Bears Maul Preview

Copyright 2015 R. P. Wollbaum

This is a work of fiction. Any connection with places, events or people is coincidental.

 

Chapter Five

 

True to the rumors, the British launched an attack on the Italians pushing them back right out of Libya and only were stopped by a hasty intervention by the Germans. Being overextended and happy now that Egypt and the Suez Canal were now safe, the British were content and settled down to regroup. Then they started to plan a big scale involvement in Greece, when the new German commander launched an offensive that pushed the British back to beyond their original starting point and threatened to take Egypt and the Suez. Not waiting for orders, the regiment started conducting raids on the German supply lines, which were already over extended forcing them to withdraw and consolidate.

The British, now that the Germans had invaded Russia and the pressure of an invasion was off, had gained control of the Mediterranean and supplies and reinforcements were steady and plentiful. Control of the air followed as Hurricanes outclassed the Italian air machines and soon Wellington bombers and Hurricanes were bombing and strafing enemy supply transports. Both the regiment and the SAS were heavily involved in providing behind the lines intelligence and conducting raids of their own, forcing the enemy to spend a large amount of time and resources trying to pin them down. They became known as the Desert Rats and their legend grew, almost as fast as Rommel’s did. When America officially entered the war in December of ’41. The always short resupply of the regiments American made ammunition was over. Montgomery, the new British commander, utilizing better American made tanks, put an end to the German threat to Egypt and the American landings in Tunisia at the German rear, pushed the Axis powers right out of North Africa.

The British, never a big fan of the regiment, readily complied when the American requested the regiments help and they were soon involved in American operations and planning, even so far as to have some troopers sent into Sicily behind the lines to gather intelligence and direct artillery fire for the landings. The Americans were impressed, so impressed they wanted the regiment to train a similar group for them. Even after Nicolas told them a group of highly trained and equipped troops existed in Canada, just a short distance from the training base in Montana, they insisted, so Nicolas and two hundred of his troopers were sent back to Canada.

After a two week leave at home, the two hundred troopers were issued new fully equipped Cougars and the flat cars holding them were attached to passenger cars for the regiments transport to Billings, where they would off load and travel the thirty miles from Billings to the training facility. In Calgary, they were joined by another two hundred troopers, who had been in Britain and been part of the fiasco at Dieppe. The regiment had performed well at Dieppe, but the planning of the raid was horrible and the regiment was lucky to have gotten out, as most of the Canadian force involved had been left behind and captured.

Four hundred Calgary Highlanders also joined them and the army people ignored the regiment people almost to the point of rudeness. At the border, the US customs people had an issue with letting the Cougars cross, so the regiment uncoupled the flat cars, leaving them and twenty troopers to guard them as the rest of the regiment continued on to Billings, but not until Nicolas had sent a telegram back to Didsbury explaining the situation. They detrained in Billings, only to find that no transport had been laid on for them. Nonplussed the Highlanders shouldered their packs and gear and looking at the regiment troopers in distain began the thirty mile walk to the American base.

“Rookies,” Nicolas said. “I did enough walking in North Africa, I’ll wait for the Cougars.”

“Oh,” said one of the troopers from Britain. “But doesn’t mechanized mean we ride in the back of trucks all the time?”

Everyone had a good laugh at the excellent mimic the trooper had made of the Highlander Major, who had not spent a minute outside Calgary so far during the war. Two hours later another locomotive with the Cougars behind it showed up. While the troopers were unloading the Cougars, Nicolas gathered the car commanders, pulled out a map and outlined a plan.

During the night, the regiment had taken up their positions to the sides and the rear of the small base. The Cougars were positioned just inside the tree line and out of sight, while the dismounted troopers had crawled to within a hundred yards of the wire surrounding the camp. The Highlander Major had timed his arrival for the morning formations common to all armies and as the American soldiers lined up in front of their barracks for the morning roll call, they were greeted by the Highlanders marching in perfect formation, flags flying and bagpipes wailing, marching in column of four up the road leading to the gate. The perfect distraction for the demonstration Nicolas had planned. He waited until the Canadian infantry had halted and presented themselves to the American commander.

“Tango, tango, let the games begin,” he said into his radio and forty Cougars roared to life and charged the wire. Thirty and fifty caliber guns firing as they came, mostly in the air, but real bullets were flying not blanks, the tracers were evident to even the most new of recruits. The hidden dismounts then rose up almost under the noses of the startled soldiers and began to fire their Garrands and Brens, adding to the noise and confusion. All of the soldiers hit the dirt and Nicolas followed by five more Cougars drove into the camp sliding into a dust spewing stop and as planned all firing stopped as Nicolas climbed to the top of his Cougar.

“Lesson one!” he yelled. “Expect the unexpected and take nothing for granted. All of you are dead, because you were lazy. Who’s in charge of this half assed outfit?”

An infuriated American Lieutenant Colonel rose and dusted himself off.

“I am and who the hell are you to come into my camp like this? I’ll have you thrown out of here so fast your head will spin,” he yelled at Nicolas.

“I’m the asshole who shoved his boot up Rommel’s ass,” Nicolas said. “Suits me fine. I’d rather be killing real soldiers than hanging around you bunch of pussies.”

