"Echo Five Actual, The First Twenty, the Atlas Crew.

Such little words to define such a large part of me.

Labels may not define us, but the deeds I committed

while wearing those labels were written in blood.

And on Alfenwehr, blood defined you."

2/19th Special Weapons Group

Restricted Area, Alfenwehr West Germany

Late Winter- January, 1986

Day 11 of Repairs

Day 3 of the Second Incident

Night

"What do you see, Stillwater?" King asked me. I could hear everyone else moving back as he came up near me.

"I can see four charges total," I told him, "Middle and upper hinge, center and upper locks. Blasting caps, one per charge, looks like they're wired together in sequence. I don't see which charge is the primary ignition."

"Any sign of a pressure or prox detonator?" he asked. A flashlight beam hit the door by my head and moved over to the hinges.

"No. I don't see one."

"Hold still," he told me, moving up to me. "Don't shift, don't let go, don't turn the key, don't press on the cage."

"Roger that," I told him. I regulated my breathing. Nice and slow. Relaxed my muscles so I wouldn't cramp up or start shaking.

King kept up a running commentary. "Standard multi-charge breaching setup, straight out of the Soviet handbook. NATO wires different, these guys wired at the base charge, except for the bottom charge isn't completed. I don't see any pressure triggers, the charges aren't placed right for antipersonnel booby trap or area denial, they aren't heavy enough to blow in the inner door, and barely heavy enough to crack the cage door. Lower hinge and bottom door charge to lift the door don't have caps in them." He paused for a second. "Stillwater, I want you to open your hands and take one step back. Don't let go, just open your hands."

I opened my hands and took a step back, my hands cramping suddenly. I rubbed them together as King traced the wiring with the flashlight.

"No apparent detonators, the rigs isn't finished." King was still talking, standing up and shining the flashlight on the locks.

"We're in trouble," I told Bomber, waving him over to the door of the Secure Items Locker and looking at the door.

"Yeah," Bomber agreed. "I noticed." He waved at the Arm's Room door. "That wasn't here when we were down here about twenty minutes ago."

"I think I know what's going down," I told him. I unlocked Secure Items storage and turned to the others. "Grab your NVG's out of there, leave your card on the hook, grab fresh batteries and at least two spares." I handed the keys off to Nancy as she moved past. "Nagle will open the locker. If your NVG's are deadlined grab a spare. They'll be any numbered over 250."

The others moved past me.

"I'll grab yours and Bombers, fill me in," Nancy said, moving past me.

We moved to the side, into the shadows. "This is looking nasty," Bomber said.

I nodded. "Fuck yeah," I told him, looking around. "We've got a lot more to take on than we thought."

"You think so?" Bomber asked. "What do you think we're facing?"

I reached behind my glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose. "It could be those assholes using Warsaw Pact doctrine to throw off investigation, which could be why they didn't finish the door."

He nodded, but looked doubtful. "I checked the Arms Room when I was stuck down here. Those charges weren't there." He chuckled. "I couldn't believe it, the weapons were right fucking there and I couldn't get to them. When I tried to get upstairs I heard voices the first time and boots the second time."

I frowned. "Who did you hear the first time?"

"That Colonel, talking to someone else," Bomber said. He frowned. "They had a southern accent." I nodded. "The boots were you and Nancy coming down the steps, which is when I almost murdered your ass."

That made me chuckle.

King came walking up to us, handing Bomber back the flashlight.

"Well?" I asked.

"Looks good, but they didn't finish," King said, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. "Christ, it's cold down here."

"Can you recover it?" I asked. He grinned.

"Sure, no problem." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a little box the size of a pack of dental floss and cracked it open. "I've only got two in here, so I got plenty of room for the ones in the plastique."

"Retrieve it, we need the armament," I told him.

King moved away and Bomber waited till he was a ways away.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked.

"Yeah. We're in a shitload of trouble," I answered.

"How bad do you think it is?" Bomber asked. Nancy came out with our NVG's, handing them to us with a pack of batteries. I put the batteries in my jacket pocket and hung the NVG's around my neck.

"They're nervous, but they'll feel better when they get their weapons," Nancy said. "What's bad?"

"We're in trouble. Maybe more than we think," I told her. She nodded. "Relations between the Soviet Union and NATO must be near collapse. Which means we're in a shitload of trouble."

She frowned, the line appearing between her eyebrows. "Are you saying..." She started. I saw Levins come out of the Secure Items Locker and made a cutting motion with one hand.

"Bring me the keys," King said. Nancy held them out to Levins, but before she could ask me anything Needlemeyer came out with his NVG's, shrugging into a PRC-77 that had been mounted to a carrying frame.

"Johnson's getting another radio and making sure it works. The battery was dead in the first one," Needlemeyer said, looking at Nagle. "All the batteries but the lithium ones are dead, so he's checking to see which lithium ones have a charge. Am I leaving this one with the LT or are we taking it?"

