Assault by Fire

by Lt. Col. H. Ripley Rawlings IV (USMC, Ret. )

  Tyce and SSgt. Diaz returned from their patrol at the head of blue-faced, snow-covered troops, through the doors and into the warmth of the ski chalet. Windy white swirls of blizzard followed. The evening patrol sat waiting with apathy for their turn in the swirling maelstrom, geared up and in an organized, but sleepy line. Gunny barked an order, and the men let out a collective grumble but got to their feet and marched lethargically past their returning brothers and into the snowy dusk.

  The returning patrol made a beeline for the huge fireplace, where the navy corpsmen had tables set up with Dixie cups full of hot cider. The troops pulled off ice-covered gear and sank unceremoniously in wet heaps onto the huge leather sofas, their cheeks and hands glowing all manner of red and pink hues.

  Tyce and Diaz tramped their feet at the entrance and moved aside from the outbound troops to confer with Gunny. Gunny waited patiently for them to pull off gear, holding two canteen cups of cider. He watched with more than a little interest as Diaz unbuckled her helmet and peeled off her balaclava. A mass of beautiful, tangled, cinnamon-brown hair spilled around her shoulders.

  Gunny saw he’d caught Tyce’s eye and hastily chirped, “Any sign of the storm abating, sir?”

  “Actually, I think it’s getting worse.” said Tyce unbuckling heavy boots and rubbing frozen toes.

  Gunny went back to staring at Diaz as she tugged off her uniform top, her wet shirt steaming in the warm air, and showed off some of her solid but shapely body. “Uh, still nothing from regiment on the radios?” answered Gunny, “We have been hearing some American voices on the civilian bands, but we can’t make them out. I’ve got men on the roof trying to tighten up the signal.”

  Tyce looked back out the chalet’s big front windows and into the blue-grey darkness. Night was coming fast.

  “Okay, Gunny, but don’t let them tinker up there for long. No more than an hour. I’d say the temp is in the teens. With the windchill, it’s probably closer to zero, and dropping.” He pointed to the roof. “Up on the tenth story, that wind is going to be killer.”

  “Okay, sir. I’ll get them down in an hour. It would be good to get some outside news, though.” Gunny stared at SSgt. Diaz pulled chunks of snow off the ends of her auburn hair for a moment, then added, “The observation post at the bottom of the mountain passed word by phone that they stopped two civilian vehicles, did you hear?”

  “Hadn’t heard.” Tyce narrowed his eyes.

  “They’re civilians. Probably trapped by the storm.”

  “Okay, let’s triple-check that. I don’t trust the Russians not to have co-opted some locals into trying to find us now. I’d figure some folks might forget their patriotism for a full tank of heating oil this winter.”

  “Never in ’Merica!” Gunny joked. “They’re being escorted up here now, sir. Want to meet them when they arrive?”

  “Nah.” Tyce looked at the troops from his patrol, all joking by the roaring fire. “Did we get the gas turned on yet?” It was warm and toasty in the main room, heated by an overabundance of leftover chopped wood, but the individual rooms would still be freezing. He supposed it didn’t matter too much to the troops. Some camaraderie, a warm sleeping bag, a roof overhead to stop the snow and walls to stop the wind, and they were pretty much okay.

  “No, sir. But we did find a few more stocked storerooms. I’m thinking we’ll check out the other hotels soon, too.”

  SSgt. Diaz pulled off her long-sleeved shirt. Her olive drab T-shirt underneath was soaked and clung to her muscled body. Tyce caught Gunny eyeing her up again. SSgt. seemed oblivious to the attention and pushed her machine gun over to Gunny to hold, stretching out tired muscles but showing off her figure even more.

  Tyce had known it was inevitable. And as soon as they had found the warmth and comfort of the ski chalet at Snowshoe, his troops were bound to start to get friendly.

  “Gunny,” said Tyce abruptly, pulling Gunny’s gaze away from SSgt. Diaz. “I need you and SSgt. to accomplish two things. Ready to copy some instructions?”

  SSgt. Diaz grabbed her gun back, laid the gun on its bipod, and she and Gunny both pulled out notepads and pens.

  “Go ahead, sir.”

