Turn 9 - Down and Dirty

with a heavy steel door set firmly in place. An M60 was set up behind a small sandbagged wall with a gunner and a loader, as well as several other sentries armed with M16's. They were spaced 5-10 meters apart, with their weapons held at the ready. One of the sentries called out to the group.

Bill spoke softly to the troops, "Grenadiers.. target the pigs." He halted the formation, and gave the signal to spread out. He insured they were in tactical formation, not a gaggle all bunched up.

Bill waited for the troops to deploy. "We have come for our officers. Lay your weapons down NOW!!! IF you do not do so in five seconds, you will NOT live to regret it. You might kill some of us, but I assure you we will prevail and you will surely die. Are YOU prepared to die for the cause, what ever that might be? Release our people NOW! READY ON THE RIGHT.. READY ON THE LEFT.. ONE.. TWO.. THREE.. FOUR.. "

The sentries didn't wait for "Five". The M60 stuttered to life, pouring fire into the trees where Bill and his troops were taking cover. The troops returned fire, and two of the sentries went down almost immediately. So did three of Bill's troops, caught out in the open when the M60 opened up. Screams of the wounded men could be heard echoing in the night, the only louder sound being that of the weapons themselves. Several bullets whizzed uncomfortably close to Bill, the MI soldier manning the pig was damn good. Tracers criss-crossed the area, as the explosions of grenades thudded near the sandbagged gun position.

Carter dove down looking for cover, anything to put between him and the bullets. 'Looks like we won't be talking our way through these guys, then', he thought. He brought up his rifle and started shooting back at the muzzle flashes of the MI soldiers.

Bill dove to cover as the bullets snapped by his head. He rose enough to get his '16 into action, pumping bursts in to the pig pen, trying to stop it's squealing.

The M60 continued to send a hail of bullets into the trees, where Bill, Carter, and the rest of the troops were taking cover. One of the grenadiers had gotten close to the position, actually hitting the sandbags in front of the gun with an HE round, but had failed to put it out of commission.

The other MI soldiers had taken cover behind the trees as well, and were adding to fire of the M60. Two more of Bill's troops were wounded. As long as that gun was still operational, they weren't going to get any closer to the bunker itself.

Carter would have preferred to remain behind the relative safety offered by the trees, but something had to be done to get rid of the M60. He looked to the left and right. The left side seemed to provide a little more cover. "Sarge, I got an idea to take out the sixty." He pointed to the LAW on his back. "I'll move up on the left flank so I can get a shot." And reluctantly he started crawling forward, keeping low as he could, edging forward from any bit of cover to the next. And there wasn't a lot to hide behind. At least it was dark.

The soldiers under Bill's command, including Carter, started their flanking movement to the left. Several of his troops stayed put, giving covering fire to the men trying to maneuver. Three more of the men went down, hit by the deadly accurate fire of the M60. Two more of the guards were hit as well.

Carter managed to find a spot with good cover and a clear line of sight to the target. He got the M72 LAW unlimbered, popping off the end caps and extending the launcher in one fluid motion. A quick glance to the rear confirmed that no one was in the back blast area. Peering through the sights, Carter aimed at the sandbags surrounding the M60 position. Sure of his target, he pressed the trigger.

The missile streaked out of it's launcher, momentarily lighting up the night, and impacted into the M60 position. The explosion sent debris flying into the air, turning the seemingly impregnable position into confetti. As the smoke slowly cleared, and the NCO's called for cease fire, the machinegun could be seen, twisted completely out of shape. The bodies of the gunners were twisted out of shape as well, no one could look like that and still be alive.

Bill slowly stood, rifle at the ready. He looked over the carnage before him. Senseless carnage, he thought, but an indication of the type of persons they faced in the 201.

His mind snapped back to the mission at hand, to get his officers out of custody. Before him lay the bunker that presumably held his company commander and others. He moved slowly towards the front doors, hoping they were open, but knowing it was not going to be. His mind rushed to figure out how to breech the door without causing his officers bodily harm on the inside. But time was of the essence.. reinforcements were probably enroute, and who knew how many or what they might bring with them.

He motioned one of the senior squad leaders over, "Insure the casualties are taken care of.. call for a medevac for the serious ones.. and get me a demo man up here if there is one in the group."

