"Back down. You must get back down. There may still be Ukrainians out there."
Though Pape continued to stare at the tunnel entrance, he lowered himself back behind the berm of dirt. Only after he was down did he turn to Ilvanich. "What the hell happened?"
That, Ilvanich thought, was obvious. But he didn't say that to the American, who was shaken and needed to be calmed, to be steadied. Doing so was an officer's job. Though he was a Russian officer and Pape was an American, they were at that moment both on the same side due to the political requirements of their nations and practical considerations of the moment. Himself shaken by the turn of events, Ilvanich nevertheless took a deep breath and began to get up as he looked toward the tunnel entrance. "The Ukrainians in the tunnel have destroyed themselves and the nuclear warheads." Ilvanich placed his hand on Pape's shoulder again as he looked down into the young soldier's upturned face. Ilvanich could not see Pape's eyes, but he knew they were riveted on him. "You stay here and cover your assigned sector. Once the Ukrainians out there recover from their shock, they will be back. I will go over and find out what your commander is planning to do. Understood?" Even though Ilvanich didn't expect to find Smithy alive, he didn't want to upset Pape any more than he had to. Bad news sometimes needed to be taken in small doses.
Relieved that someone was doing something to find out what had happened, Pape gave a slight nod. "Okay, Major. I'll stay here."
The fact that this was the first time that Pape had acknowledged his rank was not lost on Ilvanich. As an afterthought, Ilvanich turned to his right. "You rangers along the fence, hold your positions. Keep alert, watch your sectors, and hold your positions. I will be back as soon as I find out what your commander intends to do." Twisting his head to the left, Ilvanich repeated his instructions, receiving a few grunts here and there from the darkness in acknowledgment.
Keeping low, Ilvanich backed away from the fence several paces before he stood upright and headed for the cinder block guard shack to find Lieutenant Zack. Moving through the darkness that his eyes were still struggling to adjust to, Ilvanich began to wonder if he would find Lieutenant Zack. That thought had no sooner occurred to him when Ilvanich's feet stumbled over something. Stopping, he peered down to see what it was. Unable to see, he squatted, reaching down with his left hand. It was, he found, a chunk of stone, smooth on one side but with jagged edges. Ilvanich realized that it was a piece of cinder block. To his front a pile of rubble slowly began to take shape as his eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness. Glancing to the left at the tunnel entrance, then following the direction that the force of the explosion would have followed until it reached the pile of rubble, Ilvanich realized that the guard shack, and everyone who had been in it, was finished.
The fact that he had been right and the ranger company executive officer wrong about the guard shack was no comfort to Ilvanich, for he quickly realized that along with Zack the radios for the company command net and the battalion command net were also probably smashed. Russian tactical radios, Ilvanich thought, especially those used by airborne units, were generally more robust than their users. Hoping that the American radios had the same qualities, he slung his assault rifle over his back and moved forward into the rubble to search for those radios.
He had just started pulling away sheets of roofing when a voice with a slight quiver behind him called out, "Zack! Lieutenant Zack! Is that you?"
Ilvanich did not stop. He was near where he thought the radios should have been. Instead he responded to the voice as he continued to work his way down through the pile of broken blocks and metal sheets. "No. I think Lieutenant Zack is dead. Who are you?"
"Fitzhugh, Lieutenant Fitzhugh, 1st Platoon. Are you the Russian major?"
Ilvanich continued to dig away, feeling his way about in the darkness, heaving broken cinder blocks out of the way and working around anything soft that his gloved hands came across, since anything like that was a body or body part, something that he was not interested in at that moment. "Yes. Are you the next senior officer after Lieutenant Zack?" There was silence. "Well, are you or aren't you?"
Fitzhugh's response was slow and halting. "Well, no, not really. You see, Lieutenant Jacobsen, the platoon leader for 2nd Platoon, he was next. Then Burglass of 3rd Platoon. Then me."
"Well, then, go find me one of those two and have him come over here. And while you're at it, send over some men to help me find the radios."
Fitzhugh didn't move. Instead, he turned and looked at the tunnel entrance. In the darkness he saw or heard nothing coming from it. He thought for a moment, then turned back to Ilvanich, who was still digging away. "They were both in the tunnel, I think, with the old man."
For the first time, Ilvanich stopped what he was doing and twisted his body to face where he thought Fitzhugh was. "Well, if that is the case, then that makes you the senior surviving officer, doesn't it?"
The dark, faceless form that stood a few feet from Ilvanich didn't reply. Ilvanich was becoming annoyed. "You are the next in command. Do you understand that, Lieutenant?"
Fitzhugh's response was low, barely audible, and almost plaintive. "Well, yeah, I guess I am. I mean, if everyone is really dead. I mean, they might not all be dead. Maybe"
Ilvanich tossed a cinder block he was holding to one side and moved over to Fitzhugh's form. Grabbing both arms with his hands, Ilvanich shook Fitzhugh. "All right, Lieutenant, calm down. Just calm down and think for a moment. Maybe they are not dead. Maybe they are still somewhere around here. I do not think so, but anything is possible. That, however, is not important. What is important is that they are not here able to command what is left of the company. You and I are here and able to command. That, right now, right this moment, is all that matters." Ilvanich paused, letting that thought sink in before continuing. "Until one of the other officers shows up, the rest of the company is depending on us. Do you understand me, Lieutenant?"
Ilvanich felt Fitzhugh straighten up. Still unable to see the expression on the lieutenant's face, he had no idea what Fitzhugh's response was going to be. When it came, it surprised him. "Yes, sir. I understand. What do you want me to do?"
Ilvanich suddenly realized that Fitzhugh, confused and unsure of himself, was relinquishing command of the company to him. He had not expected that. He wasn't sure that he wanted that. How would the American sergeants and soldiers respond to taking orders from a Russian? That thought, however, was quickly replaced by Ilvanich's own logic. The American lieutenant was shaken. It would be some time before he would recover enough from the shock of becoming the company commander of a shattered company before he could be effective. He himself had just said they were the only ones who could command. So Ilvanich quickly decided to push aside his concerns and assume command, something that he had already done instinctively. "All right. First pass word down the line that everyone is to hold their positions and put on their protective masks. There is, no doubt, fallout from the explosion. Have your platoon sergeants get a head count, and then you and the platoon sergeants report here to me with that status. And bring three men to help me find the damned radios. Clear?"
Fitzhugh pulled his right arm away from Ilvanich's grasp and saluted. "Yes, sir. I got it." He turned and began to go back to his platoon, then stopped. Ilvanich paused to see what he wanted. "Major, I'll be okay. I'm just a little, well, I"
Ilvanich felt a slight pang of sympathy for the young American officer. He had felt the same way once, had been through the same experience. Command in battle is not easy. It was, Ilvanich knew, even harder the first time. "Yes, I know. Now go. We must hurry."