Turn 3 - Coho Bound

Formations of anxious soldiers stood at parade rest throughout Camp Clark, their minds already on the night ahead of them, as they half-listened to their commanders and first sergeants instructions. Behind the Bravo company CP, SSG Johnson addressed his troops.

"OK, gentlemen....and I use the term loosely", laughing lightly, "tonight we get to go into town for some R&R. I want everyone to have a buddy tonight...NO ONE travels alone. You WILL conduct yourselves in the utmost courteous manner at all times. I know there will be drinking....BUT you will be ready for duty tomorrow. Ivan can come sneaking in at anytime...I don't need to tell you that, just keep it in your skulls for future reference. Have fun, but stay out of trouble. AND I want every swinging John back here in the morning. Secure your gear before you leave. 201 is pulling guard. I don't want them to be tempted by the vast assemblage of goodies we have accrued here in our mansions. Any questions?" There were none, nor did he expect any. SSG Johnson snapped to, and in a loud voice, said "Company, Atten-shun! Dis-missed!"

The men cheered, breaking ranks and literally running for the main gate. Within minutes, Camp Clark resembled a ghost town. The only people that could be seen were wearing the sword and lightning patch of the 201st. They had already taken up positions in the towers and trenches, and guards had been placed in front of the key areas of the Camp.

Bill looked at his Commanding Officer, and friend. He didn't know if he really wanted to go down town or not, but what the hey.. "Yeah, we can try to do that LT." Bill looked around one more time, wondering what was to become of their goods in the hands of the 'SS'. "Ya know LT, I don't trust these 'douche oh worst' dudes at all. I tried to talk to the SOG, and he was a real ass. Since when is a Master sergeant addressed as MASTER sergeant, Hell, only the first shirts and SMG's rate a title to their sergeant. A real ego, power hungry bunch that think their shit don't stink.." From Bill's tone of voice the LT could tell he was more than a little upset. "Ah, what ever.. may be Ivan will baptize them tonight, then they'll see what this hell hole is really like. Let me get some stuff from the tent, and I'll be right with you." Bill went into the tent and returned in about three minutes, stuffing a book in his jacket pocket as he returned. "Let's do it before the boys drink the town dry." Bill laughs lightly at his own sick humor.

Bill carried on a light conversation with Jim as they wandered down the hill to the Coho. "Ya know Jim, this outfit is NOT gonna be worth a tinker's damn come tomorrow, it'll take more than twenty-four hours to get all the alcohol out of them. I know we're frazzled, but I wonder what the Colonel has in mind? I mean the whole camp at once, and the SS on guard? I just don't like it."

Carter was feeling good. He'd heard a rumor floating around camp that they were going to be given some leave and allowed to go into town. One of the guys heard SSG Johnson talking about it. Carter figured it must be true. The company First Sergeant wouldn't just be saying that if it wasn't. Carter made his way down to the showers and cleaned himself up. He decided not to shave, the five o'clock shadow he thought made him look more mature. He studied himself in the small mirror, oh yeah, he thought nodding his head, smiling. I look pretty cool, the chicks will dig it.

Some of the other soldiers ribbed him "Girls like men who don't have to stand on a chair to kiss 'em, Hughes." someone jibed. "That's not what your mother said last night." retorted Carter, who turned to face his antagonists. "Gentlemen, don't hate me because I'm beautiful." The soldiers laughed, one threw a sponge at him. Carter easily avoided it, and walked out wearing his towel and flip flop's (or thongs if you live in Oz) "I am the Ladies Man." was his reply as he left the showers.

Carter put on his other uniform, actually his only other uniform. It was rumpled and faded but it was clean. They had been told to take weapons with them which was odd, thought Carter. But orders were orders. Carter stuffed his Luger into his belt 'pirate style'. He didn't have any ammo for it but he didn't plan on shooting anybody. He left behind his helmet and flak jacket.

