Turn 6 - Night of the Long Knives

Bill managed to duck out of a side door, and scooted across the compound at a dead run. The whole Camp was in a state of chaos, soldiers and vehicles were running all over the place. Officers and NCO's were shouting out orders, but they didn't seem to be making much of a difference. He headed out of the compound, avoiding any guards. He moved at a trot for the camp on the hill. As he approached the camp, he avoided the main gate and headed straight through the wire... using all the stealth he could muster to avoid the REMF 'douche oh worst' SS troopers supposedly manning the perimeter.

Bill spotted his weapons section leader, Sgt Jim Mazurowski, and about 10 other soldiers standing in front of the Company CP. "Ski" jumped up when he spotted Bill, and said, "Top, what the Hell is going on?"

Ski looked as if he was going to ask something else, and then turned to the group. "You heard the man. Grab your weapons and equipment, and form up." The men look confused as well, but moved quickly to comply with the Sergeant's orders. Ski turned back to Bill, "What the hell happened in town?"

"Hell, I don't know.. I just got back to camp from the hospital. The douche oh worst Gestapo is working overtime.. they think I might have been tied into it.. I was in the middle of the ambush.. You get these men squared away.. and grab anyone from one five that comes long and get them squared away too.. we're heading for the MASH as soon as I find the Colonel."

Ski nodded, "Don't worry, I'll grab every swinging Richard I can get my hands on. Matter of fact, I'll try to get some of my buddies in some of the other company's. They got a stake in this, just as much as we do." He reached out, and put his hand on Bill's shoulder. "You watch your ass, Top, we've been through too much together. Besides, if anything happens to you, I'm the next senior NCO, and the last thing I want is your job!"

He walked about 10 paces and stops, turns around to Ski.. "And Ski.. if I'm not back, check on me at the HQ. We have to see what the old man wants us to do" He headed down the street to headquarters, looking for the Colonel or a member of his staff.

More soldiers were coming into Camp, as the recall sirens continued to wail. Several vehicles could be seen heading out the gate, down the road to town. They all bore the markings of the 201st MI. As Bill got closer to HQ, he could see a flurry of activity, figures could be seen rushing in and out. Concertina wire was being strung around the structures, and sandbags were being placed in front of new machinegun positions. As he got closer, he could see that the bulk of the soldiers around HQ wore the now all too familiar sword and lightning patch of the 201st MI.

As Bill approached the HQ, seeing the activity he slowed his pace.. 'Damn Gestapo is here..' he thought.. He looked around for an opening in the wire. With all the hectic activity, maybe he could sneak in, but thought better of it and walked up to the entrance.

He kept walking with a purpose until he was challenged, to which he replied to the sentry; "Sergeant Johnson, first sergeant Bravo one-five, reporting to the colonel as ordered."

The sentry, a nervous young private holding a Mossburg pump shotgun, said, "You'll have to check in with the Commander of the Relief, sergeant. He's in there." The sentry gestured with the shotgun at a small hut 25 or so yards away.

As he entered the hut, Bill saw an overweight SFC seated behind a table, with a field telephone and a clipboard sitting on it's surface. He glanced up and said, "Yeah? What do you want?"

The sergeant grunted, "Uh huh. Hold on." He picked up the clipboard and flipped through the pages. After a couple of minutes, he looked back up at Bill. "You're not on the list. I can't let you through, with everything that's going on, if you're not on the list."

"What the hell do you mean, 'not on the list'? I'm the first sergeant of Bravo company. If the key personnel of the units aren't on 'the list' who the hell is? I need to see the commander, Sergeant, or at least the operations officer. I know there's all kinds of shit going down, but by Christ how can we perform if we can't communicate with our commanders? We suppose to sit with our thumbs up our asses?"

Bill is more than a little agitated with the Gestapo. He is using language that most people do not hear Bill spout, but he is visibly upset with all that has transpired tonight. His rifle is loaded and slung over his left shoulder on a patrol sling, muzzle down.

The sergeant grunted again. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Hold on." He picked up the handset of the telephone, and turned the crank on it's side repeatedly. A few seconds later, he spoke into the mouthpiece, "Yeah, this is Sergeant Buckman at Checkpoint 2. I've got a..", he looked up briefly to read Bill's name tape, "...a Sergeant Johnson here to see the Colonel." He sat and waited for a couple of minutes, barely even glancing in Bill's direction. He perked up as the person on the other end spoke.