"Taking that one. That's ours, I know it works," Nancy said. "Turn around." When he did, she pulled the antenna off the rack and started screwing it in. I knew she'd attach it to the other side of the frame, looping it over the other man's head.

"Door's open," King called out.

"All right," I called back. "Grab your weapon and get out here. Cover everyone until we get armed up." I shrugged out of the LBE I'd grabbed.

"The racks are locked," King announced.

...dammit...

"I need the keys," Nancy said.

"Why?" I asked her, stopping just outside the Arms Room.

"Gonna open the door in the Supply Room so we can get through the War Stocks room there, cross the hallway, and get to the platoon level War Stocks." She grinned at me, looking me up and down. "We're not in our battle rattle and we don't have time for everyone to hit their rooms. The platoon War Stocks are already divided up per squad and element."

"Come get your weapon first, and take Needlemeyer with you," I told her. Johnson came out of the Secure Items Locker and Bomber stepped up to close it. Nancy nodded and followed me into the Arms Room. I flipped the lights, almost laughing at King's "I tried that" and laughing when the lights lit up.

"Fucking figures. The weapon racks are locked," King said. I stopped at Clance's desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. In an ammo can I found the keys, and next to the ammo can a bottle of Old Crow. I took a pull off the bottle and handed it to King.

"Hold that," I said, unlocking the fourth rifle rack. "Get everyone's weapon card."

"Roger that," King said, unscrewing the bottle and taking a drink.

I pulled open the rack and grabbed 93, 95, and 98, handing Nancy hers and Bombers and slinging mine. King brought me the weapon's cards while I unlocked the pistol rack and grabbed my .45. I unlocked and handed each weapon to King, putting the card in each empty slot.

Once the weapons were handed out, I opened one of the six metal lockers that were 2 sets of three stood back to back and were bolted to the floor. Inside the first one were metal ammo cans. I grabbed the ones on the top shelf with the letters QRF/CQ stenciled on them and pulled them open.

"Nancy, arm up, give Needlemeyer a mag, and head over," I told her. I turned to King. "Grab a pig." King raised an eyebrow but still grabbed the keys out of the air when I tossed them to him. "I'll send everyone over when they're geared, send Needlemeyer back with stuff for me."

"Roger that," she said. She shoved three magazines into the two ammunition pouches and grabbed an extra to shove in her back pocket before grabbing Needlemeyer one and leaving.

Clance and his two assistants were able to clear the entire Group through the Arms Room in less than an hour. That was for a Real World loadout, so I broke open another locker, didn't see what I wanted - stuff I did want but not right then - and opened the next one, my eyes lighting up when I saw what I was after. The locker full of our incendiary weaponry.

There were twelve cases containing M9A3-4 flamethrowers. Not the crap M9A1-7 Vietnam Era flamethrowers, but hot off the DARPA testing range ones that used magnesium and thermite enriched oxygenated kerosene hot enough to melt light vehicle armor. There were a handful of M-202 FLASH thermobaric rocket packs, four rockets per pack.

"Seriously?" Nancy asked me when I reached out to caress the wooden box containing the metal box with four of the M-202's in it. I looked at her and she made a face. "Why don't you just burn the fucking building down?"

"Fine," I grunted, reaching to the side and grabbing a leather bandoleer packed full of 40mm grenades for my M-203.

The bandoleer had my weapon number on it, and pulling it out it was heavy across my chest. Twelve 40mm grenades in my preferred loadout. I grabbed Bombers, #95, and slammed the locker shut. I shut that locker and opened the second one. I knew that the other side was maintenance tools, spare parts, and auxiliary equipment for a lot of the crew served weapons. Each platoon had three M2 .50 cals, which meant there was a LOT of tripods locked up, spare barrels for both the M-60's and the Mah-Deuces, and parts for all the M-16's.

I grabbed some Claymore bags out of the locker, and pulled out a box of 7.62mm NATO rounds. Ball and tracer. "King, two belts, do a Sergeant Rock with them, lock in at least a hundred rounds into the pig. Levins is gonna act as your assistant. Levins! Post!" I slid the box over to King as Levins came up. "Levins, grab magazines, lock one in your weapon, pull a Sergeant Rock with ammo, and here." I handed him the assistant gunner's bag.

I pulled down loaded .45 magazines and started shoving them into my pockets.

"Stillwater, here," I turned around and found King handing me another .45. I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. "Yeah, you suck with your M-16, I'd rather you were packing two pistols." I put it in my back pocket, barrel first, and he shook his head. "Gimme the keys, I'm gonna see if I can find two holsters."

I handed him the keys and turned to watch everyone gear up.

CQ's weapons were missing, and I was willing to bet the first order of business had been securing them somewhere.

Which mean the 'Colonel' and his men had a cache somewhere.

"Ready," King said, coming around the corner. The M-60 was held up and back so the barrel was on his shoulder, the bipod already deployed. His M-16 was on his back and he was grinning. "Goddamn, you think it's gonna come to this?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We're in serious trouble."

