Chapter 17. Rise
It's cold out and the hole in his shoe is covered in ice from the snow that worked its way towards the warmth of his skinny foot. The resulting accumulation of the frozen material feels like a rock as he runs away from two boys, Wally Webster and Vinnie D'Agostino. He had a run-in with them before, in the summer. That's how he met Bucky, as the older and bigger boy heard the sounds of Steve getting his ass kicked and joined the fray. But this time, the two bullies caught him alone as he went to the grocers for his Ma, to buy some eggs, now lying broken in the gutter, forty cents wasted. Bastards. He manages to get away from them when Mr. Friedman yells at the three of them to stop and the two bigger boys hesitate, but he quickly loses his advantage. They manage to catch up to Steve as the smaller boy heads down an alleyway. He tries to climb the locked fence at the end, but the two bigger boys catch up to him and pull him down, shoving him against some garbage cans, knocking them over and spilling the stinking mess over the pavement. A stray cat yowls and streaks away from where it had been gnawing on a dead rat. He can feel the blood trickling over his face from a cut on his eyebrow but he's angry now and steels himself for what's to come. Standing up, Steve cocks his fists and takes the stance that Bucky showed him after that first battle together.
"You owe me forty cents," he declares. "Those eggs were for my ma."
"Sure, Rogers," says Vinnie. "Just let me find some spare change in my pocket."
Both Vinnie and Wally laugh at his apparent wit then they close in menacingly on Steve. Suddenly, one of them is knocked down from behind and Steve takes his opportunity to hit the one left standing, Vinnie. He catches him on just the perfect spot on the boy's jaw, sending him down like a sack of potatoes, not moving from where he lays crumpled on the debris from the scattered garbage cans. Meanwhile, Bucky is straddled across Wally's middle, whaling away at his face, punch after punch, bringing more blood out of the other boy's obvious broken nose.
"That'll teach you to gang up on a smaller kid," grunts Bucky, as he hits Wally at least a dozen times. "Leave him alone, you hear me?"
Webster is covering his face with his arms now, crying his eyes out and calling for his ma. Steve puts his hand on Bucky's arm and for a moment, the wild-eyed boy raises his left fist to him. Then he sees that it's Steve, but Bucky still keeps his hand raised without hitting the smaller boy, the adrenaline coursing through his veins making him seem like some sort of mythical being caught in the middle of an epic battle.
At that moment, the older Steven who was dreaming this realized this is exactly how Bucky looked on the third helicarrier, when he kept hitting him over and over again. That was when Steven told Bucky to finish it because he was with him until the end of the line. That was when he fell into the water below, the stunned look on Bucky's face confirmation that he remembered. That was the beginning of getting Bucky back before he deliberately left him behind in 2023.
With a start Grant awakened, noticing Bucky's eyes on him.
"You were dreaming," he said, quietly.
Rubbing his face, Grant blinked a few times then noticed that Bucky looked better.
"Yeah, I was dreaming of the time when Vinnie D'Agostino and Wally Webster broke the eggs I bought and chased me into the alley. You came to my rescue. That did happen, right?"
A smirk appeared on Bucky's face, visible in the brightening day, even though it was overcast. "Yeah, I remember that. I got a little carried away and was about to hit you when you touched my arm. Funny, how that happened in both times."
"How are you feeling?" asked Grant, placing his cold hand on Bucky's forehead.
"Better," replied the younger man. "Cold, and my body still hurts like hell, but my gut feels better." He looked up at the sky. "We should get going."
"Yeah, we should," said Steve.
Standing up, he went over to where Howlett was sitting, near the edge of the rock that was part of the enclosure. Kneeling down beside him both men acknowledged each other.
"You let me sleep," said Grant.
"Figured you needed it."
Grant looked out over the chasm they came across the day before. "Any sign of pursuit?"
"Nothing," replied the Canadian. "We should get going before our luck runs out."
"Wake everyone and break out the rations we can eat on the way," ordered Grant. "We leave in ten minutes."
As Howlett woke those who were sleeping, Grant went to relieve himself. He returned to Bucky's side and the younger man looked at him, questioningly, obviously having heard what he was doing. Grant glared at the younger man.
"Seriously? How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
Bucky grinned. "Very carefully."
Grant looked up at the others, who were packing things up.