"Sergeant, I have a battalion of troops forming now.. I need to see the colonel for instructions. As there are no officers present, I am the senior NCO present. I also have a report for the colonel from Captain Ramsey of Charlie company."

SFC Buckman related what Bill told back to the person on the other end of the line. He nodded as he listened to their response. "OK, I gotcha, I'll tell him. Buckman out." He looked back up at Bill, "OK, you're cleared. Report to Colonel Meyers in Conference room 1."

As Bill entered the Headquarters building, he noted that even more soldiers from the 201st were visible inside, with two of them flanking the entrance to the conference room. The nearest trooper spotted him as he came down the hallway, "Sergeant Johnson? The Colonel's expecting you." He opened the door for Bill, closing it behind him as he entered.

Colonel Meyers stood at the end of a long table with his hands clasped behind him. He looked up as Bill entered the room, "Sergeant, I don't know how much time we'll have that we can talk, so make it march. What the Hell is going on out there?"

Bill snapped to attention and rendered a salute to Colonel Meyers. "Sir, Sergeant Johnson reporting." After the brief formalities, Bill rendered his report to the colonel.

"Sir, Captain Ramsey is at the hospital with a small contingent. We took the General there after the ambush. He is awaiting orders. He feels strongly that the douche.. ahhh, the 201st might be implicated, or the Russians.. There were only a few hitters involved, not very professional, but they knew the General would be there. The 201st thinks we might be implicated in the ambush as well. We were the ones that broke up the damn ambush, sir."

"I have started regrouping the battalion, and have instructed them to be ready to move in one five, sir. Captain Ramsey was adamant they get to the hospital and provide security for the General. He was also concerned for your safety sir. And your staff officers."

Colonel Meyers walked to the window and looked out, while taking in all that Bill said. As he finished, the Colonel stood silently for a few moments, before turning back to the sergeant. He sat down at the head of the table, and pointed to a chair for Bill.

"I had hoped that you might have some encouraging news. That's why I had them allow you access to the building, I still have a few resources at my disposal. I had already been told about your involvement in saving the General's life. Damn fine work, sergeant, by the way. But I fear that all you have done is delayed the inevitable."

He rose from his chair, and started pacing. "I, and few others, have been worried for some time now that something like this was in the wind. For several months, I've been getting reports of strange troop movements, supplies being diverted from their intended destinations, and some sort of operation near the Idaho border. And at the very center of all this was the 201st. But I had no hard evidence of wrong doing, or else I would have moved on them myself. I don't know who is involved, what they are up to, or how high this conspiracy goes. And at the moment, my hands are tied, I've been placed under confinement here at HQ. Oh, I've been told that it's 'for my protection', but I'm not buying it for one second. They're just waiting for something, but I don't know what. Until then, I'm effectively a prisoner."

"I should have realized that something was up when the 201st 'volunteered' to give us a brief respite. I thought about the old saying about keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer. That's why my staff and I were on duty here, instead of out on the town. I thought that we would be ready in case something happened, but...but obviously I was wrong."

Bill sat and shook his head in disbelief.. "So Cap Ramsey is right? These goons are behind this? Damn!! Sir, the battalion should be formed by now.. Ski.. my weapons leader.. is rounding up every swinging Richard he can find.. and loading for action.. What are your instructions, sir?"

Colonel Meyers looked over at Bill. "Sergeant, you need to understand something. Any orders I give you won't protect you, or anyone else. The only reason that General Bradley or I are still alive is that they want to give the appearance of a legitimate transfer of power. If they decide that they no longer care about appearances....well, they were willing to kill the General. They'll have no problem killing a sergeant. Do you understand? You'll be on your own."

Bill's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. "Well sir, the only reason the General is alive is because they sent amateurs to do the job... probably so they could be 'disconnected' from it, but they still botched it. That sorta lines up with Cap Ramsey's train of thought. What you're saying is if I do anything, we'll be branded as outlaws or traitors." Bill looked towards the door..

