Black Bear Blues

by Stephen Wishnevsky

  “This evening?” A touch of caution.

  “No… Err… I meant tomorrow. At work. We have to get you settled in someplace. Which reminds me, Frankie? Have Peaches contact me ASAP.”

  She just nodded and said, “I have a phone number, want me to call?”

  “I just need to know if we have a spare room for Babs here.”

  “No problem. The back hall, Peaches’ room, and a few more are empty. The three New Orleans girls have taken one, but there are a couple more, pretty sure. No problem.”

  “Make sure, and let me know. Thanks. You might want to take Barbara shopping before dark. Get some bedding, a change of clothes, whatever she needs.”

  “Sounds like fun. Girl’s night out.” Her five o’clock shadow was showing, but what the hell. Babs would figure it out soon enough. Trivia. Meanwhile, back to work.

  Two reports, one tactical, one strategic, have to take Eppi’s word for it, what do I know about naval tactics? But sure, airplanes and pilots, that was obvious. They didn’t win the Battle of the Gobi, but they sure helped. If we had had dive bombers, that might have made a big difference. One thing sure as shit, nobody out in the desert was going to hide from planes. Or out on the ocean, either. New world out here, now. I had another thought. Chinese could make anything out of nothing, and airframes were wood, wire, cloth, and lacquer. Chinese were really good with all of those. Engines were a problem, but… I ran downstairs, found Ken Inahara, our supposed Japanese Press Liaison, and told him my idea. He didn’t even reply, just held up one finger and reached for his phone. Somebody answered and he rattled a burst of Japanese into it. I waved and went back upstairs.

  Meanwhile, when in doubt, work your ass off.

  Barbara was an excellent typist, and a better writer. You can tell, even when they are just kids. It’s a knack. We knocked out that report in jig time, I gave her a handful of silver, and off they went in search of fame, fortune, and clean underwear. I went looking for more trouble to get into. It wasn’t all that hard. Lupo and Olga were hard at it up in their room, they had added a couple of typewriters and their two new guys, Felipe and Pablo, were pounding away like people who had put a whole lot of butt-miles behind the keys.

  “Lupo, what do you have?”

  “Juarez is in the flames, so is San Diego. In your California. Del Norte. The Marines tried to establish a training camp north of the city, they tried to clean out Tijuana and San Diego, the Mexicans revolted, and it got mucho loco.”

  “You say, clean out, you mean expel?”

  “Or kill, no difference. Muy Malo. Pimps and whores with guns, nobody knows who is who, what is what. Loco.”

  “Crazy. I get it. What about the war down in Mexico?”

  “The gringos are going no place, how you say, fast. Lots of guns. Lots of pissed off people from all over la Sudamerica, Espana, everywhere. Your big Gringo, Pollo Loco, he is not loved.”

  “Patton?” I asked. Lupo just spit on the floor. Real spit. Olga frowned, but did not speak. Noted. Real hate. I know the feeling. It’s in my bones too. Born and bred. I made a few compliments, gathered up the carbons, and went down to harass Su-mi out of dinner. Olga followed me down, and I was surprised when she went to the stove and checked a couple of simmering pots. The steam released when she lifted the lids promised a change for the better in our diet. I got a bowl of something much like Shrimp Creole, rice with red sauce, shrimps and assorted seafood, and somebody had waved a few vegetables over it. Oh, my god. Not like momma used to make, better. Life was looking up.

  >>>>>>>>

  I ate three bowls, drank a cold beer, and went down to file reports and read the radio logs. I was just winding that up when the phone rang. It was Peaches. “Time to get rolling, big guy, I mean, Miles, sir.”

  “Whatever.” She sounded happy, even elated, slightly illuminated, if I had to guess. “The word has come down, Marshall will be here in two days, and Hodges wants us loaded and ready to roll by noon. At the latest. Ray Reynolds is on the way with your orders.”

  “Got it. On the way. Thanks. Shit is moving fast.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She hung up. I dropped the phone back in its cradle and yelled for attention. “Everybody pay attention! Wake the fuck up! We have to pack up and be ready to entrain before noon, tomorrow. That means, right the fuck now! Pack up all your stuff but one change of clothes, your bedding, and your weapons. Going to a war zone right the fuck now. You don’t want to go, if you are a civilian, run for your worthless lives. Move it, or lose it.”