"Sergeant Barnes has to relieve himself," said Grant. "Since I've known him the longest, I can take it out and aim it, but I'll need a couple of you to hold up the stretcher so he's more upright." There were a couple of restrained coughs, then the laughter started and even Bucky grinned. Grant shook his head and muttered. "A bunch of 12-year-olds."
Howlett nodded at Bradley and the two of them grasped the stretcher then slowly raised it until Bucky said he couldn't take any more of the pain. Grant quickly undid the buttons on the sergeant's pants, reached inside and pulled out Bucky's member, aiming it away from his body and the stretcher.
"Go ahead," he said to the young sergeant. Then he looked at the others, still trying to keep straight faces. "If any of you say anything about this, I'll bust you all down to private and assign you to latrine duty."
"I'm already a private," said Rumlow, trying not to laugh.
The look of relief on Bucky's face was palpable, although he said he felt dizzy after being upright. Before they started carrying him, Grant checked his dressings on his arm and made sure his legs were still set correctly.
"Do you think you need more morphine?"
Bucky shook his head, so Grant positioned himself at the one handle, while Bradley, Murphy and Costello took the others. They moved out from the calm of the enclosure and into the wind which had picked up during the night. Even though it was overcast the clouds were high enough that they could see where they had to go.
They had to travel along an open ridge for some time before connecting to the path that would take them back down into the valley of the next pass. The wind ripped right through the thick fabric of their winter combat clothing, but no one complained or slowed down, recognizing they had to get out of this enemy held territory as soon as possible. Partway down the mountain they came to another protected area and took 15 minutes to get some relief from the biting wind as well as to melt some snow for water and eat some rations. Bucky took both this time, keeping it down, which was seen as a good sign. The three regular soldiers, Rose, Raines and Rumlow offered to take a turn carrying the stretcher. At first, Grant was going to turn them down then Bradley stood near him and in a voice that would only be audible to the other super soldiers said something that made him reconsider.
"They know they're not as strong as us, but they care about him," he said. "He's always been fair with them. Let them rise to the occasion."
At that moment Grant remembered the times the people without superpowers that were connected to the Avengers did, men like Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, or Phil Coulson, and women like Sharon Carter, Maria Hill, and Natasha Romanoff. They were good at what they did and there were times he totally forgot they were normal but exceptional people whose equipment and skills made them appear larger than life.
"Alright," he said to the three.
"I'll take the fourth position," said Howlett, slinging his rifle. He looked down at Bucky. "You ready?"
"Lead on, Johnny Canuck," smiled Bucky.
The Canadian smirked and the four men took their positions, lifting Bucky and starting down the path towards the tree line. For hours they maintained a steady pace even when it started to snow, never once giving any indication of tiring. When the overcast sky grew darker, they began looking for a place to bivouac for the night. After trudging along a path between two wooded areas they came out to a broad valley and noticed a wooden hut in the distance. Calling a halt, Grant asked Bradley to accompany him to see if it was occupied.
The two men had no cover, so Howlett and Raines put themselves in position to return any fire aimed at Grant and Bradley. Stealthily they approached the hut, noticing no recent footprints in the snow, and determining there did not seem to be any activity inside. Using hand signals to get set up they both approached the door, seeing no lock on the outside. Grant tested it, pressing the latch down and quickly pushing it open while stepping back to avoid being shot at from the dark depths of the rustic structure. With a nod to Bradley, he entered, followed by the bigger man and they scanned the interior finding it empty. There was no sign that anyone had been there in a long time.
"Go tell the others that it's safe," said Grant, as he knelt in front of the fireplace and began to build a fire.
By the time the others arrived he had it going; its presence welcomed by everyone as they entered the small structure. There was a platform meant to be a bed that they placed Bucky on. Everyone else staked out a spot on the floor or at the rough table that had two stools. It was cramped, but it was out of the wind and quickly warming up. By the light of the fireplace, they opened their K rations and distributed them, while Rose went out and filled their pots with snow to melt to make coffee. Grant picked up the medic's kit to check on Bucky's left arm, but Bradley put his hand out for the satchel.
"I'll do it," he said.
He approached Bucky, kneeling down before him. A lantern found by Grant was lit, then brought it closer to the bed so Bradley could better see what he was doing. As he tentatively cut the dressing away from Bucky's stump, the Corporal watched the young Sergeant's face closely for any pain reaction. One touch made Bucky jump and hiss with discomfort then he gave Bradley an apologetic look.
