by Nathan Jones
For some reason his question inspired chuckles in his squad mates. “I take it you aren't familiar with the Lancers?” Saunders asked wryly.
Pete had to admit he wasn't, although he knew enough to know that was the nickname given to the 102nd. “What about them?”
His friend snorted. “The 102nd is made up of civilian volunteers. And not particularly gallant ones, either. They get assigned to guard convoys or camps, and piss themselves if they come within ten miles of any fighting.”
“Not entirely inaccurate,” Branson cut in wryly. “The 102nd will not be crossing the river to bring us our supplies. In fact, they won't be leaving Camp Pearson.” He pointed at the surviving members of Teams 2 and 3. “Which is why you six will be heading back east to where the rivers meet, where you'll cross, pick up the supplies, and spend the night ferrying them over.”
“By ourselves?” Saunders demanded, no longer looking so amused.
The sergeant grimaced. “By yourselves. Don't worry though, you've got the easy job: you'll load up the ferry and bring it over, and me and the rest of Team 1 will be on this side to unload. In the meantime half the squads of the 103rd and the units holding the north shore of the Mississippi will be guarding the banks of the river to protect your crossing.” He stretched lazily. “We all may spend the night doing heavy lifting, but on the plus side we won't be the ones getting shot at.”
“Ideally,” Pete grumbled. “If I were the enemy I'd make a boat full of supplies a top priority target. We could end up ducking shells or even sniper fire out there in the middle of open water, with nowhere to hide.”
“Which is why you're doing it under the cover of darkness,” Branson growled. “And if it makes you bunch of whiners feel better, we anticipate this job will probably take more than one night. Which means you get to spend the day tomorrow taking it easy in Camp Pearson. Consider it a well-earned vacation.”
As consolation prizes went, that wasn't bad. Pete's thoughts immediately turned to Kathleen and Lily, neither of which had handled the news that he was going to be part of this offensive well. He was just glad they had no idea what it was really like here, or they would've been even more worried.
He missed them, and the thought that he might get to see them soon immediately lifted his spirits.
Of course the members of Team 1 weren't overjoyed to hear they'd missed the opportunity. “Why don't we get leave?” Henly whined.
“Because you're not spending two nights crossing hundreds of yards of open water where you might get shot at,” the sergeant barked.
Pete considered pointing out that Branson had just promised them the exact opposite, but figured it would be a waste of time. Besides, he'd been shot at directly enough times that sneaking across the river in the dark didn't seem all that bad in comparison.
Branson waved irritably. “All right then, let's get going.”
In spite of the general grumbling the squad was quick to pack up their gear and hop in the truck, which was parked against the dug out north side of a hill with another hill rising even taller not far north of it. It wasn't the best protection against artillery, but it was the best they'd been able to manage. Fortunately the vehicle had made it through the shelling intact.
Because of the reality of frequent bombardments, all the squads of the 103rd and 51st that weren't on duty manning emplacements had been spread out across the spit of land. Partly so they'd be able to react quicker to an attack across the river from the south, but mostly so the enemy artillery wouldn't have any conveniently bunched up targets to hit.
Pete was only too happy to pass by all those scattered foxholes and dugouts. He wouldn't be sorry to see the last of this stupid spit of land, even if it was only for a day. And if he could somehow swing being away from it for good that would be even better.
When they reached the Mississippi Branson radioed for the troops on the other side to drop off a ferry and send it over. Since they were trying to be quiet about it they used the ropes the 103rd engineers had strung across the river, pulling the boat across using manpower rather than the onboard engine.
It was the Canadian 53rd guarding this stretch of river, and the soldiers who brought the ferry cursed quietly in French as they hauled it up to the bank and dropped the ramp. “Thanks for the ride,” Saunders said as he motioned for Pete to drive their truck up onto the boat.
“Glad to help,” one of the Canadians replied, grinning. “You guys get to drag it back with the added weight of the truck.”
