"They were the best the USSR had."
"We were just REMF's."
"But we'd learned hated."
"They just knew the word."

2/19th Special Weapons Group
Restricted Area, Alfenwehr West Germany
Winter—January, 1985
Day 12 of Repairs
Day 4 of the Second Incident
Morning

"Sound off," I rasped out, spitting blood on the floor.

"Foster," he coughed. He moaned in agony.

"Dobbs."

"Nagle," she coughed. "Oh, goddammit."

"Stokes."

"King," came the groan from the hallway.

"Bomber."

Lanks groaned her name from the bathroom.

"Actual, come in Echo Five Actual, do you read?" came over the radio. Oh, good, the Colonel was with us. Thank God he survived the fight. What would we ever do without his leadership?

McCullen was still panting, staring around with wild eyes. Nancy staggered over and slapped her. "McCullen!"

"Here, Drill Sergeant!" she sounded off. Her eyes cleared and she looked around, confused. "What happened?"

"I saved you, it was great," Stokes grunted.

"Echo Five Actual, do you read?"

Nancy knelt down by Foster, looking at him, then looking at me and shrugging. She moved to Sherry, looking down, and I staggered up, dragging my leg behind me. She rolled Sherry over and turned her head, gagging.

Most of his guts were leaking out of the hole torn in his side. His right arm had been under him, all that was holding his intestines in. When Nancy rolled him loops of intestine stayed behind. Bloody foam was coming from his mouth and nose.

Sherry's eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened.

"Stillwater?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Oh God!" Nancy cried out, kneeling down. "Lanks, Lanks, I need you now!"

"Yeah?" I asked, squatting down. Nancy was trying to scoop his intestines back into the hole in his side.

"Am I fucked?" he asked me, licking his pale lips. His voice was weak and blood was spreading out into a freezing puddle. Nancy looked at me and shook her head.

"Yeah," I told him, honestly. Nancy glared at me.

I lit a cigarette and motioned to him. "Want it?"

He coughed, more bloody foam coming from his mouth and nose. His remaining hand flopped on the ground. "Sure, why not?"

Lanks came staggering in, holding onto the side of her face with one hand, supporting herself against the wall lockers with the other. "Face. My face," she said softly.

"Ant, do what you can," Nancy snapped, moving to Lanks. I looked up and saw Nancy pull Lanks's hand away.

And half her scalp peeled down from the top of her head to her right eyebrow.

"Hey, drag?" Sherry coughed.

"Sorry." I put it to his lips and watched as he took a drag.

"Echo Five Actual, do you read? Echo Five Actual, this is Condor Three-Six-Seven, do you read, over?"

"Fucking hurts," Sherry moaned. "How bad?"

"Let off the mic, Foster," Stokes said.

"Never," Foster gasped. "Atlas never dies."

"Foster, baby, you gotta give momma the mic," Stokes said again. "That's it, baby. Give the mic to momma. Give momma the mic so Nagle can take care of you."

"I can hear voices, but I'm not sure what's going on," the Colonel said. "Jesus, did you hear all that?"

"You're dicked," I told Sherry honestly. I took a drag off the cigarette. The butt was damp with blood, but fuck it.

"Figured. Jumped on the grenade," he said. His breath was starting to hitch. "Vicar O'Connor always said I wouldn't amount to nothing," he coughed. "More fool on him."

Aine knelt above Sherry's head, her knees to either side, and reached down to cradle his head. She bent down and kissed his forehead.

"The paths to Tir na Nog are open to you, beloved," She said solemnly.

"Stay here, keep pressure," Nancy said to Lanks. She came back next to me. She had a bottle in her hand and was pulling out liquid with the syringe.

"Echo Five Actual, is there anyone left?" the Colonel asked. "Does anyone read me, over?"

"I'm gonna give you a shot, take away some of the pain till we can evac you," Nancy told him, pulling the needle free.

"We're here, Condor," Stokes coughed. "We're here, over." Outside the snow was sweeping toward us, advancing steadily. My mind threw up an image of the Russians, covered in ice, still coming at me.

Victory through superior firepower.

"Liar," Sherry coughed. Nancy froze and Sherry looked at her. "Please. Hurts. Get it," he grabbed her arm. "Just a bit to ease me home, Nagle."

She nodded, and felt at his neck. She stuck the needle in and pressed the plunger down. Three quarters of a syringe flowed into Sherry's neck. Snow began blowing in through the window.

"You'll just get a little sleepy, honey. Stillwater and Aine will stay with you," she said, moving to Foster, who was holding his stomach and crying silently. I slumped down, lying on my side, pressing the cigarette to Sherry's mouth and letting him pull a drag. Aine lay on the other side, stroking his cheek, and singing softly in Gaelic.

"What happened? I mean, sit-rep, Actual. Over." the Colonel asked. Stokes chuckled, putting her chin on her chest and sighing.

Aine kissed Sherry's cheek gently, tears running down her blood-spattered face.

...shouldn't she be face down...

