B018R79OOK EBOK

by Unknown

  Petyr raised his hand. “Master Sergeant, I know that last place. Once we get in there and block this road in, there’s not much of a way out except through these woods. We might want to use the grenades in these woods and drop them from higher up. I don’t much fancy going in down low with pistols,” he suggested.

  “I agree. Why don’t you and your group lead this one? Any other questions? Then we kick off in thirty minutes. Get going,” ordered Ricks.

  The men got up and left the room except for Petyr. He walked up to Ricks. “Dale, there’s something else we might try. Looking at the map, we are only five miles or so from our lines,” he said.

  “Yea, so?”

  “Ever think about taking prisoners?” Petyr asked. “I mean, several have thrown up their hands to our guys before. I have a feeling they are scared to death of these things. We might turn this into an advantage. If we go in today and the situation presents itself, let’s see if we can march these guys over the line?”

  Ricks shrugged. “Sounds like a good idea, but we have to be careful that they aren’t pulling a fast one.” A puzzled look came over Petyr’s face and Ricks had to explain. “I mean, they may try and trick us,” he said.

  “Still, it might work. The guys are getting tired of shooting people. If we could do it, I’d like to try,” said Petyr. “We even have a way of linking our speakers so that someone can make a big broadcast.”

  Ricks nodded and slapped him on the shoulder. “Then give it a try. If any of them do surrender, we can arrange for them to get a free pass across our lines to some waiting troops. Nice idea,” he said. “But to make this work, we need more than just a platoon. I’ll get a few more to join in. If nothing else, we will scare them to death. I’ll come up once it’s arranged.”

  “I’ll see you then,” Petyr said before heading off to his people.

  As described, the lake was surrounded by trees and gave perfect cover for the men encamped inside. A kitchen unit had been set up and smoke rose from some of the tents. A number of men were in the small clearing about to get their first hot meal in a long time. Tents were all around the perimeter and there were about twenty trucks and armored vehicles near the lake. Small fires had been built near groups of tents to supply some warmth. It wasn’t much, but for troops who had been out in the cold for over a month, it was almost a paradise.

  Suddenly the drones descended from over the trees and began coming up along the roadway. They swarmed in dropping grenades along the stacked supplies and on the mobile kitchen. The soldiers panicked and began running everywhere for cover. Anyone going for a rifle was shot. Several headed into the trees were turned back when they found grenades going off ahead of them. Very quickly the soldiers were herded into the center of the compound when a voice seemed to come from all the drones at once, “Keep your hands in the air. If you are peaceful, we will not kill you,” the voice said in Russian. Near one of the trucks, a man held up a rifle. A single shot from a drone which was directly behind him caused him to flop to the ground. One of the officers came out of his tent brandishing a pistol and screaming at the men to get to their rifles and fight. A single drone dropped down and went over to him. The man aimed the pistol and fired several wild shots. The drone operator moved in a little closer and shot the man between the eyes. Blood spurted from the hole in his forehead and he stood for a moment before crumbling to the ground. The rest quickly abandoned their weapons and raised their hands.

  In the drone center, Petyr turned to Ricks. “Okay, you want them to walk or ride?”

  “Let’s let them ride. It’s the best chance they will make it across alive,” said Ricks.

  Petyr keyed his microphone. “Thank you for being so reasonable. Please do as we say and tonight you will be warm and fed. Do the trucks work?” He saw many of the men nod. “Good, leave your weapons and get in the trucks. Have the drivers go to the main road and turn right. You are to drive through the lines until we tell you to stop. We will be with you. As long as you do as we say, you will come to no harm. Now get everyone in the trucks.”

  The soldiers did as they were told. They rushed to the trucks and climbed into the back until all were packed to overflowing. Some then climbed up on the running boards or held onto the sides as best they could. As the trucks moved out, a set of drones moved with them, some on each side and back and one on the top. They drove down the old dirt road past the farmhouse and turned right onto the paved main road.

  In the center, Ricks was on the phone with the colonel in charge of the sector. “Yes, sir, there will be twenty trucks filled with Russian soldiers. They have surrendered to our drones and are headed your way. I have drones with each truck so you will be able to tell who they are. I may also have some of our guys keeping the forces opposing you in their holes as they pass. Just please don’t shoot these guys,” he said. After hearing a response, he said, “Yes, sir,” and hung up. He turned to Petyr who was seeing the last truck off. “All set,” he said.

  Ten of the drones surged ahead of the trucks looking for anyone who might want to stop them. Along the way they saw several sets of troops moving along, but not very interested in much more than trying to keep out the cold. The guards at a checkpoint were eliminated along with several men manning machine gun positions beside the road. It was like a set of offensive linemen making way for a quarterback.

  On the road, several of the men in the trucks were looking out at the drones. They were holding steady just a few yards away going as fast as the trucks were. One of the men sitting in the cab of a truck waved at the drone flying just a few feet away. He was surprised that the drone began tilting back and forth in response. He got the attention of the others who also began waving. They began to feel like their ordeal really was over.

