These guys.
We Were Soldiers
34. When in Greece
"You know, this is your craziest idea yet," said Bucky. He glanced at Wells from the corner of his eye, and very nearly winced at the painful-looking blue and purple bruises peppered across one side of his friend's face.
"I know."
He stumbled on an exposed tree root, struggling to stay upright. With his hands tied behind his back, he had no way of protecting himself from injury if he tripped and fell.
"I don't just mean your usual brand of crazy, either. I mean, this is actual insanity."
"Yeah, I got that."
"In fact—"
"Schweigen, Amerikanischer hund!" The command was accompanied by the jab of a rifle muzzle in the small of his back, sharp enough to send a stab of pain up his spine. "Wenn du nicht leise gehen kannst, setze ich einen knebel in den mund!"
Bucky didn't speak German, but he spoke rifle just fine. If their German captor wanted silence as he frog-marched them through the forest, silence he would get. Unarmed, his shirt ripped at the collar during a violent scuffle, his face almost as bruised as Wells', it wasn't as if Bucky was in any position to argue.
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
8 hours earlier…
"Sergeants, we have a problem," Colonel Phillips barked. He and Agent Carter were briefing Bucky and Wells in the command tent. This was the first time Phillips had summoned them for a mission since bringing them in on the HYDRA threat.
"What's the problem, sir?" Bucky asked.
"We've had intel on our next target, and it's going to be a challenge." He did not, Bucky noted, tell them where he'd got his intel from. Apparently there were some things they were not allowed to know. Not yet, anyway. "Agent Carter, show the men the location of the next communications bunker."
Agent Carter turned to a map pinned on a cork board. The area she pointed to was only a few miles away, but there were lots of contour lines very close together around the area. A steep incline. Very steep.
"The bunker is situated in a blind canyon," Carter explained, "rendering your previous tactics ineffective. There is only one way into or out of the canyon, through a narrow passage wide enough for only a couple of men to walk abreast. So, even if we wanted to send artillery support on this one, we couldn't."
"What about using Stark's plane to parachute a strike team in?" Bucky asked.
"Sergeant Barnes, do you or your men have any prior training in parachuting which you have not yet disclosed?" Carter sniped. Jeez, what was her problem today? Maybe it was women's problems. His mom always got real cranky for that reason. "Even extensively trained airborne troops would struggle to hit such a small target, whilst possibly taking fire from below. More likely you and your men would be scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind, and end up all over the French countryside."
"That's a shame; I've always wanted to fly," Wells grinned.
Bucky turned his gaze to the map. It was a puzzle. He was good at puzzles. And there had to be a way of solving this one. Just how did you sneak a group of soldiers into a blind canyon without getting them gunned down by some detector which could react to their presence? How did you get close enough to take out that detector, when the terrain around it was nigh on impassable?
Tunnelling, maybe. And perhaps, in six or seven months, they'd be able to tunnel right under that bunker and surprise the Nazis by coming up from underneath them whilst they were enjoying their morning bratwurst.
"I have an idea," Wells said at last. "But it's crazy."
"Define 'crazy'," said Phillips.
"Well… you remember Troy?"
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
Now…
Bucky's legs ached. His shoulders felt like they were on fire. He hadn't realised how important his arms were for walking, until his their use had been taken away. How infinitely more precarious his balance was. He'd stumbled several times, over the past two hours, and Wells hadn't done much better.
Their captor had no such trouble. Unlike his prisoners, his uniform was pristine, apart from a spattering of mud on his boots, and he was armed to the teeth with a rifle, a sidearm, and a bayonet.
How many men marched at gunpoint by Germans were never seen again? How many people were forced to walk through forests to their final resting place? It made his blood run cold, forced his muscles into a shiver he couldn't stop. Taking prisoners of war was one thing; civilians were something else entirely. For the first time since signing up, he understood some small part of what it meant to be a Jew in a country occupied by the Nazis. It was a chilling insight.