"Sorry, Isaiah," he grimaced as the stump came into view. "How does it look?"
"Signs of healing already," replied the Corporal, then he leaned forward and sniffed it for infection, smiling at Bucky as it didn't smell gangrenous. "If it gets too much as you warm up, I can give you some morphine. At least, you'll be okay for a couple of minutes. How's the other arm and the legs?"
Bucky flexed them and winced as he felt the bones moving. "Still broken," he replied. "Maybe the healing factor was slowed down in the cold." He stiffened as he felt Bradley clean the stump with a warm wet piece of gauze. "Shit, that hurts." He withstood it with only the occasional sharp intake of breath betraying the agony that the process was causing him. When Isaiah was done cleaning Bucky smiled at him, trying to joke about the situation. "Good thing I'm right-handed."
"Guess you have to count whatever blessings you can get," stated the Corporal. "I'm going to put sulfa on it, then rewrap it. I won't touch the tourniquet ... don't want to risk the bleeding starting again." He watched as Bucky looked away, biting his lip. "You're alive, and you won't be turned into that assassin because we got to you first, Bucky. You're going to be okay."
A humourless grunt was Bucky's response. "What am I going to do? I've always worked manual labour."
"Go to college," replied Bradley. "GI Bill will pay for it and give you an allowance while you go. Cap always said you were smart and a good student."
"Yeah, I guess." He watched as the arm was re-bandaged then nodded at Bradley as he repacked the medic's kit. "Thanks."
He looked up at the ceiling as Isaiah rose, but was quiet and withdrawn after, not taking part in any of the conversation. Bradley made eye contact with Grant, shrugging slightly. Nothing really had to be said because it was evident Bucky was already on his way to being affected by what happened, understandably so. It still made Grant feel like he had failed; blaming himself for not doing more to stop what happened. With a sniff he put his feelings aside.
"I'll take first watch," said Grant. "Everyone else sleep."
"Wake me next," yawned Howlett, who was already stretched out on the floor.
A couple of others volunteered to take a shift. Pulling a stool over to the window Grant looked outside, keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of activity. Sometime later, when he began to feel his eyes drooping, he stood up, checked Bucky to make sure he was sleeping, then kneeled down to Howlett, squeezing his shoulder. The Sergeant sat up right away and rubbed his face, then put some more wood on the fire, giving his spot over to Grant while he sat on the stool, looking out over the dark landscape, barely lit by the crescent moon, somewhere behind them. The only sound was the crackle of the wood as it burned, and some light snoring from Rumlow. The sergeant watched for several hours then felt a hand on his shoulder and Bradley's eyes on him.
"I'll sit a spell," said the big man.
"Thanks," murmured Howlett and he took the open spot on the floor, falling asleep in minutes.
Bradley watched until dawn broke on the other side of the mountain then stirred the embers of the fire, adding a single piece of wood so they could use the heat of that to boil water. As he stepped outside to relieve himself then pack their cooking pots with snow, he was surprised to find the temperature was warmer than it was when they arrived. There was a warm wind that smelled fresh, like spring. Stepping inside he waited until the others started waking up before he commented on it. Howlett smiled as he stepped outside for several minutes then came back inside.
"A chinook wind," he said. "They're common in Alberta, where I'm from, but more in the south of the province than in the north. They're air masses that drop their moisture on the other side of the mountain then the warm air rises and falls on the leeward side. There's only one thing about it that concerns me. We're on the north side of the mountain, still in Austria. The winds here come from the Adriatic Sea which is to the south where the sun is on the other side of the mountain. If we were in Italy, the sun would be on that side, and it would have snowed already."
Grant hurriedly stepped outside and pulled his compass out, trying to align the directions. It pointed to the south as north, obviously the magnet in it not functioning properly. He almost threw it away but instead closed it and placed it back into his pocket. It had gone forward to the future with him after he crashed the Valkyrie in 1945, then back in time from 2023, and was too much a part of him to discard now. Stepping inside to the others he ran his hand through his beard.
"My compass is malfunctioning," he said. "Howlett's right. We've been going deeper into Austria. If we're where I hope we are we're not far from an airfield, but we'll have to steal a truck to get to it because it's near a village and there's no way we're getting through there without being seen."
