We Were Soldiers

137. Halfway between Here and There

The cargo bay was silent as the plane ate up the miles, its engines a loud drone that filled the ears and dulled the mind. Bucky glanced around at the faces of his companions. Steve looked a little less strained than he had at the start of the day. The loss of the young private that had been weighing on his mind seemed to have evaporated following the events with the Krauts at the plane. Losing a soldier like that, it was enough to shake a man's faith. In himself, in his superiors, even in the entire cause. Perhaps that was all war truly was; a series of trade-offs, where 'winning' simply meant that you gained more than you lost, or lost less than your enemy did. Maybe in the distant future, war would be played out as a series of calculated probabilities, blows traded by number and not bullets, numbers lost instead of men. It was a nice thing to dream, anyway.

Everybody else looked tired but in decent spirits. The long weeks of fighting in France were shown only through dark-circled eyes, and uniforms that really needed a good wash. They were remarkably lucky to have come away without more serious injuries. Monty's leg notwithstanding, everyone was fit and healthy, and the Major's leg only troubled him if he overexerted himself.

The cockpit door opened, and the co-pilot stepped out to provide them with a sitrep. "We're about ten minutes out from the airstrip," he shouted over the engines. "It will take another ten minutes to refuel, and then we can continue on to your next drop."

"Wait, aren't we transferring to another plane?" asked Steve. "I assumed we'd have chance to get something to eat and a change of clothes before heading back out."

"I'm afraid not. The brass want you back out there ASAP, I'm told. Thing is, we're carrying too much weight. I was only expecting to bring seven of you back, not nine. When we stop for refuelling we'll be picking up two extra passengers, which means two of you will need to debark at that point."

"Alright. Buck, how are you feeling?" asked Steve.

"Why are you askin' me? Monty's the one who took a branch to the leg." Steve was sadly mistaken if he thought he was gonna be left behind.

Falsworth offered a flippant wave, as if the whole thing had been nothing more than an irksome scratch. "Oh, that was weeks ago. I'm as good as gold. Right as rain. Fresh as a daisy. And all those other really positive things."

"Peachy as pie?" asked Jones. Dugan gave him a look. "It's something my mom used to say."

"I volunteer to debark," said Captain Stone. "I need to see about getting my hands on another plane."

A doubtful expression flickered across the co-pilot's face. "I wouldn't count on that, Stan. The Marshal's pretty miffed that you keep crashing your rides."

"I never crashed even one," Stone objected petulantly. "I put them down with minor damage. They can all still fly, with some repair work."

"Your name's Stan?" Morita asked, grinning. "Stan Stone?"

"It's Stanley, actually. And that's Captain Stone to you, Private Morita."

"I'd never intended you to come on the next mission with us, Captain Stone," said Steve. "You'll debark in England when we land. You too, Freddie. You've got a lot of film to develop for the powers that be; that's more important than watching us chase down Schmidt."

"Aw, but Steve, how'm I gonna be your war correspondent if I'm not with you twenty-four seven?"

"Orders are orders, Freddie, and you have to follow them too."

"Cheer up, young man," Stone instructed the photographer with a friendly clap on the arm. "A hot meal and a hot bath await you in England."

"Alright," said the co-pilot. "I'm gonna head back into the cockpit. Five minutes till landing. Make sure you're well braced, as it's a tad windy out there."

A tad windy was something of an understatement. As the engine pitch changed and the dip in Bucky's stomach told him they were descending through the atmosphere, side-winds buffeted the plane. It shook from the strain, rattling his teeth together. Dernier, who seemed to have forgotten about his air-sickness until now, suddenly turned a pale shade of green, and the rest of the Commandos quickly shuffled away from him.

The pilots knew what they were doing. Even before Dernier could reach for a bucket, they'd touched down on the ground and were braking hard. It was funny how Jacques had absolutely no problem with jumping out of a plane with a chute strapped to his back, yet a bit of turbulence made him want to toss his cookies. Some people were just plain strange.

Once the plane had come to a complete stop, the co-pilot hopped out and began issuing orders for the ground crew to start refuelling and checking the wings. What for, Bucky had no idea, but hopefully it was just for standard plane stuff, like bits of cloud stuck to them, and not anything sinister, like embedded shrapnel that might cause the plane to crash next time it tried to take off.

The loading ramp lowered with a mechanical whine, and the outline of two figures appeared. One lifted a hand and quickly wafted it in front of their nose.

