"Someone's coming," Carmichael said, pointing behind me.
We'd been checking out the area around the artesian tap, making sure the ground was clear and everything was doing all right out there. The heavy cable from the satellite dishes ran toward the TOC and we checked the padlock on the heavy transfer and routing box to make sure nobody had snuck up and attached a tap to it.
I turned around in time to see one of the West German guards heading toward us. At the gate was a CUC-V and behind that at least two 5-ton trucks. I couldn't tell if there was any more in the woods beyond, but I was willing to bet money on it.
Following my motions the others trailed after me as I walked toward the German guard. When I got close enough he waved his arm as if we didn't see him.
"Vos is los?" I asked him, butchering the German language.
"There are members of an American infantry unit at the gate," He said. "The Leftenant wishes to know if you know they are coming and if you will permit them to enter."
I nodded. "Yeah, tell him to send them through." I pointed at the clear area under the first part of Dinosaur Row. "Tell them to park there."
He nodded, tilting his head and pressing the button on his lapel mic. He spoke rapid fire German as he went one way, toward the small cinderblock building the German soldiers used, we went the other, heading for Dinosaur Row's first roof and frame structure. Underneath it were old semi-tractors, jeeps, pickup trucks from the 1950's, and other non-construction or war fighting vehicles.
"You expecting them?" Carmichael asked me.
"Yeah. Henley warned me they were coming," I told him. "When we get to the road, jog down to the Rangers and grab their two chemical specialists. You guys are going to be checking masks and issuing out sealed chemical suits from the war stocks," I said.
"Roger that," he answered.
"All three of you come back and find me. Get the medical specialist from the Ranger team, whoever it is, have them report to me too. He's going to be Cromwell's assistant and teacher for their med-checks," I said.
"Roger," Carmichael said.
We walked to the road by the time they'd started pulling in at the overhang. Carmichael took off at a steady double-time toward where I'd told the Rangers to set up as soon as we hit the road.
"You don't say shit unless I talk to you first, Cromwell," I said.
She didn't say 'language', just nodded.
By the time I got there a Lieutenant Colonel, a Sergeant Major, and a Major had gotten out of the vehicle and for a second I wondered if maybe 2/19th had finally got a chain of command. The infantry tab on the officer's lapels quickly squelched that wish.
"Corporal Stillwater, Site NCOIC and Crew Operations Leader," I said, stepping into the Colonel with my hand out. He took it reflexively, obviously expecting me to salute. "This is a live fire area, the Soviets have a highly skilled sniper up, so this is a non-saluting area by order of V Corps and 7th Army," I told him.
I expected argument, not for him just to quietly nod. "We were briefed by Chief Henley," He told me. He had a slightly Midwest accent, Oklahoma or Nebraska, fitting with his plain face and brownish blonde hair. "He let us know how things stand out here."
"Did you receive an operations packet?" I asked him.
"Chief Henley had a courier waiting. I haven't had a chance to unseal it yet," He told me. He nodded and the Major held up a thick packet that was still sealed by red tape.
"All right. Did you guys bring GP tents? I asked.
"No, we rolled out exactly as specified. Weapons, masks, TA-50 only," he said.
"All right. That's fine. I've got a warehouse full of field gear that's probably going to be labelled destroy in place, so we can break into those stocks. Most of it is over twenty years old and the Army is rotating all of it with brand new stuff, probably taken from old depots," I told him. I pointed at the sat-com dishes.
"I'm going to have you set up right over there," I said, pointing to the right of the sat dishes, about a hundred meters away. "Don't worry about a berm yet, you're going to be moving as soon as my men get back on Sunday."
He was looking over the area, nodding.
"We've got three 5K generators set up, there's cabling boxes in the War Fighter Stocks, so you can run power to the tents. We'll leave them up for the rest of the operation. I've got a lot of people coming in, so you guys will be building the staging area," I said.
"What about the vehicle?" He asked.
"For right now, we'll have you park them under the overhead cover here on Dinosaur Row. I've got rearming pads but I want to keep those clear for right now," I said. "Did you guys get med-checks?"
The Colonel shook his head.
"All right, my man here Cromwell will coordinate with my other med-tech, they'll run a quick dick-peek and pit-check, make sure all your guys are deployable," I told him. "I've got a few medical on the way, once they get here I'll have a dedicated medical."
I lit a cigarette as two lieutenants jogged up.
"The TOC is over there," I told the Lieutenant Colonel. "As soon as your ready, come on over and we'll go over your orders so I can integrate them into my planning."
I turned to Cromwell. "Private Cromwell, when they're ready, show them to the War Stocks Quonset so they can start pulling tents, camo, and wiring sets. Once you've got them there, report back to the TOC, there's planning I need your input in."
Cromwell nodded.
The Lieutenant Colonel nodded. "I can see why you have Chief Henley's trust," he said. He turned to the XO. "Major, take the lieutenants and follow, Cromwell was it?" Cromwell nodded. "Take some men so they can start humping the tents and camo nets thirty paces from the satellite dishes. Standard layout."
"I'll wait right here till you bring back a work party," Cromwell said, moving off to the side.
"All right, gentlemen, if you'll follow me," I said. We headed for the TOC, walking briskly in the late afternoon air.