Carter peered through the smoke and debris of the smashed machine gun nest. He discarded the launcher and reshouldered his rifle. Looking around to see if any more MI guys were still shooting back, he rose to a kneeling position, cautiously looking ahead. The gunners were definitely dead, poor bastards. Carter advanced forward, his weapon trained on the fallen MI soldiers.

The squad leader Johnson had grabbed quickly got on the horn to the Hospital, informing them of their status and asking for a vehicle to pick up the wounded. The two medics still with the group moved from man to man, working to stabilize the injured soldiers. The ones with minor wounds were helped by their buddies until a medevac could arrive.

A soldier walked up to Bill. "I hear you're looking for a demo man. SFC Albertini, 1249th Engineers, at your service." He grinned as he hefted his rucksack. "I brought along some C4 and Det Cord. You never can tell when they might come in handy." He motioned to the large steel door set in concrete in the front of the bunker, " I imagine that you'd like me pop that bad boy for you?" He walked over to the door, setting his rucksack down, and started tapping on the welded steel plating. The sound was a solid thud. Albertini started checking out the massive hinges and locking mechanism. After spending a of couple minutes in his examination of the door, he spoke up.

"Well, I guess this is one of those 'Good news, Bad news' situations, Sergeant. The bad news is I don't have near enough C4 to even make a dent in that door. The good news is...", he paused as he pushed down suddenly on the protruding handle and pulled, "...it's unlocked." The huge door swung silently open, revealing a set of stairs leading down. He grinned again as he motioned inside, "After you, Sergeant."

Bill's jaw dropped as the door swung open. "I'll be dipped... there is still luck on our side." Bill safed his rifle and slung it around his back, then drew his Paraord, and got out his penlight. As he did that, "Sergeant..set up a defensive perimeter here and keep an eye on the bunker too.. we don't want any surprises. One squad with me.. drop your rucks. Sergent Albertini.. {Bill grinned at him} since you seem to have the magic touch, I'd like you to accompany us into the dungeon, in case there are any doors to open.."

Bill headed for the door.. "Carter.. you have my back.. slow and easy.. there are friendlies in here, so make sure of your targets." He snapped on the penlight, and shined it around the stairwell, while partially under cover of the door frame. After insuring there were no shooters in the immediate area, he started down the stairs with extreme caution, shining the red-lensed penlight ahead of him. He could hear the soft scraping foot falls of the men behind him as they descended.

Carter nodded at the orders. He waited for both sergeants to head down first. As the engineer passed, Carter smiled. "Funny man Albertini." He followed them down his M14 held ready. The rifle was a bit unwieldy inside the confines of the bunker, but he had no ammo for the Luger, so it would have to do. The only other useful weapon he had was his entrenching tool, but Carter hoped to avoid any up close personal fighting. Not in a darkened bunker full of MI soldiers and Lieutenant Smith.

"Hey Sarge.. I mean my sarge. I think the room where everybody is should be along this corridor and there was an interrogation room a bit further on." That was about the extent of his knowledge on the bunker layout.

As the group proceeded cautiously down the concrete stairs, Carter could see the door to the cell where he himself had been a prisoner just an hour before, and where he had last seen Ramsey, Risov, and the others. It was on the left hand side of the long corridor, and the door itself stood open. Both Bill and Carter could see shadows moving in the doorway itself, but neither could make out who the shadows belonged to.

The scene inside the bunker was absolute chaos. The guards and prisoners grappled with each other inside the poorly lit cell, each struggling with their opponent. Ramsey was on his hands and knees, desperately trying to clear his head after getting his skull cracked with the baton. Risov had knocked the Captain's attacker to the ground, and was struggling to get to get the upper hand. McIntyre and Courtney had troubles of their own, each fighting another one of the guards.

Out of nowhere, a machinegun could be heard, firing a long burst. It's sound was muffled by the thick concrete walls and steel doors, but the sound of the M60 was unmistakable. It was followed a second later by the sounds of dozens of other weapons opening up. M16's, AK-47's, and grenades could be now as well. A full-fledged firefight was taking place right outside the walls.

The effect on the fight going on inside the cell was almost comical. The fight ground to an immediate halt, as each man was caught off guard by the sounds of battle outside. They stared at each other in amazement, guard and prisoner alike, as the weapons fire got louder, and more ferocious

With one last shake of his head, Ramsey came up and shouldered the SS Sgt in the side of the ribs, as he stood looking at Risov, driving him with all his weight into the side wall. Ramsey's forearm came up as the two hit the wall, wedging tightly into he mans throat. The rage was clearly seen in Ramsey's knotted muscles and the fanatic gleam in his eyes. Nothing was going to stop him this time.