"Jeez Louise, we really gotta get in there with those guys, Peg? It's riper than a barrel full of last year's plums in here."

"The smell is certainly… bracing, I'll admit. But suck it up, Howard, you've been in worse places."

Everyone stood as Agent Carter joined them, Howard Stark in tow. The former assessed them all with a frank gaze, as if gaging their readiness to go into combat right there and then. The latter merely held his nose.

"Gentlemen," said Carter. "It's good to see you're all in one piece. Major Falsworth, we heard you'd been injured; I trust you're still fit for duty?"

"Fit as a fiddle," Jones answered for him.

"Right as rain," added Dugan, his blue eyes twinkling.

"And as peachy as pie," Morita chuckled.

"You're all insufferable and I hate every one of you," Monty said with a dismissive sniff. "But yes, I'm all of those things, Agent Carter. Thank you for asking."

Steve shuffled forward all eager blushes, no sign of the confident, commanding Captain America about him now. Carter sure did have a way of making Bucky's best friend look like a lovesick teenager.

"Peggy. Agent Carter, I mean. It's so good to… I mean… it's been—"

"It's good to see you again too, Steve." A smile dimpled her cheeks. He had a theory that girls became women overnight, whereas guys lingered in awkward teenager for years. In Steve's case, he might be an old man by the time his awkward teenager phase ended. "London hasn't been the same without you. For now, though, I need to make sure you're all briefed on the mission. We'll have time for catching up once we're home."

"Right. Of course. Please take a seat." Steve stepped aside to let her pass, and everyone else sat back down. At least, almost everyone. Carter's mouth twitched when she saw who remained standing.

"Captain Stone. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh? Am I not an invaluable part of your missions?" He lowered his voice to a grumble. "When my planes are not grounded through absolutely no fault of my own."

Carter's smile became a little less warm. "Quite. I expect you'll be departing before takeoff?"

"Right this very instant, as a matter of fact."

"You too, Freddie," said Steve. The photographer had tried to hide behind Dugan. He was nuts.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, I can take a hint," he said. "Good luck on the next mission; I should have some good stuff developed by the time you get back."

Bucky let his mind tune out as Stone and Freddie departed with a round of goodbyes and Carter and Stark took their seats. Howard Stark on a mission was unusual but not unheard of. Whatever this was, it must be something important. At least, important to Hydra, and therefore important to the SSR.

"We're ready for takeoff," the co-pilot said, a few short minutes after the passengers had swapped places. "Buckle up; the wind's still gusting."

Jacques went green, and Carter quickly cleared her throat. "I may as well brief you while we're getting underway."

"Ooh," Stark interrupted. "Can I do this one?" Carter gave him one of those looks. "C'mooon, Peg. The Colonel never lets me brief the team."

"That's because you're a civilian."

"Exactly! This may be my only chance to ever do it!"

She rolled her eyes, but relinquished the floor to him. Surprising. The Peggy Carter Bucky had first met a year ago would've given an inch to nobody. Maybe she'd changed as much as Steve. Or maybe here, away from the front lines and the troops who saw her as nothing more than a woman in a uniform, she could finally be who she'd always been. She no longer had to fight for respect; she had it from all the Commandos, no exception.

"Men," said Stark, and Bucky could almost hear the drumroll behind his words, "we've received intelligence about a Hydra facility currently operating out of…" He paused to think, and the plane began its takeoff. "Uh… out of… remind me where we're going, Peg?"

"Czechoslovakia," said Carter.

"Never heard of it," said Dugan.

"It's a landlocked nowhere country halfway between here and there," said Stark.

"How far is it from France?"

"Far enough," said Carter. "It was Hitler's first stronghold in this war."

"Wait, I thought that was Poland?"

The plane tilted, and Dernier made heaving noises into his bucket. Everyone edged away.

"That's sort of a sore point for the Brits," Stark said helpfully. Carter's glare at him was sharp enough to cut steel. "Right, Peg?"

Through gritted teeth, she said, "Indeed. Our government… well… sort of gave it to him."

"You gave Hitler a country?" asked Morita.

"By treaty," she said. "It was part of Neville Chamberlain's appeasement strategy."

Steve leant forward, his brow furrowed in deep thought. It was like sixth grade English class all over again. "You can't appease bullies. It only reinforces their belief that they have a right to be doing what they do and legitimises their behaviour."