"Colonel, how many troops does the 201 have in the AO, in your estimation? And how combat effective are they? Sure, they can bully people, and throw their weight around, but how many have actually seen the elephant? It might be time to knock them down a peg.. it doesn't seem they have added much to the recovery of the area, and as far as intelligence goes.. how much good information do they provide us on what Ivan is doing?" Bill sat quietly chewing his lip, thinking dangerous thoughts.

Colonel Meyers replied, "You're right of course. If we were to face the 201st on a battlefield, it would be no contest. But they know that as well as we do, and they'll make damn sure that it never happens. That's why they're arresting the commanders, and that's why they tried to kill the General. They want to chop off the head and take over from within. And they just might get away with it."

He leaned over and put his hands the table. "You wanted to know what my orders were. Your first order is this, protect General Bradley at all costs. If we have anything going for us at all, it's the General and his reputation. There isn't a person in the Oregon Territory who doesn't know they owe their lives to what he did. If the 201st were to move against him directly, the people would tear them apart. Gather what support you can, and surround the hospital if necessary. But we've got to keep him alive."

"But there's one thing you must keep in mind. The only thing that has kept the Russians on the other side of the Columbia is our unity, and our determination. Right now, we have neither. If the Russians get a whiff of what's going on here, they'll cross the river with everything they've got. And we won't be able to stop them. I don't need to tell you what would happen if they succeeded. You know that they are always watching us, looking for weakness. They know that a coup would give them the perfect opportunity for an attack. There's no way that a major firefight inside the Camp would go unnoticed, and if that happens...it can't happen. As much as I despise what they have done, if I am forced to make a choice between surrendering to the MI, and surrendering to the Russians, I....I will do what whatever it takes to preserve this state."

He looked around the room. "You'd better get out of here, before they decide to keep you here as well." He stuck his hand out to Bill. "Good luck, sergeant. I'll do what I can here, but right now, you are the best hope we've got."

"I understand, sir. The actual survival of the General is in the hands of the doctors right now, but I will do my best to insure they are not interferred with by anyone. I will relay this to Captain Ramsey and Lieutenant Courtney as soon as I see them."

"Good luck sir, and we will NOT forget you here in the hands of the these folks. And these bastards will pay.. several of our people got chopped up in the ambush too..whether intentional or not remains to be seen.. it

"Lieutenant! As this is a combat zone, and I'm the ranking officer at this moment, we will keep our weapons. I don't remember a promotion for you in any orders lately. Or that you have any direct authority over men in the 25th. Until a ranking officer arrives, you will stand down! We have come as you asked, and will answer any questions as eye witnesses to the attack, and soldiers of the United States Army. The chain of command still is O-1, 0-2, and 0-3. Which gives you only the muscle behind you for ordering a captain around. Doesn't go well with your intel gathering." Ramsey finished. Looking back at the LT, Ramsey made sure that he was at least 2 arms lengths away from this nut. His weapon was slung across his body, with his hand is on the pistol grip.

Carter was nervous as hell, as the LT and Captain once again tired to prove who had the biggest pair. The Captain was the ranking officer, though. But the LT had a lot of boys from MI with him. Carter held the ungainly M60 at waist level, the barrel pointing slightly downwards. The pig was heavy, and he wished he had a sling for it. If things turned ugly he had no idea what he was going to do.

Lt. Smith looked Ramsey in the eyes, "Captain, you seem to be laboring under the impression that this is some sort of democracy. Oregon is under martial law, and the 201st has jurisdiction of all matters relating to internal security. That's all the justification I need. Until I am personally satisfied as to your involvement, you are all suspects in the attempted assassination of General Bradley." He looked over at the head of the security detail, and jerked his head at the assembled group. "I won't ask again. You can either surrender your weapons, and prove your innocence, or...."

The 201st soldiers chambered their weapons, and pointed them at the group. The head NCO placed the muzzle of his Beretta on the back of Ramsey's head. Smith finished his sentence, "....or you can be executed right here for treason. Your call."

SFC McIntyre looked around slowly, and then spoke softly, "Cap'n, I think it might be a good idea to do what he says. My daddy always said, never draw to an inside straight, or argue with a man who's holding a gun to your head."

Ramsey's demeanor changed so quickly that someone might think he might not be playing with a full deck. Smiling, he said, "OK, Mr. Smith!" He let go of the RPK at the pistol grip, and extended the weapon out by the barrel. "Sergeant, if you would take charge of my side arm, " he said, slowly inclining his head to look at his holstered Beretta. "I guess we go talk to the new Ges...ah (smiling) JAG people. Lead off, Mr. Smith." Ramsey watched as the others have their weapons taken, and looked over at the head NCO as he stepped back.