"Grenada bad or Atlas bad?" he asked. He'd been to Grenada, knew about Atlas.

"Worse, but not Vietnam bad," I told him.

He frowned. "Wait, this isn't for four motherfuckers, is it?"

"No," I told him. "Go get your War Stock."

"It was going to happen sooner or later I guess," he said as he nodded, grabbing Needlemeyer, and headed out. I knew he'd put everything together the same way I had.

Nancy came in right after, carrying a bunch of gear in her arms. "I grabbed you a uniform," she told me.

"Thanks. I'd look pretty stupid in my civvies," I told her. She shot me a smile. I pulled off my clothes and changed, gratefully strapping on the Kevlar vest and LBE. I put my NVG's onto the helmet and flipped them up after I adjusted the helmet band.

"Bomber told me what he thinks, he tell you?" she asked.

I shook my head. "He didn't have to. I agree with him."

She pulled her sleeve across her forehead. "That's gonna be tough. If you're right, we're matched in numbers, but holy fuck."

I grinned at her, making a fist so my knuckles crunched loudly. "They're men, and like my Father said, if they're men, they can die."

She smiled wanly, but shook her head. "I know, but..."

"Yeah, I know." I dropped the bandoleer of 40mm on my shoulder and then shoved a couple of spare magazines into pockets and one 20 round magazine into the band of the helmet.

"Thank God we have to pack these," I told her, grabbing my ruck. "Either way."

"Yeah. You're sure we can do this?" she asked. I nodded. "All right, I'm trusting you."

"We should have questioned Mallory," I told her. She nodded. "He's going to bleed to death, Bomber put one in his stomach."

She shook her head. "He was wearing his vest. Unless the round penetrated or ruptured something he'll be fine." I looked doubtful and she grinned. "I think you should just go up there and slit his throat, which is why I didn't volunteer to take care of him. I'm not a fucking medic, I didn't make any promises to care for someone I don't wanna." Her laugh was harsh.

"Two coming back," Needlemeyer called out. I waved at the door, turning to load up extra magazines, and cracking another box. I slid it over to Nancy and pulled out another, cracking it and sliding that one over to her before I repeated it.

"We're using grenades?" Needlemeyer asked.

I snorted. "You aren't. Fire control, gentlemen, fire control." Nancy pulled out a can that looked like a premade muffin can, tore the paper off and then twisted, popping the can open. She shook the fragmentation grenade into her hand and tossed it to me.

"You, me, Bomber, King, and Stokes," I told her. "Two frag, one willy-pete, and a CS." She nodded, tossing me another. I put each of them on either side of my magazine carrier, making sure the button was snapped on the strap and the ring for the pin was turned in toward the magazine pouch. We'd all heard stories about guys who had the rings outward and had brush snag the ring out while running or fighting and had their grenade blow them in half.

Clance had a padded bag in the locker, a purse-like bag that was commonly called a 'fag bag' for some damn reason. I grabbed it and tossed it to Nancy. "Put the grenades in there. Needlemeyer can load up on spares." I turned and looked at him. "I swear to God, you throw one, I'll shove the barrel of my '203 up your ass." I cracked it open. "Speaking of which..." I grabbed one of the 40mm's off my bandoleer and slid it in, slapping the M-203 shut.

"What are you packing?" Nancy asked, cracking open the tubes and tossing the grenades in the bag.

"APERS," I answered, referring to the 40mm shotgun cartridge.

"Christ, Ant, why don't you just wade in with a fucking axe?" she mocked me, pulling an HE out of her bandoleer and sliding it in.

"Do I look like I'm doing fucking surgery, bitch?" I smiled.

"Well, at least you'll have the unique experience of hitting something with the M-16 in your hands." She smiled back.

"Eat me, bitch," I told her. She made an O with her mouth and pushed her tongue against the side of her mouth a few times. I laughed and Needlemeyer stared.

"Coming in, Ant," Bomber called out. He jogged in, wearing his battle rattle. "Clance got tape in here?"

"I dunno, why?" I asked. Nancy started tossing him grenades. He put his frag grenades on his right.

"Everyone sounds like someone throwing change down the hall," he bitched. "We need to tape our shit down."

"Probably in the desk. Where's everyone else?" I pointed at a pack of rubberbands in the drawer that Bomber had pulled open. He tossed them to me.

"King's having them load up and then he's gonna sweep the Platoon War Stocks, the generator room, and then the Secure Records Vault," Bomber told me, holding up the quarter inch dark green tape. "Aha!" He started stripping off lengths a tape while I was using the rubber bands to secure my buckles.

"Gimme some," Nancy said, reaching up and grabbing one of the strips. Bomber grunted while I worked on mine, thinking.

We still hadn't gotten any information about what was going on. All we had was a handful of evidence and a lot of conjecture. I was working overtime trying to figure out not just who, but why.

...get inside the enemy's head, think like he does, you can predict him and analyze his movements...