He laid the map out on the table, showing where he thought they were, the location of the nearest roadway, the village that was their destination and the airfield near the village. It was considerably further from the coast than they were expecting. After getting that all straightened out, everyone ate and drank coffee or warm water, then went outside and relieved themselves. Once again, they helped Bucky do what he had to, without the laughter this time as his face showed his state of mind. He needed morphine after that even though the effects of it wore off within minutes. Getting lost didn't help matters either as it continued his suffering, especially now that his body had thawed out a little. His hands were badly swollen from being frozen; presumably his feet were as well but they hadn't looked yet as his boots hadn't been removed, not wanting to interfere with the splints on his legs. Grant kneeled next to the young sergeant.
"How's your pain?" he asked. Bucky didn't answer at first, but it was obvious he wasn't doing well as his jaw seemed clenched. "Bucky..."
"What do you want me to say?" He looked at Grant angrily. "I'm in agony and the only reason I don't give in to it is because it won't make things better. The morphine lasts for a couple of minutes, tops, and every step that's been taken with me on this stretcher feels like I've been hit by a sledgehammer." He clenched his jaw again and closed his eyes as he dealt with a new wave of pain that had him breathing hard. "I don't know how much more I can take of this."
"Look, I know I have no idea how painful it is," said Grant, in a low voice. "But, if we can get down the mountain this morning and steal a truck, we can probably steal an airplane before nightfall. With luck we can be in Rome by the morning. You'll be in a hospital, and they'll be able to keep you sedated."
"No," declared Bucky. "I don't want to be knocked out because it doesn't last, and they really don't know how much they can put in me before it gets too dangerous. If you get me to Rome, you call Dr. Waslewski. Get her to bring one of those cylinders and freeze me. Then I won't feel any of it."
His mouth set in a grim line, but he was trembling, and Grant felt sick at seeing it. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Bucky wasn't supposed to suffer. Maybe he was. You just changed how. The thought hit him so quickly it was like a knife slicing into him before he felt its impact. Without a word he ran outside to the side of the hut and threw up. He heard the sound of someone beside him and glanced over without standing up, expecting to see Howlett's or Bradley's boots but it was a smaller pair and he stood up to face Corporal Rose.
"I don't feel very honourable right now," he said to the smaller man.
"Why not?" asked Rose.
"Bucky still fell, he's losing hope, and I don't know how to make him feel better," said Grant.
"You can't. Do you realize the size of the task you took on? You came back to change a man's fate, a fate you already witnessed after it happened in your own time. The universe doesn't like it when someone tries to change it, and it fights back."
Now Grant just felt confused. "I thought you said that us working together to do this was keeping things balanced and that what I was doing was honourable."
"Yes, that is true, and I meant it," said Rose. "But you are also going up against fate, against destiny, against God, if you believe in him. Your hope for this man, to come back and change what happened to him in your universe, is a noble fight. It doesn't mean that it will go your way. You're a super soldier, not God. That which is worth fighting for must still be worth it, even when it seems like you are fighting the tide or have doubts about what you're doing. Bucky is fighting his own fight, inside himself. I suspect he has doubted himself for a long time, about whether he was ever truly a good man and that has upset his own balance, that is just prikaza. All you can do for him is to be there for him to lean on and show him by example that you're not giving up; not on him, not on any of this. He is not the same man you left behind; you coming back made time branch off and this is a new Bucky, very much like the other one but different as well and you need to accept the differences between the two men to help this one. Stop comparing him to the other."
Grant leaned against the building. "Shit, she warned me," he muttered. He let out a frustrated breath. "A sorceress helped me when I arrived. This isn't the first time I've tried to change Bucky's fate, but this was the first time I changed how I did it. I came back earlier than I did the other times, and changed my own fate first, then Dr. Erskine's. She said it would have ripples that would likely change Bucky's timeline, but I had to focus on the bigger picture. To save him, he still has to go through this; that's the price that has to be paid. Because you're right, the fate he originally had isn't letting go of him without a fight." Standing up tall Grant looked out over the valley for some time as Rose watched him. Then a new sense of determination seemed to fill him and he turned back to Rose, smiling in thanks for his presence. "I can do this all day and for him, I'll do it as long as I have to. Let's go home."