Making it to the parade ground, the young soldier stood with the rest of Bravo Company. SSG Johnson addressed them telling them what to and not to do. Then the company was dismissed, the men cheered and moved enmass towards the gates. Carter ran as fast as he could could breaking ahead of the main pack. But he soon slowed down and cursed to himself. "DAMN!" he said aloud. "I've left my smokes back in the bunker. DOH!" Carter shook his head in frustration as he made his way back to his bunker.

When Carter returned Camp Clark resembled a ghost town. A few stragglers here and there. He could see SSG Johnson talking with the CO. As Carter walked across the parade ground a large blonde headed soldier approached him. Oh no! thought Carter. Risov.

Alexandre had scrubbed for all he was worth. The dirt was gone, but the dirtiness of the graves detail was still there. He weighed his options. There were but a few of them. He could sit in Camp, keeping an eye on the tube and the cycles. But he was bound to get into it with those MI types, and frankly, who needed a night in the stockade, or worse, when potato beer, and corncob vodka waited at the Coho. Maybe it'd be OK. Someone even mentioned a band. They probably play some wanker shit, and probably no Chili Peppers or Metallica...

Risov was all ready to head off on his own. He picked up a few things -- his knives, his NVGs (too valuable to leave for the MI boys), and his M16/M203. Yeah, Sarge had said about not packing for an invasion. Risov stated matter-of-factly that it was his backup weapon. "Sarge, I AM leaving the mortar behind..." Risov had gone stubborn on the man, and refused to pack a handgun. "You know why, Top. I'm not doin' it..." Apparently Sarge had given up. He had better things to do than to argue with some kook Russkie mortarman over carrying a pistol. Alright, US soldier of Russkie ETHNICITY. But Sarge reminded Risov about traveling alone. Risov hated the idea, but conceded. Maybe he could lose whoever he got saddled with once they hit town.

Almost everyone had already left for town. "So much to do there", thought Alexandre. "Hmmm. Lessee. There's the Coho, the Coho, or the Coho." There were a few FNGs around that would probably be going to town, but Risov didn't want to hang out with them. Finally Risov spotted one other guy he recognized, someone from the graves detail. He was the last guy other than the newbies, and... aw Hell, might as well get this over with. He trotted up to the man.

"Okay, come on then." Of all the people to be stuck with. Goddamn Risov, the miserable bastard. The duo walked through the gates. Carter lit a smoke and looked at the guard on duty. The man bore the sword and lightning emblem of the 201st MI Battalion. Carter thought back to when the 201st was looking for volunteers for a secret mission he had volunteered for. He actually thought it was a clever idea to escape the monotony of Camp Clark. Never again. Better the Russians than those Idaho Nazi bastards. Carter nodded at the guard. Nice uniform he thought.

As Carter walked along, he lamented being stuck with Risov. Hopefully I'll lose him in once we get in town. Still no point worrying about it. He'd heard there'd be a band in the Coho. God, I hope they don't play any of that Chili Peppers crap, he thought, it's so nineties.....

The Coho was housed in an old converted warehouse. The bar ran the length of the far wall, and mismatched tables and chairs filled the floor. A stage had been built on the opposite wall, a battered piano to one side, with chicken wire covering the front, and there was an open space for a dance floor. The walls and ceiling were covered with memorabilia, flags from Greece, America, and the Oregon Territory, photographs, many of which were starting to yellow with age, and bits and pieces of military equipment. There was even a Soviet flag tacked up on one wall, it's edges singed, and peppered with bullet holes.

The place was filling up fast, most of the tables and chairs were taken, the young soldiers already downing large quantities of home-brewed beer and moonshine. The noise was starting to get deafening. Young women were seen here and there, with painted faces, laughing at the bad jokes the men were telling them, and stuffing money down their bra's. Two soldiers were playing darts in the corner, using throwing knives on a target painted on a sliced end of a log. Against the walls, three more troops sat holding shotguns, off-duty soldiers making a few extra bucks to keep the peace. And a few grunts who had started power-drinking early could be seen passed out face first on a few scattered tables.

"Papa" Papadapoulos stood at the center of the bar, with a grin from ear to ear, as he poured drinks, and chatted with the regulars, his booming laugh could be heard from time to time, even over the din of the crowd. The joint was jumping, and it looked like a wild night was in store.