My Father's voice.

The Colonel had lost a lot of men. Not that I figured he gave a shit. Those bullshit SEALs were probably expendables, set up for the fall when this shit went down. Captain Duloc might know what was going on, but I didn't care one way or another.

I planned on slitting his throat anyway.

King came back in with the pig still thrown over his shoulder, a belt of ammo hanging out of it. You could see where Clance had modded it so that the feed tray didn't bind up easily. You just took the lid of a can of peaches or dog food and welded it to the tray.

Hey, if it's stupid and works, it isn't stupid.

"The rest of the lost lambs are on their way back," King told me. He shrugged. "Barracks feel weird. Don't know how to explain it."

Nancy looked at me, and then we both looked at Bomber, who shrugged. "Don't ask me," he said.

"All right, King, grab some tether and round 'em up. We're gonna sweep the barracks, see if we can find the Colonel, Meeks, Lanks, and Aine," I told him. He nodded, turned, and left, humming something to himself and bouncing the pig on his shoulder.

Nancy noticed we were alone and leaned forward slightly. "Where do you think they're hiding out?" she asked.

I thought for a moment, then a memory came back to me.

Scratches on the lock. Fairy dust frost on the chain. Clean swept pavement.

shit

"The motor pool," I told her. "Goddamn it. That cuts us off from our vehicles, the secondary armory up there, and any chance of rescue. If they put a man in the guard towers they can watch the windows, see who's windows light up, see who exits the building."

Bomber shook his head. "No. Not now, not with the blizzard."

"So we kill the Colonel and his men and then we go handle..." Nancy started, but was interrupted by Johnson calling out that three were coming back. A few seconds later Levins, him, and Stokes came into the room. Stokes looked annoyed, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them. Her M-16 was body-slung and she was carrying a bundle of flares in her hand.

"King said to grab these. He said something about grabbing a spool of rope, said we might need it." She was limping, but it didn't look like it was slowing her down. "What are we hitting first?"

I thought for a moment, examining my mental map of the barracks. Without the War Fighter tunnels to worry about that cut down on a lot of it, but the goddamn barracks were so big that it made it a daunting proposition.

The best I could hope for was that we ran into them.

Everyone had gathered up and I stared at them for a long minute before speaking. Stokes was helping Needlemeyer secure the last of his LBE. Both Levins and King looked like something out of a movie, 7.62mm ammo belts criss-crossed across their chest like Pancho Villa or Sergeant Rock.

But it gave us about 500 rounds extra.

Bomber caught my attention, sliding a CS grenade into his M-203. I nodded to him as he locked the tube in place and then turned to my kludged together QRF.

"All right, here's the deal: We have four men of unknown abilities and allegiances in the barracks. We know they have Specialist Lanks and Private Meeks in their possession, Private Aine is missing, and to top it off we have reasonable intelligence that they may have a second force of combat trained personnel at their disposal," I told them. I grinned, feeling warmth fill me and a prickling on my skin like ants were scurrying on me. "We have permission to use lethal force, and with extreme prejudice. That means you shoot to kill, don't worry about wounding. We take them down hard and fast, don't fuck around." I looked at Bomber and King. "I'd like the Colonel alive, but feel free to grease his ass if he even looks like he's going for a weapon." Both men nodded. I looked at Nancy. "You got your aid bag?" She patted the heavy bag on a sling that had a medical caduceus on it as well as '1SFG" on it, meaning it was the one she'd stolen from First Special Forces about a week ago. I looked at King and Levins. "King, if I yell for it, put down as much fire as you can downrange. Levins, you give him cover fire when he's reloading." I looked at everyone. "Any questions?"

Bomber raised his hand and I looked at him. He grinned at me. "Who invented liquid soap and why?"

That got chuckles. "You're mom so she could clean off after a Fleet Week gangbang," I shot back. That made everyone laugh.

"OK, we're gonna move out. I'm on point, King and Levins up front, Needlemeyer, you pull drag. Bomber, stick close to Nancy, Stokes you're right behind her. Johnson, you're with Stokes." I waved at the door. "Let's get going."

"Sign and counter-sign?" King asked.

"Pepsi and crackers," I tossed back.

"Fall back sign?" King pushed.

"Red dog."

"Callsigns?"

"Jesus, King, we're not invading fucking Iran," Needlemeyer said.

"Shut up," King snapped back.

"Fine. Go with Echo-Five Actual for all of us, we'll use Echo-Five Alpha for the LT and his group, and let's use Echo-Five Lima for the captured," I told him. I thought real quick. "Alpha One for the Colonel, Alpha Two for Captain Duloc, Alpha three and four for the other two douches, and Charlie-Six for the other group, if they exist."

"What other..." Johnson started.

"Shut up. Noise discipline," Nancy snapped.

They shut up. Nancy pulled the Arms Room door shut, then closed the cage and locked it. She tugged on the bars, smiled at me, and dropped into the formation as I headed out.