Alexandre remembered the LT correcting him earlier as to the state of the US Army and other organizations from an earlier time in American History. Technically, the LT was right, there was no US Army. The whole thing had gone right down the shitter, along with TV, antibiotics, and friendly neighbors. Risov didn't like this pile of crap he had stepped into, he didn't like the LT, he barely liked the CPT, he liked Carter only because Carter tolerated him, and more to the point, Risov didn't like himself.

He considered just doing something very rash, and very final. Risov had his M16. He could open up on the LT at close range, like some twisted version of the movie Scarface, and probably drill him good, as well as 3 or 4 men behind him. How unfortunate... But then those who lived would return fire, and take down Carter, the CPT, and doubtlessly other innocent people. And for what? It was enough to be fighting the evils of the Soviets, but now squabbling with, well, they weren't really the US Army, so they were Territorial Forces, or some book-smart college asshole's words for soldiers. Was this version of the USA what his father had so dearly sought? At least one's fate in a Gulag in the USSR was certain -- years of bone-breaking work, some torture here and there, and then death, looking 30 years older than one's actual age.

Lt. Smith clapped his hands as he looked at Alexandre, "Bravo Risov, bravo. I almost believed you. But unfortunately, I don't think you've changed your opinions of the 201st, or myself for that matter." He watched as the troopers ripped the weapons from the group, none too gently. Smith looked back at Risov, "Even considering everything that has happened since we last spoke." He turned back to the head of the detail, "Escort them to the holding area. I'll be joining you shortly." He walked off towards the communication shack.

The head NCO addressed the group, "Follow me. And don't even think about trying something cute, my orders state that as long as one prisoner arrives able to talk, I'm covered." He lead them into a bunker, with a stairwell leading underground. The soldiers kept a close eye on the group as they were lead into the bunker. As they reached the bottom of the stairwell, the NCOIC opened a heavy wood door. "Inside." A large room with bunk beds bolted to the walls, a picnic table bolted to the floor, and a small latrine off to on side were able to be seen. The group was shoved into the room, and the door slammed behind them. "Make yourselves comfy, gentlemen. It could be awhile."

Angelica had managed to make herself disappear as well, before the 201st had arrived at the Hospital. She tried to stay out of sight from the MI soldiers, as she jogged back to the scene of the ambush as fast as she could.

As she made her way through the Camp, Angelica saw the rest of the group being marched under guard to the HQ area. Lt. Smith was leading the way, and was boring straight through the chaos of the Camp, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Shouldering her Med Kit, she managed to slip out of the Camp unnoticed. Vehicles roared past her as she jogged down the road to town, all heading the same direction as she was, and all bearing the markings of the 201st MI Battalion. The recall siren was still wailing, adding even more confusion to the scene. So far, no one had noticed her.

Something was really wrong, she realized. Though Angelica didn't pretend to know much about anything in the Army, even someone fresh from Boot knew that you headed towards a rallying call, and not away from it. With the members of the camp in town and scattered out on liberty, the 201st was supposed to be guarding the camp. If they left, the camp was undefended.

Angelica stopped cold in the road. Undefended. The Jefe badly hurt. Most of the camp in town without weapons, disorganized, and many wounded. As the whine of a heavy truck transmission came towards her on the road, Angel acted. Growing up dodging La Migra, angry Anglos, and even other migrants had given

Angelica a keen sense of self-preservation. She turned and scurried off the road like a rabbit that had just sensed the shadow of a hawk pass over. Branches slapped at her face, mud and dew licked the legs of her BDU's wetly, and exposed tree roots threatened to cripple her but she kept going until she was a good 30 meters away from the road. Angelica huddled low, listening and looking to see if anyone had seen her.

Angelica looked around her for several minutes, but as near as she could tell she hadn't been spotted. There were plenty of trees and brush along the road, and she would be able to make her way into town without being seen, although it would take a lot longer this way.