A small band was scratching out a poor rendition of "Smoke on the Water", soldiers who had brought their own instruments to jam. The song wasn't being helped by the fact that they were ducking the occasional bottle tossed their way. That they were often stopping in mid verse to guzzle beer didn't help either.

A line was starting to form at one table, where a huge supply sergeant was taking on all comers at arm-wrestling. A flurry of side betting was going on, the pile of cash sitting next to the NCO, as well as the number of men rubbing their shoulders, said that he was undefeated so far.

As they entered the Coho, Bill stopped to let his eyes adjust, stepping out of the way, with his back to the wall. After a few moments he nudges the LT and leans over to shout in the LT's ear, "Looks like we're a little late for a table, let's belly up to the bar." He nodded towards the crowded bar and lead the way, side stepping the drunks and 'painted ladies'. His eyes were continuously moving, taking in the action around him and alert for any potential dangers to himself or the LT.

Bill leads the LT up to where Papa is pouring drinks at the center of the bar. "Evening Papa. Business looks good." Bill says with a warm smile. "Two beers and two glasses of hootch, but the better stuff if you will." A knowing smile is on Bill's face, a twinkle in his eye. He places the appropriate amount of greenbacks on the bar. When the drinks come, Bill gives the LT one of the glasses of clear liquid and takes the other, holding it aloft and toasts..

"To those who go before us." He downs the glass in one chug, and slams the glass upside down on the bar. {Papa or the bartenders would not bother removing the glass as long as he's there, traditions to the fallen are recognized and usually honored, especially in GI hangouts}. He immediately grabs the beer and chases the burning liquid with a healthy chug. He turns his back to the bar, places both elbows on the bar and hold the beer in his right hand, only moving the arm to take a swallow. He stands there watching the troops, looking for his own flock, to insure they are `behaving'.....

Upon their arrival at the bar, Risov got himself a beer, and downed it in one quick slug. He looked up at the bandstand, complete with chickenwire. "They don't look like the Blues Brothers. Wonder if they know "Rawhide"?"

The bar was filling up fast, as more and more soldiers poured in. One of the new arrivals, in his zeal to get to the bar, bumped into an already intoxicated soldier. The drunk spun around, and punched the other soldier in the mouth. The downed soldier's friends jumped him, knocking him to the ground. The guards waded into the crowd, and stopped the fight within seconds with a few well-placed rifle butts to the heads of the fighting men. They were quickly shown to the door, the ones knocked unconscious dragged by their boots and dumped outside.

Carter moved through the bustling crowds looking for other members of B company. A fight broke out, Carter moved over to see who it was. Not from his company. The Coho's bouncers soon ended it. At that moment through a gap in the crowd, Carter saw Sergeant Johnson and the LT looking over. Carter looked back feigning innocence. It was his best 'I'm not doing anything wrong' impression.

"Darts? I've never played 'em, maybe later." Like when I'm really drunk, thought Carter. He got himself another beer. Maybe he thought this ain't so bad being with Risov, a few more of these and I might even enjoy it. Carter lit himself a smoke, yeah, not so bad at all.

"Papa" made his way to the stage, interrupting the band, much to the delight of the crowd. They left the stage, mollified by the promise of a round of drinks on the house. Papa walked up to the microphone, cleared his throat, and addressed the room.

"Welcome to my humble establishment, my good friends. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves?" The crowd roared back with approval. He smiled broadly, "I am glad. I have a special treat for you tonight. A young lady with the voice of an angel. I hope that you will show her the courtesy that she so richly deserves. And now, without further delay, may I present Miss Sarah Coleman!" He started clapping, and the crowd joined in, as an attractive young woman in a simple brown dress walked up to the stage. The crowd went wild. Whistles and catcalls filled the air.

Sarah blushed, and nervously took the microphone from it's stand. One of the waiters followed behind her, and seated himself at the piano. She waited until the noise slowly died down, and then nodded to the piano player. Slowly, with her eyes cast to the ground, she began to sing.

