Silenced by Crows
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Tel el Elisa, Egypt
6.8.1942
Operation Blue Citadel
Task Force Leo
Nikolai Belinski took a swig of vodka as he sat in the back of a military armored vehicle that raced through the Egyptian desert towards their requested location. Beside him was Dwayne Carter, an African American hailing from upstate New York. Dwayne was the kind of person who knew his personal business and kept it to himself. The kind of man who does his job, his duty, the kind of man who sits in the backs of trucks waiting to be told when to fire his M1 Carbine Caliber 30. At the moment, Dwayne had on a head set, taking over for the communications officer.
"So," Dwayne said looking up at the Russian, "tell me again why you're here."
"Common interest moi droog." Nikolai replied with a very drunken nudge of the knee and even drunker smile. "So, Mister Wayne is it, how does a black man like you get into the United States Special Forces."
"Survival." Dwayne said, he looked to his right and hit the man beside him, the one he was covering for, who was asleep. "How many more miles until drop off Keith?"
Keith Hutchinson, a white American whose job was being a communications officer which required him to be up twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty five, was a man of little sleep, but an impressive amount of patience.
"Twenty minutes." Keith said sheepishly.
"Alright then," Dwayne said, "you can go back to sleep now."
Keith nodded and resumed his doze off.
Nikolai took another drink. When he was done he offered it to Dwayne who refused.
"Have you ever had vodka?" Nikolai asked.
"I have," Dwayne answered, "don't like the aftertaste."
The Russian nodded and drank the remaining fluid. He laughed as he knocked three times on a metal steel compartment that took up the remaining of the truck.
"Hey!" He cried the vodka beginning to talk, "Are you ready Kashmir?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." A voice replied.
Kashmir, also known as the secret weapon, was a product of genetic engineering and circumstances. Born in 1910, Kashmir was sent to Black Dolphin Prison when he was fifteen and was released on conditional terms: serve under this operation in this war under Solomon Jennings or be executed.
Solomon was sat in the passenger seat.
Solomon, also known as King, was the commander of this operation and regiment. He was an American from Main along the Canadian border and grew up in close proximity with the man driving, Nathan Montpellier, who was a French Canadian and second in command.
"What do you think Captain?" Montpellier asked.
"What do I think about what?" Solomon replied as he pulled out a cigarette.
"About this Nikolai and his friend in the cage?"
"Nikolai I trust," Solomon said, "it's this Kashmir fellow I'm worried about."
"If it's because I'm a Russian government experiment that worries you," Kashmir said loudly so Solomon could hear, "then don't worry about it."
"Shut up!" Jennings cried.
"Hey!" Nikolai barked back, "Settle down." The Russian Sergeant turned towards the door of the metal compartment. "You alright moi droog?"
"Точная, fine."Kashmir replied.
"Don't mind Solomon," Nikolai said, trying to comfort him, "he just doesn't understand."
"Like you understand?" Kashmir said, "You're not stuck in a steel box and you didn't kill your best friend yesterday."
"Это не ваша вина, it wasn't your fault. Tilden was a-"
"A damn good officer." Kashmir cut him off, "Even after what I had done he still had the graces to forgive me. He was a true brother- I slaughtered him for nothing."
"Can you quit the sob story, we're almost there." Dwayne said. He turned towards Keith:
"Hutchinson," he said, "wake up, we're almost there."
"Carter, Belinski," Jennings said, "get Kashmir out of here."
"Don't worry about me," Kashmir replied.
"You're a weapon of the United Nations, a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong, you're also in a steel crate. I worry about you."
"Aw you have sentiments for me, how sweet, now get this fucking cage open!" Kashmir cried.
"Negative Hyperion," Nikolai said, calling Kashmir by his callsign, "you can engage insurgents unless we tell you."
"Bullshit, we did you guys drag me in here if I can't do my job?"
"That's what we're trying to prevent." Dwayne said. "Keep in mind that you're extremely unstable, we don't what's going to happen yet."
"Unstable my ass," Kashmir said threateningly, "get me out of this crate, let me do my job. Я убью вас понять? Я убью вас! I'll kill you understand? I'll kill you!"
"Germany," Dwayne said in his headset, "give me your status?"
"All clear sir." Germany said.
The German linguist, the one everyone called Germany, was a German who was extremely loyal to his Furher's cause but was captured in early 1940. He was given two options: die or serve under this battalion. At first he chose the first option but after several months of interrogation and severe torture in a POW camp, the United Nations saw use in him and put him here.
"Sir," Germany said to Dwayne, "insurgents spotted three miles west, pursue?"