It was almost an hour later that Angelica arrived at the outskirts of Hood River. Sneaking through the woods and staying out of sight had taken a long time. She had managed to spot several more vehicles on the road. Several were ambulances, heading back to Camp, but many were trucks carrying troops and equipment into the town of Hood River. As she looked into the town from her vantage point, she realized that the troops that had been traveling down the road had been busy. One of the warehouses on the outskirts of town was rapidly being surrounded by a wire enclosure, and several sandbagged guard posts were being constructed. As she watched, a truck pulled up to the entrance. Two soldiers walked to the back of the truck, dropped the tailgate, and motioned with their rifles to those inside to get out.

The people that got out hardly looked like prisoners or terrorists. They looked a lot more like elderly couples, women, and small children. The troopers, wearing the sword and lightning emblem of the 201st, hauled them out of the back of the truck with little regard for their comfort. They were herded like cattle into the warehouse, even as another truck pulled up, and began disgorging it's cargo.

Some things in life were just wrong and chilled you to the bone; finding half a roach in your freshly bitten into piece of cornbread, the way one of the Anglo overseers had touched her when she was fourteen, dehydrated pork patties. They were all horrible, but paled to the sight of the residents of Hood River being pushed around like so many sheep being shoved into pens outside the slaughter house. Angelica growled low in the back of her throat without being aware of it.

How long she watched in anger she wasn't sure, but finally she regained some control over herself and became aware of the danger she was in. Obviously something important was going on, even if she didn't know exactly what. There was precious little she could do. One woman...one soldier she corrected herself, armed with a pistol and Band-Aids rushing into the town would mean sweet frack-all in the long run. So what to do?

First, she tried to count the number of troops, their weapons, how they were positioned around the place, and then how many people were inside the building. That task done, the next most important thing was to make sure no one would spot her. It was dark and the 201st boys seemed more concerned with keeping their unarmed, non-combatant charges in place than in any real threat from the outside. Still she didn't want to take any chances, so she pulled back deeper into the woods, one slow careful meter at a time.

Angelica skirted the town further around, trying to move to a better vantage point to see more of what was going on. She wasn't trained as a scout, but it didn't take special training for her to realize that the more she saw, and could report, the better off things would be for the people of Hood River. As she crept up to her new lookout, Angelica just wondered who she was going to report to...

As Angelica sat watching the activity in town, she heard the sound of a twig snapping behind her. She turned, and spotted two soldiers in the woods, about 70 yards away. They appeared to be patroling the area. As she watched them move through the woods, one of them looked over in her direction. His eyes widened, and he shouted, "Hey you, stand up and identify yourself!" Their weapons swung in her direction.

It was too dark to make out any unit flashes, not that she had the time or inclination to do so anyway. Angelica's only hope of escape lay in vanishing into the nighttime woods. Without wasting time to get to her feet, she rolled frantically to the left a few times, then jerked to her feet. Angelica ran for her life, frantically trying to jog from side to side to put trees between the soldiers and herself. Branches whipped at her cheeks, leaving red weals that ended in scratches, and the treacherous forest floor threatened to break her ankles. Past her harsh, quick breaths and pounding heart she waited to hear the snap of gunfire as the soldiers cut her down in her tracks.

She didn't have to wait long. Several shots rang out behind her as she ran through the woods. Angelica could hear the rounds whizz past her, and the thunk of bullets hitting tree trunks. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her left arm. As she looked down, she could see fresh blood staining the sleeve of her uniform. It didn't hurt, not yet any way, but that was only because of the shock. She would feel it soon enough. From her quick glance, it didn't look life-threatening, or even that serious, but given her current situation, just being slowed down could be fatal.

I've been shot, she thought absurdly. It was a new experience, not one she'd been especially keen to enjoy. Cold fingers met body-hot blood as her right hand searched her arm and clamped over the wound. No matter how tight she held it, she still felt drops dribbling off her fingers and knew that if she didn't tend to it soon there would be a real risk of passing out. Once that happened, well, she was dead.

Angelica couldn't even draw her sidearm. Her weapon arm was wounded and her right busy. Spotting a thick tree ahead, she darted behind it and cried out, "Don't shoot! I surrender. I surrender!" Bark rasped across her BDU's as she sank slowly down the trunk of the tree.

While she waited to either be captured or killed, Angelica retreated into her faith and began to murmur the Hail Mary over and over again. "Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia; el Señor es contigo; bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amén."