"How long have you been in charge out here?" The Sergeant Major asked me.
"Around a year," I told them. "Found this site last year when it was little more than rubble, rusted conventional ammo, exposed nuclear cores, and leaking chemical rounds," I chuckled.
"How long have you been in the Army?" The Sergeant Major asked.
"A little over two years," I shrugged. "Not long. Long enough to teach me things," I told them. I ducked under the commo tent. "I know, it seems a little odd, putting a Corporal in charge of this stuff, but it's worked so far."
"How bad is it out here? What are my men walking into?" The Colonel asked.
"This place will kill you if it gets the chance. We've had pretty heavy casualties over the last year, if you count the Germans, around twenty people total dead and injured badly enough to considered too injured to continue service," I told them. I nodded to the two Rangers. "Gentlemen, these two gentlemen have temporary access to the TOC."
"Roger," they both said.
I went in, seeing Foster listening on the radio.
"Chief Henley just called," Foster said.
"What now?" I asked.
"Our reserves have been activated. They received 24 hour deployment notice, so they'll be in the air sometime tomorrow, get here early morning on Sunday," he said. "The joint services team is loading up right now at Benning, so they'll be here later today. 54th is on the way."
"Thanks," I said. I pointed at the pot. "Is that new?"
He nodded.
I poured another cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar but skipping the Wild Turkey. I lit a cigarette and moved over to the covered map board.
When I flipped it back, I moved to the side.
"This is Atlas. FSTS-317, NATO Site 93. It's over a hundred bunkers of chemical, nuclear, and conventional ammunition. Additionally I have two Quonset Huts full of War Fighter Stock, one Quonset Hut dedicated to a chow hall. I've got underground refueling tanks here, here, and at both helipads. As you can see, the site is five miles long, three wide. There are currently three completed rows of bunkers, one more slated to be built. There are three square miles out here, hidden from direct view by an artificial hill line. Out here is where you will be primarily bunking," I told them.
I looked at them. "Cromwell will be overseeing the construction of aid stations here, here, here, and here," I told them. "Decon showers will go in at the points marked. Your primary task is defense of this site."
They both nodded.
"I plan on having at least two platoons of your men mixed in with the guys doing repalletization and trailer/CONEX blocking and bracing to provide covert security as well as additional manpower," I moved over and sat down. "This is going to be a major operation, gentlemen. I have over two hundred million tons of ammunition on ships heading my way. I have a limited amount of time to completely empty all of my bunkers and then reload them with everything from chemical and nuclear rounds all the way to five point five six NATO and brand new Hotel-104 MLRS pods."
One of the Rangers poked his head in. "A Ms Smith, Ms Smith, and Ms Smith are here to see you, Corporal."
"Send them in," I said.
The three Blackbriar bitches came into the tent, crowding it.
"How may I help you, ladies?" I asked.
"We are here to answer any questions they may have regarding their unusual orders," They said.
"This is a Special Weapons operation," The Sergeant Major said, swallowing thickly. He looked at the Colonel. "Sir, you need to tell all of the officers to move very carefully around these people."
The Colonel nodded and I noticed he was sweating slightly. "Despite the ranks, this is suddenly quite obviously above our pay-grade."
"Open your packets, gentlemen," The middle one, who was maybe a half-inch taller than her 'sisters' said sweetly.
"Anything new for me?" I asked.
"No, Corporal," The one on the right said.
Both the Sergeant Major and the Colonel were looking at the manila folders that had been inside the sealed packets.
"Is this keyword correct?" The Colonel asked. I looked and nodded. "Omaha? As in Ohama Beach?"
"No, sir, as in nuclear operations and the MAD program," I told him.
The phone on the desk, connected to a heavy encryption box, chose that moment to rang. Foster snatched it up on the second ring.
"Three-One-Seven Actual," he said. He listened for a second, then held out the receiver. "It's Henley."
I took the receiver. "Three-One-Seven Charlie," I said.
"Stillwater, do you have a map of Atlas handy?" He asked, not bothering to insult me.
"Right here, sir, I'm looking at it," I told him.
"How far is the rail head from the back row of bunkers?" He asked me.
I looked at the map. "No rail head on my map," I told him. I glanced at the date. "Map's from last year."
"Mine doesn't show one either, but the sperm guzzling retards up the chain insist you have one on the back side of Atlas. Send some of those circle-jerking infantry dick polishers out there to see if they can find it. If they do, have them trace the line back to the main line. It should be about three miles, toward town. Tell them to get an idea of what condition it's in," He snarled.
"If it's out there, it hasn't been used since the late-50's or early-60's," I told him.
"I fucking know that, you sister humping white trash trailer park hovel dwelling refugee," He snapped. "We'll have the engineers fix it. They want to move the vehicles via rail head rather than on the roads," He said. "Two-one-nine out."
I could hear the phone get slammed down. "Three-one-seven out," I said lamely.
I had a sudden vision of a train derailing.
"Problems, Corporal?" One of the Blackbriar Bitches asked.
I shook my head, staring at the map, adjusting everything in my head in case there was a rail head out there.
"No. No problem."
Just more Cold War Bullshit.