Alaska Republik-ARC

by Stoney Compton

  Pulling the wolf pelt parka tight, Jerry relaxed and tried to sleep despite the howling icy wind and his fear of freezing to death.

  119

  Nowitna, Provisional State of Doyon, Alaska Republik

  “What the hell hit him?” Colonel Buhrman bellowed. “He was knocking the shit out of them and suddenly he goes down.”

  “Could they have shot him down with one of those mercury bullets?” Lieutenant Colonel Smolst asked.

  “I keep forgetting how good those people are with a rifle. That has to be it.”

  “Which means there is still at least one man out there.”

  “He’s probably headed for Klahotsa as fast as he can safely go. We have to go get Yamato’s body, or what we can find of it.”

  Both men had seen the explosion far upriver and out in the middle of the frozen expanse between two of the icy islands. Nobody could have lived through that.

  “I hope he didn’t blow a hole in the ice and the wreck sinks,” Buhrman said.

  Smolst grunted. “No chance of that, Del. The Yukon ice is about twenty-five feet thick right now, and hard as concrete.”

  Buhrman turned to Corporal Easthouse. “Get me General Grigorievich. I want to tell him myself.”

  120

  Delta, Provisional State of Doyon, Alaska Republik

  Magda answered the knock on the door with a wide smile, expecting Jerry. Colonel Romanov stood there, blinking in the sudden light, looking grave.

  “May I come in?”

  “Oh,” Magda said releasing a breath, unaware she had been holding it. “Of course, Colonel.” She shut the door behind him.

  As soon as she had seen him, a dread descended upon her like a shroud of hooks. She didn’t want to know why he was here and not Jerry, yet she had to know instantly or go mad.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Pelagian and Bodecia stood silently on the far side of the room.

  “There was a band of killers attacking Nowitna. Colonel Buhrman called for air support. Jerry is the only pilot we have, so he went.”

  “I thought I heard a plane,” Pelagian said, “but decided I was wrong.”

  “Let the colonel finish, Father,” Magda said in a brittle tone.

  “Yes, well, he was making his third strafing run over the outlaws and suddenly radioed that he was hit and going down. His engine ceased operating and he glided out over the Yukon.”

  “Which is frozen solid this time of year,” Pelagian interjected.

  “True,” Colonel Romanov said. “But Colonels Buhrman and Smolst both reported an explosion when the plane hit the ice.”

  “D-did he have a parachute?” Magda asked, trying not to cry, seeking possibilities.

  “Yes, but he wasn’t high enough to bail out, it wouldn’t have had time to open before…”

  “He’s not dead. I would know if he was dead. And he’s not!”

  Her mother came up behind her and put her arms around her, holding her tight. “Magda—”

  She broke out of the embrace. “He’s not dead, dammit! I won’t believe he is until I see his body!”

  Colonel Romanov threw out his hands. “We have no way of finding out, Magda. It’s hundreds of miles to Nowitna. It would take days to drive it in this weather.”

  “Don’t you have a helicopter?” she demanded.

  He blinked. “Yes, yes we do. I have dismissed it so often in the past—I will dispatch it at first light and we will investigate for ourselves.”

  “I’m going with you, Colonel. Don’t you dare try to leave without me.”

  Colonel Romanov looked at her parents.

  “If it were Pelagian out there, I’d say the same thing,” Bodecia said. “Come on, Magda, let’s get you outfitted. It’s not only cold up there, the wind also blows like a banshee’s scream.”

  121

  On the Yukon River

  Jerry roused from a light doze and looked around the cockpit. Frost covered everything and he wondered at his ability to see anything in the middle of the night. He looked straight up through the amazingly undamaged canopy and saw the full moon between gusting clouds of blowing snow.

  Despite the circumstances, he felt warm and toasty. The thought of trudging across the lumpy, uneven surface of the Yukon held no appeal and he was happy he made the choice to stay with the plane. But how long could he stay here with no food and no water other than the canteen he always carried?

  There were other natural processes to consider also. When his bladder signaled need of release, what would he do?