  “Okay. Number one, I need you to make sure our sentries at the four corners are alert, weapons trained on the roads and woods, and that they’re being replaced every two hours, max. I don’t want anyone falling asleep.”

  “Got it, sir. What else?”

  “You and the NCOs make sure you walk around a bit and ensure the troops aren’t up to any . . . mischief.”

  Gunny glanced at SSgt. Diaz as Tyce emphasized the last point. She was still writing, but nodded, then looked up. “You got it, boss,” she said, her Bronx accent coming through. She punched Gunny hard in the gut, “No mischief,” she echoed.

  * * *

  The captured U.S. Army trucks were perfect for transporting the Russian Spetsnaz battalion. The hardworking, U.S.-manufactured Caterpillar C12 advanced diesel engine provided a lot more power than their own trucks and even gave them a bit of speed in navigating up the steep, snow-covered West Virginia roads. The twelve trucks and two BTRs stopped in the city of Elkins to check the maps and look over their equipment before moving onwards to their attack.

  The major watched the men scramble down the side of the huge truck and stamp their feet to ward off the cold. The men wore the heaviest Russian winter parkas, but the West Virginia mountain air was still thin, crisp, and bitter cold. They hadn’t had long to prepare. Their commander had been adamant: “Attack at two a.m. If you are late or early, you will not get support from attack helicopters. They will attack the objective building at three a.m., sharp, then your Spetsnaz will mop up what pieces remain.”

  * * *

  The comforts of the Snowshoe Mountain Resort made it too easy to let their guard down. Gunny had divided up every two-man pair into the unoccupied resort condos. Complete with kitchen and queen-sized beds, the troops were living large—quite a change from living in a dirty hole in the ground. They still had not gotten the gas and heat turned back on, but the comforts of a clean bed and running water made a huge difference even with the lack of heat.

  * * *

  Victoria walked through the immense great room. A roaring fire in the fireplace lit the room, and the troops were milling around, keeping warm. Soup and cider were being cooked in big pots over the fire. It was clear from the volume of noise and rambunctious behavior that someone had broken into the bar. Victoria spotted a few bottles being handed around.

  A murmur of “officer” started up, and all the bottles were quickly hidden when she passed through. She stopped and grabbed two cups of steaming hot soup, glaring at a few of her female navy corpsmen as she went through the soup line, silently admonishing them for fraternizing a little too closely with the soldiers and Marines. She saw Captain Blake, Gunny, and SSgt. Diaz making the rounds.

  They’ll keep everyone under control, she thought, and besides, the troops deserve every break they can get.

  Victoria walked down the hall, spilling soup from the two canteen cups. She spotted Tyce through the glass windows of the resort’s business center. He and his headquarters staff had taken the offices over to use as planning and map rooms. He sat still, his head in his hands studying the maps and bundled up in a heavy civilian parka, gloves and hat.

  After knocking, she entered.

  “Hey,” she said. “Need any company?”

  He sniffed the air as she sat down. “Is that chicken noodle?”

  “Who said it’s for you?” she teased, then handed over a canteen cup and a plastic spork. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten anything besides coffee?”

  “I’ve been meaning to go grab some dinner. Heard the sailors were helping out in the kitchen again.”

  “It’s actually about to be breakfast. And we still call it a galley in the naval services, which you are part of.” She looked at her watch; it was already after midnight.

  He smiled tiredly but didn’t a
nswer. However, his stomach answered for him, grumbling loud enough for them both to hear.

  She continued, “Gunny found some more storerooms, a few full of food for the resort. He’s also found one of the caretakers, who is trying to help him get the giant kitchen going. For now, my sailors are handing out hot broth they’re cooking over the fireplace, but once we get the gas going, we’ll have steak and eggs for breakfast. Probably in an hour or so.”

  “A warrior’s breakfast.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a naval tradition,” Tyce said with a smile. “Since the days of the battle of Iwo Jima in the Pacific, the Marine Corps has been serving troops a steak-and-egg breakfast before they go off to fight.” He looked up at her smiling again. “Anyhow, that’s what we call it.”

  A Marine sergeant from their makeshift radio and operations center knocked and entered, “Hey, sir, the guys who took the general back to Parsons just came back in with those two civilian vehicles. They said the general’s temp is over 103, but he seemed on the mend. They also said they brought you a few visitors.”