  After everyone had left the camp, Petyr and three others remained behind to make sure no one was hiding in the area. After several sweeps, they were satisfied and began making their way back out via the road. Petyr took his time. He wanted to see the house Freda had grown up in. It was a typical, colorful country farmhouse that looked undamaged by the war. As he came up the road, he saw someone come out of the house carrying a bucket. It was a female, and she made her way to the pump for the well.

  Petyr gasped. It was Freda. Taking the controls, he rapidly moved his drone toward the farmhouse.

  Freda had begun pumping the old pump to get water for the family. They had watched the Russians move away and she figured it was safe to go outside. The bucket was half filled when she heard a strange buzzing sound. Turning toward it, she saw the drone moving quickly towards her. She dropped the bucket and began running toward the house when she heard a voice.

  “Freda!” Petyr almost shouted through the speaker of the drone.

  She made it to the door and turned when she heard the voice. She was clearly frightened as she watched the flying apparition come closer to her. It was coming slowly now. She started to dart into the house when she heard it again.

  “Freda, it’s me, Petyr.”

  A puzzled look came over her face. “Petyr?”

  “Dearest Freda, I thought you and the family were dead.”

  Now she recognized the voice and her face turned to an expression of joy. “Petyr, it is you!” she said. She raised her hands to reach out, but didn’t know what to touch.

  “Better not touch. I am flying this by remote control,” he said. “Is the family there with you?” Petyr asked.

  Suddenly the door burst open and Rudy charged out with a large broomstick in his hand. Only Freda prevented him from beating the drone into pieces. “It’s Petyr!” she cried out.

  Rudy stopped and stared at the machine.

  “Hello Rudy,” Petyr said through the drone.

  Sasha came out next, more out of curiosity than anything else. “So cool,” he said. Soon the whole family was out looking at the strange machine, smiling up at him.

  “Our tenants here moved away, so after the building was hit, we decided to all come here,” explained Fred
a. “Since the Russians came a few days ago, we have been afraid to come out.”

  “I saw our home. But I also saw one of your dresses and it looked like there was blood on it,” Petyr said.

  “Freda helped one of the neighbors who was hurt. I couldn’t get the stains out,” said Petyr’s mother. “We had to leave so quickly there wasn’t time to really get everything, so we left it along with a few other things,” she said.

  They spoke for only a few minutes before Petyr called things to a halt. “Look, I have to go back now. We are nearby and I hope when I can, to come home and see you. I’m just so happy to find you all alive,” Petyr said. “I’ll try and come back every so often to look in on you. Good-bye everyone,” he said.

  They all waived at him as the drone lifted higher in the sky and disappeared in the distance. Petyr sat back in his seat and felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Ricks standing behind him.

  Ricks saw the tears in the young man’s eyes and just smiled down at the boy. “Nice family,” he said. “I’m glad they’re alright.”

  “You were right. I shouldn’t have given up hope,” Petyr said as he wiped the tears on his sleeve.

  “Always listen to your sergeant,” Ricks joked. “Your prisoners have just crossed to our side of the line. You just saved over 500 people from being killed. The colonel was so impressed, he ordered the other units to do the same. We may run out of room at these POW camps,” he grinned. “Now, get your people back together, we have a job to do.”

  Petyr smiled up at Ricks. “Thanks, Dale,” he said before turning back to his console and calling up his platoon.

  Ricks looked at the boy with pride. It was nice to see good things happen to really good people.

  USS Iowa

  The Osprey flared out and positioned itself over the helicopter pad aboard the ship. After touching down, the rear of the plane opened and several people got out along with several pallets of blow up mattresses. Lieutenant Commander Rod Jeffers walked toward the superstructure and was met by an officer in a working uniform.

  “Lieutenant Commander Jeffers?” he inquired.

  Jeffers nodded and extended his hand. “That’s me,” he said with a grin.

  “Russ Sampson, the XO,” Sampson said shaking his hand. “Sorry we had to bring you over early, but we were told you understand Russian, and we have over 400 of them aboard.” He ordered some of the men to carry Jeffers’ baggage to his stateroom.

  “Is there a problem?” asked Jeffers.

  “Not such a big one, but I’d rather one of our own translated instead of using one of them. You never know what’s really being said. Besides, I need a First Lieutenant. The guys aboard are doing a great job, but I need a quarterback,” Sampson said as they made their way forward. Just aft of turret two they entered a passageway and headed toward the starboard side to the XO’s stateroom. “Come in a few and take a seat,” the XO said as he motioned Jeffers to the chair beside his desk.

  Jeffers sat down and the XO took off his heavy jacket. “Rod, I appreciate you coming in to help out. Our First Lieutenant was killed during one of the bombing runs a few days ago. Have you had any experience as a first lieutenant?” the XO asked.

  “Not much, but I worked closely with ours aboard the Kings Mountain. I was the gunnery officer aboard,” Jeffers said.

