The Ten Thousand by Harold Coyle Read Free Book Online Page B

Ilvanich. Ilvanich, though offended, had said nothing. He had no desire to add to Smithy’s concerns. Smithy already was burdened with one Russian advisor, a slightly overweight major who had once been the deputy commander in charge of security of this storage site. Smithy didn’t need a second advisor hovering over his shoulder.
    Noting that Zack, the XO, had already moved into the guard shack in the company of two radiomen and a sergeant, Ilvanich followed to see what he was doing. Carefully stepping over a body that partially blocked the doorway, Ilvanich entered the guard shack. As he did so, he was overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and the bright lights that were still on. Dressed for combat in the cold, Ilvanich was made uncomfortable by the heat from the stove. He considered going back outside but decided to wait until he found out what Lieutenant Zack intended to do in there.
    Zack, ignoring Ilvanich as his company commander did, went about the task of setting up the company command post. As soon as the radiomen set their radios on the table, Zack stripped off his heavy mittens, cocked his helmet back on his head, and grabbed the hand mike of the radio set on the battalion command net. “Swift Hawk Six. Swift Hawk Six, this is Alpha Five. Alpha is down and preparing to enter the briar patch. Over.”
    For a moment Ilvanich refused to believe that Zack intended to make this building the company command post. Not only was it the only landmark of importance with its lights still on, but it sat right in the middle of the primary approach leading onto the ledge that any Ukrainian reaction force would use to get to the tunnel fifty meters away. The comfortable and warm guard shack would in a matter of minutes become a death trap.
    Deciding that he wanted no part of that, Ilvanich called out to Zack, telling him that he was going to go outside.
    Zack, with the radio’s hand mike to his ear, waved to Ilvanich. “You go ahead and do that, Major,”
    mumbling to himself after Ilvanich had turned to leave, “Shithead.” Once outside, Ilvanich paused, shaking his head as he thought about Zack, repeating to himself, “Idiot, idiot.”
    Fifty yards away, by the tunnel entrance, Captain Smithy waited impatiently while the demolition team finished placing their charges. Though they had planned on such an eventuality, Smithy was upset that they hadn’t been able to drop the guards before they closed the door. It would have been, he thought, so much quicker, so much easier.
    To his rear, Smithy could hear the third and last wave of Blackhawks lifting off, telling him that the last of his company was in. Turning his head, he watched as the 2nd Platoon began to deploy to the left of the 1st Platoon, now in positions along the outer perimeter fence. The guard shack at the outer perimeter fence was where the two platoons came together and, because it was centrally located and easy to find, served as the company headquarters. Noticing the Russian airborne major standing next to the door of the guard shack, Smithy watched him for a moment. Smithy didn’t like that Russian. While the fat major was a nuisance, he at least seemed friendly; and besides, his knowledge of the site had been and continued to be useful. Major Ilvanich, however, was different. He had a sinister air about him. Smithy had decided early that this man, laconic and stone-faced, was not to be trusted. As Smithy watched, Ilvanich moved away from the guard shack, unslinging his AK assault rifle and working its bolt while he looked around, observing the deployment of the 2nd Platoon. Wondering why he wasn’t staying with Zack, as he had been told, Smithy was about to go over and find out when the sergeant in charge of the demolition team tapped Smithy on the shoulder. “We’re ready to blow it, sir.”
    Anxious to get on with this, Smithy forgot about the Russian major and shifted his full attention to the matter at hand. Slapping the demo team leader on the