Читать книгу Seeds of the Bitter Harvest - John Sheppard - Страница 7

Was this his third or fourth cup of strong coffee this morning? thought Major Jeremy Trent, as he sipped the stout brew. He needed something to keep himself going, so the number of cups of coffee he drank really was of no consequence, he just needed to be able to function. The last several months had been overwhelmingly stressful, with long hours of work, little sleep, and tension that never left. Unlike some of his fellow officers, he chose not to spend his evenings getting drunk at the Officers’ Club. He felt he needed his head clear if the Enemy should choose a final assault on what remained of his homeland.

Here he was, in the same room, sitting at the same “U” shaped table, with the last of the nation’s top military leaders even though he was only a Major. Promotions had come quickly. His most recent promotion had been less than a couple of months before. The country’s military was down to about one third of what it had been at the start of the war. Most of the other two thirds had been killed in action, with only a few presumed to be POWs.

Jeremy had been surprised to discover how much influence he had garnered in the country’s military circles because of his leadership during the counter-offensive in the hours before the Capital fell. Working with his mentor, Colonel Stephen Newhouse, they had devised a plan for a counter-offensive, which had the potential to provide a last-minute escape route for some the beleaguered Capital’s residences. The plan had worked, thousands were saved, but Colonel Newhouse had been killed by a sniper.

This gathering was the daily briefing conducted with General Ashton seated, alone at a table, in the front of the Briefing Room, facing his staff. Ashton was a tall, trim, stern looking man, who seldom smiled. His blue eyes were intense, and often appeared to bore right into ones’ inner most thoughts. While having a reputation for being “no nonsense”, he was also known to be fair, and looked after those under his command.

The large map to the left behind the General told the status of the war, in the starkest terms. It was a map of the entire peninsula they shared with the Enemy. A mountain range divided the peninsula. The range ran at an angle from the northeast to southwest with a noticeable mountain pass about midway. It was there that the Enemy had, for the first in history, broken through those defenses and poured into this country.

Not only was the Enemy’s homeland, which was in the northwestern portion of the peninsula, highlighted in red but so was much of Jeremy’s beloved land in the Southeastern half. If one looked closely at the map, one could see the dates of major battles annotated. Most of those dates had defeats for the defenders, and the red continued to advance. The spring offensive had seen the Enemy sweep down the coast line, then, make a sudden turn towards the west, in effect, cutting of the Capital from the Port City.

Jeremy had been lost in his thoughts as he viewed the map; when he came aware that he was being nudged by the officer seated to his left. The officer directed him to notice a hand holding a piece of paper between the two of them. An aid was standing behind the two of them with his hand outstretched holding a note. It was not unusual to have aids deliver written messages during the briefing, what was unusual was for Jeremy to be that inattentive to his surroundings.

He took the note, nodded a thank you to the aid, and carefully opened the folded paper so as not to distract the others at the meeting. The note was as startling to Jeremy as it was brief: “O-club, 1900 HRS, more to follow, KA”. He made a quick mental translation: “Be at the Officers Club at 7:00 PM, he would receive additional instructions; signed, General Kevin Ashton”.

Trying to control his facial expressions, Jeremy slowly re-folded the note, and slid it into his shirt pocket. He avoided making eye contact with anyone in the room for a few minutes so as to prevent anyone from detecting the importance of the note. When he finally looked-up the General was staring right at him; their eyes locked momentarily. Another officer was providing an Enemy troop movement assessment, so the exchange went unnoticed by the other attendees.

It was hard for Jeremy to concentrate on his normal duties the rest of the day. He had never received such a summons during his entire military career. What could the country’s top military commander want to talk to him about? He wasn’t on the General’s personal staff besides, why the secrecy?

Around 1800 hours he returned to his room in the OQ (Officers’ Quarters). Normally he would work much later into the evening, but he wanted to take a shower and change clothes before meeting with the General. Since the briefing, he wondered if he should wear his uniform. After all, he was meeting the General, but to arrive in uniform after duty-hours in the O Club might attract attention. Yet, they were at war. Would a uniform be better? Before he could give the matter any additional thought, he saw something on his pillow. It was a plain, white sheet of paper, lying open, with a hand written message, which read; ‘Civvies’; more military short-hand; this time it meant civilian clothes. Someone is taking care of every detail, and they seem to think I might be being watched; thought Jeremy.