He strode back into the hut, pleased to see that everyone was ready to go. The super soldiers picked up Bucky's stretcher and carried him outside. Even his face lightened up a little at the warmth of the wind and freshness it brought. This time Grant led the group, taking it upon himself to make sure they were headed in the right direction. Even though they stopped briefly to give Bucky a small respite, they made it down the mountain by late afternoon.
Taking cover near a roadway they watched for some time as the German military traffic passed by. It was already night when they saw a large, covered truck approaching their position. Seizing the opportunity, the super soldiers ran after it. Two of them took care of the men in the cab while the other three took on the contingent of six men in the back, killing all of them in the process as they could not take the chance of being discovered. Taking the uniforms from the enemy, those who could speak German put them on over their own clothes then posed as guards transporting prisoners into the village. They drove through the village unchallenged then headed to the airfield, pulling over to a secure spot outside the perimeter where they wouldn't be seen. Finding binoculars in the truck Costello and Murphy studied the different aircraft that were parked outside the hangars before deciding on a Junkers Ju 52, the standard aircraft used by paratroopers. There were several being worked on at the airfield so they decided to choose the one that was refuelled first, indicating its readiness for flight. They also studied the layout of the airfield as best they could in the dark, calculating which end of the runway they would have to taxi to in order to take off.
When day arose there was still no indication that any of the Junkers had been refuelled yet so they continued to watch. So far, no sentries had arrived to patrol the area where they were. The warmth from the mountain had extended into the valley so they didn't need a fire to keep warm and were able to eat their remaining rations cold. Late in the afternoon they were alerted to a fuel truck driving up to one of the Junkers aircraft and prepared to put their plan into motion. As soon as darkness fell the plan was to drive the truck through the perimeter to the aircraft, where Grant, Howlett and Bradley would go on the attack, taking out any guards and destroying the other aircraft. Murphy and Costello were to head to the cockpit and start the aircraft while Rose, Raines and Rumlow would get Bucky safely on board, then defend the aircraft.
"As soon as Bucky is strapped in you head to the airstrip," ordered Grant. "If we're not there, you still take off."
"You don't want us to wait?" asked Murphy.
"No, we'll catch up before the wheels lift and board through the jump door so leave it open," said Grant. "Don't worry, we're fast runners, but if we don't make it, don't stop. We'll be alright. Getting Bucky out of here is the priority."
After waiting for the fuelling to be finished and the guards to change shifts, the truck was started up. Instead of ramming it into the fence Howlett and Bradley pulled the barrier down, reasoning they would make less noise, giving them more time before the speeding truck was noticed as it headed towards the aircraft. Holding on to the back of the truck, the other three super soldiers rode in most of the way before jumping off and attacking the guard posts and anti-aircraft artillery positions. Rumlow, driving the truck as if it were a getaway vehicle, raced right up to the Junkers, screeching to a halt. Opening the back door of the aircraft, Murphy and Costello went straight to the cockpit, beginning starting procedures while Rose and Raines hauled Bucky into the aircraft, apologizing for the jostling motions that made him cry out in pain as they placed him on a bench portion and strapped in him in. Rumlow stayed outside with a machine gun to hold off any attackers. As he waited, he removed the chocks from in front of the aircraft's wheels, remembering to duck when the propellers started. Raines yelled out the door for him to get in. Jumping in, Rumlow looped his hand through a leather strap at the door as the aircraft began taxiing to the end of the runway, trying to spot their other three men. He noticed more German soldiers streaming from the various outbuildings towards them, while firing, and yelled to the others inside.
"The place is crawling with Germans! We gotta go!"
Suddenly, one of the hangars blew up, then the one next to it. Outlined against the flames he saw three figures running towards the airstrip well in front of the aircraft, recognizing them as Rogers, Howlett and Bradley.
"Take off! They'll catch up before you lift off!"
The two pilots pushed the throttle forward and the aircraft picked up speed as Rumlow saw their three running faster than he had ever seen a man run before in an effort to intercept the aircraft before it lifted its bulk from the ground. Holding out his hand he grabbed Bradley's outstretched palm, almost being pulled out himself as the big man hauled himself in. Then Bradley turned around, taking Rumlow's place and tugged Howlett in. Both men leaned out the open door, one grabbing Grant's outstretched hand, the other grabbing his clothes, pulling him in so forcefully he hit the other side of the aircraft, denting the fuselage from the inside. The sounds of bullets hitting the fuselage was like the sound of heavy hail on a tin roof and they all hit the floor.
