Chapter 4-Pre-Game Analysis
All five members of Wolf Group stood around the table, looking at an intricately drawn map of the tower complex. Victoria had taken charge of the meeting, "Alright Wolves, we have a mission. Gregory has scouted out this location," she pointed to the radio tower, "He says it's a major focal point for Soviet operations. We take it out and they're crippled for a few days, we take it out correctly and they are crippled for weeks. The explosive ordinance man, and second in command for this operation, will be Gregory," He made a slight bow.
Beth raised her hand, "Why him? Don't you have experience with explosive since you were in the Army?"
Victoria looked at Gregory, who kept his composure and said nothing, then at Beth, "In a normal case that would be true. I can in fact blow the son of a bitch up. However, I lack the surgical expertise that Gregory obtained in LA. Remember, we want to take it out correctly."
Gregory just observed her talking. She was finally taking charge he noticed and she held less animosity against him. He had thought about asking Pete, the man who seemed closest to Victoria, about why she hated him so much. The thought left his mind as quickly as it had entered, it didn't really matter to him as long as he had his mission.
That was until two twilights ago when she stumbled upon his quiet reverence. He had seen the change in her that night. An almost complete reversal took place, surprising him. She had becoming almost warm to him, but still kept her distance. He was confused and a little uncomfortable about the change.
"Now then, Pete and Beth will take a couple of RPGs that Gregory has…liberated, and use them on them on the tank here," she pointed to a position on the base's eastern perimeter, "Before that, we need you to lay anti-tank mines along your front to disrupt the enemy. After you destroy the tank we expect that the rest of the armored vehicles will come to respond. Expend as many rockets as you feel you can safely get away with and then retreat."
The finger traveled to North side of the camp, "That should clear the way for Arthur, Gregory, and I to enter the base here. In the resulting chaos of the vehicle destruction, Gregory will take out the sentries and we will proceed in. Once at the base of the tower he should take about thirty seconds to place the charges in the correct positions. We have," She looked at Gregory who was covertly holding three fingers up, "another thirty seconds to escape the blast. We will make a daring escape and get back home…making sure we aren't followed," major emphasis was laid on the last part, "Now I'll let Gregory explain the finer details of the plan."
"Spasibo," Nodding, he pointed to the diagram of the tank, "This is the Soviet T-90 Main Battle Tank. It is heavily armored and armed. Death is its main purpose and truthfully, we stand very little chance in a straight up fight. We must use its main weakness, the rear armor."
"The treads are also weak, but it will do nothing for us as we need to draw them away. It may disable them for a shot at its rear armor," his finger set on the rear of the tank, "But you must remember the turret is still working and aiming for the treads removes the only advantage we have, surprise."
Victoria watched the Professor educate his class on the elimination of Soviets, probably much different than the classes he taught at the university. Instead of teaching Russian, he was teaching the elimination of Russians. She could tell that although they were now working smoother together, he still kept, if he didn't increase, his distance. It seemed the closer she got, the further he'd pull away. What was it that caused him to do that she didn't know, but he did it.
He had moved his finger to the position the 'rocketeers' were going to take, "When you do retreat, be sure to run straight back as to lead any vehicles and troops into our mine field. Unfortunately Soviet doctrine gives us a small problem, not all vehicles will be sent to the sector. Most of the heavy vehicles will though, judging the area as Washington hasn't been a major priority to the invasion so the doctrine is a little more lax than in Los Angeles and New York," he looked at Arthur, "You will take a Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher and a few spares and clear the way of any stragglers in our path. Drop the weapon as soon as possible, it is useless against infantry."
She noticed how he had taken to young Arthur despite the show of annoyance he always made. Pete had called it a case of Stockholm syndrome. As the young man nodded in understanding, she thought it was more of a professor-student relationship. Arthur was so eager to learn and she suspected that Gregory liked the semi-normalcy that the teaching role gave him; she knew he'd never admit it.
"Remember the firing retreat when we get out. Our goal is to destroy the tower, nothing else. We will not get bogged down in a fire fight unless there are no other options. Understood?" there was a series of nods and acknowledgement, "Good, we leave in six hours, gear up and rest up."
She watched him leave, out of the door, like usual. In his hands were his trusty rifle that he affectionately, as affection as his snowman personality would allow, called Isabelle and a cleaning kit. Maybe that was her name, the woman he talked to every night. It was a very pretty name and if he treated her like he treated that rifle, she was the luckiest woman ever. Victoria's heart panged with a little guilt. The thought of following him immediately left her mind, "No," she told herself, "He needs to gather himself. No matter how much I hate it, he needs to become…Upir…"
…The door shut behind him and he sighed, letting her lingering stare leave him. Once the residual feeling left him he walked deeper into the sanctuary of the forest. January began a bitterly cold New Year as far as he was concerned. Holding the cloak tighter around him, he sat down on a log and slowly opened the rifle cleaning kit. His hand shot into his pocket when the box was open but was removed very slowly, empty.
"No, she wouldn't want to see me do this. She doesn't need to," Gregory said quietly to himself, biting his lip. She may have been tough, but he knew she wouldn't like to see him clean the tool that made him less man and more demon.
The gun itself was docile, left untouched it did nothing much like a hammer or ax. When used it could spell doom or hope, depending on who wielded it. The ability to kill was not unique to the gun, what was unique about that particular weapon was the ability to kill from ranges beyond the sling or bow.
Many prefer to kill with the gun; it is much less personal and easier, though many still find it hard to kill. After a while one can go crazy from the killing, become deeply immersed in anger, guilt, or even a sick joy when in the fire fight. Those were the ones that could not detach their emotions from the fight. Those that could endured their own special insanity, they become cold, emotionless killers. Dehumanized and incapable of feeling guilt, they made perfect candidates for snipers or infiltrators.
He shivered at the thought that she might discover what he had become, a vampire. The bolt cracked open and he ran the cleaning rod through. Meticulously he cleaned and oiled it, making its action smooth and its barrel accurate. With a slam he closed the bolt and tucked the rifle away.
With that he finally allowed himself to look at the little bit of jewelry he had carried with him for four long and painful years. It was beautifully simple, a gold band with a thinner silver band wrapping around it, inlayed in the gold, "It would have been grand…"
…Victoria could not get to sleep, no matter how hard she tried. The fact the others dozed around her didn't help. She tossed once more before she felt a cold draft, causing her to glance at the door.
She saw Gregory quickly shut the door and glance over the fighters in a manner of a father looking over his children. Laying in such a manner to appear sleeping, she silently observed the man. Nodding his head in approval he walked to the darkest, coldest corner of the room, sat on the ground with his back against the wall and his rifle across his knees and then proceeded to sleep.
The vision of him sleeping seemed to comfort her in a strange way, allowing her body to respond to how tired it was and shut itself down.