Jack was getting severely PO-d, and knew the fight had a better chance if it ended quickly. The Captain and he had been wrestling with the same guard. If there was a potential opening while they all stood awestruck at the noise of gunfire, that would be the one chance. Gunfire meant conflict, and that could either be good or bad for those lockup in cells.

Risov tried to disarm the guard. If Ramsey and the guard were slugging it out, Risov would have no moral dilemma with slipping behind the guard and slamming him in the back of the head with an elbow thrust. If that worked, he would make a concerted grab for club, baton, pistol, knife -- whatever the guard might be carrying.

This might put them in a better position to bargain if the fight outside ended OK for the 201st MI outside. And if it ended badly for the poor douche-oh-worst, then they were that much closer to freedom...

Ramsey had managed shove the guard he was fighting into the wall, but the guard was still hanging on, fighting back with everything he had. But Risov's attack from the rear was too much. His elbow impacted right behind the guards ear, stunning him momentarily. And that was all the opening Risov needed. He managed to yank the baton from the guard's hands, slamming it into his skull with a meaty thud. The guard's eyes glazed over, and he slowly slid down the wall, toppling over face first onto the floor.

Lt. Courtney was still rolling around on the ground with his opponent, but McIntyre had managed to slide behind the man he was fighting, and now had him in a headlock. The tendons stood out on his arms as grasped the man's head, and with a shout, twisted with all of his might. The sickening sound of vertebra cracking left no doubt in anyone's mind that his neck had been broken. McIntyre dropped the guard like a limp doll, and then turned to see who was still fighting.

Ramsey's head still swam. He turned and pointed. The words from his mouth sounded like he had cotton in his ears. "Mac, help the LT. Risov, get what weapons you can and get the door." Ramsey took a step toward Lt Courtney and thought he was going down. Then with the will to live, he moved toward the fight. Ready to kick the assailant or fall to his knee and give him a pile driver, which ever would help Courtney. With his body coming back he was able to see and feel just that much better. He knew this had to end soon, or more people would be arriving and their end was guaranteed.

"With pleasure, sir", replied Risov. Risov went for the guard's club, and searched him quickly for anything else -- knives, hidden set of brass knuckles -- anything that could be of use. Just to be sure, Risov removed the downed guard's boot laces, and securely tied the man's hands behind his back with them. Then he headed for the door, both to observe and secure that critical area.

McIntyre moved quickly over to where Lt Courtney was still struggling with his opponent. Wasting no time, he raised his boot and stomped on the guard's face repeatedly, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious. Courtney rolled off of the guard and slowly rose to his feet, one hand clutching his side. "Thanks, I appreciate the help," he said to the SGT.

McIntyre grinned, "Don't mention it, LT. It's always been the job of an NCO to save officer's butts." He picked up one of the batons dropped by the guards.

Risov finished tying up the guard, and picking up another one of the batons, went to check the door. The corridor outside of the cell was empty for the moment, but the sound of the firefight outside still continued.

"Well, we head out. Get the clothes off that man LT, Risov you and Mac get the others off. You will escort me out if you please, and when appropriate we will take out who ever we can quickly, Just the jackets is all you need right now, sounds like help is arriving. As soon as we are clear, you get rid of the jackets so the good guys don't shoot you," Ramsey snapped off quickly, moving to the door so Risov could get the jacket of the trooper as he watched the hall.

Ramsey kept a close watch on the corridor, which for the moment was still empty. It seemed odd, just minutes earlier the sounds of guards moving around outside their cell could be heard quite clearly. Perhaps they had gone upstairs to join the fight, or had decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and had beat feet out of there. Either way, the coast was clear.

Risov put on a jacket from one of the downed guards, while McIntyre grabbed one of the others. Suddenly, a large explosion ripped through the night. Dust rained down off of the exposed pipes and fixtures, almost like snowfall. The gunfire outside dropped of to a few scattered shots, and then moment later, to nothing. The firefight outside the bunker appeared to be over, leaving only one lingering question, who won?

