Liberators

Rescue and Attack

Chapter Twenty: Rescue and Attack

Highway Two

Sonolovichyrevko, Rivymiyitevko

October 24, 2008 0210 Rivymiyitevko time (0010 Krakozhian time)

Lieutenant Dimitar Kezhanka yawned for what he felt was the hundredth time as he waited for dawn to break over Rivymiyitevko. His body wanted to return to the sleep rudely interrupted by the tank driver, but he knew that it was his turn on watch duty. If only I had some coffee, he thought. Even that kolkhoz bullshit would suffice right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move in the bushes lining Highway Two. He quickly manned the machine gun on the turret, aimed it at the bushes, and shouted the day's challenge. "Oxygen!"

"Dinner plate!" was the reply. Kezhanka waved over whoever it was in bushes. It turned out to be two flyboys from the Air Force, still clad in the drab olive flight suits and matte black helmets that were facsimiles of the tanker uniforms worn by men like Kezhanka.

"You must be from that bombing sortie that kept me and my gunner awake, and gave my driver an adrenaline rush," he told them.

"That sums it up perfectly," replied one of the flyboys, whose name patch said ISLENIN. "There were supposed to be four of us, but our pilot and copilot were captured by the rebels before we could meet up with them."

"Where were they last, Comrade?"

"Yutsky Prospect, Comrade. Why?"

Kezhanka leaned back on the turret hatch. "Okay," he said. "I'll see if there are any other units here that can take you to Rivymiyitevko Air Force Base, and then we'll worry about your pilot and copilot."

Yutsky Prospect

Sonolovichyrevko, Rivymiyitevko

That same time

Major Abdullah Nestorovich Haruyenko was in a daze.

He remembered pulling the ejection lever that got him out of his doomed bomber. He remembered landing hard on an empty street in the middle of Sonolovichyrevko, and that the first living things that he saw there were stray dogs feeding on another dog's carcass. He had shooed a mouse that was trying to eat the soles of his boots, and then extricated himself from his ejection seat with great difficulty. He remembered that he was supposed to meet the rest of his crew at a secret location known only to them, but he and Lamitalovsky—whom he met after getting out of his seat—were captured by the Rivymiyitevko Independence Movement before they could get there. What he couldn't remember was what he told his captors during his interrogation. He knew what he was supposed to say—name, rank, serial number, and mat—but after a rifle butt hit his right temple, he couldn't trust himself anymore. That was what was putting him in a daze.

Through the fog blanketing his eyes, he watched as two rebels unceremoniously threw Lamitalovsky into his cell, or whatever place he was being held at right now. The Captain staggered for a while before crawling to a place beside Haruyenko. "Jamal," he said. "Jamal Aliyevich, what did I tell them?"

"Don't worry, Abdullah, you've told them nothing that would jeopardize the Krakozhian force in Rivymiyitevko," replied Lamitalovsky.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I was there, you know, along with two other flyboys."

Haruyenko groaned. "Please tell me that they haven't captured Georgiy and Nikita, too."

"No. At least, not yet. But they came from the same flight as ours."

"Ah, that is good to know."