Bill turned back from the bar with a fresh beer just as Sarah walked up to the stage. Bill was awestruck by the beautiful songbird. He is oblivious to the cat calls and whistling, entranced by the girl. He stands staring at the girl on stage, like he's never seen a girl before. The words she sings are just a background sound to his trance. When everyone start to clap, Bill stands there staring, making eye contact with her as she looks around the room.

Risov was indifferent about the young lady. He seemed more focused on the two bucks left in his hands. They were crumpled, ragged one dollar bills. Risov seemed a million miles away as he stared at, into, and through the money. Finally he nodded to the waitress, plopped the money on her tray and ordered a potato vodka.

Sarah slowly lifted her eyes as she finished the song. As she looked into the faces as the men in the crowd, she gasped in amazement. Many of the men, hard-bitten soldiers all, had visible tears in their eyes. The supply sergeant who had been arm wrestling stood up, and started clapping loudly, and whistling his approval. Within seconds, the whole room was on it's feet, and the applause was deafening. She laughed, and curtsied formally to the crowd.

Carter didn't know the song but it was an old one. He listened to the words solemnly. And for some reason thought of home and his family. When the woman finished singing, there was silence until the big arm wrestling supply sergeant stood up and clapped. Carter like everyone else in the Coho was soon on his feet clapping.

"Yeah. Either that or the cook is burning catburgers again. But you're right, she's good..." Risov began paying more attention to the singing, as opposed to the singer, and eventually found himself tapping his foot. It was hard to tie one on with just $2 anyway, so he might as well enjoy the music and sights until he gets thrown out, or the place gets mortared...

As they both enjoyed the music, they heard a voice behind them, "Da svedanya, Risov. It's always a pleasure to see you." They turned around, and saw 1LT William Smith holding a beer mug, with a smile on his face. "Mind if I join you?" He sat down without waiting for a reply.

"I thought perhaps you may have rethought my offer to join the 201st MI. We have a place waiting for you." He looked over at Hughes, "You look familiar. Now, where have we met before? Don't tell me, let me guess." He rested his chin in his hand, tapping his forefinger against his cheek. His eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers, "Ah yes, now I remember. You were part of the security detail in that little operation we had last year, over by the Idaho border, isn't that right, Specialist, Hughes is it? I never forget a face, I find it very helpful in my job. Your work was excellent, I think we could find a place for you in our organization as well."

"I don't think so, sir. " Carter thought back to his short stint with the 201st. He had only volunteered so he could escape being shelled by the Russians. But coming across Nazi's from Idaho didn't seem like a good replacement. Talk about the frying pan into the fire. "I like it just fine in my nice cozy bunker along the Columbia."

Smith chugged the last of his beer, and snapped his fingers to the nearest waitress, indicating that he wanted a refill. As she scurried off to comply, he turned back to the two young soldiers. "If I were you two, I'd think very carefully on my generous offer. The situation is changing rapidly, and soon, perhaps sooner than you think, you will have to make a choice as to which side you're on. Now, you both look like bright boys. I'm sure you would both like to be on the winning side." He smiled, but it never touched his eyes.

LT Smith chuckled. "The US Army? There hasn't been a US Army for almost four years. Oh sure, we still salute the Stars and Stripes, but take a close look the next time you walk past your HQ. The flag of the Oregon Territory is the one we march under now." He sighed, "It's a pity you're not a student of history, Risov. The Middle Ages were a fascinating time. The shifting alliances between nations, Earl's and Baron's jockeying for positions of power. Not unlike the situation we find ourselves in now." His eyes bored in on Risov. "A wise man learns to adapt. And he learns to sniff out changes in the wind."

Risov did remember something a science teacher of his once said about the dinosaurs -- "...adapt or perish" were his words. Maybe the LT had something here. But it was hard to escape the unclean feeling Risov got when LT Smith was around. It was almost like the feeling he had after burying the dead after the attack. OK, so the orificer was right, there really was no US. So did that make every man in uniform a mercenary, ready to sell out whatever was pure for a few pieces of silver? Come to think of it, it was awhile since Risov was paid. Maybe the paycheck was not silver, but rather survival. Risov had been thru some extremes to make it thus far. What would the price be to continue living?...