They reached the narrow mouth of a rocky passage between two cliffs, and their captor stopped them with a barked command.
"Halt! Das ist weit genug."
"Call me crazy," Wells muttered, "but I think I'm starting to understand German."
Bucky wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and rest, but he didn't think that would go down well with their captor. The German kept his rifle trained on them as he pulled out a small radio hand transmitter out from his satchel and began speaking into it.
"Hallo, hallo, das ist Leutnant Erhardt vom Waffen-Schutzstaffel. Ich habe zwei Amerikanische spione gefangen und benötige hilfe in ihrem verhör und in der haft. Bitte antworten."
In his head, Bucky imagined the guy had just told the men in the bunker that he'd captured two American spies and needed somewhere to safely interrogate them.
For a couple of minutes, there was silence. Perhaps the men in the bunker hadn't received the message. Perhaps they were feigning ignorance. Perhaps they weren't even listening to whatever frequency their captor was transmitting on.
When the radio finally crackled to life, Bucky very nearly jumped.
"Was machst du hier? Wie haben sie von diesem bunker erfahren?"
The voice sounded suspicious. Bucky could guess why. The existence of the HYDRA bunkers wasn't common knowledge, not even to SS personnel. Probably especially not to SS personnel. The only people who ought to know were HYDRA members.
The man with the rifle knew exactly what to tell the men in the bunker: the truth.
"Die Amerikanischen spione, die ich gefangen genommen habe, behaupten ihre mission, diesen bunker zu sprengen. Sie behaupten, es gibt andere bunker, die sie als nächstes ziel."
The two Americans he'd captured had told him of their mission to destroy the bunker. Which begged the question; how had the Americans discovered the bunker network? It was a threat HYDRA could not ignore. They would need to question the Americans themselves.
Silence. It stretched on for another couple of minutes. The HYDRA men inside the facility were probably sending a message to the nearest bunker. Telling them what had happened. Explaining they were taking in three men for questioning. Instructing them to advise HQ of this new development.
With any luck, Stark would be in place, ready to intercept that message. To send back a message of his own. Very well. Proceed with the questioning.
"Wir haben unser verteidigung deaktiviert. Du können nähern sich mit den gefangenen, Leutnant Erhardt."
Their captor put the radio transmitter back into the satchel, then gestured with his rifle towards the narrow passage. "Gehen."
"Wait," Bucky said. "Before we go, I gotta ask one thing. Are you really a German? Or are you one of our guys getting much too into the role?"
The man jabbed his rifle into Bucky's back once more, and gave him a look so blank that even Colonel Phillips would have been impressed. "Gehen."
"Guess we're not authorised to know that," Wells said. A tiny smile curled up one corner of his lips as he nodded at the passage. "After you, Sergeant Barnes."
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
7 hours earlier…
"I call this the Spy Kit," said Stark, as he brought out a battered old luggage case. Inside the case were several smaller cases. When Wells reached out to pick up one, Stark slapped his hand and glared at him. The hand was swiftly withdrawn. "Let's see. We'll be needing case number six, I think." Stark picked up a case, opened it by a crack, and peeped inside. He quickly closed it again and set it aside. "Oh, that's where those went. Haha. I wondered what safe place I'd hidden them in. Case number five, then."
Case number five proved to be the correct one. Several brushes and sponges were stored neatly inside, along with small jars of paint in various colours. Blues, purples and black featured heavily, but there were also yellows and greens.
"What are these for?" Bucky asked, risking a slap to pick up a yellow jar.
"In case you need to fake jaundice."
"And this one?" Wells echoed, with a red jar in his hands.
"That's blood. Not real, of course," Stark added, as Wells quickly put the jar down again. "Will you be needing blood today?"
"No, I think we'll be fine with bruises today," Bucky told him. No point going overboard. It had to look believable.
