"Here they come," Sergeant Bomber said, spitting in the grass. "Just like old time, eh, Ant?"
"Yeah," Patch grunted, rolling his shoulders. "All right, Roberts. Don't make any sudden moves, but if they go at us, hose the ones on the right with your grease gun."
"Yes, Sergeant," Roberts said, his mouth dry.
There were six Soviet soldiers walking into the 1K Zone, heading for the small group of US soldiers standing in the middle. Off to Roberts's right were the wreckage of two helicopter, both of them Soviet HiND's. Stillwater and the Atlas Crew had shot them down the month before Roberts had got to 2/19th, and the sight of them still made his blood run cold.
After hearing his dad's stories about serving in Vietnam, he felt like he understood Stillwater a lot more. He was the product of a military family that sought out the military, never shied away from engaging the enemy when necessary, and tried to maximize all the variables he could in order to ensure his soldiers survived.
"They're superiors are probably freaking out," Bomber said into the afternoon air.
"Some fucking Democrat Senator probably ran to the Soviet embassy as soon as they could get their hands on the REFORGER op-plans," Patch sneered. "I'm starting to feel like most of those Commie loving fucks are on the Kremlin's payroll."
"You aren't going to let Fat Cricket go, are you?" Bomber chuckled.
"Fuck no. Some Democrat's aide gets big-mouth and Roberts here gets the shit shot out of him," Patch growled.
"I'm OK," Roberts said, almost automatically.
"I know, kid," Bomber nodded. "Zip it up."
"Comrades," The big blond Russian in the middle said, smiling and holding out his hand to Stillwater. "It appears that you are quite busy over there."
"Yup. Got a lot of itchy trigger fingers out there," Stillwater said, shaking the Russian officer's hand. "They're pretty nervous, and I got a lot of dudes out here right now."
The Russian nodded. He made a motion at Roberts. "This is your man who was wounded during your Operation Fat Cricket? Private First Class Roberts?"
"Yup. I wanted him to see you guys up close," Stillwater growled.
"And the woman? Private Roberta Lewis?" He asked. "How are her buttocks?"
"Recovered," Patch grunted.
"I will inform my men and superiors that those men and women from the United States are part of your Certain Challenge REFORGER war-games," The big Russian grinned. "Give my regards to Colonel Hallasey, if you will, Comrade. This place must be much different than his home state of Oklahoma."
Stillwater nodded and Roberts could see a muscle ripple along his jaw.
"Give my regards to your sniper when she returns, and convey my appreciation of her graduating first in her class," The big Russian's smile got wider. "If she ages as gracefully as her mother, she will indeed be a beauty when she gets older."
"I will," Patch grated out.
Roberts could hear Patch grinding his teeth.
"I'll signal you if there's anything else you need to know," Patch growled.
"Thank you. I am grateful for your consideration. Please, pass my appreciation of his work and his community responsibility with his adoptions to your adopted father, Sergeant," The big Russian's grin looked vicious to Roberts. "He would have made an excellent Communist in service of the Party."
YOU ARE READING
Third Person - Complete
Historical FictionPFC James Roberts just wanted to serve his country, like his father and grandfather. He left his middle class life to join the military with the hope of making his family proud. Graduating top of his class in Basic Training, attending Advanced Indiv...