There were a few goodnatured groans as Pete drove the vehicle up the ramp. After they secured everything Epsilon manned the ropes, and in spite of their threat the 53rd soldiers joined them and helped with the work of hauling the ferry back to the east bank.
Pete ended up next to Corporal Reed, who as Branson's second was Team 2's leader. Reed was swearing quietly under his breath as he worked, which was a bit surprising; while the man was taciturn he usually did a good job of keeping his cool.
“What're you so gloomy for?” Pete asked. “We're about to go on leave.”
Reed snorted. “Oh I don't know, I guess I just always get a little depressed when it rains bombs.”
“Yeah but we're getting away from that.”
The corporal shook his head. “For one day. Then it's right back to wondering if I'll be the next Jerry or Griggs.”
One of the Canadians politely cut in. “Hold on. You guys haven't heard?”
Several heads swiveled his way. “Heard what?” Saunders asked.
“Us and the 104th are gearing up to cross the river, us to the north and them to the south,” the man replied. “We're planning to swing far around, get behind the blockheads along the front you guys are holding against them and on the south bank of the Missouri, and take their artillery and overwhelm their positions threatening you guys.”
“Since when?” Reed demanded, so surprised he stopped working the ropes.
The 53rd soldier shrugged. “It's been in the works, I'm guessing. Our officers have already coordinated with Simard about you guys launching a simultaneous attack with us.”
Pete thought that was great news, but for some reason Reed seemed even more irritated. “When's this planned for?”
“Tomorrow evening.” The soldier grinned. “Chin up, buddy. The rain of bombs will be over soon.”
The corporal didn't show any signs of chinning up. He shook his head in disbelief. “So we've spent almost a week ducking artillery fire, and when the moment finally comes for us to do something about it I'm stuck in Camp Pearson twiddling my thumbs?”
A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell as everyone pondered this viewpoint. “Jeez you'll complain about anything, won't you?” Saunders finally said.
Reed swore at him and grabbed the rope again. “Let's just get this thing across.”
* * * * *
Pete drove the truck off the ferry onto the east bank of the Mississippi, leaving the 53rd soldiers to guard the craft while he and his squad mates continued on to Camp Pearson for the first load.
At this hour the camp was dark and quiet, only a few people up and about aside from the patrols and sentries glumly working their shifts. They drove past the civilian section on their way to the motor pool, and Pete leaned out the back hoping to see a light on in Kathleen and Lily's tent. He shouldn't have been disappointed to find it dark, but he still was.
Oh well, he'd catch up with them tomorrow. Maybe he could arrange to take Kathleen out on some sort of formal date, set the mood so they could pick up where they'd left off after the camp chair collapsed beneath them. Those few minutes with her were definitely a bright point he'd clung to while cowering in his flooded foxhole while hell rained down on him.
The promised supplies were still loaded in the 102nd trucks when Pete drove into the motor pool. A few Lancers on guard duty challenged him as Epsilon's truck approached, and were anal enough about checking Reed's credentials that the corporal had to radio up the chain until he found someone to shout at them. T
he Lancers finally allowed them to get at their supplies, not offering to help with the work of loading up Epsilon's truck.
Only a few minutes after his first encounter with the 102nd, and Pete could already see why his squad mates had a low opinion of them.
At least Command hadn't skimped on the supplies. As Pete worked moving crates, boxes, and bags he saw labels marking them as filled with everything from food to ammunition to medical supplies. Even spare uniforms, blankets, and winter coats.
That last item wasn't exactly comforting: it was almost officially summer, and even considering the effects of nuclear winter the weather around here was actually pretty mild, so cold weather gear wasn't really needed. Pete hoped it wasn't a sign that someone expected the Chainbreakers to be there holding that spit of land until months from now when the first snows fell.
After loading the truck they brought it back to the ferry, hauled it across, and on the other side rested while the rest of Epsilon squad emptied the supplies into an underground depot the company's engineers had built for storage.
