Arctic Wargame - Страница 41

Soon enough, the Bell was swallowed up in a thick cloud of smoke. Carrie eased on her trigger, waiting for the inevitable explosion. A few seconds passed. The Bell helicopter appeared on the other side of the gray cloud, still airborne, but swaying to and fro like a duckling during its first flight.

Carrie closed her left eye, once again focusing on her target. She wondered whether she should launch one of the two Hellfire missiles.

“C’mon,” she yelled. “C’mon! Go down, you son of a…”

The Bell swirled around a couple of times, dropping a few dozen feet. Then, it jerked upwards, regaining its lost altitude. But when the pilot had steadied the helicopter, its main rotor blades stopped spinning. The helicopter took a downward plunge, fast and hard.

The helicopter was doomed. Some of the Danish troops scurried in panic as the large fuselage of the Bell helicopter crashed into the permafrost. The impact shattered the ground. The ensuing explosion hurled huge blocks of ice and rocks in all directions and tore open the ice shield. The crater swallowed the helicopter’s wreckage, as dark waves slammed against the edges.

“Holy crap!” Carrie stared in awe.

Narrow crevasses stretched like cobwebs for tens of feet on both sides of the pit. It looked like when a rock cracked but did not shatter window glass.

* * *

“The Danes are over a lake,” Justin yelled over the jubilant shouts of the men around him, “over a lake whose ice cover is busted open.”

“Yeah,” Nilak added. There are two ponds by the runway. Tim used to complain that water from melting ice would flood parts of the runway.”

“Why didn’t we think of this earlier?” Justin said. “The solution is right in front of our eyes. Call Kiawak and the rest of the people back.”

“Eh, what? Why?” Joe asked.

“Our best defense is the natural one, the lake. We’ll blow off the top, breaking apart the ice sheet and sinking every one of these jerks.”

* * *

“Sir, Yuliya’s gone, sir,” Valgerda mumbled over the radio.

“I can fucking see that,” Gunter exploded.

Valgerda removed the receiver from her left ear. She could still hear him blurting obscenities and ordering four men to prepare the DHC-6 Twin Otter airplane for the fight.

“Magnus, where are you?” she shouted and began to look around. “Magnus?”

“I’m here, down here,” he replied with a groan.

She followed the sound of his weak voice until her eyes found him lying on his back. He was about fifty feet away from the helicopter’s grave. She noticed a trickle of blood over his right pant leg and a long tear, about four inches, on his shin.

“Fuck,” Magnus cried, as he tried to get back to his feet.

“It’s not broken, is it?” Valgerda asked.

Magnus placed his heel carefully over the slippery ice. “A damned ice sliver almost cut off my freaking leg. What was Yuliya thinking?”

“I guess she wasn’t. And neither is Gunter.” She pointed at the terminal. “He just ordered the Otter in.”

“Yeah, I heard it.” Magnus took an uneven step, leaning on Valgerda’s shoulder.

Whizz.

A bullet screeched over their heads. They both ducked. Magnus’s leg failed him. He plunged into the snow, cursing and rolling downhill. Valgerda returned fire at the closest truck from where the shots were coming. A couple of trucks farther up the hill were struggling to retreat from their initial positions.

“They’re falling back,” she said over the mike. “The enemy’s falling back. All troops, fire at will, fire at will.”

The gunfire from their recruits was not as loud as she expected. Valgerda repeated her order. More recruits joined in, but their firepower had diminished, and their shots were sporadic.

“You’re OK?” Valgerda stopped shooting to check on Magnus.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Lost my footing there and avalanched down the hill.”

He gasped for air and flattened his jacket. Then he dusted off the snow.

She glanced at his leg. The skin was now completely exposed, and his pants had ripped in another place.

“I’ll get that checked as soon as we’re over this bump,” he said. “What were you saying about those trucks?”

“They’re moving back. Or at least it looks like that.”

“Maybe they’re regrouping.”

“It could be.”

“How are we doing?”

Valgerda looked around then dug out her binoculars from inside her jacket. A brief surveillance of their troops gave her the bad news. “We’re retreating, too.”

“What? Who gave that order? Gunter?”

“I don’t remember hearing it.”

“Cowards. It’s those damn cowards.” Magnus lifted himself to his knees. Valgerda placed her arms around his waist.