  Everybody took my word for it. They moved. I lumbered up the stairs, banged on doors, then went to my room, and started throwing things in my duffle. I came to a screeching halt when I saw Maeve’s possessions on her side of the bed. Then I shrugged cursed, and went back to work. Somebody would find a use for her clothes. I changed my mind, took a quick look, and there was a small photo album inside a little purse sort of a deal. A quick flip showed family pictures, folded certificates, diplomas. I stuffed all that in my bag. If I lived, maybe I would have time to look through it, and maybe cry a little. Notify her next of kin, if the censors allowed me to write home. Busy right now.

  I rolled up my blankets, did an idiot check, and lugged my duffle and bed roll downstairs, just in time to meet Ray Reynolds coming in. He had oak leaves on his shoulders, and a couple dozen men behind him. He handed me a wad of orders, and said, “Captain Hernandez will help you load up, and direct you to your train. No time to chat, this is balls to the wall. The Germans are coming.”

  “Through Kazakhstan?” He just nodded and blasted off. Oh, shit.

  Things became a blur. The doughs had their orders, I just pointed at things, said, “take that.” I was the last to leave, me and Frankie and Barbara. Final sweep for things left behind, turn all the lights and gas off, and head out to the promised land. One way or another.

  An hour later, we were all in the cars, not sorted out, but on wheels. I pulled rank, or else Hodges had, I had a private car that must have belonged to an Archduke at least. Old, dusty and musty, but gorgeous. Rosewood paneling, private kitchen and two baths, four bedrooms, and a master suite, dining room and kitchen. Galley. Who cares? Nice. The flat ware had been looted, but the gold rimmed china was still in the cabinets. Su-mi and Olga set right to work cooking, while the rest of us sorted out bedding and feathered our nests. I gave Barbara a room, Frankie and Peaches had another, one for Doyle, and another for Lupo and Olga. If Yelena ever showed up, she could sleep with me. The bed was big enough. Time to try and relax. If I knew anything about the goddamn army, sleep would be the ultimate luxury PDQ.

  >>>>>>

  I didn’t realize I had passed out until the banging of the coupling woke me as they made up the train. I looked out, it was midnight, a little later. We were still at a rough platform so I stepped down and took a look at my new domain. Five cars, a mail car, two sleepers, not Pullmans, but same difference, our private car, and a crummy, a caboose. The caboose was special, it had a turret on top with quad .50 for ack-ack, and plenty of armor plate. The switcher pulled away and brought back three more cars to couple up. The locomotive looked like it had been hacked out of a battleship, the tender was a solid brick of steel plate with two twin mount AA guns on top, and the last car was really something. It had three three-inchers on rotating mounts, a couple of those acoustic aircraft detectors that look like huge gramophone horns in pairs, and a few .50s for morale purposes. Crew quarters jammed under the gun deck. I didn’t know how much good all that would do against dive bombers, but it looked impressive as fucking hell. A grizzled Master Sergeant type in a blue uniform strutted down the platform, herding us stragglers back on board. He managed to strut with a limp, somehow. He was saying, “In case of attack, civilian personnel to the caboose, the car at the end of the train.”

  “I’m actually Major Kapusta, Sergeant, I’m in charge of this unit, come see me as soon as we are rolling, fill me in on procedures, if you please.”

  “Master
Sergeant Earl Watson, retired, Sir. I’m the Conductor, at your service.” He refrained from saluting, with an effort. “Sir.”

  “No need to make me into a sir sandwich, Watson, I’m in mufti too. Carry on.” We both followed each other’s orders. I settled back in, Su-mi was rattling pans in the galley, I got a cuppa, and found the softest chair in the Dining Room, that would have to be the office. Barbara was up, reading a book, sipping on a cup of something. She waited until I was settled, then asked, “So what am I supposed to be doing here? Do I really rate a private room?”

  “You are my assistant. You do what I tell you. We might have to double up, but I can’t put you in with Frankie, Frances. She is a bit different.”

  “I noticed. She is nice, though. I suppose I have led a sheltered life. I’m not a virgin… But…” Lots of spaces in the sentence.