  Tyce nodded and returned to his maps.

  When the Marine exited, Victoria wheeled a chair over and sat down beside him. “What are you working on?”

  “I . . . well, I’m trying to look for the best spot to attack the Russian supply lines. They will have to get most of their major supplies by road into and through West Virginia. I learned from fighting against insurgents that you can starve a force by attacking their supply convoys.”

  “Exciting,” she said, trying to sound interested. She stared at the map but felt like she was probably seeing a tenth of whatever Tyce was seeing.

  Seemingly reading her thoughts, he began to describe things. “This is a military tactical map Captain Blake loaned me.” He dragged his finger down a thick red line that bisected the map. “This is Interstate 79. On either side, you can see the contour lines representing peaks, valleys. The other lines, blue here, are rivers, waterfalls, brown with spikes are caves, square boxes are homes, etcetera.”

  The highways and streets made sense to her. But the woods and lakes didn’t. She threw her arms up. “Dude, I won’t lie. It’s an indecipherable mess to me.”

  Tyce chuckled. “Well, in the Marine Corps infantry officers’ course, we have to learn everything about maps, compasses, and topography.”

  “Really? In the navy officers’ medical course, we learned which fork to use at formal dinners aboard U.S. Navy ships.”

  He chuckled again, and she gave him a narrow-eyed glare, mocking his zestful laugh at the navy. She said, “But, I’ll bet the anatomy of a human endocrine system would be just as indecipherable to you and your Marines.”

  He smiled. “Thank God for that. Me and my Marines have come to count on Navy medicine in Iraq and Afghanistan,” he said, realizing he’d probably stepped a bit too far.

  “Everyone’s got a job, Major. If everyone in this mixed crew of yours were a gunslinger, you all wouldn’t last long after the gunfire’s over.” She looked from the map and up to Tyce. “What else do you see?”

  Tyce looked at Victoria. Her dark eyebrows stood in beautiful contrast to her pale blue eyes. “If I’m being honest?” He couldn’t maintain eye contact and looked back to the maps. “I’m looking over the fallback plans again.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly kept everyone busy with your drills, but do you actually believe they’ll find us?” She looked around and outside the glass room at the men and women enjoying themselves by the giant fireplace, as if just now realizing how impermanent their new lives were going to be. “Guess it sounds prudent, though . . .” She trailed off unhappily, as if a short stay might disrupt some other of her plans.

  Whatever her meaning, Tyce didn’t catch it. “Prudent? Maybe. But yes, it’s just a matter of time,” Tyce said.

  “Before they find us?”

  “Before I fuck up again.” Tyce blurted out the deep truth before he could stop himself. With little sleep and an overwhelming desire to keep everyone safe, plus the comfort of speaking in private, the sudden burst of honesty was inevitable. He covered it with a small laugh, as if he were merely joking.

  “Fuck what up?”

  “You know . . . lose or injure more men.”

  She put her hands on her hips, one of her many signs of displeasure. “You know, that’s some real bullshit.”

  “Is that like your catchphrase or something?” He smiled, trying to lighten what he’d inadvertently turned to a darkening mood.

  She didn’t take the bait. “So, what? Suddenly you are the Jesus of war, and you’re supposed to know what will happen in every battle?” She crossed herself, then with a wry smile added, “Like a good Catholic girl, I say that with all due respect to the folks upstairs.” Tyce noticed that her upper-crust Connecticut accent was tinged with a hint of Italian. An odd combination, but she was an unusual woman.

  “Yeah, sometimes I feel like I need to know everything. And if not me, the general sure as hell should.” Tyce put his elbows on the map and rested his chin in his hands, “Without his huge brain, I’ll admit, I’m not really sure what to do.”

  “You’re taking the general’s illness pretty hard. He’s only human and humans get sick. He’s a little older and he probably pushed things as far as he could for you. Besides, he’s just another tool in your toolkit. He may not be here to guide you, but the men trust you to figure it all out.”

  “Do they?” Tyce fired back at her.

  She gave him one of her patented, sly grins. “Well, I do. And I’m not so easy to impress, Tyce.”