It was now the Major’s turn to play the part. He didn’t want anyone to think he was doing anything more important than having some drinks, and relaxing for a change. Jeremy determined to be a minute or two late. He casually walked in the general direction of the O Club, stopping to engage in a couple of conversations with others he met on the way. What bothered him was that he had been given no other instructions but to be at the Club. Would the General be there in plain sight? Was he to ask for the General? What?

Loud music assaulted his ears as he entered the club, and it took time for his eyes to adjust to the subdued lighting. Before Jeremy got five steps inside, a voice called out in a friendly tone.

“Thought you’d never get here, Trent…. beers are getting warm.” It was a Second Lieutenant, the one who had passed him the note earlier in the day. Jeremy didn’t even know the guy beyond seeing him at the briefings. Yet, he was acting like they were old college buddies hanging out for a casual evening.

The Lieutenant motioned him over to a small table in a very dark corner of the O Club. Several beers were already lined-up on the table, and there were only two seats. Wouldn’t the General be joining them? Jeremy pondered.

Jeremy decided it was best to go along with whatever was happening; giving the Lieutenant a huge grin and a slap on the back as he slid into the one remaining chair. The Lieutenant returned the grin, and quickly gulped down almost half of one of his beers. Jeremy followed suit.

The Lieutenant leaned in towards Jeremy as if he was sharing a secret, looking him squarely in the eyes.”Good job, Major. But, don’t get plastered. You still have to meet the Man, and he needs you sober. Finish one beer, start the second, make it all very natural, then go to the Head. You’ll be given directions from there.”

The two men broke out into laughter like they had just shared a story of a college fraternity prank or an off-colored joke. Jeremy took his time to finish what remained of his first beer as the two men shared stories and some genuine laughs. As he started the second beer, the Lieutenant leaned over again and whispered.”Okay, take a couple more gulps, and go relieve yourself. You won’t be returning to the table. I’ll wait to see if you’re being followed or watched, then I’ll slip out myself.”

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Jeremy headed to the restroom, known by most military as the ‘Head’. It was down a darkened hallway which also led to the O Club’s kitchen. Another man was right on his heels as he opened the restroom door. Before he could say anything, the man gave him a gentle shove. Jeremy was ready to deck the guy, but instead the other man quickly checked the room and said; “Do your business, then head out the back, through the kitchen. A jeep and driver will be waiting for you.”

The jeep and driver were there, just as the man had told him. Without saying a word to Jeremy, the driver started the jeep and took him on a long serpentine drive through the base. They reached the heavily guarded entrance to the ammo dump at the far western end of the base. The driver flashed his bright lights at the guards three times in quick succession, then twice for a longer period of time. The jeep was waved through the gate without stopping for an ID check.

Finally, the driver pulled up to an isolated single story, whitewashed,cement block building, with only one light on, over an entrance door.”Sir”, the driver said, without making eye-contact, “enter there”, pointing to the door. Jeremy got out of the jeep; and the driver sped away.

Rather dumbfounded by it all, Jeremy reached for the doorknob, gave it a twist, open the door, and stepped into what he supposed was a dark room.

“Close the door”, came a whisper from the darkness, and Jeremy did as he was told.

Once the door was closed, a bright light flickered to life, and he could see the General seated at a table. Jeremy’s first reaction was to make his back ramrod straight, and snap a salute.

“At easy, Major, please take a seat.” said, the General in a quiet tone of voice.

Jeremy move to the seat, and sat down. As he seated himself, he noticed the room was bare, with the exception of the table and two chairs. The only window was covered in a heavy blackout material. Behind Ashton was a single door, which was closed.