  “I don’t care what you are. That’s your business, just like Frankie’s business is Frankie’s business. We all need to mind our own business. We are going into a war zone, actually we are in a war zone, and will be going into a hotter zone.”

  “I heard about your wife… Frankie told me. I’m sorry.”

  “I… Thanks. Me too…” I sipped at my tea, then decided to tell the truth. It’s easier in the long run. “We are in a unique situation. Usually, armies are all men, and they provide whores, sometimes, gives you something to dream about. Now, with all these, you women over here, we have to make up rules on the fly. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t work. Plus, we have all these… what they call unnaturals, homosexuals, lesbians, people that just don’t fit into any nice neat category. We just do what we have to do, and try not to be assholes about it. You want to find a guy, a girl, whatever, then do it. Try not to cause a fuss, don’t make life hard for the next guy down the line, in the next bunk over. People who are near death, crave life. If the closest they can get to life is sex, then they will take it. That’s all the advice I got for you.”

  “You make it sound simple.” She looked real dubious. A whole new set of rules to absorb for a good little college girl.

  “It’s not. But what can you do?”

  “The best you can, I suppose.” I resisted the temptation to ruffle her hair. Or worse. Good girl.

  >>>>>>>>>

  We were rolling well before dawn, I made sure we had the radio room up and running in the mail car, night was the best time for long distance skip reception, then found Conductor Earl, and got the nickel tour. The second car back from the engine, the ack-ack battery, was also the Army mail depot and the telegraph office. They didn’t have a way to pick up Morse when we were rolling, but they would check in at every water stop. There was also a Signal Corps shortwave and a crew of three corporals who were supposed to keep us in touch with Hodges. We headed north, up to Harbin, that was the rail hub for this whole end of Asia. It had been a bustling enough place a few months ago, the last time I had seen it, but it was an anthill now. Trains from Vladivostok were a solid stream, we had to lay over for hours, long enough to waste the rest of the day, we didn’t leave until nearly dark, then it was another ten hours and more to Xilin Gol. There had been no railroad there, the last time, but there sure was now. We had followed a long line of flatbed railcars carrying rails and ties, I guess they came from Vlad, they were building lines both ways from the middle out.

  The found us a siding, and a QM lieutenant met us there, he had some basic rations, and lots of ammunition, both for us and the AA troops. They had also found us a water tanker to couple on behind. “You might as well relax; the line does not go all the way to Ulan Bator yet.”

  “How long?”

  “A few days. If it takes as long as a week, heads will roll.”

  “That is some serious track laying.”

  “We are pushing more than thirty miles every twenty-four hours.”

  “Fifteen days.”

  “But they are trucking rails and ties out to way-stations along the route. The Central and Union Pacific could only work off the ends of the lines. We don’t have to play those games.”

  “Yeah. I hear there is a war on.” That made him look crossways at me, but he figured out I was making a funny. Not funny enough to actually laugh at, but fuck him, he can’t take a joke. I could smell he hadn’t been to France, hadn’t seen the elephant. Yet.

  >>>>>>>>>

  We took a vacation, the only one we were liable to get. Nobody around us did, planes flew in and out as long as there was a thread of daylight, and at night the mechanics worked full time. But as long as nobody was actively shooting at us, it was a day at the beach. A bit far from the ocean, but you can’t have everything. We spent the time feathering our several nests, there was a thriving thieves market on the bad side of the tracks, they had an astounding array of goods for sale, all probably looted from Uncle Sap, or one of his predecessors. Close enough, I wasn’t a cop.

  Babs and Frankie came with me, shopping, and Frankie was far more “womanly” when it came to shopping than Barbara was, even though she was a young lady from a good family, used to having her way. I guessed she had decided to just make the best of whatever situation she found herself in, a move wise beyond her years. She did indulge in a very colorful silk robe, all embroidered with gold and scarlet dragons, Frankie had to tell her to haggle the price down, “Otherwise they will not respect you.”

  “Even though I will never be here again? It’s only a few dollars, after all.” But she followed orders and seemed to take some delight in saving a few cents. Frankie bargained for a whole pile of clothes, and managed to use a few words of Chinese and expressive gestures to drive a hard bargain. Then at the end, she managed to get two pairs of white silk pajamas as a concession, and gave them to Barbara. “Welcome to China,” was all she would give for a reason.