  He chuckled, but he also noted it was the first time she’d used his first name since they’d first met.

  “Tell that to the men out there.” He pointed to the great room, where everyone seemed to have settled down with big grins on their faces. Apparently the steak-and-egg breakfast had arrived. “I’m not sure you’ll get the same sentiment. I’m just hoping we get Colonel Nepo or the blind general back soon.” He had all but given up on the unit’s actual regimental commander returning and now the general was out of the picture, too, leaving all the authority resting on his shoulders. It made him immensely uncomfortable.

  Her tone suddenly became serious. “Maybe some might hold you accountable for the casualties, Tyce, but that’s leadership. Especially leadership during adversity.”

  “I hold myself accountable, Victoria,” he said. A small jolt coursed through him for being informal, but it actually felt good to use her first name.

  “Those young men and women knew what they signed up for. People die in war. It’s not as if you killed them.”

  “My decisions did.”

  “I don’t see anyone else stepping up to take your place, bubba. And last I checked, we didn’t do so bad. A mix of soldiers, Marines, and mountain men took out most of a Russian company. Or battalion, or whatever that was.” She looked at him, testing him with a cute smile, “And they had tanks and attack helicopters.”

  “BTRs.” He corrected her, “not tanks.” But her upbeat mood and dry humor seemed to be having the desired effect on him, easing some of his heavy thoughts on the new burden of command. It was pretty clear he needed a friend. Someone of equal rank to whom he could speak his mind.

  The glass door opened. It was Gunny. “Hey, sir,” Gunny said, then startled, noticing Victoria sitting close to Tyce. “Oh, hi, ma’am.” He smiled.

  “What’s up, Gunny?” said Tyce.

  “The guys tell you we have visitors?”

  “Uh, yeah,” said Tyce, clearing his throat and dropping his voice back to a gruff Marine growl.

  “Well, you won’t believe it, sir, but the chief and Mayor Susanna Holly are here. They’re looking for you.”

  “What?”

  Police Chief Braydon entered first, his left arm in a cast, both eyes blackened, and his nose taped and obviously broken. Susanna entered behind him. Every finger on both of her hands was splinted and wrapped, and the wrappings were tinged
with red. Neither looked very happy to see Tyce.

  * * *

  The radio call came from the lead BTRs. They were scanning ahead, and even with the heavy snowfall, they reported they had passed the checkpoint at the church and could see the base of Snowshoe mountain. They knew if they went farther, they’d probably be observed by pickets, but they also knew they had the advantage of surprise.

  Colonel Nikolaevich checked his watch, zero-one-thirty hours. He picked up the radio handset. “All forces, dismount and get into attack formation. Vehicles, prepare to provide overwatch. Ensure all thermal imagers are running on black hot and call out all targets.” Time was on their side, but staring up at the sky it was apparent the weather was not. No matter, he was certain of his advantages and he was ready to attack.

  * * *

  “Chief, Mayor, to what do we owe the pleasure?” said Tyce, trying not to sound surprised.

  “We’re here on business, Major. Not as friends. First, I need to inform you of the tally of your little adventures in Parsons.”

  Tyce’s face dropped and he, Victoria, and Gunny shut up and listened as Susanna’s voice rose and she began a mini-tirade. “We have two dozen citizens taken prisoner, or ‘arrested’ as the Russians termed it, and taken back to Morgantown. There is now a garrison of Russian troops who’ve taken over policing duties for our town. Worst, they interrogated a lot of folks, using the boot and the fist. Needless to say, your presence was well known, and now my town is paying the price for it.”

  Tyce stared at Susanna, unsure how to respond— especially given that she was obviously one of those who had the worst of it.

  “Good. Stunned silence. I would expect nothing less. As I mentioned, you all didn’t think very long about the consequences of your actions on my citizens.”

  Tyce spoke up with a firm and direct tone but softened somewhat by her bitter words. “This Russian invasion has a scope well beyond the borders of your town, Mayor. I’m truly sorry for what happened to the town, and you . . . but this is a war. And war to the end. You have people hurt, but I’ve lost men. We were forced to retreat after the Russians counterattacked our positions in Harman. What you see here are the living, and we’ve chosen to fight and die if necessary.”