Aware of this, Holleran winced. He was aware of this incident and had been angered over it. That he hadn't been there himself was an error in judgment on his part that he had regretted then and even more so now. It was becoming clear as Ilvanich rattled on and on that Holleran's absence had been interpreted either as a lack of interest or fear.
Not finished with his litany of errors, Ilvanich continued. "Once on the ground, we were greeted by a squad of military police, all in protective clothing and masks, who escorted us to the showers under armed guard." Looking up at Holleran, Ilvanich pointed a finger at him. "Now the first shower was necessary and welcome. The second shower, even though the hot water was gone, was tolerated. But the third shower, in freezing water, was too much." Dropping his hand, Ilvanich pulled at the bathrobe he wore. "And when we were finished, instead of being issued proper uniforms, we are given these things. Half of my men are freezing because of the stupidity of your staff."
Up to now, Holleran had said nothing. But when Ilvanich started calling his staff stupid, Holleran had to speak. "As I told you, Major, this is all new to me and my staff. If we"
Ilvanich didn't let him finish. "You don't understand, do you? None of you do. Do you realize that those soldiers in there, the elite troops of your army, are the first soldiers to face the use of a nuclear weapon by a hostile force? Do you realize that we had to turn our backs on over a third of their comrades and leave them buried under radioactive nibble, never to be retrieved? Can you imagine what is going through their minds?" Ilvanich jumped to his feet, his arms waving as he spoke. "No, of course you can't. You weren't there. You didn't have to look in their eyes and see their terror as they smelled the burnt flesh of their dead friends and comrades. To you, we are nothing but mutants, strange new specimens that need to be studied in isolation. Well, Colonel, I am telling you, in terms that I hope even the dullest recruit can understand, that unless you start treating your own countrymen like the soldiers they are, with a little compassion and understanding, you are going to find yourself with a ward full of mentally unstable people that neither I nor your MPs will be able to control."
There was a pause when Ilvanich noticed that everyone was standing staring at him. He had said everything he had wanted to. Perhaps it did not come out as well as he would have liked, but, given the emotions of the moment and the need to speak in English, he had done the best he could. Satisfied, Ilvanich folded his arms across his chest and took several deep breaths in order to compose himself.
At a loss, Holleran first looked at Captain Cole, then back at Ilvanich. Slowly he began to shake his head. Jesus, he thought, did we ever screw this one up. Holleran took a step toward Ilvanich and put his hand on the Russian's shoulder. "Major, I really don't know what to say except that I am sincerely sorry for this, all of this. What can we do to correct this problem?"
Looking into the doctor's eyes, Ilvanich saw that he was fighting back tears. He meant it, Ilvanich thought. He meant what he said. For a moment he considered apologizing, but found he was unable to think or speak clearly. This day, even for him, had been too much. Pointing to Fitzhugh, Ilvanich mumbled that the lieutenant had a list of their immediate needs and then left the tent. Unable to continue after having worked himself into such a state of anger, he turned and headed back to the ward tent to sort himself out while Fitzhugh pulled out a sheet of paper from his bathrobe pocket and Holleran prepared to take notes.
Caught by Ilvanich's sudden return, the men of Company A fell over each other as they tried to clear the entrance when Ilvanich parted the tent flap and reentered the ward tent. Once he was inside and saw that the men had been crowding around listening to his speech to the colonel, Ilvanich stopped. The American rangers stopped too, looking back at him for several seconds. Finally Rasper stepped forward and offered his hand to Ilvanich. "Major, I know I speak for the rest of the men when I tell you that we will follow you anywhere, anytime."
To a civilian, such a comment would have seemed strange. But to Ilvanich, who had served in the Soviet and Russian armies' elite units his entire military career, Rasper's comment was the highest praise that one soldier could give to another. Overwhelmed, Ilvanich could only nod as he took Rasper's hand and muttered his thanks. Though he knew that there would be other problems, for the first time he felt that the worst was over.
With men like this, he thought, anything was possible.
Like the toy dog that some people put in the back of their cars whose head bobbed up and down as the car moved, Jan simply nodded as she listened to a retired Army colonel go on, and on, and on about what he thought was happening in the Ukraine. What an idiot, she thought. Scott told me he was a blowhard. Now, Jan thought, the whole country knew. When the tiny light in front of Jan flashed on telling her it was time for a commercial break, Jan gladly interrupted. "Excuse me, Colonel, but we have to take a break at this time." Jan turned away from the monitor she had been watching to the camera to her front. "We've been talking to Colonel Edward J. Littleton, Jr., an expert on U.S. forces in Europe. We will return to him to continue our discussion of American operations in the Ukraine in a minute. First, a word from your local cable network."
When she was sure all the cameras in the studio were off and the mikes were dead, Jan's shoulders slumped forward. "God, Charley, where do you find these people? In the classified ads of a grocery store tabloid?"
From the booth to her side, Mordal laughed. "No, Jan dear. We send someone down to the unemployment office to screen the applicants. I thought you liked Army colonels?"
Her marriage to a colonel in the Army had amazed many in the business, since soldiers and the media were traditionally antagonists. Always a good source of amazement, Jan loved to shock people when she got the chance. "Charley, I like to sleep with colonels, not talk to them. You should try sleeping with one. You might like it."
The cameraman in the studio covered the mike in front of his face. "How do you know he hasn't, Jan?"
Jan glanced over at the cameraman, trying hard not to laugh. Not understanding what the joke was, Mordal keyed his mike. "Jan, dear, unless you have a better idea, you're stuck with our retired paper warrior."
"Well, now that you mentioned it, Charley, I do have someone in mind."
"You set me up, didn't you?"
Jan, feigning innocence, sat upright. "Moi, dear Charley, set you up?"
A technician leaned over and gave Mordal a fifteen-second warning. "Jan, you have ten seconds to tell me who this wonderful guest is."
"Ed Lewis. After I'm through here, why don't I trot over to his office with a crew and interview him. I'm sure he'll have some wonderful comments to make about this."
"Five seconds, Charley."
Mordal considered her suggestion, then nodded. "Okay, Jan, you're on. I'll get someone on it right away." When the light came on indicating they were back on the air, Mordal settled back in his chair to watch Jan go to work. She might be a pain in the ass, he thought, but he couldn't help marveling at the way she worked. She was not only damned good at what she did, she had a great mind. Turning to his assistant, he asked her to contact Congressman Lewis's office and see if they could arrange for Jan to interview him later in the afternoon. While his assistant started making the necessary calls, Mordal returned to watching the retired Army colonel, who was using a map displayed on a screen to draw circles and lines as he attempted to describe the military operations in the Ukraine. His actions and diagrams, reminding Mordal of a sportscaster doing a Monday Night Football game, caused him to chuckle. Jan was right, he thought. This guy is rather comical.