"Alright. But are you sure you want to go with the paint? I mean, if you want the real deal, I could easily find a couple of volunteers to tenderise your faces. I'd even help," the scientist grinned. After a moment of being silently stared at, he cleared his throat and rushed on. "Anyway. You should have all you need here. I suggest you ask the medical staff to administer your 'bruises'; they're more likely to be able to make them look realistic."
"Right. Thanks."
They packed up the paints and left Stark's tent. Around them, camp life carried on as normal. So far, the number of people who knew about the upcoming mission was small. If it went well, the strike team would have nothing to do but show up and dig holes. If it didn't go well…
"You don't think he was being serious, do you?" Wells asked, before Bucky could follow his train of thought to the mission ending badly. "About easily finding volunteers to punch our faces, I mean."
Bucky gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure he was lying. Who'd wanna punch us?"
"Agent Carter, Sergeant Weiss, Dugan, Pfc. Davies—"
"Alright, so maybe he wasn't lying." Agent Carter definitely wouldn't have any qualms about punching them. But would punching be enough? He eyed up Wells' uniform. "Maybe we should rip your shirt. You know, make it look like you've been in a struggle."
"This is my favourite shirt. If you so much as even touch it, the medics won't need to paint your face," Wells glowered. "Besides, I'm clearly the sort of fella who surrenders at the first available opportunity. If you wanna look like you've been in a struggle, rip your own shirt."
"Fine, you fuckin' baby."
Bucky took hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled with both hands. He pulled, and then he pulled some more. After a moment, he started sweating.
"Dammit, these shirts are really well made! You try. Maybe you can get a better ripping angle."
So Wells tried. After three attempts, he gave up. Luckily, a blessing in a bowler hat wandered across their path.
"Dugan!" Bucky called. They hurried over before he could find a way of disappearing. For a big guy, he could be remarkably stealthy. "Will you rip my shirt?"
Dugan gave him a blank stare.
"No, Barnes, I will not rip your shirt. I want no part in whatever new bullshit you two are getting yourselves into."
"But we're not—"
"Ah!" Dugan held up a hand, cutting him off. Wells jumped right in.
"But it's for—"
"Don't wanna hear it. In fact, I'm very happy not knowing why you want me to rip your shirt. That way, when you get into trouble for it, I can truthfully claim ignorance of the whole thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, ladies, I have some very important business to attend to."
Dugan tipped his hat as if he really was talking to a couple of dames, and went on his way.
"What a jerk," Wells scowled after him.
"Y'know," Bucky sighed, "I used to be a respectable guy. Before I met you, people believed me when I told them things." A sudden, sharp pain in his leg turned out to be Wells kicking his shin. "Why the hell'd you do that?" Bucky glared at his friend, as he rubbed his leg through his pants.
"Because," Wells glared back, "every morning, at breakfast, the chaplain stares at me across the mess tent like he thinks I'm gonna start ranting about vampires or somethin'. So don't make out like it's all my fault if people think you're full of shit. That's on you, too."
"Come on," he said, refusing to admit that Wells had a point. "We'll get Biggs to rip my shirt. He'll do a better job than Dugan, anyway."
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
Now…
Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as he walked through the passage. The whole plan hinged in the HYDRA troops choosing to interrogate two American prisoners, rather than just let them walk out into a clearing to be gunned down. If that detector was still active, or if whoever was at the MG position decided to make their 'problem' go away…
When he saw the end of the passage, he held his breath. Tried not to see the broken, bloody form of Lieutenant Danzig lying on the ground, his chest shredded by MG fire. He closed his eyes, stepped out of the passage, and… nothing. There was no gunfire. No pain in his chest as his life bled slowly out. All that happened was the door of the bunker opened to reveal a man in a German uniform. If Bucky hadn't known about HYDRA, he would've thought the guy no different to any other Nazi.
He and Wells stopped when their captor commanded it, and waited while the man held a sustained conversation with the soldier in the bunker. At times it sounded heated, and not for the first time, Bucky wished he'd paid more attention to his 'basic German phrases' class at boot camp. Not that it would have helped now; whatever these guys were saying, it was more than 'drop your weapon' and 'surrender.'