"I know that," she said sharply. "And Churchill agrees with you. Luckily, our leadership has changed since then. But you have to understand, we were woefully unprepared for open war. By granting Hitler the right to claim Sudetenland, parts of Czechoslovakia—which had, by the way, many German-speaking people living within its border—our government hoped to avoid a declaration of war."

"Instead," Stark added, "Hitler gained access to a whole heap of raw materials and resources needed to build ships and planes, took over the rest of the country, and then marched on Poland."

"Fascinating as this lesson in how not to do politics is," said Morita, "what does it have to do with our current mission?"

Carter leapt at the change of subject. "One of Hitler's followers, a politician named Neuhauser, fell out of favour a while ago over some perceived slight to the Führer. He was quickly snapped up by Schmidt, who promised him all sorts of rewards for helping advance Hydra's cause. He granted Schmidt part of the territory he had ancestral claims to, which as you may have guessed, lies in Czechoslovakia. According to our sources, Schmidt has turned the area's efforts into steel production, and one of their main factories is working on something pivotal to Schmidt's goals."

"So we're going to blow it up?" Bucky offered. About time somebody got to the whole point of the mission.

Carter winced. "Not quite. Neuhauser disappeared several months ago, and the men loyal to him… most of them, at least… believe Schmidt had something to do with his disappearance. One of them, a scientist named Konrad Fischer, reached out to us to offer information and support in bringing a halt to Schmidt's plans."

"By blowing it all up?"

"Fischer is too paranoid to move against Schmidt openly," Carter continued. "It's well known that his ire fails heavily upon the families of those who cross him. He won't send any communication unless it's gone through multiple channels to prevent it being traced back to him, and even then he's too afraid to send anything but brief messages, much less valuable intelligence. However, he is able to give us access to one of the main steel processing factories so that we can see for ourselves what Schmidt's getting up to."

"Are you sure about this, Peggy?" Steve asked. "They dangle just enough info to get us interested and offer to show us around? It sounds at best like tweaking our noses. At worst like exactly the sort of trap Schmidt might set to capture us."

"Well technically," Stark spoke up, "you aren't invited to go take a looksie. Fischer has managed to fake an inspection ordered by the Führer; they're expecting two Nazi scientists plus their secretary."

"That's where I come in," said Carter. "I am the most fluent in German, and my presence as a secretary will not arouse suspicion."

"Also where I come in," added Howard. "I need to take a look for myself at what they're doing, so I can get a feel for what their big project is. One of you will be coming along as the other 'scientist'. In fact, you'll just be the muscle to get me out in case things go sideways." Carter kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him wince. "What I mean is, in case things go sideways and Agent Carter is incapacitated to such an extent that she's unable to get me out herself."

"Well, guess that strikes me from the mission," said Jones.

Morita nodded with a wry smile. "I won't be foolin' any Krauts, either."

"So it's between the rest of us," said Steve. His gaze slid over the rest of the team. Bucky purposely didn't try to sit up a little straighter. "I think—"

"Major Falsworth will be accompanying us," said Carter. "Phillips has already decided. And I have to agree with him. Steve, you and Dum Dum stand out too much, and Mr Dernier has a certain… cavalier attitude about him. I don't think he could pass as a Nazi, not even a civilian."

"What about me?" Bucky demanded. "I've done this sort of undercover stuff before. I'm perfect for this mission."

"And if Major Falsworth weren't here, you'd be coming instead," Carter agreed. A fleeting expression of surprise crossed Steve's face. Of course, he didn't know about all the sneaky stuff the 107th had gotten up to in France last year. Probably thought Bucky had spent his time doing good old regular soldiering. "But between the two of you, his German accent is more convincing. You speak the language with a noticeable Brooklyn twang."

"The curse of growing up with German relatives strikes again," said Falsworth. The jerk was positively beaming. Still, Carter was right; Monty was the better choice right now. And it cut a little less deep to know he was the second choice.

"So," he said, "after you guys have had a looksie, we get to blow it up?"

Dernier chuckled and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I 'ave taught you well, mon ami. All this talk of blowing things up, you could join the Resistance with me!"