A glance left showed me that the window was still blowing snow into the hallway and the entire area was more or less dark, just feeble light from somewhere toward the Orderly Room providing any illumination.

"Needlemeyer, you remember the call-signs?" King asked.

"Wrote them down," he answered.

"You and... umm... Stokes take it up to the LT, give him the codes we're running under, come back," I said, looking at him. He nodded and I kept talking. "We're going to be clearing down here."

Needlemeyer nodded, shifting the heavy radio on his back, and headed into the stairwell, Stokes limping behind him.

"King, you and Levins stay here. Johnson, you stick with them. Nancy, you and Bomber with me," I told them. "Let's sweep the Orderly Room."

When we moved into the hallway between the two areas, Nancy looked at me. "We going Kurt Russel?"

I shook my head. "No. Wouldn't matter. I don't think they're using the barracks."

"I hate this shit," Bomber grumbled as he used my keyring to open the 1SG's office and then the XO's to check inside. I checked the Orderly Room, looking at the seals on the lockers, while Bomber and Nancy checked the CO's office, the bathrooms, and the utility closet.

Two of the file cabinet drawer's seals were broken. Again. Unit copies of the 201 File and orderly copies of each soldier's training file. They were filed by the last four, so I looked for mine. Gone. Bomber's. Gone. Nagle's. Gone. King. Gone.

That meant that someone had gone through the files a second time.

"Anything?" Bomber asked.

"No," Nagle said, closing the bathroom door. "Sinks are full of ice, same with the toilets."

"Rear-D's 201's and training files are missing," I threw in.

Bomber chuckled. "Oh no, they know you suck with a rifle." His face got serious. "That means they know more about us than I really would like."

"Come on." I led them back to where King was leaning against the open door, alternating between looking up the stairwell and looking down the small hallway. Johnson and Stokes were back, Stokes smoking a cigarette.

"All right, here's how we're going to do it," I told them. It took a bit of explaining, but made sure that the whole area was covered, including the stairwells.

It took about fifteen minutes before we were all gathering up at the base of the far stairwell, putting on our cold weather gear, the masks hanging down and our boots hanging from our rucksacks or whatever else we carried on our backs. We all heard the doors to Titty Territory open into Queer Country and the sound of boots heading toward us. One pair, small, moving fast. We covered the stairwell up, the door to outside, and down the hallway, waiting until whoever it was paused a little ways away.

"One coming in, Corporal Stillwater," the person said.

Fucking Aine. Great.

"Come forward. You got any Pepsi? We're dying of thirst." I tossed out the sign, even through I knew Aine's voice.

"Nope, sorry, drank mine with my MRE crackers," she said softly as she moved up. Johnson turned on his flashlight and shined it on her.

She was wearing her parka, had on her Mickey Mouse boots and trigger mittens, and had an XM-16E1 like mine in her hands. Her mask and goggles were hanging under her chin.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Private?" I asked as she moved up, pulling a D-ring out of her parka pocket.

"The LT sent me, told me to tell you that Lanks and Meeks are back. Said he's going to send them with you." She giggled.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I asked.

"I was locked in that little office behind the CQ Area." She looked sad, and I wanted to punch her in the face again for lying.

"What about Lanks and Meeks?" I asked. Behind me, I heard King struggling into the belts of 7.62.

"The Colonel locked them in the mailroom at the bottom of the middle stairwell." She smiled. "Lanks managed to work the tape loose they'd been tied with, and they just got back. They're gearing up to go with us."

Goddamn it. Mailrooms were about the only things we didn't have keys for. If we had, we could have checked the mailrooms and found them a lot faster.

"Fine. Fall in between Nagle and Stokes, make sure your tether is clear, and stay focused." I looked at the rifle.

"Qualified expert." She smiled. "I remember my zero from Basic. Eight up, Five right."

I growled and turned away as more bootsteps came up.

"Psst. Echo Five Actual, two coming in." Lanks.

"Did you at least bring Pepsi?" I snapped, irritated that Aine was coming along.

"Why the fuck would I be bringing you soda, mother... oof," Meeks said. It sounded like Lanks elbowed him.

"No, but I still got some animal crackers in my pocket if you're hungry," Lanks said.

"Come on in." Johnson flashed his flashlight, and the white light reminded me.

"Everyone move to blue lights. Lanks, Meeks, you're after King and Levins. Those your weapons?" I asked.

"Yes, Corporal, LT James opened up the Arms Room and passed out weapons and ammunition," Lanks to me.

"Good. Tether up, get ready." I turned. "Needlemeyer, come here." The other man jogged up, the radio on his back bouncing and the antenna that was looped from one side to be attached to the radio carrying frame on the other side waving back and forth. I tapped him and he knelt down so I could hit the power on the radio and grab the mic. I next to the stairwell door while I broke squelch twice on the radio.