"Pursue." Dwayne said.
Nikolai, who overheard the conversation, stood up as best he could, crossed the way, stood over Keith and looked out the window.
"Holy shit." He said to himself, very quickly he grabbed his Dragunov SVD, a Russian military issued sniper rifle which was secured in a gun rack behind the two front seats.
"Ready to move?" Nathan asked.
"Germany spotted insurgents just up the way, might lead to others. Carter gave the order to pursue." Nikolai said in a hurry.
"What's the rush?" Solomon asked.
"I know those bastards." Nikolai answered.
"Carter!" Solomon shouted turning his head slightly, for a moment Dwayne thought he was going to be under fire for stepping out of line, only Solomon could make orders.
"Good call."Solomon said.
Nathan stopped the truck and exited. The dust, sand and dirt whipped around in a slight wind.
Solomon exited along with everyone else except for Keith, who was awake at assumed his post once Dwayne handed him the main headset and communication system back over as he exited.
Keith situated himself, making sure he was comfortable figuring that he was going to be there for a long time. "Sir," Keith asked to Solomon, "should we let him out?"
Solomon and everyone else grabbed appropriate equipment which Germany, who was in a truck in front of Solomon's, was handing each man: Degen (or long dagger), balaclava, an extra M1911, ammunitions, frag grenades, a night vision division, and a headset.
"Keep him in there." Solomon answered as he, Nikolai, and Dwayne walked towards the insurgent location.
Kashmir threw his weight against the cage, "You bastards!" He cried. "Let me do my job!"
"Sorry Hyperion," Keith said, "can't do that yet. Don't worry you'll get your chance."
Kashmir sighed and calmed down, "I'll be waiting then."
"Hutchinson," someone was calling Keith from the headset, "have we stopped?"
"Affirmative." Keith said.
Tilden Wavell, otherwise known as Damascus, was the medic and in dire situations, reinforcement officer. A British student of Cambridge and Oxford in the medical field, martial artist, and fencer, Damascus was very medieval in tactics and not afraid to give a demonstration.
"How is Kashmir doing?" Tilden asked.
"Fine." Keith said, "If you count complaining as fine that is."
Tilden laughed, "Comedian are we?"
Keith smiled, "No, but I did try it once."
"How did it go?"
"Not well." Keith replied, "Now get out there, our boys need you, and Damascus," he said, "don't get carried away."
Tilden laughed, "When have I ever done that?"
The doctor disconnected.
Nikolai, Solomon, Nathan, and Dwayne walked towards the location of the insurgents. The sand was starting to whip around more getting into their boots, it even began to irritate their eyes as they pushed on through the thick compact sand which is just as difficult as thick compact snow.
"Germany," Nikolai said in his headset getting agitated that they saw nothing, "what the fuck did you say about the insurgents?"
"That they were about three miles or so west, why?"
"Because," Nikolai replied, rage and fury surfacing, "there's nobody fucking here!"
"Calm down!" Solomon said, "They've got to be here somewhere."
"Or," Nikolai said, "Germany set us up."
"He wouldn't do that Belinski." Dwayne said.
"Oh, and I suppose you don't think it's odd that the man never gave us his real name?"
"He's very secretive." Solomon replied.
"Bullshit." Nikolai said. "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard, 'very secretive' my ass, we'll see how secretive he is when I have a word with him."
Nikolai advanced three steps further and stood on top of a dune. The sand and wind forced him to put his balaclava over his face, exposing only his eyes. Dwayne followed him.
"No one is having a word with anyone Nikolai." Dwayne said. "So what if they got away, somebody else will get them or better yet, the desert."
"You don't get it do you?" Nikolai said as Dwayne and Solomon slowly made their way back to the trucks.
"These are the bastards that killed my daughter!" He cried.
Solomon turned back. "I'm sorry what did you say?"
"My daughter," Nikolai answered, "she's dead. All because those fucking Italians and those fucking Germans needed an example, an exhibition. This is my war, mine! Do you understand that?"
Solomon nodded, "I think I do. You're dismissed."
"What?"
"I don't have to repeat myself, if you want to be a lone wolf that's fine, but don't come back here understand?" Solomon said.
Nikolai slowly made his way down to his commander, "You're dismissing me because of morality?"
"I'm dismissing you because you're a drunk, but yeah, you could say that."
"That's-"
"Not our war Belinski, that's not our war. It never was. We're not vendetta seekers. We're soldiers. As long as you are apart of this regiment, you will follow orders. We continue towards Tel el Elisa."
"Understood." Nikola said.
"So, what are you going to do?" Solomon asked.
"Give that damned German a piece of my mind."