"We're not blowing anything up." Carter's voice was a shade terser than it had been. "Not every mission has to end in an explosion, you know. As I said, our informant is worried about repercussions for his family, and for the families of the other men stationed there. We've reached an agreement that we won't do anything to blow our cover… or the factory up… and in return, they will sabotage the steel coming out of that plant by introducing minute traces of a corrosive compound that will weaken its structural integrity over time. That way it will damage whatever equipment is built with it, but be very difficult to trace back to that particular place."

"If you only needed the Major," said Dum Dum, "why bring the rest of us? I could be soaking in an honest-to-god bath right now, and later staring into Lizzie's beautiful eyes."

"Because," said Stark, with a nefarious grin, "this presents us a perfect opportunity for what is known as industrial espionage."

"That's not actually what industrial espionage is," said Carter. "Your job will be to gather intelligence covertly on the surrounding area and industries."

"AKA industrial espionage." Howard retracted his legs before Carter could kick his shins again. "I jest, I jest."

"We may never get another chance like this to gather intelligence on this area, so it's vital you cover as much ground as possible. Knowing where factories are, where airfields are located, where train shipping yards can be found, as well as information on security and defences, could be vital for the war effort."

"Our troops are a long way from Czechoslovakia," said Steve.

"But the Russians aren't. Any intelligence we can pass to our allies to help take back territories and minimise casualties is a win for us."

"How are we even getting to this place, if it's such a Nazi stronghold?" Morita asked.

"Our allies in the Polish Resistance have found a secluded place for us to land the plane on the border between Poland and what's now known as The Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia. They've also arranged for false credentials, identifying the three of us as representatives of the SS, and will provide us with a suitable vehicle for transport. The rest of you, they will furnish with motorbikes, to aid you in your snooping." Carter checked her watch. "It will be another hour and a half until we land in Poland, so I suggest you all try to get an hour of sleep if you can. Once we touch down you have a six hour window to investigate thoroughly, so there will be no rest until we're in the air again."

A brief sleep sounded like a fine suggestion, so Bucky hunkered down and tried to ignore Dernier's grumbling stomach. Who knew what the brass would have them doing next? Maybe they'd go back to France, or onto some new Hydra lead. Either way, it didn't matter. The world was only so big, and there were only so many places Schmidt and Zola could hide.

: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :

"I dunno," said Bucky. He and the rest of the team stood looking at the plane, which had been landed in a narrow field on the edge of a forest. "I feel like we should be hiding it somehow. It looks kinda exposed."

"Airplanes are big," Morita agreed.

"Too big to just shove a few sticks on to camouflage it," Dugan added.

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Steve asked the pilot and his co-pilot.

"Positive," the man said. "We've been assured a six-hour window where German RADAR won't be able to pick us up. And we flew low to avoid it on the way in. So long as you and your team are back here before our window closes, we'll be fine. Just be here on time."

Bucky turned to his best friend, a smile on his lips. "Remember back in Brooklyn when we were kids? That street magician near the entrance to the subway, he turned up every Friday like clockwork. He had this huge purple cloak which he took off and put over a rabbit, made it completely disappear. Magic."

Steve nodded. "If only we had a cloak big enough to make the plane disappear. Maybe Howard could invent something like that once we're back home. How about it, Stark? Might come in useful."

"I suppose it's theoretically possible," Stark mused. He had one of those expressions on his face, the same one he'd had when examining Hydra's automatic gun aim thingy that'd caught the 107th off guard during their first bunker mission in France. "All that'd be required to avoid visual detection would be to bend light around an object. The refraction angle might give us some trouble, though. It'd take a lot of mirrors, and be fragile as hell. Unless I could somehow compensate for the—"

"Could we please focus on the mission at hand?" Carter chimed in. She tapped her watch with her finger. "We're on the clock, gentlemen."

"Right. We'll have to talk about your cloak some other time, Steve," said Howard. "Priorities!"

"We've got a short walk to our rendezvous with the Polish Resistance. The three of us," said Carter, gesturing to include Monty, "will then immediately set off for our destination. Once you have your transport, I suggest the rest of you split up and cover as much ground as possible. I don't need to tell you what we're looking for, but if you're not back in time, we'll have to leave without you. There's no other way around it. We can't let Hitler, or Schmidt, know that we were ever here, or why. The margin for error today is extremely narrow."

Her words sobered the mood, and they set off in single file with Carter leading the way. Bucky glanced back at the clearing before he disappeared into the trees. No mission the Commandos carried out was ever straight forward, which led to the question of just how exactly this latest mission was going to go sideways.