"Echo-Five Alpha, this is Echo-Five Actual, over?" I tried. Goddamn there was a lot of interference. Most of it was probably from the barracks shielding, but still, it felt off. It sounded like someone was breathing heavy on the channel behind all the static.

"This is Echo-Five Alpha, go ahead, Echo-Five Actual. Over." The LT's voice. Thank God.

"Any contact with outside elements, Alpha? Over." I asked.

"Negative, Echo-Five Actual, no commo, repeat, no commo. Over." The LT.

"Negative contact on our end. Repeat, negative contact on our end. We're heading up to site two, Echo Five Alpha. Over."

"Three elements were on their way, Echo-Five Actual, did they rendezvous? Over."

"Roger that, Echo-Five Alpha. Geared up and good to go. Over."

"Roger that. Echo Five Alpha out."

"Echo-Five Actual out," I answered, and stuck the mic into the frame.

"Same formation. Stay close. King, make sure everyone's rigging is set right," I said, moving into the hallway and up to the doors. I had to step around Levins to make sure I didn't loop him with the line running from the D-Ring on my LBE belt to King. I paused at the door. "If you haven't been outside up here on the barracks at night, in the snow, be warned, it's going to be ugly." I tapped the NVG's. "Don't even bother with these, it's too cold." I tapped the cold weather mask that was hanging from my neck, along with the goggles. "Go like this. Stokes, drop flares every ten paces. When you run out, tap Nagle for more."

"And if she runs out?" Levins asked.

"Then we're fucked, because we went the wrong goddamn way and are lost," King said.

"What he said," I added. I pulled off my glasses, put on the mask, then my glasses, then the goggles. It looked stupid, but it let me see. I glanced back at everyone else, seeing bulky figures in parkas with cold weather masks on.

It made my blood run cold.

Without another word I pushed outside, the door squealing. I had to lean into it to get the door to open, two feet of snow drift piled up against it. When I broke the surface tension of the snow drift, the wind grabbed it and swirled it away.

The wind hit me like a hammer, trying to knock me off balance. The whole world turned red when Stokes lit up a flare and dropped it outside the door. It looked like fog, but I knew what it really meant.

We were up in the clouds that were dropping the blizzard on main post and everything around the mountain.

I headed straight forward, keeping the compass close to my face so I could see the illuminated glow in the dark pieces and make sure I was going somewhat straight. Ten paces took me onto the tarmac and I heard another flare light up.

King tapped me and I stopped. He grabbed my LBE back, pulled me close and yelled in my ear. Even so, I barely heard him over the wind. "The fog is messing up seeing the flares! Zero visibility!"

"Count flares! We'll try five paces!" I shouted back. King let go and I knew he was passing it back the line to Stokes.

Five paces and gravel crunched under my feet. The world went faintly red as the flare hissed to life.

There was a bright flash that blinded and dazzled me, with a thunderous detonation that went on and on and on. Reactions for dealing with a nuclear detonation took over and I dove forward, hitting the gravel, opening my mouth and covering the back of my neck. I stayed like that for a moment until the echoes of the explosion ended, then got up on one knee. The fog glowed purple again, the detonation happened, and I noticed that right before it happened the hairs on my arm stood up.

Lightning

Fucking great.

Kneeling in the gravel and bitching wasn't going to accomplish anything, so I got to my feet and struggled up the short incline. There was another strobe, this time the detonation was faster, happening while the fog was still glowing purple.

Christ, the lightning was coming toward us.

I reached the fence and waited until everyone grabbed onto the fence with me. Stokes fired off another flare and dropped it, the sputtering red turning the fog around us bloody. There was another bright flash that flooded the whole world and another detonation that almost knocked us down. Bomber moved forward with the wire cutters he'd grabbed from the supply room and cut through the fence. He peeled it back and used a zip-tie to attach it to the rest of the fence, then repeated with the other side.

Even without snow the wind was punishing, hammering at us and trying to push us over, and the cold sapped strength and endurance. Still, we moved through the fence, Stokes dropping another flare, and moved across the lower motorpool. It didn't seem that wide during the day, fifty yards at the most, but I could have sworn I counted fifty paces at least three times, twice the world turned purple, the second crash of thunder knocking me down and into the foot deep snow. We reached the rough terrain forklifts that were at the 'top' of the lower motorpool and I paused so I could dig into the emergency road kit that hung behind the seat. I pulled out the flares, passed them to King so he could pass them down the line, and moved over to the next one so I could pull those ones out and pass them back too.

The bumper number was 2/19 - 138, which meant we needed to go three over so that we were beside the building. Not too bad. We'd crossed the road, the parking spaces, and the lower motorpool.

Instead of heading straight toward the side of the building I moved to the left, down the line of rough terrain forklifts, pausing to pull the flares and hand them down the line. I stuffed three behind my LBE 'just in case' at one point, making sure King saw what I was doing and motioning for him to do the same and to pass the instruction down the line. He nodded, and once again the cold weather mask made me shiver with something that had nothing to do with the cold.