"Err... alright then." Carter was somewhat confused, did Smith want Risov to volunteer for MI? Carter had heard scuttlebut about Smith being part of some Black ops team. He'd suppose a group like that might want someone who speaks Russian. Guys like Smith complicated everything, keeping secrets and always having some plan within a plan. Carter was sworn to secrecy for the short period of time he spent with the 201st MI. Sheesh! he didn't even know what he did, let alone being able to pass on secret information to some enemy. Carter stood up with his drink and nodded at Smith to take his leave, "Sir," then followed Risov over to the darts board.

Sarah stayed on stage for almost 2 hours, singing one song after another. "I'll Be Home For Christmas", "We'll Meet Again", "I'll Be Seeing You", "It's A Long Way To Tipperary", songs that were over 60 years old, and from another war, but she made them seem as fresh and new as the day they were written. They all spoke of hope for the future, a sentiment that few in the Coho had felt in a long, long time. The men in the bar nodded their heads and tapped their feet in time with music, watching her with a reverence. Several of the more intoxicated soldiers had their arms over each other's shoulders, singing along with the beautiful young woman.

After she finished her last song, she spoke briefly into the microphone, "Thank you so much, you have all been a lovely audience. This is the first time I've done this, and I just wanted you all to know how much your warm reception has meant to me. Thank you." As she stepped down from the stage, the room thundered with applause. She slowly picked her way through the crowd towards the bar, finally stopping in front of SSG Johnson.

Bill did not appear to have heard him, his gaze never leaving Sarah's face. Sarah giggled. "Did you know that the whole time I was on stage, you had your mouth open? That's why I came over to talk to you . I think it's the nicest compliment I've ever had. What's your name, and would you like to buy a thirsty singer a beer?"

Bill realizes he probably still had his mouth agape, and self consciously clamps it shut, blushing profusely. "Oh sure," he makes room at the bar for Sarah.. "Two cold ones, bro" he shouts/says to the bartender. "Sorry for staring, it's just you sure reminded me of someone. Name's Bill Johnson. I'm the first shirt for now of Bravo One Five." As the bartender brings the beers Bill hands one to Sarah, taking the other one. He looks around for an empty table.. RIGHT!! "I'd offer you a seat, but.." he gestures to the packed room, "standing room only. Seems you packed them in."

"I'd like to think it was my singing that brought everyone here tonight, but I think that's just a coincidence," Sarah replied. She turned to "Papa", and smiled sweetly, "Papa, do you think you could find a table for me and my new friend Bill?"

Papa raised an eyebrow, and glanced around the Coho. "I think that can be arranged." He around came from behind the bar and walked over to a nearby table. He spoke quietly to the young men sitting there, who glanced back at Bill and Sarah. They picked up their drinks and moved, grinning at each other, and at the couple at the bar. Papa quickly wiped the table down with a towel, then turned back to Bill and Sarah, and formally bowed, "Your table is ready."

As they made their way over, Papa put his hand on Bill's shoulder. He might be an old man, but his grip was as firm as iron. With his other hand he pointed his finger directly at Bill, "She is a good girl. You treat her with respect, or you answer to me." His tone was friendly, but serious.

CPT Ramsey went up to the bartender. "Who is the girl? I haven't heard a voice like that in a while. Really gets you to stop and think of life again. Could I meet her?" He asks, trying to be open without seeming to be to eager.

The man behind the bar looked up at Cpt Ramsey. "Her name is Sarah Coleman, her father's an old friend of "Papa" Papadapolous, the guy that owns this place. And as far as introducing you, I think you're a little late, buddy." He pointed, and as he turned, Ramsey saw her leaving the stage, and making her way through the crowd. She walked up to SSG Johnson, the same NCO that had been involved in the argument with the SOG from the 201st earlier, and asked him to buy her a beer. The bartender shrugged, "I guess it just isn't your night."