  They both were female enough to load me down with parcels like I was a damn pack mule, but I bore up bravely. I could have detailed a private or somebody to lug the loot, but I am still just a dough at heart, I guess. Exercise is good for fat people, everybody says so, it must be true.

  The two of them were elated to the point of giggles when we made it back to the train, but one look at our visitor brought instant sobriety. “Yelena, how nice to see you.” I managed to get out without hurting myself too badly. “You know Frances, of course, and this is Barbara, Barbara Wertheim.”

  “And you are?” Yelena was barely civil, less interested.

  “I’m just in from the States. A political exile.”

  “And a Jew.” Babs just nodded, was instantly dismissed from Yelena’s consciousness. “Miles, I just dropped by to tell you I am assigned to Harbin, I will open an office there. We may have to edit our arrangement.” Colder than usual tone of voice. Imagine my surprise.

  “Indeed. What have you in mind?”

  “I can tell you that the German counter-invasion of Canada has changed all the ground rules. Strategically, we, Hodges and Bradley, have been ordered to attack the Germans along the Trans-Siberian at all costs.”

  “To put pressure on Goering.”

  “Precisely. That means that my Counter-intelligence position is less obviously necessary.”

  “Because we are back in the cannon-fodder business.” Jolly fun.

  “I’m so glad I don’t have to paint you a picture, or point out the obvious. You deduce, therefore….”

  “That our chances of getting back to the States are slimmer than ever.”

  “Correct. I expect you draw the proper inferences.”

  I just shrugged. “Slim and none, as the Southerners say. So, we have to concentrate on survival, here and now. Your plans?”

  “Are my own. Harbin is as good a place as any to feather one’s own nest.”

  “I understand. Will I see you again?”

  “One never knows.” She turned to leave, she did not offer to kiss me. At the door, she paused long enough say, “The Jewess looks harmless enough.” That’s that faint praise stuff, you know, the kind you damn you with.

&n
bsp; And she was gone. Frankie made a noise that had some relationship to a laugh, Barbara looked deeply at me. “Did that woman just order you to take me as a… concubine?”

  “Something like that.” I lifted my shoulders again, I was going to wear out my shrugger at this rate. “I… Shit, suit yourself. Yelena is something else. You can’t imagine what kind of a life she has lived to get here. I have known her for months now, and she is more of a mystery that ever. Her mother was a minor Russian noblewoman, and her father was supposed to have been a Malay prince. A traveling man is all I know for sure.”

  “I noticed. I have never even dreamed of their being people like that. Survival is a hard school, is it not?” She said that, but I noticed a Mona Lisa smile cross her lips, ever so briefly.

  All I said was, “Yes. It is. Better put your clothes away. Dinner in an hour.”

  >>>>>>>>>>

  We ate in silence for the most part, Peaches and Frankie chattered only a little, Barbara said nothing, I was busy thinking. What did all this mean? And to whom? After a second cup of coffee, I decided to just let it be. Wiser heads and all that. “Peaches, you and Frances take first shift on the radios, I suppose Doyle and I, or Babs will take the midnight to dawn. Babs, how is your Mandarin?”

  “I understand it better than I speak it. The four tones are very hard for me.”

  “You can practice on Su-mi, the cook. She is more literate than you might expect. I think she might be a bible scholar of some type. Vera Atkinson might want to tutor you too. Don’t get all Jewish on her, she was a missionary’s wife.”

  She ignored that last crack, just joked, “Tutor you too? Sounds like a children’s song.” She had a very nice smile, I don’t think I had ever seen it before. And so, to bed. Alone.

  >>>>>>>>>>

  Up at eleven, grab a couple of sweet buns and a cuppa, head for the Radio Car. Peaches and Lupo had done a good job of civilizing that place, two radio setups, one at each end of the car, desks and typewriters and filing cabinets in the middle. Lupo’s two guys, Felipe and Pablo, were twisting knobs and typing away like professionals, I nodded and left them to it. They were motivated to the maximum, leave them to it. Peaches and Frankie were just leaving, Frankie gave me a dirty look, but said nothing, Peaches just winked and punched my arm. Say what? What have I done now?