IronAmerica - 5

Almost as soon as I had gotten into the cooler, I saw the cell holding a disheveled looking guy. I managed to trip, klutz that I am, so I could get a better look. Oh shit. This isn't good. This isn't good at all. The jumpy corporal that was escorting me shoved me with his rifle, obviously telling me to get a move on. I must pause here to admit that I have extremely poor impulse control. "Lay off, ass hole!" Uh, yeah. As previously stated, I have absolutely NO impulse control. I have a new bruise to attest to that. Joy, oh joy.

As soon as the corporal (Langenscheidt?) shoved me into one of the solitary cells, I began searching for the trapdoor that's always present in the shows. I don't know how long I was scrabbling around on the floor looking for that darn thing, but I do know that I won't be winning any beauty contests anytime soon. I tore out my nails, finding plenty of hairline cracks, but unfortunately, not the one I was looking for.

Think, Dasha, think. Where would you place a tunnel entrance if you didn't want it found? I sat back on my heels, chewing on my lower lip. I had to find that tunnel. My big brother's life might depend on it. Where, where, where? It's gotta be here. It was always there in the shows. They can't have left it out. It's too important.

After another few moments of self-pity, I looked out the window. The sun had disappeared beyond the window, which I took to mean it was well past dusk. I still haven't gotten used to the replacement watch that the guys gave me. They said my digital watch was too conspicuous. They probably also wanted to take it apart. If they screw up the circuitry, I'm going to maim one of them, or cause an extremely personal injury.

I started searching for the tunnel entrance after the cooler guard left what passed for food. I do like potato soup, especially my mom's. But this wasn't potato soup. It was more like potato glue. But hey, I won't complain. I'll eat almost anything, except for certain vegetables and two day old brioche. That stuff is nasty after the first day.

After another hour of ripping my nails off, I was ready to call it quits. Until Colonel Hogan popped out of the tunnel. I couldn't help it. I was so relieved to see him that I just threw myself into his arms, blubbering. I will deny it to my dying day. But I was genuinely blubbering.

Hogan tried to calm me. "Easy there. It's okay. I'll see if I can get you out of here tomorrow. Just calm down. I know it's scary, but…" I continued to cry, feeling terrible.

"It's not that" I mumbled, cutting him off. He had to have things explained to him. I'm not afraid of the dark, if that's what he thought this was about. I wiped my eyes, noticing for the first time that my finger tips were bleeding. Hmm. I'll just deal with those later.

"Then what is it?"

"That's my brother! I saw him when they brought me in. Hochstetter has my brother and he's going to hurt him! We have to help him." I was practically yelling and not caring about it. Colonel Hogan had to help Devon.

"Your brother?"

"Byakugan."

Hogan looked supremely annoyed at that. Was it something I said? I hope he understands. Devon's always looked out for me, whether he wanted to or not, so now it's my turn. I had to get him away from Hochstetter.

I looked at Colonel Hogan, and a line from one of my favorite books came to mind. A reasonable man. I am a reasonable man. He definitely fits the description of Admiral Kolhammer, one of the stars of Weapons Of Choice.

"Byakugan is your brother." He looks really unhappy now. "Byakugan is your brother. Of course he is. Why me?" He asks, sighing.

"We have to save him," I insist.

Hogan looks up, and sees my big, misty eyes. He groans softly, and all I can think is: Bingo. Oh, yeah. No impulse control to speak of. Colonel Hogan climbs back into the tunnel, and says that he'll try to arrange my early release from the cooler.

I go back to the semi-normal cot and lay down, hoping to get a little rest before tomorrow. I'll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

True to his word, Colonel Hogan gets me out early. I wonder what he did? I immediately go on guard, and assume my new identity. I got a look at my dog tags, and mentally curse Newkirk and Carter. Ray White, not Rhys Whitis. Oh, well. I chose the last name for sentimental reasons, and the first for absolutely no reason at all, other than the fact that it sounded cool.

Still, I'm out, and I'm not complaining, and Colonel Hogan must have a plan. I've studied him extensively during my many viewings of the show, and he has that, that certain, well, look, to him. It's like you can almost see the gears in his brain whirring at supersonic speed. It's extremely weird, and somewhat frightening.

I'm also not paying attention, and go flying face first into the dirt. I push myself up, and spit out a mouthful of dirt. Looking around, I see a big guy looking down at me.

"You okay kid?" I nod, yes, I'm all right. He sticks out a hand and pulls me up.

"Thanks," I say, grinning. I brush off the dirt that I can, and rub my nose out of reflex. I still think that my glasses are there. "Who're you?"

The giant smiles, and says, "Corporal James." His voice drops to a whisper. "IronAmerica?" I look around to make sure that no one's looking, and reply, "You're one of my shadows?"