  Cross that bridge when I come to it.

  He closed his eyes and retreated into sleep.

  The wind shrilled over the fuselage.

  122

  Klahotsa

  The door of the general store crashed open and Bachmann started in alarm. Two snow-covered figures staggered in and kicked the door shut behind them.

  “What’s going on?” Bachmann tried to make his voice hard with authority, but the words came out in a squeak.

  “Don’t crap yourself, Bachmann,” Riordan growled. “It’s just me and N’go.” Both men went to the large pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room and all but embraced it.

  “Where are the others? Why are you here? Did you find the people who attacked us?” He wanted to stop and make each question deliberate, something that must be answered immediately. But their arrival had brought fear into his soul and he wanted it evicted as soon as possible.

  “Shut up,” Riordan said. “I’ll tell you everything, but just shut up.”

  “We surprised them with our tactic of shadowing our own scouts. Got two of the bastards, but they got our first man. They didn’t shoot him; they captured him.

  “So we moved in to pick them off but nobody showed themselves. Not even a kid went outdoors. They were buttoned up tighter than a virgin’s blouse.

  “It was close to dark so I decided to wait and we’d move in and take them all out, cabin by cabin. Somebody in there was smart enough to call in a fighter plane. It blew the hell out of us.

  “When our men tried to run into the tree line, the people in the cabins picked them off. I put one of the mercury tips in my rifle and when the plane came at us again, I shot the pilot. The plane crashed and burned out on the Yukon.

  “Never shot down a plane before…”

  Bachmann realized that both men were exhausted. “All the others are dead?”

  “Far as I know. Didn’t see anyone following us when we retreated.”

  “Then these hunters at Nowitna know you all came from here.” Bachmann immediately wished he hadn’t said that out loud.

  Riordan gave him a look of pure hatred. “You’re such a chickenshit. You worried that all your little schemes are going to come back to bite you in the ass? Afraid that you’re going to have to take responsibility for your own actions?”

  “Riordan, you’re forgetting who’s in charge here!”

  “Then act like it! We can still pull this thing off if you’ll stop pissing yourself.”

  “How do you see it working now?” Hope hammered in Bachmann’s chest.

  “Well, first we lay low for a while…”

  123

  Over the Alaska Republik

  Magda tapped her foot on the aluminum deck as the helicopter racketed along below the clouds. Straps over her chest and lap kept her pinned firmly in the observer’s seat. At least she could watch the land beneath them.

  The Captains Fedorov, as she called them in her mind, had maintained a running argument from the moment they took off over an hour ago.

  “Georgi, we have ample fuel to reach Nowitna!”

  “And if we spend too much time over target and run out of fuel, Ivan, who comes to search for us? Are we not in the only helicopter in this country?”

  “Where is the wild beast brother I once had? The one who loved to tweak the nose of chance?”

  “He nearly bled to death last year. Don’t you remember? You were there, right where you
’re sitting.”

  “Give me heading for Tanana Aerodrome; we will refuel there.”

  Magda smiled grimly. Colonel Romanov had told her these men were the best helicopter pilots in the Alaska Republik. However he had neglected to mention they were the only helicopter pilots in the Republic.

  “There, Georgi, must be Tanana; aerodrome is immediately behind village according to map.”

  “Da, I see beacon. Oh look, they light up runway lights for us!”

  “They have runway lights,” Ivan said in an awed whisper.

  The radio crackled. “Delta helicopter, this is Tanana control. Follow the instructions of the landing officer with the wands.”

  “Acknowledge, Tanana control. We see him.”

  “Can you hear me, too?” a different voice said.

  “Da, loud and clearly.”

  “Set down between me and the hangar, there.”

  Through the blowing snow Magda could see the man with glowing orange wands in each hand. The wands went from far apart to close together and pointed toward a series of buildings with snow-packed roofs.

  “Affirmative!” Georgi said and landed the machine without a bump.

  Magda considered that they just might be good pilots after all, as long as they weren’t talking to each other. The rotors swooshed to a stop. The door next to Magda suddenly opened and a cold blast of air sent snow through the aircraft. Colonel Wing Grigorievich looked up at her.

