The Anatomy of Courage (First Contact) by Peter Cawdron

Author:Peter Cawdron [Cawdron, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

The Storm

The next day, a winter storm descends on the Russian steppes. Sleet falls in sheets. Ice forms on the wooden logs reinforcing the trench. Slush and mud overwhelm the wooden sill preventing water from running into the dugout. Various members of the squad take turns working the hand pump to keep the water level below the wooden boards on the floor.

In the early evening, the phone by the entrance rings. Meyers answers to stunned silence within the dugout.

“Yes… Yes… Understood… Dog Food is active in support.”

Meyers hangs up, but before he can say anything, Happy blurts out, “In this fucking weather? You have got to be kidding me.”

“Easy,” Meyers says to a room full of agitated soldiers.

Even Lavender looks upset. Normally, she’s unfazed by their assignments. She ruffles her purple hair. Her roots reveal her soft, natural brunette hair growing through, which doesn’t seem to suit her. The brilliant pinks and purples in her bangs are much more in keeping with her vibrant personality. William Sunday is sitting in her classic defensive position, with her legs up in front of her and her arms wrapped around her knees. Tonight, though, with no barrage falling, it’s more habitual than hiding. Perhaps, for her, it’s a comfort pose.

“Are they really going to send us out there?” Mouse asks.

“Special Forces have a priority one assignment. The One-Oh-Five is deploying an experimental sensor in no man’s land.”

Lavender rolls her eyes.

Happy says, “Ah, fuck.”

“They’re hoping the weather gives them some cover,” Meyers says.

“How deep are they going?” Leech asks.

“Echo-Seven.”

Leech considers that for a moment, saying, “Okay. That’s reasonable. That’s not too deep.”

Happy says, “We might not even leave the trench.”

“Command wants us out there with them.”

“Prior to contact?” Leech asks, surprised by that comment.

“One-Oh-Five is escorting a blank.”

“Ah, fuck,” Happy says, using the same words as moments ago, spoken with exactly the same sense of rhythm and resignation.

“What’s a blank?” Doc asks quietly, talking to William Sunday.

“No rank. It means they’re escorting a civilian. Probably a scientist or an engineer.”

“And that’s bad?”

“That means they have no idea what they’re getting themselves into. Blanks panic under fire. They do dumb shit and get themselves killed.”

“Them and anyone looking after them,” Happy says.

“We’ve got the storm in our favor,” Meyers says. “It’ll keep the Novos hunkered down. We’re in close support. Our role is to provide cover fire and medical extraction if needed.”

“It’ll be cold,” Mouse says.

“Fucking cold,” Happy says.

“It won’t work,” Lavender says.

“What won’t work?” Doc asks.

“Whatever dumb fool thing it is they’re putting out there. The Novos will find it and fry it.”

“Command is testing a new form of electromagnetic shielding. They’re going to run it on a mechanical timer out there and look to see if the Novos react. If this works, we could run heavy machinery closer to the line.”

There’s considerable discussion between various squad members at that comment.

“All right. We move out in five. Get your gear ready.”

Doc dons his heavy weather raincoat over his uniform. If it were made from

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