Corporal James nods, and drapes his arm around my shoulder. It take a lot of self restraint to keep from hitting him. Reading micro-biology textbooks is not good for your mental health, just as a side note. "C'mon private. I'll show you the ropes." He pulls me off towards the rec hall, and I follow, interested.

I have never played so much volley ball in my life. After showing me what all was in the rec hall (and how to work some of it), Corporal James got me in to a volley ball game. I have to say that the opposing teams captain will never look at me in the same way. Whenever I play any type of sports, I have two options for my team that I'm playing on: distance, or height. Sometimes I'll get a combination of the two, and by some miracle(or Divine Intervention), I can add accuracy to the mix.

After the game winds down, Colonel Hogan appears out of nowhere. He motions towards Barracks Two, and I follow, feeling some trepidation. As soon as we get into the barracks, he turns to face me.

"Well, you've done a fairly good job of blending in." Oh. My. God. Was that a compliment? From Colonel Hogan? Wow.

"We have come to a decision, regarding your… brother. Byakugan," Colonel Hogan says, looking as though something had died. "We'll get him out, but we're going to have to make him vanish effectively." He looks at me, and then at the door to the barracks. The other four troop in, including dearest Peter.

"We're going to get him out. Against our better judgment, of course." Gee, what a way to ruin my day. "We need to know anything that you may know that can help us. Things like how his things, the more…exotic things work."

I raise my eyebrow at that. "The exotic things? Huh. Um, sir, Colonel Hogan?" He looks at me. "I'm not exactly sure how most of it works. It cost a small fortune for most of that stuff that he has, so he wouldn't really let me use it. Maybe the knifes and the things like flash powder. And his home-made flamethrower," I add, grinning. "I can use the flamethrower really good. It just needs a little bit of fine tuning. But it works," I add hastily, seeing the look on Hogan's face. Now why do I get the feeling that he would really like to cause me bodily harm?

Carter looks at me, and I can see that he has an enormous grin in place. "How did he make the flamethrower? And how does his flash powder work? I mean I've tried-"

"Carter." Carter stops talking. Nevertheless, Hogan looks back at me. "Um, I'll need a blow torch, and a can of cooking spray, or some type of compressed air can with gas." Thank you, Byakugan, for showing me that lovely little trick with the cooking spray and a match. "Also sir. I have a question." Colonel Hogan looks at me, looking just a little ticked. "Why do you need my help? I mean, you've got Carter, and Newkirk. Carter's pretty much the best demolitionist under the sun, and Peter is probably one of the best magicians in the camp. I'm just a teenage girl from the future, who has very little practical knowledge."

Colonel Hogan looks happy for the first time since I'd arrived. "You're right. We don't need your help. However, we are going to need your help to convince your brother. His gear, and his clothing, suggest that he is entirely to sympathetic to the enemy powers."

"Huh? Enemy- Oh." It hits me then what he's talking about. All the Japanese stuff. I need to remember that the Japanese are members of the Axis powers. "Um, he actually isn't. Japan is probably one of our best friends in the future. They've also got some pretty good baseball players." Stunning revelation, and I've just caused a paradox. Here's my 'oh shit' moment for the day.

"Umm, never mind. Moving on. Byu doesn't really take sides, as far as I know." I blaze on, trying to get past my previous screw-up. "He just likes Japanese stuff. I don't see a problem there. Sir. In my time, it's almost impossible to go anywhere without seeing some sort of foreign, non-European, influence. My hometown has a Japanese restaurant, and a Chinese restaurant, and one from India. What I'm trying to say, Colonel, is that my brother is just your average American."

Now Colonel Hogan has a look on his face somewhere between consternation and bafflement. "You have a Jap restaurant. In your hometown. Run by Japs?" He has a seriously disbelieving look on his face. It takes all of my limited self-restraint to keep from jumping up and decking Colonel Hogan. I start counting to ten under my breath. "Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez. Un, deux, trois, quatre cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix." I stop counting, and look up. "Colonel Hogan, while I understand that you are at war with the Japanese, there is no call for you to be using a racial slur like that. I honestly thought that you were better than that."

I see Colonel Hogan drawing his hand back. I brace to take the blow. "Took ya long enough. Seriously though," I taut him, "I honestly thought that you, of all people, wouldn't stoop to using racist terms like that. You have to be one of the most forward thinking men of your time, and you can still stoop to something like that."

Hogan looks like he's sucking on a lemon, and also pretty angry. He clenches his hand into a fist, but drops it to his side. "Miss, I will try very hard to understand you, for God knows what reason. But the fact remains that I am in charge. NOT you. Disrespect of a senior officer could get you tossed into the guard house, or court-martialed." Great. Now he's pulling the UCMJ stunt on me.

I salute stiffly, glaring right back at him. "Yes, Colonel Hogan. I realize that. I'll see what I can do for your rescue mission. By your leave, sir." I turn in a perfect about face (thank-you Mr. McKee), and walk out of the barracks just as stiffly.