When the conversation ended, their captor handed over his rifle and pistol. Bucky's heart sank. It wasn't an unexpected outcome, but he'd hoped their captor might at least keep his sidearm. Clearly, these HYDRA types weren't big on trust, especially where the SS were concerned.
There was no time for regret. The one good thing about their captor's gun being taken away, was that he couldn't prod Bucky in the back with it. But he still pointed at the open door, and instructed, "Gehen."
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stepped forward, into the dim light of the tunnel.
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
6 hours earlier…
He listened to the German flowing back and forth. Every now and then he thought he heard a word he recognised from Basic training, but the conversation had rushed on before he could try to translate it.
German suited Agent Carter. It was a harsh language, and the words spilled from her mouth as if she'd been born to be a harsh woman. Bucky suspected there was some softness underneath her harsh exterior, but if there was, it was buried deep.
If he'd been back home, with no war to fight, he might have liked the challenge of cracking Carter's hard outer shell to find the softness beneath, but right now he had too much on his plate. Getting home. Getting everyone else home. Hell, just getting through this next mission. Sometimes, every single step felt like a challenge; he didn't want that in a dame, as well.
Agent Carter finally turned her attention away from the uniformed German, focusing on Bucky and Wells. Her eyes danced over their faces, at the very realistic looking 'bruises', and at Bucky's ripped shirt. He thought a very small smile pulled at her lips, but it was gone as fast as the German conversation.
"He feels your plan is questionable at best… however, he's willing to give it a try."
"That's not exactly the level of enthusiasm we were hoping for," said Wells. "Can't you… y'know… gee him up a bit? Get him excited about the prospect of a mission?"
All three of them looked at the blank, stoic German face. Bucky suspected nothing would get the man excited. He said something in German to Carter, and they launched into yet another conversation.
"Maybe we should learn German," he whispered to Wells. It wasn't that he didn't like being reliant on Carter for translations… it was just that he didn't entirely trust her. After all, she'd kept secrets before and was keeping them still. Maybe they were strategic secrets, but he hated being kept in the dark, especially when it was his men's lives at stake.
"What've I told you about speaking foreign languages?" Wells whispered back. "Never a good idea. You'll be stuck volunteered for stuff before you know it."
Maybe that was true, but Bucky wouldn't mind knowing what was really being said between Carter and the man from the dwindling supply of Germans travelling covertly with the SSR.
When Agent Carter reached into her pocket and pulled out something small, metallic and cylindrical, Bucky's interest was piqued. She handed the item over to the German with another unintelligible instruction, and his interest was piqued further.
"What's that?" he asked.
"One of Howard's toys," she said.
"Don't we get toys?" Wells pouted.
She gave him a level stare. "No."
"What does it do?" Bucky asked.
And she told him.
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
Now…
It was a chilling déjà vu. Bucky had never been in the bunker before, but its design was identical to that of the other bunkers he'd captured. It was as if HYDRA had attempted to wipe out any sign of individuality. Anything that made a place different, or unique. And if they did that to places, what might they do to people?
They were led down the corridor, where they were met by another gun-toting HYDRA soldier. This one directed them into the living room, opposite the bunk room. There, a third man waited, unarmed. Bucky and Wells were forced to their knees by one of their new guards, whilst the second armed man directed their German captor a short distance away.
When the third man stepped forward, he instantly reminded Bucky of Danny Cavanagh, a cruel bully from his childhood. Cavanagh had delighted in tormenting weaker kids; Steve had been a regular victim. Bucky suspected this guy was the German equivalent of Cavanagh.
"Who are you?" the man asked, his accent strong but intelligible.
Bucky lifted his gaze defiantly. Technically he oughta give his name, rank and serial number… but he had a part to play. Reluctant prisoner. Saboteur. Spy. He couldn't be too forthcoming with answers. It would make the HYDRA personnel suspicious.