We reached the POL shack, where the heavy drums of oil, hydraulic fluid, and other fun things to do with POL were stored. Two hard hits with the butt of my XM-16E1 shattered the lock and I threw it to the side before opening the door and moving inside.

The loss of the wind gave an instant false warmth.

When the door shut, I hit my flashlight and panned it around.

So far, so good, we hadn't lost anyone.

"Can you all hear me?" I asked, raising my voice slightly. I knew I had a whining noise in my left ear, between the rifle fire and the thunder. Everyone nodded or told me they could.

"All right, I need a volunteer to go scout the main building," I told them. "Don't engage. If you make contract, break it and head back here. Who wants to volunteer."

Aine waved her hand from the back and I ignored her.

"Anyone?" I asked.

"I'm going," Aine said, and slipped out the door.

"Goddamn her," I snarled.

"What? Why can't she do it?" Meeks asked.

"Has the bitch even been up to the motorpool?" Nagle asked. "Fuck."

"Well, no use crying over it. Smoke 'em if you got 'em," I told everyone.

Sure, the sign said 'no smoking within 50 feet', but what was the worst that could happen? If we burst into flames at least we'd be warm for a few seconds.

Still, nobody lit up.

Thunder crashed twice before Aine knocked on the door and came in.

"There's lights inside, I saw them on the window," Aine said, her voice soft, musical, but filled with an intensity I'd never heard from her. "I looked in the window, but kept back far enough that they couldn't see me because their light would make the window impossible to see through." She was right, light made the window pretty much a mirror, and add in the mist and Aine would have been invisible even if she was two feet from the window. "There's six of them and they're searching the dispatch office. I think that's it."

"Give me a SALUTE, Private McCullen," I told her.

"Six enemy soldiers; four are in the main office, the other two alternate between in the room and standing in the hallway; they're dressed in non-NATO uniforms, what I believe to be Soviet Union basic cold weather uniforms; I watched them for five minutes and left five minutes ago; they're dressed in Soviet Union cold weather white and greys, standards LBE's, all of them are armed with AK-47's, one had two bandoleers of 7.62 across his chest while there is an RPK light machinegun sitting on Sergeant Velmost's desk. I think they had climbing gear, and I could not see their extreme cold weather gear. None of them had bayonets locked, but I only saw two with bayonets on their LBE's. They also seem to be lacking their chemical protective gear, which I see as a serious oversight." She rattled through all of it quickly, clearly, and in the speech cadence we'd all learned in Basic Training.

"Good job, Private," I told her. "We'll talk later about you taking off without clearance."

"I consider myself awaiting a reprimand," Aine said, the breathless tone returning. I growled as I turned away. Something about that SALUTE bothered me.

"Wait, Russian uniforms?" Meeks said.

"Shut it, Private," King snapped.

"Motherfucker, don't tell me..." Meeks started.

King turned around and grabbed the smaller man by the parka, lifting him off the ground with one arm. "I said 'shut it', got it?"

Meeks nodded and King set him down, brushing off the smaller man's shoulders.

"Plan?" King asked.

"Break contact?" Lanks suggested.

"No, we need to take them," Bomber said. "Now, while they're separated."

I nodded.

"McCullen, you know how to set Claymores?" I asked the petite woman.

"Yes, Corporal." She smiled.

"You'll have to do it without gloves, maybe even without the liners," I warned her.

"It's not that cold out," she told me.

...fuck you, bitch...

Lightning flashed as the thunder boomed, turning her sharp little teeth bluish purple for a second and lighting up her eyes as the purple light bled through the windows. I looked over everyone for a long moment and made my decision.

"King, you're with Aine. Show her where the access points are for the bays. She'll wire up Claymores to cover all of them but the bay side entrance, you check her work," I said, looking at them. King glanced at Aine, then nodded. Aine smiled at him, the exposed mouth area all teeth. I pulled the Claymore's I'd hung from my shoulder and handed them to him. "Needlemeyer, hand the grenades out from the fag-bag, everyone take three frag and one WP."

Nancy nodded, pulling off the two Claymores she'd been carrying and handing them to King while I kept talking. "Do not use a grenade unless they're in one of the grease pits or I give the word."

Everyone nodded as they clumsily put the grenades into the straps on the sides of the ammunition pouches and snapped them in place.

"Meet us at the bayside entrance," I said. Both soldiers nodded.

"Let's go, PFC King." Aine smiled, having pulled the Claymore bag straps over her head so the bags containing the mines were in front of her. She slid out the door of the POL shack, King following her and shutting the door.

"All right, let's move out. Safeties on unless we get aggressed," I said. I pointed at Bomber, Nagle, and Stokes, then made a chopping motion. They all nodded, telling me that they understood that they were exempt from that.

We went along the back of the vehicles along the hill until we came to one of the graded paths that let us climb the steep hill, reaching the top right at the corner of the motorpool building. We followed the wall until we came to the door that would give us access to the large open bay where the mechanics could work on up to six vehicles at the same time with plenty of room to pull everything apart and spread it out.

