.”
Mary slid to one side of their sandbagged position.
“Hey, if you guys are Americans, where’d you do your Basic?” “Dix,” answered Baldwin. “Where’d you do yours?”
“Same place. If you were at Dix, who was your drill sergeant?” “Sergeant First Class Kildare, the doctor of the push-up.”
“Didn’t he have a wife who was a drill?”
“Yeah. The bitch dropped me and my buddy one day right in front of a platoon of females.”
Mary searched her memory, a smile coming to her face as she remembered the two shaved-headed male trainees exercising under Kildare’s tongue-lashing.
“Baldwin, you dweeb, is that you?”
“Roger that.”
“Where’s your shadow?”
“Yo! Macintosh here.”
Mary stood and slipped her weapon to “safe.”
“Well come on down.”
They moved slowly down the hall until they came to the women’s position. Three dead Germans lay shoved against the wall. Baldwin tried not to notice.
“Hey, Phillips, like it’s been a while since Dix. What’s happening?” “Not much.” She looked past him to the squad behind. “Any of you guys got a cigarette?”
Somebody tossed her one. Mary lit it and sucked the smoke down greedily. Baldwin motioned toward the dead Germans. “What happened to them?”
Mary shrugged and exhaled. “Tried to sneak up on us, but we got ’em with this.” She patted her bayonet sheath. “The ’rads don’t learn very well. I took out two others by myself the same way.”
In the command post, Captain Wu hung up the field phone and rushed over to Stern.
“We’ve got linkup down below and Charlie Company has what’s left of the Germans isolated. It’ll take a while to root them all out, but now it’s just a matter of time.”
“What’s the status of the garrison?”
“Thirty-eight left, almost all with minor wounds; some more serious. Bravo Company is escorting them out.”
Stern turned to Guterman.
“Colonel, please send for your helicopters.”
THIRTEEN
Those who remained of the Kriegspiel garrison didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Coming to the surface after almost three days below ground, they stood around in a daze, waiting for orders, not believing it was over. To most, it seemed like just a break in the action, a time-out to breathe some fresh air before they ducked back into the tunnels to fight some more.
Maggie and Pauline were among the last out, waiting to ensure that the demolitions were fully disconnected from the warheads. Together they led the last squad through the corridors. Griffin and Stern were waiting for them when they came up.
“Major O’Hara, I’m Colonel Stern, commander of the 195th Brigade. I believe you know Colonel Griffin.”
Maggie saluted, dropped her hand, and, seeing Stern had nothing else for her, she immediately turned to Griffin.
He was trying to hold it in. “Maggie, it’s… it’s just good to see you again.”
The weight came off Maggie’s shoulders and she was in his arms. They hugged so hard both felt as if their ribs would crack. Stern gave them all the time he could. It wasn’t much.
“Colonel Griffin, Major O’Hara, I’m afraid I have to cut this re-
union short. We have another mission. Mark, your bus will be here in about thirty minutes.”
“Where you going this time, M.G.?” Maggie asked as she stepped back.
“Oh, an old friend and I need to go to Frankencitz for a day or two. We have to settle some unfinished business.”
“I’ll have Major Cooper brief you on the plan, Major O’Hara,” Stern said. “Right now I need one of your people to go lay out a helicopter landing zone. Colonel Guterman’s birds will be here in a little over half an hour, and I have to load a battalion of infantry on them fast. Who do you have that knows how to set up and run an LZ?”
Maggie looked at Pauline and then down at the badge on her uniform blouse. There, just above the “U.S. Army” tape sewn over the pocket, was a small helicopter with wings. Pauline followed Maggie’s eyes down, screwed up her mouth, then shrugged.
“Air Assault, ma’am. I’ll get who I need.”
“There’s a German liaison section waiting outside,” said Griffin, “take them with you.”
“German?”
“Their helicopters, our people.”
For the first time Maggie and Pauline noticed Joel Guterman and his staff at work in a comer of the CP.
Maggie’s eyes rolled. “This is very confusing.”
They couldn’t help themselves. Guterman, Griffin, Stern, and Cooper all broke out laughing.
“That, my love,” Griffin said, taking her by the arm, “is one hell of an understatement.” The hardest major in the United States Army felt soft and warm in his grip. Just to have her alone for a minute, he thought, maybe to have her, to hold her forever. Just for forever. He took a deep breath. He would take, no he would make, time later. Back to business. “Lieutenant Felderman, pick up your liaison team and get that LZ set up. Major Cooper?”
“Here, Sir.”
“Brief Major O’Hara while Colonel Guterman and I get our last-minute stuff done.”