"How did you learn about this facility?" the German asked, when his first question went unanswered.
Again, Bucky kept silent. Before the German could ask another question, their captor spoke up. Something Bucky couldn't understand. Their captor reached into his pocket, took out the metal cylinder, and handed it over.
He'll claim it's a data capsule, Agent Carter had said. That you told him it contains information about the bunker, along with plans to cripple the entire network. If you prove too difficult to question, they'll open the capsule to learn your plans. Hopefully before they shoot you, of course.
What if they shoot one of us, to make the other talk? Wells had asked.
They'll prefer to keep you both alive. Question you separately at length. Try to verify the information you each give. It's a fairly traditional method of interrogation.
Bucky watched the unarmed German as he turned the capsule over in his hands, examining it from all sides. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. As soon as that capsule was open, he had to be ready to act. To use the Germans' momentary confusion against them.
He didn't open the capsule. Instead, there was more conversation. Their captor seemed to be growing more and more agitated. Bucky suspected the guy didn't have Wells' propensity for bullshitting.
So concerned was he about the thought of their captor getting shot, he almost missed the moment the HYDRA soldier pushed the release button of the capsule. A quiet hsssssss was the only warning he had. Agent Carter's voice came echoing back from several hours ago.
Howard says the gas is fast-acting, with a rapid dispersal vector. We recommend you don't waste precious seconds with holding your breath and trying to avoid the effects; just go on the offensive immediately. The effects will wear off after a few hours, and you won't be harmed.
The man dropped the canister as it hissed, and both of the armed HYDRA guards jumped back, their eyes darting around as they looked for their gas masks. Bucky took a deep breath, let the gas fill his lungs, felt something happen in his throat. Something unpleasant. Something that, hopefully, wouldn't be permanent.
Please don't let it be permanent! he thought, as his fingers slid under his jacket and shirt, to the small pistol that was tucked down the back of his pants.
The unarmed German's eyes widened in alarm. "Hey, was ist—" Then his hands came up to clutch his throat, as his vocal chords swelled and he lost the ability to speak.
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
5 hours earlier…
Bucky looked around at the dozen troops who were gearing up for the mission. They kept sneaking glances at his face, and one or two wore open-mouthed stares.
"And you say it doesn't hurt, Sarge?" Carrot asked, as he prodded Bucky's 'bruised' cheek.
"Of course it doesn't hurt, Carrot," Wells scoffed. "It's paint."
"It's better than a Van Gogh," Gusty grinned.
"Your old lady does excellent work," Bucky assured him. Nurse Klein had done the bruises on his face, while one of the nurses who'd previously caught Bucky's eye had done them for Wells. He'd been quite happy about that. "Anyway, you all know what you're doing, right?"
"Yeah." Gusty rolled his eyes. "Agent Carter already briefed us."
Mex stepped forward, held a hand against his chest, and fluttered his eyelashes in a coy mockery. When he spoke, he pitched his voice into a high falsetto with a heavy English accent.
"You're to stay at least five hundred metres behind Alpha Team at all times. You're to follow my lead, and not advance out of the passage until we've been given the all-clear. And while we're waiting, you can shine my shoes for me, because I love bossing men around."
The impression drew a chorus of laughter.
"That was really good, Mex," Davies grinned.
"I actually thought it sounded nothing like me," Agent Carter said, from the door of the tent. Arms folded across her chest, icy glare on her face, Bucky was surprised she didn't start with the lecturing right there and then. The rest of the team quickly resumed gearing up for the mission.
Bucky left them to it. He and Wells stepped outside, where Carter and Stark were waiting for the team, along with the German who would be 'capturing' the two sergeants. Stark seemed to have his hands full, both with his equipment, and with consoling Agent Carter.
"C'mon Peg, all I'm saying is that it was kinda funny. The accent was dead on."
"I will go and wait by the mess tent," Carter snapped at him. With a scowl for Bucky and Wells, she stormed off.