The break wasn't exactly peaceful, because halfway through unloading the truck the familiar warning shouts came, followed soon after by the scream of falling shells. Since they were far from their foxholes Pete and his squad mates ducked and cowered behind whatever cover they could find, although fortunately it seemed like the attack was targeted somewhere hundreds of yards to the west of them.
Still, it was a relief to drive the empty truck back onto the ferry and cross for the next load.
True to Branson's prediction, at the pace they managed there was still more than half the shipment to move by the time first light appeared, and the sergeant reluctantly announced that it was too dangerous to risk bringing another load. Teams 1 and 2 made their way back across the river, hauled the ferry up to its secure storage spot, and drove back to Camp Pearson.
The Lancers weren't overjoyed to learn that the job wouldn't be done until the next night. Rather than wait around with their trucks sitting useless they demanded that Epsilon unload all the supplies right there on the gravel of the motor pool. They didn't seem in any hurry to drive the emptied trucks away afterwards, but with the shipment officially out of their care they wandered off, leaving the duty of guarding it to Epsilon.
Corporal Reed gave the 102nd soldiers a rude gesture as they left. “Anyone ready to sleep?”
Pete considered for a moment. He wanted to find Kathleen and Lily and see how they were doing, but he knew they'd be going to work soon at the laundry. Now was the time to catch up on lost sleep so he could spend time with them in the evening. “I'll stick around.”
A couple others also spoke up. Reed had them spread a tarp over the supplies, the largest they could find, then pitch their tents on three of the tarp's corners and park the truck on the fourth corner. Nobody would be getting at the stuff underneath without making a racket and disturbing at least one tent, at which point the would-be thief would find himself dealing with three seriously pissed off Chainbreakers.
Compared to the usual work of setting camp just putting up a tent took no time at all. After finishing with his Pete went first using the latrines, then while the others took a turn went off to grab them breakfast from the mess hall, which they wolfed down sitting on tarp-covered boxes.
With just his basic needs taken care of Pete crawled into his tent, happy to be in a place where he could sleep undisturbed by explosions, and gratefully passed out.
* * * * *
It turned out “undisturbed” might've been an exaggeration. Pete was constantly jolted awake by the sound of slamming vehicle doors, engines rumbling, and men calling instructions to each other across the motor pool.
Still, compared to being screamed into a muddy hole every few hours to duck death raining down from above, this was featherbeds and soothing white noise. He woke up in the afternoon rested and more relaxed than he'd been in weeks, full of nervous anticipation about seeing Kathleen and Lily again.
It turned out that while he'd been asleep the rest of his squad mates had returned and put up their tents to sleep. Pete had no idea how long they'd been there, but as far as he was concerned he'd done his eight hours and was free for the rest of the day. Wasting no time taking down his tent and tossing his gear into the truck, he headed off to enjoy himself.
For all his faults, Pete at least learned from experience. So before he searched for Kathleen he went to the camp showers and cleaned himself up, shaved, and changed into clean civvies. After that he felt almost human, and whistled as he headed towards the laundry. He'd say hello, find out when the girls got off work, then use the time to plan the evening.
He was ready to take them to the best dinner to be found in Camp Pearson, his treat, followed by the best dessert. Then maybe a walk around camp, or grabbing some snacks and heading back to the laundry workers' tent to hang out for a while playing cards. By then it should be about time for Lily to head to bed, and Pete could find a more secluded spot to take Kathleen where they could, ah, catch up on things.
Speaking of which, he should probably head to the canteen to pick up something else besides snacks. Just in case things went really well.
His plan started off great. As it turned out Kathleen and Lily had been worrying about him this entire time, and were as excited to see him as he was to see them. They managed to talk their way out of the rest of their shift and immediately set off with him, first to head back to their tent and get cleaned up and dressed for an early dinner.
Or, for Pete, breakfast.