"OK people, we need info! Grab what you got and let's move out," Ramsey said. He waited for everyone to gather, then pointed down the hall. Ramsey wanted to follow the path they came in, and hopefully to where they will meet with LT Smith for another conversation. He moved cautiously, stopping at corners to look both ways and made sure someone keep an eye on their tail.

As the group started to move into the corridor, they could all hear the sounds of footsteps moving cautiously down the stairway from outside. None of them could make out who it was coming into the bunker, but the stairway was only about 25 meters from the cell door. Whoever the new arrivals where, they were well within grenade range.

As Angelica slowly regained consciousness, she was able to make out a dim shape next to her. As her eyes focused, she could see SSG Gideon sitting on a chair next to the cot she was on, his leg in a brand new cast. She was dressed in a hospital gown, her arm covered in dressings, and a tube ran from her other arm up to an IV bag suspended above.

Gideon smiled as she looked over at him. "I'm glad to see you're awake, you had us worried there" He looked over at the other side of Angelica's bed, "Hey, look who's rejoined the land of the living."

"Oh, thank God!" As Angelica turned to see where the new voice came from, she was able to see Sarah, the nurse from the ambush coming towards her. "I was so worried about you, I told you to be careful!" As Angelica looked closer, she could see that Sarah's eyes were red and puffy, and her makeup was smeared. It looked like she had been crying.

Sarah started snuffling, "But it's so awful! The General, he.....he....". A tear rolled down her cheek, as she buried her face in her hands.

Angelica's good arm was cold. The slow but steady flow of liquid from the IV, chilled by the air, was the cause. She'd heard some of her patients gripe about it, but this was the first time she really understood what they meant. There had to be a better way. Maybe an MRE heater around the bag somehow? Something to worry about later.

"He's dead," Angel said. It wasn't so much a question as a pronouncement. The General's wounds had been quite extensive and he was old as well. "It's okay," she said, not to Sarah, but to Gideon's worrying about her. "I'm okay."

"Hey, sit down chica," Angelica urged, tugging on Sarah's elbow. The stupid IV line kept wanting to snag on things but Angel tugged it loose. "Come on. It's okay." This time the words were to Sarah, soft and more murmured than spoken. She continued to urge the Anglo woman to sit down and moved aside on the field bed to make it possible. "The Jefe, it was just his time. It's not your fault, Sarah."

Gideon leaned over and spoke to her. "No, no he's not dead. He's in recovery right now, and the Doc's think he has a good chance of pulling through. Not that it makes any difference. They....they found something while they were operating on him."

Sarah sat down and wiped her eyes, "Bill's, I mean SSG Johnson's soldiers have the hospital surrounded, and he asked the man in charge to have me observe the surgery. He was afraid that someone might try something while he was under. But when the doctor opened him up, they found....they found....." Her voice faltered.

Gideon placed his hand on Angelica's shoulder. "It's Hodgkin's disease. The head Doc recognized it right away, he used to be a big wig in the oncology unit at OHSU before the war. They ran some tests to confirm it. They figure he has 6 months, maybe a year tops." He pounded his fist in frustration. "That's what makes this so damned wrong. If whoever did this had just waited, he would have died anyway."

Angelica had been right, the General was dead. Oh, he gave the appearances of the living; breathing, bleeding, hurting, but the Ferryman already had his spot reserved.

She didn't know quite how to feel. Not like Sarah, at least not on the outside. Angelica didn't like to let anyone see her crying, and the recent events had only served to temper her harder. Whether or not the hardness came at the expense of being brittle, she didn't know.

Her good arm, still bound by the irritating IV, slipped around Sarah's shoulders and she pulled the Anglo woman's head down onto her chest. "Is okay, chica." Beginning a rhythmic motion, Angelica began to rock the distraught woman.

Her eyes met those of Gideon and she saw the anger, the frustration in his that mirrored her own. "Si. And I know who to blame for it. Did anyone tell you, Staff Sergeant?"

Gideon nodded, "No one had to tell me, I saw what those SOB's from the 201st were doing while I was waiting for transport back here. They're making a grab for power, they just didn't figure on the General surviving the hit. That threw a monkey wrench into their plans, and maybe bought us a little time." He closed his eyes for a few seconds, reliving some moment from his past, then shook his head to clear whatever horror he had been remembering.