"What's the frost queen's problem?" Wells asked.
Stark shrugged. "We all wake up on the wrong side of the bed, sometimes. Now, are you two ready to test my newly unfixed Silencing Gas?"
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
Now…
There was no time for doubt, for worry, for concern or second-guessing. He felt them fall away, replaced by a calm that kept fear and unease from creeping in. He had a job to do. Focus. On the men in the room. On the mission. On the moment. He could deal with everything else later.
He slipped his hands through the loosely knotted rope and grabbed the pistol grip. His arm came up, exploiting the moment of shock and confusion. He pulled the trigger, his gun aimed at the unarmed HYDRA soldier, and the man slumped to the floor as the bullet tore through his chest.
At the side of the room, the other two soldiers were trying to call out in warning, their faces registering shock when they realised they couldn't make a sound. Wells shot one as he rushed towards the open door, felling him before he'd gone a half-dozen steps. The second raised his rifle to take aim at Wells; Bucky was faster. The bang bang bang of three rapid shots echoed in his ears.
The air was still, the sound of his breath loud in the silence. He knew he had to act fast. The others in the bunker could not have failed to hear the gunshots; he still had two targets to eliminate before he could relax.
He gestured for the German man to stay down, and strode to the door with Wells on his heels. They paused at the door, guns held closed to their chests, listening for footsteps, or any sign of alarm. There was none, so Bucky peered around the door frame, taking a quick glance down the corridor. He pulled his head back just in time to avoid the bullet shot from a rifle, and a sliver of fear slipped through the crack it left behind.
The situation was not ideal. Their enemy was pinned down… but so were they. The effects of the gas would eventually wear off, allowing the men in the comms room to send out a call for help. Stark couldn't intercept messages forever, and the men couldn't risk getting close enough to set off the jammers in case the MG's detector had been reactivated.
To Wells, he used the army's hand signals for, 'enter and find cover' as he pointed at the bunk room door, on the opposite side of the corridor, and 'I'll provide cover fire.' Wells nodded, and prepared to move.
As Bucky stepped out and began firing on the position from where the previous shot had emanated, Wells moved in a crouch to the door opposite. It wasn't locked, so he entered, did a quick search, then returned to the door frame with a shake of his head. An empty room. That meant the last two soldiers were inside the communications room. What would they do when they realised they couldn't get out an SOS? Would they crunch their cyanide pills, or attempt to sabotage their own equipment, to stop it falling into enemy hands?
Phillips would not be pleased if the equipment was sabotaged. He needed the place functional, so that he could leave the German operative behind to feed misinformation back to HYDRA HQ. There was only one thing for it; they would have to rush the control room and hope God was watching over them.
He gave another non-verbal command. Advance. While he walked at full height, Wells advanced in a crouch, their guns firing in an alternate cycle, and when Bucky's gun ran out of ammo, he slid out the clip and reloaded with a new clip from his pocket missing only a beat. When a HYDRA soldier popped up, they both re-aimed, and one of the bullets hit the man's arm. He quickly retreated again, and Bucky suspected he wouldn't be able to hold his gun with that hand.
Of course, he still had another hand.
Bucky threw himself to the floor as a gun appeared from around the doorway, and avoided the line of fire by a margin so narrow he felt the whistle of air as the slugs shot past him. Wells used the moment to his advantage, taking several strides forward, firing twice at close range to the injured HYDRA soldier. Even as the man was falling, Bucky was up and advancing again. He pushed his way into the communications room and fired once at the comms officer. The man's rifle dropped from his limp grip, his head lolling against his chest as he fell back into his chair.
His finger twitched on the trigger as his eyes sought out the next threat. Against himself. Wells. The mission. But there were none. The threat had been neutralised. All enemy targets down. Finally, he let some of the fear and worry settle in. As the adrenaline wore off, his hand shook as he flicked the safety back on the gun and tucked it back down beneath his belt. He was gratified to see it wasn't shaking as much as the last time he'd done one of these missions, though. And he hadn't been sick since that first time. Maybe he was becoming accustomed to combat, and killing.