  “How about some tea and a sandwich?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Magda said, looking down at the harness and belt assembly. She picked at it with gloved hands. “If I can just get this damn thing off!”

  “Allow me.” Wing reached in and snapped a catch and the whole thing came apart in the front.

  “Oh, I guess I should have paid more attention when they strapped me in.”

  Wing offered a hand as Magda exited. “You were probably thinking about other things. This way, please.”

  Magda followed her through the numbing wind into one of the buildings. The room temperature radiated about 75 degrees Fahrenheit. The walls boasted dark, polished wainscoting and photos of men and aircraft from the beginning of aviation history.

  In the center of the room sat a large table with a steaming samovar and a tray holding a dozen or more sandwiches. General Grigorievich stood next to it. He stepped toward her, holding out his hand.

  “Magda,” he took her hand in both of his, “I wish I could say I was happy to see you. I just wanted to tell you that if anyone can come through this, it is Jerry.”

  She tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Yeah, but I’m not out there to help him this time.”

  “He saved a lot of lives yesterday. And, as always, he didn’t hesitate to take the mission.”

  “Jerry and I are going to talk about that quirk of his,” Magda said. “I want a husband, not a memory of a hero.”

  “Grisha,” Wing said in a gentle voice. “Let her eat, she has a long day ahead of her.”

  “Of course. May I get you some tea, ladies?”

  “Thank you, yes,” Magda said. “With a bit of milk if you have it?”

  “Black for me,” Wing said. “But you knew that.”

  When they smiled at each other, Magda nearly burst into tears. Instead she looked down at the sandwiches.

  “Is that real ham?”

  “Yes,” Wing said. “One of the California pilots brought us two cases. Please help yourself. Take some for later; we have a lot.”

  The Captains Fedorov came in, poured themselves huge mugs of tea and grabbed sandwiches. Georgi put two in his pockets before eating a third in four bites.

  Magda wrapped four sandwiches in a cloth napkin and put them in the pocket of her parka. After eating two, she was still surprisingly hungry. She walked over to Wing.

  “Tell me about Nowitna. I’ve never been there.”

  “It’s a small village, up a large bank on the north side of the Yukon. There are two or three islands in the river, very close to the village, and the river is about three miles wide. Farther upriver the Yukon narrows to about a mile but there are islands all along there.

  “From the reports we’ve received, Jerry went down in one of the open stretches of river between islands. The weather there is worse than it is here, so visibility is at a minimum.”

  Wing chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Magda, if he crashed and burned, which is the current conjecture, it’s going to be hard to take.”

  “Wing, his plane may have crashed, but he is still alive. I know it!”

  “I hope you’re right, cousin. My prayers are with you both.”

  An RCAF officer came through the door. “The Delta helicopter is ready to go.”

  Magda followed the Captains Fedorov out into the wind and cold.

  124

  On the Yukon near Nowitna

  Colonel Del Buhrman pulled himself out of the dogsled and looked back at the musher. “That was fun, Mr. Anderson. I wish we were out here under different circumstances.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Smolst poked at metal shards and regarded Buhrman. “There isn’t enough here for a whole plane. Where are the wing parts and fuselage?”

  Wind whistled down the ice-locked river and blowing snow whirled and capered around them in the bright day. Blue sky could be intermittently seen straight up, but at ground level, visibility was less than fifty meters.

  Colonel Buhrman peered at his compass. “He was headed that way.” He pointed upriver and the wind suddenly stopped for a long moment and visibility stretched to a half mile. Metal reflected in the distance before the wind again ripped snow off the ice and swirled it over the searchers.

  Buhrman climbed back on the sled, Smolst onto another. The dogs responded happily and tore across the frozen river. Less than five minutes later they all stopped at an ice ridge.

  “This is just the wings,” Smolst shouted over the wind. “Did he actually fly through this cut?”