Lily refused to let go of his hand the entire way, jabbering nonstop about everything that had happened in camp since he'd left and pestering him with questions. For her part Kathleen seemed content to just nestle up against his side with his arm around her waist, enjoying his presence in silence.
They split up at the tent, since Pete had preparations to make and sitting around outside didn't sound all that fun anyway. They agreed to meet up again in a half hour, and Pete trotted off through the civilian camp to see if anyone was serving early dinner.
It turned out nobody was, which wasn't a disaster; Pete just planned for them to spend an enjoyable few hours until things opened up for the evening.
An entrepreneurial sort had brought in a movie projector, and ran a sort of low-key theater in a modestly large tent in the civilian camp, running movies throughout the afternoon and into the night as long as he could find a large enough audience, which was most of the time. Pete signed them up and paid in advance for the next one, to make sure the guy didn't cancel that bloc due to lack of customers.
They'd have a bit of time to walk around before the movie, and Pete's next stop was at the canteen to grab snacks and drinks to enjoy as they watched. While he was there he also purchased the, ah, precautionary items, ignoring the smirk the cashier behind the counter gave him. From the man's expression he obviously thought the purchase was wishful thinking.
Pete sincerely hoped it wasn't.
When he got back to the girls' tent Kathleen was already waiting outside. Her brown hair was still damp from a recent washing, brushed until it shone and pulled back in a ponytail, and her face was pink from scrubbing and accented by a few subtle touches of makeup. Mostly to make her gray eyes, already large behind her glasses, stand out even more. She wore a clean pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt, both snug enough to show off her plump figure.
Pete couldn't help it, he whistled when he saw her.
Kathleen flushed, obviously pleased although she tried to pretend she was angry. “Stop that,” she hissed as he came over to stand beside her. But when he put his arm around her shoulders she leaned into him.
“Lily still getting ready?” he asked.
The young woman rolled her eyes. “You'd think she was the one going on a date.”
Pete grinned. “Speaking of which, I've already got us seats at the movie in about a half hour. Then I figure you can point me to the best place to eat in camp, maybe we'll walk around for a while
afterwards, then maybe hang out with Lily until it's time for her to go to bed. After that we can get our real date started.”
Against his side Kathleen shivered slightly, and her gray eyes sparkled with anticipation as she looked up at him. “I think our tagalong's going to be a bit disappointed at how early her bedtime is tonight.”
That's what he wanted to hear. “Oh yeah?”
“Are you kidding?” She leaned up to press her lips briefly to his. “You ran off into a combat zone to get away from me last time. Now that I've got you here, even if it's just for the day, I want to make the most of it.”
Together they waited for about a minute. Finally Kathleen began shifting impatiently. “Would you hurry it up, Lily?” she called into the tent. “You've been messing with your hair for like ten minutes!”
“Okay, okay!” the girl shouted back. “I'll be right out, just give me a second.”
Pete bit back a smile. Together they waited as a minute passed, then two. To pass the time he began sliding his hand down from Kathleen's shoulder to her waist, then teasingly moved it towards her hip.
The young woman slapped it away, looking around in embarrassment to see if anyone was watching. “I swear, Lily, we'll go without you!”
The tent flaps abruptly parted and the girl stormed out, dressed in a navy blue skirt and cream-colored blouse with her dark blond hair pulled into a neat braid over one shoulder. “I said I'm coming!”
A switch flipped in Pete's brain, which in the moment he couldn't have consciously controlled if he'd tried. Before he knew it he'd dragged Kathleen towards the nearest cover and thrown himself protectively on top of her, while at the same time shouting for Lily to get down.
The girl just stood there, shocked. Underneath him Kathleen stared up at his face with a dazed expression, which quickly gave way to terror.
Then Pete registered the situation and hastily stood, throwing out his hands in the unspoken signal that everything was okay. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, leaning down to offer the young woman a hand up. “Sh-crap, I'm so sorry. I-”