Was that a good thing?
After making sure the HYDRA soldier really was dead, and not just faking it for the chance to strike when his back was turned, Bucky glanced over Wells, who gave a short nod to confirm that he was fine. Bucky pointed to the bodies, and then the door, and left Wells to the thankless task of dragging the corpses away.
As Wells got on with that, Bucky went to a small door set into a dark corner of the communications room. The other bunkers had held doors like this, but he'd never paid them much notice before, had simply assumed they were lockers, or storage rooms for the back-end of the equipment. Thanks to Carter's briefing, he now knew better.
The door opened to a small metal ladder bolted to the wall. He took hold and climbed up, hearing it creak and groan beneath his weight. Some twelve feet up, he came to a hatch directly above his head, and spent a moment running his fingers around the frame, looking for the bolt. He found it, slid it open, and climbed again, his head peeping out into the gunner's protected position.
He couldn't see the detector from above, nor did he think he and Wells would be able to disable it from the comms bunker; everything was written in German, and neither of them could read it. So, he pulled the ammo out of the gun and disabled the firing mechanism. When he was absolutely sure it wouldn't fire, he went back down the cramped ladder and to the front door of the bunker.
Everything was darker in the blind canyon, and in the dusky light he could still make out the narrow passage from which he'd entered. He knew the people there would be able to see him, too, but they wouldn't come out until he'd given the signal. From his pocket, he withdrew a flashlight, and aimed it at the passage. He flashed it twice in quick succession, and repeated the sequence three times. As soon as the third sequence was complete, the team came pouring out of the passage, while Wells dragged one of the corpses from up the tunnel behind him.
Agent Carter and Mr. Stark stopped with Gusty beside them at the front door of the bunker.
"Good work, Sergeants," Agent Carter said. "Did you encounter any problems?"
Bucky shook his head.
"So, the plan went off perfectly, and our German friend is safe?"
Wells nodded.
Carter turned to Stark and gave him a happy smile. "I must say, Howard, your invention seems to work superbly, and I much prefer Sergeants Barnes and Wells in this new, silent form. What are the chances of keeping them this way?"
Lucky for Wells, Carter didn't see the two-fingered salute he flipped at her back.
"Oh, I'm sure we can arrange something, Peg," Stark grinned. Together, they disappeared into the bunker, to do whatever technical stuff they did in these places. Bucky was happy not knowing.
"Can you really not speak, Sarge?" asked Carrot, as he sidled up and eyed his sergeants' still-bruised faces.
Bucky shook his head.
"I don't wanna do foxhole duty tonight," Davies said. "Will you two do it for me? Say nothing if you agree."
Bucky gave Davies the same gesture that Wells had given Carter, then pointed to the body Wells had brought up and mimed a digging action.
"Sorry, Barnes," Davies grinned, "I didn't quite catch that. Say again."
He should'a known the bastards would take advantage of his silence to get away with murder. Luckily, the silence was only temporary. Stark said it would wear off after a few hours, which meant he'd be speaking again even before they got back to camp.
In the meantime, he couldn't let the men think they could do whatever they wanted just because their sergeants were temporarily vocally incapacitated. He grabbed Davies' entrenching tool, opened it up, and shoved it into the Pfc.'s hands. Then he pointed to the body and the ground, and not even Davies could pretend to be dumb enough to fail to understand what that meant.
As Davies and the rest of the men began digging holes, Bucky sank down on the ground for a much-deserved rest. There had been six 'Germans' with the SSR, at the start of this mission, and if they left this guy behind, that would leave three at camp. Three more bunkers. Three more shoot-to-kill-and-take-no-prisoners missions. The worst part was, Bucky had made his peace with killing HYDRA troops. What would come next, when there were no more bunkers to take… it left him with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.