"Liar." Sherry smiled. His teeth were red with blood. His lips were turning blue under the blood, as were the edges of his nostrils. I nodded and sat up, looking around.

"The Soviets made a push," Stokes gasped. "I think we got them all." Stokes laughed harshly. "But I think they got us too."

I grabbed Sherry's hand, holding tight to it, and pulled open the desk drawer next to me with my other hand. My pinky was bent backwards, the whole side of my hand swollen and painful looking as I yanked on the drawer twice before getting it open.

All I could feel in my legs and arms was a weird balloon feeling and tingling.

The bottle came out and I stuck the top of the Wild Turkey in my mouth before pulling the cork out. I spat it across the room, noticing that my room was completely wrecked.

Again.

Nancy grabbed the mic. "Sir, we need medical advice." She coughed and groaned. "We've got multiple severe traumatic injuries and I'm working out of a manual." Her voice was clipped and emotionless, but I could hear the stress in it.

"We'll try to patch you in," the Colonel told us. The line was getting clearer, not more staticky, as the wind began to pick up in the room, blowing snow in. The light dimmed, and I shivered.

"I'm cold too," Sherry said. "Drink?" His voice was muzzy, his eyes only half open. The morphine was affecting him. Well, that and catastrophic damage.

"Sure," I told him, inhaling deep and feeling something pop in my chest. It got easier to breathe. I heard the door slam behind me, and a look to my left showed me King limping into the room, dragging the M60 by the bipod. He looked like hell.

"Sir, I've got an open belly wound, not sure how deep," Nancy said.

"Fucker bayoneted me." Foster gasped. "Oh God, that shot's working."

"Hold still, Lanks, I'll put a field dressing on it," Dobbs said, moving up. She pulled on the snap on the upside-down pouch and caught the field dressing. She had blood still running down her chin when she pulled the plastic apart with her teeth.

I noticed that one of her front teeth was missing. Her T-shirt was soaked in blood. Who knew if it was hers?

I glanced back down, putting the bottle to Sherry's open mouth, and spilling some between his lips. He gulped, sputtered as I withdrew the bottle, and gagged.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"Your mother loves you," Aine said from where she was lying on the other side from me. Her voice was sing-song, ethereal, and seemed to twine with the wind. "You shall ride with the Wild Hunt and feast in the Halls of Summer," The wind swept down and the snow went from little flurries to a wall roaring into the room.

"Actual, how bad are your injuries? Over," the Colonel asked. Nancy bent over coughing.

"Nancy, we've gotta evac!" I yelled.

I wasn't sure if I was worried about the cold, Tandy, the guy with the axe, or the unsettling idea of the Wild Hunt bursting into the room.

"We can't!" Nancy yelled back. "We can't move Sherry."

"Stillwater," Sherry whispered. I looked down. "Give me my weapon."

I shook my head. "No, you're coming with us," I told him.

He coughed and sprayed bloody foam. He shook his head. "No. I don't feel cold."

I didn't even know how the hell he was alive, but I reached out, picked up a weapon, and put a new magazine in it from my ammo pouch.

The lizard dutifully reported I had three magazines left.

Sherry smiled at me, teeth bloody with tiny bubbles, slapped the bottom of the magazine, racked back the bolt, and thumped the forward assist with the heel of his hand.

Aine sat up, crying, and touched his forehead with bloody fingertips.

"Ready to die..." he wheezed.

"But never will," Bomber said with me as he squatted down to put one bloody hand on Sherry's head.

"Lanks, help me slide Foster onto that quilt. Stillwater can just deal with it," Nancy snapped.

Bomber looked at me. "His choice, brother." He looked down at Sherry. "Your boots are on."

Sherry smiled again and coughed. "Good."

King went by, still dragging the M60 by the barrel. Lanks and Nancy staggered by next, my quilt in their hands, Foster in the quilt, holding onto his weapon.

"Actual, do you read? Over." the Colonel was asking.

Stokes came up and looked down at where Bomber, Sherry, and I were. "We gotta evac," she said. Dobbs was leaning against the thicker woman, one arm thrown over her shoulders, breathing heavily.

"I'll hold," Sherry said softly. His eyes were staring at the ceiling. "Go."

"We're going," I told him, waving at Dobbs and Stokes. They headed out.

"Two nineteenth," Sherry whispered. I looked at Bomber, who nodded. Sherry was looking at the ceiling, staring at it, but not seeing it. "Born to fight." I could barely hear him. "Trained to kill." He was just mouthing the words. "Willing to die." His lips were moving, but I don't think he knew it.

He stopped.

"But never will," Bomber said. I reached down and closed his eyes. Bomber gently eased the M16 from his hands, and I stripped the ammo out of his ammo pouches. Bomber stood up with a groan, while I put Sherry's dogtags in his mouth and pushed his mouth closed. Bomber staggered back with one of his softcaps, and set it on Sherry's face.

"Let's go," Bomber said, reaching down and helping me to my feet with a hard yank. My leg throbbed, and I couldn't feel his grip on my hand. Both of us had frozen blood on our uniforms, the edges of the bloodstains gilded with white frost.