“What are you talking about?”

“I noticed insubordination even before the helo crash. I’ve got to fix this myself.”

He staggered to his feet. Realizing they were out of enemy fire range, they both kept their heads up.

“Hey, you,” Magnus shouted at a man smoking a cigarette and chatting with other recruits, their backs turned against the battle hill. They were standing about a hundred feet away from the runway, at a very safe distance from the gunfight. “Ali, right?” Magnus asked with a grimace.

“Yes,” Ali replied. “Wanna smoke?”

Magnus shook his head, his hand groping for his submachine gun. Once he found the trigger of his MP5 still hanging in its holster, he pointed the gun at Ali.

“Hey, man, what you doing?” Ali spread his hands, taking a step back. The half-smoked cigarette fell out of his mouth.

Magnus caressed the trigger, jamming the gun into Ali’s throat.

“Don’t try it,” Valgerda barked at Ali’s companions, who scrambled to pick up their guns. She kept her rifle lined up with their heads. “Unless you want to bang seventy virgins tonight.”

“Relax, I’m not going to shoot you,” Magnus said coldly. “But next time you disobey my orders, I’m gonna kill you all, one after the other. When I tell you to advance, you do it, or I’ll blow you heads off. Now get your asses there, all of you, and use those guns in that fight.” Magnus gestured with his head toward the hill.

The group took up their weapons and reluctantly headed for the battle. Valgerda followed their every move, in case someone decided to become a martyr. No one did. She sat across from Magnus, on a heap of frozen snow.

“I’ll get the first aid kit and do what I can.” She pointed at his wound.

“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll update Gunter on our status. We’ll need more men. Maybe all of them.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Nanisivik, Canada

April 14, 10:23 a.m.

“So, that’s your plan?” Anna rolled her eyes. “Drive to their flanks, plant the explosives and kaboom, it’s done, just like that.”

Joe’s face remained calm. Kiawak looked at Justin, who was sitting with his back against the ice ridge. They were back in the small clearing, their improvised headquarters away from the battlefield.

“What do you think?” Justin asked Kiawak. His words sounded more like a plea for support rather than a simple question.

“It… it may work,” Kiawak replied, unsure about how to word his hesitant approval. “I mean, the frontal attack isn’t working, and we’re still counting our losses. This is probably our last attempt.”

“It will work,” Joe said strongly. “We will make it work.”

“You’ll need a lot of suppressive fire,” Carrie noted. “We also have to take the Otter airplane out of the equation before we sneak any men down to the lake.”

“I’ll go with my own truck,” Kiawak said, ready to stand up. Justin placed his hand on Kiawak’s shoulder.

“I’ll go with you,” Joe said.

“Wait a second,” Justin said. “Let’s not rush things. Carrie, you were saying about the Otter?”

“The airplane’s last attack left us with three wounded. I don’t want Kiawak and Joe or anyone else out in the open while the Otter’s still overhead. We’ve got to trap him or engage him head on.”

“Plus, the Danes have launched another attack, this time with twice as many troops,” Anna said.

“Which makes it even more pressing for us to act now.” Kiawak spread his hands. “If we keep sitting here and talking, they’ll climb up the hills and we’re all be dead.”

Anna squinted as Kiawak spat out the word “dead.” They were under the threat of incoming bullets at all times. But the way in which Kiawak uttered the dreaded word, in a cold, flat tone had a powerful effect on her doubts and fears. She asked, “Where do we start?”

“I’ll take on the Otter,” Carrie replied. “My big gun is almost out of ammo, but if I calibrate the Hellfire missiles properly, I should easily bring down the airplane.”

“I’ll have everyone hammer their soldiers, so they’ll have no time to fire at you,” Justin said. He turned his head in Kiawak’s direction. “You’ll need more than Joe for this thing to work.”

Kiawak nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. I’ll take two, maybe three other guys. I’ll drive, two guys will set the charges, and a fourth man will slam the Danes with continuous fire.”

“I’ll do the same on the other side,” Joe said. “We need to advance at least halfway to the bottom of the hill, about half a mile. We’ll use the chopper’s pit as a central point, since the ice sheet has already cracked around it. I wonder how big each explosive charge should be?”