Rumlow yelled towards the front that they were all in, then struggled to slide the door covering back into place, with Howlett helping him get it locked. Sliding down with his back against the fuselage he looked at the three men, who didn't even look winded then realized by the flicker of lights in the aircraft's windows from the flames on the ground that Grant was bleeding at the shoulder. Scrambling up he pulled a medics kit off of the wall behind the cockpit and headed towards the back, trying to keep upright as the two pilots took the aircraft up in a steep ascent. Almost falling forward on his face, he was supported by Bradley's outstretched arm, and nodded his thanks before kneeling before Grant.
"You're injured," he said. "Take your jacket off."
With a nod, Grant unbuttoned it and accepted Bradley's help to get it off, followed by unbuttoning his shirt. With a flashlight held on it by Howlett, Rumlow pulled Grant's shirt open, cleaned the wound, noticing the exit wound on his back, sprinkled sulfa powder on both sides, then applied dressings, wrapping them into place.
"You know it'll be healed in a few hours?" said Grant.
"Let me feel useful, will ya?" snapped the dark-haired man, fully aware that the super soldier would heal without his efforts but wanting to feel like he had done something more than just drive the truck and pull the chocks.
Grant put his hand on Rumlow's arm, making eye contact with him. "You're useful, Ben," he said sincerely. "I'm glad you're on the team. You're a brave soldier and a good man. All of you are and we're making a difference, believe that."
It was a defining moment for Rumlow, who had grown up in an orphanage, was in and out of trouble as a youth, then became involved with a criminal gang at 19, learning on the job to be a safecracker. He learned all about what was needed to blow doors up just enough to do the job and was prepared to live that life as it seemed better than working odd jobs of manual labour that sucked the life out of a man, making him old before his time. Then he met his wife, someone who hadn't been corrupted by the company he usually kept. With her encouraging him to break away from that life, he tried but it was hard as it really was the only life he knew. His son's birth just days after Pearl Harbor sent him to the enlistment office, as it was a decent paying job and the life insurance, if he died, could go a long way to giving his wife and son a chance at a better life.
As Rumlow sat against the fuselage, looking at Steven Grant in the darkened interior of the stolen German aircraft, he saw a man who had lived a life as brutal as his, in its own way. Born in Hell's Kitchen to a poor widowed mother, sickly from birth, he stood up for himself, even when life kept beating him down. He was a good man because he believed it from the beginning. That this man, who came back in time to fight a vicious enemy who was hellbent on hurting anyone in its way, and treating people as objects to be exploited, believed that he, Benjamin Rumlow, was just as good a man humbled him. Feeling his eyes start to water he picked up the medic's kit and made his way up to where Bucky lay listlessly, still drained by the effort to get him on the aircraft. Wordlessly, he began to check the younger man over, gently tending to the wounded soldier. As the aircraft flew towards Italy in the wintry night, Rumlow began to believe. It was chance that got him on the Patrol, but maybe, just maybe, he had found the place he belonged.
Author notes: The strain of the mission is getting to everyone. Bucky, in agony that can't be relieved, is losing hope that he'll be able to live a meaningful life. Grant is feeling guilt for getting lost, being unable to prevent this Bucky's fall and injuries, and begins to doubt that coming back was the right thing to do. Rumlow, who has been mostly in the background until now, is aware that Grant was reluctant to spring him from prison but did so to get Bradley out of that hellhole. But there is hope, as they do find humour, even of the dark kind, at the strangest things. Bradley does his best to offer advice to Bucky. Howlett does his job, quietly and efficiently without need for validation. Rose tries to help Grant deal with his guilt, and Grant thanks Rumlow for being a good soldier and a caring man. So, the title is a reflection that even in the darkest of hours, the sun will rise, as will the spirits of good men doing a difficult job.
The alpine huts can be found as emergency shelters for hikers or cross-country skiers who need a place to get out of the elements in the mountains. Currently, there are over 170 such places in the Austrian Alps but most are bigger and better stocked than the small one used by the Phantom Patrol.
Johnny Canuck – fictional character personifying Canada (like Uncle Sam for the USA and John Bull for England), most often portrayed as a lumberjack. His popularity soared in Canada during WWII as he single-handedly battled the Germans in Canadian published comic books of the time.
Prikaza – Romani term for misfortune brought about by upsetting the balance of kintala; bad luck.