The General looked at Jeremy intently for several seconds, as if sizing up a challenger. Without any advanced small talk, or even a greeting, General Ashton said:

“We have confirmed reports that chaos has broken out within the entire realm of the Enemy. As first reported, their ‘Divine Leader’ died within weeks after they captured our Capital. He was young and left no apparent heir. We have known that their military leadership was deeply divided since the start of the war. Some didn’t want the war at all; others have been appalled by the brutality unleashed against our civilian population.”

Jeremy could sense his pulse starting to race, as did his thoughts: Where was the General headed with this? Why was he being told? Could there really be hope that the course of the war was changing in their favor?

Ashton continued speaking, but rose and began to pace as he talked:

“There are reports that the Enemy is in a state of civil war. There are at least three, maybe four political/military alliances that have formed, each vying for power. Our sources say that each faction is pouring men and arms into their capital, there could be only a small army of occupation left on this side of the mountains.”

“Why wasn’t this information shared at the briefing, Sir?”

The General glared at Jeremy for a moment, then, relaxed a bit. He explained it was for the same reason that all the elaborate planning had been necessary for their meeting this evening. He was concerned about traitors within their ranks. If word got back to the Enemy, they might shore-up their defenses of the fallen Capital.

“Before we commit troops to retake our Capital, we need to confirm that it is lightly defended, and that’s where you come in…. . I’m ordering you to take a team with you back into the Capital to do recon for me.”

Jeremy wanted to interrupt and let it be known he would volunteer, but decided against it. The General didn’t seem to be looking for conversation. It was at that point that Ashton perceived Jeremy’s thoughts. He stated that he knew Jeremy was a man with a family, and being given an order took all the emotion out of the process. There was, according to the General, less than a 50/50 chance they would return alive from the mission.

General Ashton unfolded a map and placed it on the table. He told Jeremy that they would leave in two weeks, maybe three, secretly boarding a ship in the port. Once the ship was out to sea a couple of miles, it would turn north up the coast for about twenty miles, then they would lower a rubber dingy and his team would row back to the shore. He pointed to the spot on the map; it was within Enemy held territory. There his team would meet up with members of the underground, and be assisted in getting into the capital.

It was a bit overwhelming to Jeremy. He thought of a thousand questions at once. He would need to choose a team. If he didn’t return from the mission, what about his family? How were he and his team to get back from the Capital? The General hadn’t mentioned that.

Interrupting Jeremy’s thoughts, Ashton went on to say, speaking more to himself than Jeremy, “There’s a great deal to be considered before we attempt retaking the capital. Our overall troop strength is inadequate to hold it if the Enemy should launch another attack. Dividing our men between the Capital and the Port City might leave us without enough manpower to defend either city. Yet, we know those trapped in the Capital are suffering unspeakable things.”

With that, the General placed his hand on the map right where the Capital of their homeland was indicated. It was as if he was wanting with the placement of his hand to protect the people in that place.

“You are to speak of this to no one, Trent, not even those you select for your team. A duty roster will appear at your desk in two days, delivered by my lieutenant. Randomly line through three names on the roster, and write in the names of the men you’ve selected. Leave the roster in your ‘Out’ basket. We’ll do the rest. You and your team will be brought to the Ammo Dump within a few days, and will stay here until it’s time for your mission to start. I have direct command of the Dump, and have personally selected every man assigned to this unit.”

Smart move thought Jeremy; the Ammo Dump is a way from the main base, what goes on here cannot be easily monitored.

The two men talked a little longer. Even in that conversation, the General divulged almost nothing concerning the details of the mission. As if on cue, Jeremy heard a jeep pull up outside the building. Ashton gave him a firm hand shake, and wished him well. The two men exchanged salutes, then the general turned an exited the rear door.

Jeremy turned off the light, and left the way he had come in. The jeep and same driver were waiting for him. They took another winding route through the base. The driver stopped behind the O Club, and handed him a tin flask.

“Spill some of this on yourself, enter through the backdoor of the kitchen, and go into the club, Sir. The Lieutenant will rejoin you there; stay awhile, act like you’ve had a little too much, then he’ll get you back to your quarters.”