He looked back up at Angelica with a hard stare, "Angel, I was with the 25th when we survived the blast at Bremerton, when we tried to stop the invasion in Canada, and on the long retreat. I've seen a lot of men die. Men I couldn't save, no matter what I did. But they all died believing in the cause, that freedom was worth fighting for, that it was even worth dying for. To see that all thrown away now, in this last little corner of the world where words like liberty and freedom still mean something, betrays every man who gave their life. I'll be damned if I'm just going to sit here and watch that dream get flushed down the toilet by some two-bit hoods that want to set themselves up as warlords."

A Sergeant entered the room, an M16 in his right hand, his fatigues dirty and disheveled. He looked down at Angelica, and smiled briefly, "I see our patient is awake. May our heavenly father speed your recovery." He looked over at Gideon, "How many of the patients here could fight if they had to?"

Gideon turned to Angelica. "Angel, this is Sgt Mazurowski. He's SSG Johnson's second in command." He looked back sharply at him, "Maybe 20 or so are ambulatory, another 30 or 40 could shoot if they were propped up somehow. Why? Have things gotten that bad?"

Sgt Mazurowski nodded grimly, "I'm afraid so. We've just gotten word that the 201st is coming here with all the troops they can muster. My orders are to protect the General at all costs, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. But I don't have enough men to hold off a determined attack, we're spread pretty thin here. I've been on the horn, calling in some favors, but I don't know if they will get here in time."

Gideon stood up, a little unsteady with the new cast. "Follow me. There's a weapons storage locker, where we keep any firearms the wounded come in with. We can start passing them out to the troops. Not to mention to the Medical staff."

Sarah's tears had subsided and she sat up, disentangling herself from Angelica. "Sgt, I know I'm a civilian, but I want a gun too. I can shoot, my father taught me."

Sgt Mazurowski stood silently for a few moments, weighing the pro's and con's of arming a civilian. He made up his mind, and pulled a .45 from the holster at his waist, handing it butt first to Sarah. "It has a 7-round magazine, and here are a couple of spare mags. But it's a short range weapon, anything over 50 feet away you'll only hit by accident."

Gideon reached under the cot he had been sitting on, and pulled out a box. He spoke softly to Angel, "There's a fresh uniform in there, as well as your 9mm. You should rest, but...." The words trailed off. He bent over her cot, and kissed her gently on her forehead. "You watch your ass," he said softly. He stood up and faced Mazurowski, "Let's go, Sergeant." They moved off, Gideon's cast clumping loudly on the wooden floor.

Angel had never heard the phrase 'Blow this for a game of soldiers' so she wasn't able to tell it to Gideon. The scowl on her face spoke volumes though even if her educational background was lacking. "Oya, chica, help me with this." Angelica began to remove the tape that held the IV needle in place, wincing as it moved in her flesh. "How come the little things hurt the most?" she asked Sarah with a wry grin.

Sarah stopped Angelica from pulling out the catheter. "Hold on, let me do that. You know they weren't designed to be removed by the patient." She pulled the line out carefully, and covered the puncture mark with a small piece of gauze, taping it down quickly and professionally. "There, all done."

Once the IV had been removed, Angelica wasted no time getting dressed. Trousers first, pulled up under the angel gown, then she just tossed the gown on the bed, not caring if anyone looked. Not that she was anything special anyway. It hurt trying to get her injured arm in the right place, but she eventually managed. The M9 was a comforting weight back where it belonged. "He ain't keeping me in bed. The Jefe needs me."

Sarah sighed, "I think he knew that you wouldn't stay put. I'll bet that's why he kissed you, and told you to be careful. I think he might be a little sweet on you."

Angelica looked at Sarah, saw the enormous gun in the woman's hand, and nodded. "The General needs you too, chica. You're a good woman, Miss Sarah. The Jefe will be proud of you. So will your soldier friend."

"Please just call me Sarah. I'm just glad that you're here with me, because I'm scared out of my mind." She looked down at the .45 in her hand. "I became a nurse to save people, not to shoot them. It feels like everything is spinning out of control." She looked out the window into the night. "I hope Bill's OK. He's a good man." She turned back to Angelica, "They all are, you know? Even with all that's happened, they're still trying to do the right thing. Even if it gets them killed."

"Hey, come on you lazy asses," she called to nearby patients. "MPs are coming to break up our little party. Time to show those club-swinging pretty boys what real soldiers can do, si?" Angel began to chivvy the other patients into joining the defense, helping those that needed things removed or fastened down for the coming battle.