Another immense Cold War boondoggle in the minds of most people, but we needed a building that large. We couldn't take our vehicles to Third Shop, couldn't have maintenance done anywhere else, and our mechanics were responsible for over two hundred vehicles, all decades old, all made by the lowest bidder.

"Plan?" Bomber asked, moving up next to me and putting his head near mine. Lightning and thunder crashed and flashed while we waited at the door. I turned off my flashlight and watched as everyone did the same. Stokes had to nudge Lanks, who nudged Needlemeyer.

"Try to take them alive, if they put up the slightest resistance or look like they're going to put up a fight, we kill them all," I told everyone, but pointed at Bomber. "You'll check them out, either way, see what you can figure out. Then we'll secure the building and head back."

"Who's going to guard the gear?" Nagle asked. "I don't want a repeat of the last time we did this, it almost killed us."

"Aine," I said, and Nancy nodded.

Snowflakes were starting to drift down through the mist and I shuddered. "Visibility is going to go to hell while we're in there. We might be coming back in the teeth of a blizzard again."

"Then shouldn't we fort up here?" Needlemeyer asked.

I shook my head. "No. We don't know what's going on back at the barracks, we don't know if we'll lose power, and I don't want to leave the LT and the rest of Rear-D cut off from us."

"What, you don't think they can handle it?" Johnson asked.

If he kept sneering at me, I was going to cut his throat.

"No," Nagle said simply. "He doesn't."

"What, he's going to take the SEALs on by himself?" Johnson sneered. "He can barely qualify with a rifle. He may strut around with that knife all Billy Badass, but he ain't shit. I don't believe that bullshit story everyone's telling about what happened to the last Rear-D. I don't believe those bullshit rumors about his site either. It ain't like he's got real combat experience any more than the rest of us."

"Except he killed at least three men with that fucking knife about half an hour ago," Stokes said. "I was in the CQ Area when he, Bomber and Nagle came in, and he shanked three guys in as many seconds." She turned to Johnson. "Think about that, he killed trained men, armed with fucking rifles, with a goddamn knife. How many people have you killed, smartass?" Johnson was silent and Lanks snorted. "Then shut the fuck up," Stokes finished.

There was silence for a long time.

Aine materialized out of the snow, her facemask off so we could see her flushed face, her wide eyes, and how she was holding her lower lip in her teeth. Her trigger mittens were stuffed between her LBE and her parka. The nail polish she wore looked like fresh blood when the lightning and thunder hit again. King appeared as the mist glowed, covered up, and nodded to me.

When everyone was gathered up I looked at them. "All right, McCullen, you're staying back with our cold weather gear. Once we get inside, strip out of your cold weather gear and put on your boots. King, Johnson and Needlemeyer, Levins, Lanks, you'll take the back of the bays, make sure that there's nobody in between the vehicles. Nagle, Stokes, Bomber, and me will sweep the front of the bays. Go for silent takedowns if you can. I'd rather we avoided any weapons fire, but don't risk yourself or your team mates. When we hit the far wall, King, you lead your team up the stairs and sweep the second story, we'll take the first floor and the secure items sub-level." I looked at everyone. "Don't give these guys a chance or they'll fuck us up. Go in hard, hit them hard, put them down."

Snow started drifting down, sticking to the ground despite the wind, and I cursed.

"Corporal?" Meeks asked as I was reaching for the door. I paused and looked at him. "There should have only been like four of the SEALs left, right?" I nodded. "Then who are these assholes?"

I thought about it for a second, but Aine pulled the decision right out of my hands.

"They're Vympel. Soviet Union Spetznas, tasked with eliminating us if relations between the US and the Soviet Union ever break down." She giggled.

I glared at her.

"They're fucking Spetz? Are you fucking crazy?" Meeks said. "We gotta get out of here."

A low liquid chuckle wound between us, and everyone looked around into the fog.

"No, we gotta get out of the snow," King said, almost inaudible.

Another chuckle, even closer.

"Fuck that, I ain't taking on any Spetsnaz! We gotta..." Meeks started.

Hands reached out of the fog, reaching past the radio and grabbing Needlemeyer by the shoulders. The fingers sunk deep into the parka, and without a word the other man was snatched backwards into the fog. He started screaming as his boots disappeared from my sight.

"Go go go!" I yelled, pulling open the door.

I'd rather take on the Russians than what I knew was lurking just out of sight in the fog.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared like God's artillery as we scrambled through the door and into the dark motorpool bay. I slammed the door shut and stepped back from it, hyperventilating in fear.

Needlemeyer's screams cut off.

We were safe in the motorpool. Nowhere for Tandy to lunge out of, it was all open bays till we got to the far side. I doubted even Tandy would pop out of a grease pit.

Problem was, we still had to get back. We had to warn the LT that our suspicions were confirmed.

And Tandy had the radio.

...we're not getting off this mountain alive...