"Usually isn't my night. No harm, no foul." Ramsey said to the bartender with a friendly smile. He watches for a moment then turns back to the bartender. "Give me one of what the Sergeant and Miss Coleman are drinking. I'll have another beer myself." Ramsey says, giving him a good tip when the drinks arrive. Ramsey then walks over to the table. "Staff, Miss Coleman." Ramsey says. "Thought you could use a drink. And also Staff I wanted to just meet Miss Coleman for a moment. Your voice is something, all of us need to forget the Camp. Thank you." Ramsey says putting the drinks down. "Staff, sorry for barging in. I just needed to say something. If you will both excuse me."

Sarah looked up and smiled, "Thank you for the drink, Captain, and for the compliment. This was the first time I've done this, so I really apreciated the way the audience responded. I was very nervous up there."

"You didn't seem that way, Miss. Again thank you I don't want to intrude. I just needed to let you know what a boost you are for all the men! Good evening." Ramsey says with a slight bow. He squeezes the Staff Sgt shoulder with a friendly, 'lucky bastard' look on his face.

"My pleasure, Staff." Ramsey says back. "And yes, that is one of the prettiest voices I have ever heard." Ramsey replies, looking at Sarah. Somehow the words seem more for her, and that the comment is not only about her voice.

Bill gets a distant look on his face for a moment.. "Yeah ,I guess you could say she was my old girl. Seems like ages since the last time I saw her.. it's just remarkable that you look so much like her. I'm sorry for being such a dork." He grabs his beer and takes a healthy?? chug.

Sarah laughed, and put her hand on top of Bill's, "That's OK, I think it's sweet. Most of the men I meet, especially the soldiers, just want to get me into bed. You have no idea how refreshing it is to meet someone who can still blush when he meets a woman."

"Thank you. I wanted to be a singer professionally, but that was before.....well, before all this happened." She took a sip of her beer. "The silly dreams of one young girl really don't seem that important anymore. That's why I've been training to be a nurse, I wanted to be able to do my part. But sometimes, I'd still dream about being onstage. I finally worked up the courage to ask Papa to let me sing here at the Coho. He wasn't too thrilled about the idea at first, I think he was afraid I'd get mauled or something. But I finally won him over." She giggled again, "Papa may come across as a grizzly bear, but he's really a big softy at heart."

Bill laughs lightly, relaxing like he hasn't in a long, long time. "Well, I think the grizzly would snap my twigs if I didn't toe the line. You're a nurse, eh? If you're half as good at nursing as you are singing, we're in good hands."

"Now I think I'm going to blush. I hope that I'm a good nurse, it's important to me." Sarah took another sip. "Tell me, what was her name? The girl I remind you of, I mean. Do we really look that much alike?"

Bill drops his gaze for a moment.. then looks back into Sarah's eyes. "Her name was Alicia Campbell. She was a school teacher in Olympia. I haven't seen her since The Day. She was in Bremerton with her family when the fireworks went off.." Bill sighs, "I had duty or I would have been with her. Fate, I guess." He smiled at her, not a forced smile to make people feel good type smile, but a genuine smile "A lot of you resembles her.. your hair, eyes, smile," Bill stops for a moment and takes a drink.. "Even your refreshing laugh. It's uncanny is what it is.."

Sarah's eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I...I didn't realize. No wonder you were staring, and here I am prattling on. I didn't mean to bring back bad memories for you, can you forgive me?" She looked close to tears.

"Please, let me make it up to you. I was going to head home soon, I have an early shift tomorrow. Would you like to walk me home? Unless that make you feel uncomfortable, I'd understand completely. It's only a few blocks from here." Her eyes were almost pleading with Bill.

Bill smiles a friendly smile at her. "It would be my pleasure to escort you to your mansion, Madam." He glances over at the bar where Papa is "As long as Papa approves that is, I sure don't need a grizzly after my twigs." Bill looks back in her eyes and smiles.

"Just give me a second to get my coat. I'll be right back." She went behind the bar, grabbing her jacket. She approached Papa, and spoke with him briefly. He shot a look at Bill, then turned his gaze back at Sarah, slowly nodding. Sarah gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and returned to the waiting Bill, pulling on her coat. "Shall we go?"