2/19th SWG War Fighter Tunnels
Alfenwehr
West Germany
28 October, 1987
0800

The booming noise of the door shutting and the thunder of the bolts slamming home punctuated what I had just done. The air vibrated with the force of the chain driven door slamming into the frame.

Lights were coming on with clacking noises that I could barely hear.

"Is Sergeant Stillwater..." Neelson started.

"He'll be fine. He excels at the kind of fight he was in," Groom snapped, her voice pulling me out of dark thoughts about how I'd locked one of my only friends outside with a bunch of murdering cannibals. "They're not going to take Ant."

"He's the Atlas Ant, worry about ourselves," I growled, turning around. Everyone was staring at me, their eyes wide over their oxygen masks. "We need to fire the tunnels up and Harris needs medical treatment right now."

I pushed my way through them, careful not to elbow anyone in the stomach or knock anyone down, ignoring my instincts to do just that. I paused to look at Harris. He was unconscious, blood frozen on the right side of his chest.

"How do we do that?" Groom asked, pulling the sling of the shotgun over her head and bending down to pick up Harris with a grunt.

"I have no idea, but Stillwater wrote directions down," I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the pieces of paper Stillwater had ripped free of his little green notebook. I opened them up and the first words written made me grin.

Do not panic!

"If you hadn't have locked him outside," Gordons started to say.

I read the next line.

If an eighteen year old fuckup like me can fire them up, you can too. You have your Citadel Ridge training to fall back on, and my confidence.

"Shut the fuck up," Wright snarled. "You didn't see it."

I read the next line before folding it up.

You have your training. You have experience. Keep the preggos alive. Keep the wounded alive.

I elbowed Gordons in the stomach. "What she said."

My boots thudded on the metal grill that made up the floor as I started moving down the tunnel. I was looking over the instructions for how get everything running. Fire up the power first, turn on the lights, turn on the heat, turn on the blowers. Go to the computers, seal the doors at the ends of the tunnels. Seal the inner doors. Stay in the main complex. How to turn on communication. A map of the "egg" where everything I'd need was at.

Harris moaned, a pain filled agonized sound.

I picked up my steps and looked back and had to slow down. Two of the preggos were holding their stomachs and waddling, one of them, Beach I think her name was, huffing under her face mask.

Her crotch and the tops of the inside of her thighs was soaked.

...crap...

She gave me a wan smile and kept waddling forward.

Harris needed surgery, and I had a preggo in labor.

Neither would survive if I didn't fire up the tunnels. But if I took the time to do that, then they both could end up dead from complications. Every second Harris's heart was pumping blood into his chest cavity, crushing his lungs. Every second Beach (or whatever her name was) would get weaker and weaker and the baby would be at...

Wait.

Training.

She would be fine even if it took me several hours to treat Harris. Her body was designed to give birth, she was Grade-A Army Machine, she could handle labor. Harris's body wasn't designed to take a bullet to the chest. Without medical attention he would die.

I wouldn't trust Gordons to start the War Fighter Tunnels up, which meant I had to do it. I couldn't have any of the females risk it.

The lights clicked on ahead to expose a large room. I could see ballistic shields surrounding a bank of computers as well as heavy doors stenciled with what was beyond. I could see two large tunnel openings even as far back as I was.

"We're almost there," I said, somewhat unnecessarily, but I was concentrating on the stencils.

"MED-BAY" was on the right.

"Get Harris in there, put him on one of the tables, I'll get to him as soon as possible," I snapped, "Groom, treat him for a sucking chest wound, just in case, use both of your field dressings, I'll replace it from my kit."

I'd need help, I'd need someone to assist me.

Groom was the only one I'd trust. She'd gone through Special Weapons, even though it was the NBC side, and it made me trust her more than anyone else.

I moved over to the dark computers, setting the paper down and reading the rest.

Instructions on how to fire up the tunnels, step by step. The computers were down, so the system hadn't gone to standby.

"I'll be back," I told them, and moved into the darkness of the section where the power and heat would be.

I rushed it as fast as possible, going steady so that I didn't rush and have to start over, but I could feel every second slipping by. I knew that each second Harris's chances were decreasing, but the mission had to come first. Had the bullet hit his lung? Had it shattered a rib and driven the rib fragments into the lung or heart? Had it gone all the way through?

The generators were the easiest part, they fired right up and the lights got brighter. Before only every third light had been on, once the generators fired up all of them turned on. I moved over to the heating section, following the instructions to turn on the emergency electric furnaces first and then the electrically heated water heaters.

I moved back into the "egg" section, moving toward the computers, when he came out of the tunnel that was labeled "Lower Access Point", jogging toward us.

"You succeeded in activating the lights , that is good," Stillwater said, moving up next to me. He sat down in the chair, smiling at me and putting his hands behind his neck.

"Gonna help?" I asked him. "I've got one man wounded and one in labor."

He nodded, standing up. "Go, provide them with medical care. I shall finish reactivating this facility."

"Thanks," I moved toward the surgical bay. When I went inside Harris was sitting up, his shirts off and looking at his pectoral muscle, which was covered in iodine. When I came in, he looked up.

"Through and through under my armpit," He said.

