Time/Date Error (Damned of the 2/19th-Book Six) - Done

I'm Sorry

Training Area, Indoor
Fifth Floor
2/19th SWG Barracks
2/19th Special Weapons Group Area
Secure Area, Alfenwehr
West Germany
28 October, 1987
0730

Stillwater stood by the door, holding a machete that he'd found on top of a cabinet in his hand, slapping it against his leg as he watched me check everyone's gear for the third time. I could feel how urgently he wanted to get moving, but none of these people had ever been up here in the winter, not even me. We knew as soon as we went out that door we'd be subjected to sub-zero temperatures that belonged in an arctic environment more than in Germany, where all of the humidity had been sucked out of the air by the severe cold. Dehydration, as well as hypothermia, was a constant danger. Top it off with every single woman but me had a womb full of water that the cold would seep into really quickly, which put them into even more danger.

The two men had moved up next to Stillwater. Harris and Gordons were near him, but not too close. Harris had the 12 gauge, the other man holding the modified AR-15. Groom and I each had pistols, and I'd overridden the other women's complaints by telling them that Groom was the only other person in the room aside from Stillwater and myself who had ever killed anyone with a sidearm.

"All right, I'm ready, Sergeant," I said, turning away from Groom after checking all of her buttons, snaps, and elastic closures.

He nodded, staring at me. That bandage over his eye in the middle of all the bruising that had slowly risen to the surface on his face made him look coldly dangerous.

"Before I open this door, I want to make sure everyone understands the mission and their place in it," He growled. "Wright, what is the primary mission goal?"

Wright jerked, probably daydreaming. She stared at him for a second while he stared at her, mildly for him, stern for anyone one else. Finally she swallowed thickly and answered. "The primary mission goal is to get the entire group into the War Fighter Tunnels."

Stillwater nodded slowly. "Neelson, what is your job and the job of every pregnant woan?" He asked.

"Keep my balance, do not fall on the stairs, move slowly and carefully, once at the bottom of the stairs I am to hide under the stairs out of way to use the stairs as cover. Get into the tunnels as soon as the door opens far enough. I'm number two through the door," the young woman said, swallowing nervously.

"Groom, what is your job?"

"Bring up the rear, keep watch to make sure nobody falls behind. To provide cover fire and quick reaction fire if we are aggressed from the rear."

"Harris?"

The man shuddered slightly when Stillwater turned to look at him, his fingers tapping on the 12 gauge. "Five feet behind you. When the group reaches the bottom of the stairs, I'm to move up by the stairs and back you up if we are aggressed."

"Gordons?"

"At the back of the group, to back up Groom, and then be first through the door into the War Fighter Tunnels in case there are already enemy forces in the tunnels."

"And who is the enemy, Cromwell?"

"Anyone not us," I said, keeping my voice cold.

Stillwater nodded. He pointed at my hand. "Use that number to get the door open." He reached down and picked up the doorjamb that was on the floor. "The sound of the War Fighter Tunnels opened will be loud. Those are massive bolts, the size of your arms, that will be suddenly yanked back into the door. The crack those will make will be heard by everyone alive."

"I open this door, we go, even if we encounter enemy forces, we keep moving forward. If I go against the wall and cover my eyes, you do exactly that or something old and dark will tear your guts out and eat them in the front of us," He paused. "Crack chemlights and get ready."