  “If he did, he didn’t get far!” Buhrman responded through a grin. He realized that the explosion they had seen the night before was either armament or something else. The plane had landed on the icebound river in one piece.

  “Let’s go through the cut and see what we find,” Buhrman shouted.

  In moments they found the fuselage. They studied the ice-rimmed aluminum for a moment. The canopy was translucent with frost on the inside.

  “It occurs to me,” Smolst said in a tone of conjecture, “that if there wasn’t something warm in there, there wouldn’t be any frost.”

  “Excellent deduction, Doctor Watson!” Buhrman said in a bad parody of an English accent.

  Both men laughed, feeling their tension evaporate with the almost certainty of a happy ending to their quest.

  Buhrman stepped up and pounded on the side of the fuselage.

  They waited. He pounded again. No response.

  “How do you open these damn things?” Buhrman asked with a sidelong glance at Smolst.

  “Do I look like I know anything about aircraft, Colonel?”

  “No. Sadly enough you look as ignorant as I feel. Let’s try and figure this out.”

  125

  Over the Yukon River

  “There are people down there!” Ivan shouted over the roar of the engine.

  Georgi banked and brought the Sikorsky back around for another look.

  Magda shouted, “He’s right! They’re waving at us!”

  Georgi landed on the river and cut the engine.

  Magda stared through the window at the fuselage of the P-61. From this angle she could see the closed, frosted cockpit and the lack of a body out on the ice. She burst into tears.

  Georgi opened his door and shouted at the people on the ice.

  “Who are you?”

  “Colonel Buhrman, RCA, and Lieutenant Colonel Smolst, ARA.”

  “What is ‘ARA’?” Georgi shouted back.

  The helicopter blades ceased revolving and reduced the backgrou
nd noise.

  “Alaska Republik Army!” shouted Colonel Buhrman.

  “Is good, is good, no need to shout,” Georgi said.

  “We’re trying to see if there’s a downed pilot inside this bird. Can you help us?”

  “We are here to search for Lieutenant Colonel Yamato,” Georgi said.

  “That’s who we’re looking for! Who are you people?”

  Magda unhooked her harness and stepped up between the two pilots. “I’m Magda Haroldsson. Jerry Yamato is my fiancé. We flew in from Delta to help look for him. Is he still alive?”

  “We don’t know, Miss Haroldsson. We think he’s still in there but we haven’t been able to rouse him.”

  “Please, it’s Magda, Colonel Buhrman. Isn’t there a latch or something?”

  “That’s what we were looking for when you folks showed up.”

  Captain Georgi Fedorov emerged from the helicopter. “What kind of a plane was this?”

  “P-61 Eureka,” Magda shouted over the sudden gust of wind. The snow striking her face felt like tiny slivers of glass and she pulled her parka hood up.

  “I don’t know that kind of aircraft.” Georgi stared for a moment. “But it is much like a Yak. Therefore…” He moved close to the fuselage and ran his hand along the base of the canopy.

  “Aha!” He pulled a handle and the canopy popped back a few inches.

  Colonel Buhrman tried to climb up on the wing stump and the fuselage rolled toward him, pushed by the wind. He scrambled to keep on his feet.

  “Well, damn!”

  “Pull the canopy back,” Smolst yelled over the cutting wind.

  Buhrman grabbed the canopy and jerked it aft. The wind caught it and ripped it free of the fuselage and whirled into the air over their heads. It disappeared in the blowing snow.

  Jerry hunched over in the cockpit, completely covered by the wolf pelt parka.

  Magda scrambled up to him and pulled the hood back.

  “Jerry! Jerry, are you all right?”

  He stirred as if deep in sleep. One eye cracked open.

  “M-Magda? Is that really you?” He sounded weak and disoriented.

  She felt tears well up. “Of course it is, you silly man!”

  A long gust of wind blew a shower of snow crystals over them and Magda tried to cover his face.

  Buhrman, Smolst, Georgi, and the two dog mushers all helped pull him free of the wrecked plane and carried him to the helicopter. Without stopping, they slid him into an insulated sleeping bag brought for that purpose.