Groom looked up from behind him. "Looks like all he needs is stitches. I wanted to wait till you were here."

I nodded, moving over to the sink, stepping on the pedal and using my teeth to take off my gloves. The pipes groaned and thumped, but water and ice chips started to dribble from the faucet.

"N NAGLE & M STOKES WERE HERE - 1986" was scratched into the side of the sink.

My gloves off, I grabbed the soap and started washing my hands, wrist to fingertips, singing softly to myself a song I'd memorized that was four minutes fifteen seconds long. The water was cold, just a few degrees above freezing. By the time I was done, the water was lukewarm and I was tempted to keep my hands in it.

I dried them quickly, then turned to Harris, who was shivering. I looked up in time to see the preggo waddle by, huffing as she kept to her Lamaze training. She gave me a sunny smile and a thumbs up.

The wound was through and through the meat on either side of the armpit. Not enough mass to cause the .45 round to mushroom. Groom got the suture kit for me and it only took a few minutes to stitch the four holes shut and then put iodine on them. I bandaged him up, gave him a shot of morphine, and cleaned up.

The lights came on, bright and harsh, with loud clacking sounds. I heard fans kick on behind the steel walls, and a gurgling as the pipes started getting more water. I was bandaging Harris's back when the klaxon cut on again and I looked up in time to see the heavy blast doors closing over the access tunnels. When they thudded into place the air itself seemed to shake.

When I finished I walked back into the main egg, seeing Stillwater sitting in one of the chairs in front of a computer terminal, his feet up on the console, smoking a cigarette. He saw me and gave me a grin, the harsh fluorescent lights turning his glasses into flashing mirrors.

I frowned slightly, something bothering me.

Beach waddled up to me, pulling my attention from Stillwater, huffing and puffing as she did so. She smiled, her hands underneath her belly. Wright stood next to her, glancing at her watch.

"How far apart?" I asked, putting my hand at the small of her back and guiding her toward the med-bay.

"Four and a half minutes," Wright said.

"How long are the contractions?" I asked.

"Ninety seconds," Wright said.

"She isn't moving around," Beach said.

"It's all right, she's holding still so she can be born," I told her, keeping my voice calm and my tone even. We paused for a second while Beach moaned softly and I could see her belly ripple. I watched my watch and saw that the contraction lasted 98 seconds.

That baby wanted born right now.

"Let me help you up, sweety," I told her. I made sure she kept her balance as she got up on the surgical table. Once she was leaned back I cranked up the back rest until she was at about a 30 degree angle, then moved to the end to check for stirrups.

Finally, something going right.

I raised the stirrups, and smiled at her as she huffed her way through another contraction.

"OK, we gotta get your clothing off. I'm gonna leave your socks on, keep your feet warm," I smiled at her.

She just nodded and did her best to help me get her uniform and longjohns off. Once that was done I put up her feet in the stirrups and started hooking up what monitors we had. Honestly, I was surprised that they had stuff to deliver babies.

...we can fight and survive in those bunkers, five hundred of us, in the War Fighter Tunnels, for up to three years...

Stillwater's voice, rough and gravelly.

The baby's heartbeat was strong, so was the mother's, and we played the waiting game.

My big worry was that Beach going into labor would set one or more of the other women. That was the last thing I needed, the four women who were eight months or more going into labor. I doubted there was premie stuff in it.

But then, you never knew.

Nearly twelve hours later Gordons helped me carry Beach into the officer bays and put her in bed with her healthy nine pound five ounce baby girl. I was exhausted, my hands shaking as I moved over and sat down.

Stillwater looked at me, his glasses turning into mirrors again.

"How is the baby, Corporal Cromwell?" He asked, his voice smooth and hopeful.

"Healthy," I told him, yawning.

"That is good," He said, pulling out his cigarettes and pulling one out. "And how fares the mother?"

"Sleeping. She's in excellent health, she didn't even split," I yawned again and leaned back, putting my feet. up. Stillwater lit his cigarette and put the pack away in his left breast pocket.

"That looks like a good idea," I told him, pulling out my Marlboro Lights and lighting one as he watched.

I noticed the lights were dim and jerked my cigarette up at it before taking another long drag, "What's with the lights?"

"I have placed them on 24 hour cycle to assist in timekeeping and maintain biorythms," He said.

I nodded.

"I have mandated a guard rotation, even though we only have two men, counting myself, fit to put on guard duty," He said.

I just nodded, yawning again. "Put me on."

"No," The word was said with finality, but I was too tired to argue. "Myself and Gordons shall take guard duty, while you ensure that the women stay in good health. Harris only has a flesh wound, in two days I will put him on the guard roster."

I just nodded again, then got to my feet. "I'm going to get some sleep."

"Rest well, young lady," Stillwater told me.

I just yawned as I headed to the officer bays. When I got in I closed the door and stripped naked, moving in front of the mirror.

My back was still bandaged. Twisting I could see that I had only bled through in a few spots, mostly yellowish seeping, so I decided to just leave it.

I needed a shower, but honestly, it could wait. I was so tired I felt punch drunk, and I silently thanked the training I got at Special Weapons Medical Course.

I collapsed face first onto the bed, thought about taking off my boots...

and fell asleep.