  “Well, then you’ll have to learn quick. This ship is all steel and nothing but. Just keeping up with the rust is a full time job, not to mention all the boats onboard. You also have the unrep gear and ammo handling gear along with a couple acres of teak to keep clean. Needless to say, the Captain likes his ship to look good and you are the man to keep him happy. You also have the responsibility for your people. One of my pet peeves is the number of people coming to mast. Usually it is Deck Department that keeps my day busy on that note. I need you to make sure your people stay out of trouble,” he said pointing his finger at Jeffers. Then he softened a bit. “Naturally, I know you can’t control all these people, but do what you can. You know the drill. Talk to your officers and chiefs. They’re a good bunch and can fill you in on the details. Being a department head, you won’t be standing watches on the bridge, but I figure your days will be busy. Go over your watch quarter and station bill. That will tell you how many people you have for any one thing and where they go during the day. Do you have any questions?” the XO asked.

  “Too new to ask, XO. But if I have any, I’ll come to you,” said Jeffers.

  “Good. The CO wants to see you when you get settled. Your stateroom is just up the passageway. Get yourself set up then go see him. He will probably be on the bridge,” the XO said, extending his hand again.

  “Thanks, XO. I’ll check in with you later on,” said Jeffers. He then turned and left the stateroom and made his way down the passageway where a sailor was depositing his belongings.

  “Two guitars and a banjo?” the young man asked.

  Jeffers nodded. “Yea, it gives me something to beat my people with,” he joked.

  “Then I’ll stay out of your way, sir,” the man said with a grin.

  “Thanks for the help.”

  “No problem, sir. The head is just down there to the left and the wardroom is back past the XO’s stateroom. Go aft of the wardroom and up the ladder three levels and you will get to the bridge,” the young man added.

  “I appreciate it.” Jeffers entered the largest stateroom he had ever “owned.” There were two closets, a set of drawers, a bed with more storage, desk, safe, and two chairs. There was a small television on the bulkhead at the foot of his bed. To the right was a sink and cabinet. All was standard Navy and all made of steel. The best part was there was only one bed. Not sharing a stateroom was so much nicer. He spent a few minutes hanging up his uniforms and unpacking the rest of his things, then made his way to the bridge.

  On the starboard side of the bridge he saw a man sitting in a chair. Only one man could sit in that seat. He walked up and introduced himself. “Captain, I’m Rod Jeffers, your new First Lieutenant,” he said formally.

  Rhodes’ face broke into a smile. He put down the message traffic and extended his hand. “Good to see you, Rod. Admiral Hustvedt had some pretty nice things to say about you. Glad to have you aboard. Are you settled in?”

  “As best as I could. I am anxious to get to the Deck office and talk to some people,” Jeffers said.

  Rhodes saw him wince slightly as he pulled back his hand. “I heard you were hit. Will you be okay?”

  Jeffers smiled. “The stitches are still in, but I was told you needed me here right away.”

  “Well, don’t let that get in the way of healing up. When the time comes, you will be needed. Your people are doing a good job. Just keep my ship sparkling. This long period of time at sea isn’t doing the old lady much good, but when we get the time, I want to make sure we set her straight. Just come to me or the XO if there’s something you want to try that’s new or different. I prefer no surprises,” the CO said.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Captain,” said Jeffers. He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. I’ll get below and see where these guys sit,” he said.

  “Good. We can talk more once you get settled in. Glad to have you with us, Rod,” said Rhodes.

  Jeffers made his way to the wardroom. It was a large space that spanned the full width of the superstructure. There were portholes on either side and three quarts of the space was filled with two long rows of tables covered in a white tablecloth. There was a single short table at one end between them. Chairs were along each side of the tables and a number of officers were already there standing behind a seat. Jeffers went in and was introducing himself around. When the XO came in, everyone got quiet. The XO introduced the new First Lieutenant then a prayer was offered. Everyone sat down and the mess attendants began bringing in the soup.

  Jeffers found himself sitting opposite several Russian officers. He said hello to the Russians, in English, and then when he received a cold reception, ig
nored them. Their conversations with each other began almost immediately. Jeffers concentrated on his soup. It was chicken noodle and wasn’t too bad by most wardroom standards. At least the cooks knew to lay off the salt. He was talking to another officer beside him when he began overhearing the Russian conversations. They were now feeling at ease and not too worried about someone overhearing.

  “The soup is awful. I can’t wait till we get back home,” said one.

  “Shut up, you fool, we don’t know this new man. He may be a spy,” said another.

  “I doubt it. See. He sits with a stupid look on his face.”

  “Americans don’t even teach our language in their schools. It is safe. Don’t forget to get the knives today. This should get us enough for at least twelve people. I got with Oslevic just a few minutes ago. He will meet us in their cafeteria. We will start in the engine rooms. If we can open the gears, we can lock up one of the shafts or possibly shut down their electric power. Oslevic says he knows how to do this. From there, we can gain control of the ship.”

  “Good. Once we do this, we can sail her into Sevastopol. We will be heroes of the Republic.”

  “Never mind that, we can get home,” said one.