“Now Naj be nice to the poor pussies,” said Sandy, her still smoking Bren in her arms. “It’s probably the first time they’ve been away from mommy.”

Now the forty Cougars and four hundred armed and definitely dangerous troopers were lined up facing their trainees. Taking a deep breath to calm himself Nicolas addressed the soldiers again.

“Using tactics, just like we did here today,” he said. ”We ran circles around the Germans and Italians. We are not here to train with you. We are here to train you. Then, maybe, if you’re good enough, we will train with you. Those empty barracks over there for us? Ok gang off you go.”

Nicolas jumped off the Cougar and walked up to the American colonel. “A word Colonel?” he asked.

“What is your rank,” the colonel asked when they had entered his office.

“I’m not here to play little pissy games colonel,” Nicolas said. “I command this group of my regiment and I was taken from a very important job to come here and show you people how to fight. The Highlanders are good kids and well trained, but rookies none the less. If you Americans are running true to form, when you asked for volunteers to join this special regiment you received everything that the other commanders wanted to get rid of. Am I right?”

Sandy walked into the office carrying a bottle and four glasses followed by a confused American Major.

“This is my Two IC.” Nicolas said. “Her bite is definably worse than her bark. Let’s have a drink and start over gentlemen. I am Colonel Nicolas Bekenbaum, this is Major Sandra Chimilovich. Until recently we were in North Africa and Sicily beating the crap out of Jerry and the Ities. Someone has decided and rightly so, that training a new group in unconventional methods would be a good idea, so here we are.”

“To the First Special Forces Group,” he said lifting his full glass.

Nicolas watched the colonel and his major as they drank the vodka down. The colonel was about forty, trim, but with a body that looked more in tune with working behind a desk. He had a West Point ring on his finger which indicated he was a life time professional soldier. Could be a good thing or a bad thing.

The major was about thirty and also had a West Point ring. He was in good shape and had the look of a bad boy about him, skinny trim rakes mustache, definite lady killer. This could be trouble, Nicolas thought, as he caught the major eyeballing Sandy.

“I know the capabilities of my people and the Highlanders,” Nicolas said. “I am going to need to see the files on your people so I can tailor training for them. Everyone, including officers, will need to pass minimum standards or they won’t be included in advanced training, nor will they be allowed to ship to Europe. Now if you will excuse me, I have an attitude to clean up.”

“TEN HUT” Sandy belted out as they entered the Highlanders barracks office.

“Major I want your men assembled in less than five minutes,” Nicolas said and walked back out into the street, where he and Sandy stood facing the barracks, arms tucked into the crooks of their backs standing ramrod straight, feet shoulder width apart.

Men began pouring out of barracks and lined up in two straight lines, officers in front and sounded off. The major marched up to Nicolas, saluted and reported all men accounted for, then marched back to stand at attention in front of his men.

“AT EASE” Nicolas said and waited for them to assume the position.

“Your regiment had a good record in the last war,” he said. “You have a lot to live up to. Everything you learned at the Mewata Armories? Forget it. You are training for a different war, using different weapons and methods. For the most part, we will be working behind enemy lines, not assaulting prepared positions. You are all used to the outdoors and harsh weather conditions, but doing that quietly and undetected is another story. That is what we are here to teach you, that is what we do and do well. You impress my people, you come along, you don’t you go home. No holidays, rifle range, full packs half an hour. Major a word if you please?”

As the Highlanders rushed back into the barracks to grab gear, he overheard a captain ask Sandy.

“Major, do you know where the rifle range is?”

“Nope,” she said. “Just got here myself. Guess you’re going to have to figure it out eh?”

“That stunt you pulled yesterday was unnecessary and unmindful of your troops well fare major,” Nicolas said. “Unit pride is fine, but you marched your people thirty miles at night in unfamiliar territory. They are about to find out they are unprepared to fight right now. My people, drove around you and were in attack positions two hours before you got here and we had a good nights sleep in warm beds before we left. This is not a fancy parade ground and we will not be marching around in pretty kilts for all the Grandmothers. We are going to be killing people and I don’t like having my own people killed. Now get your rifle and kit and join your troops.”

Sandy watched the chastised major leave the building and walked into Nicolas’s office.

“Any idea where the rifle range is Sandy?” Nicolas asked.

“Nope,” she said. “I think we’ll let the recruits show us.”

“Devious lady,” Nicolas said, as Sandy bowed at the waist accepting the compliment. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Sandy kissed him on the cheek. “Why you could never piss me off cousin, you love me to much for that.”

“God help the man you con into marrying you,” Nicola said. “I feel sorry for him already.”

Field packs on backs and rifles slung on shoulders, the Highlanders were ready to go on time and ten members of the regiment, Garrands on shoulders, web belts with extra ammo and holstered 1911 ACP’s arranged on web belts strapped to their waists, accompanied them as they marched to an area that had been set up as a rifle range. Nicolas watched in frustration as the highlanders went through the motions of firing, many missing the targets completely or waiting for hang fires to clear. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and walked up to where one rifle man was laying prone and asked him for his Enfield. Looking at the serial numbers he saw it was made in 1915, he pulled the ammo clip out and flipped the bolt back to make sure it was empty, then looked into the barrel and saw what he had expected to see. The final two inches of rifling had worn away from constant use at rifle ranges. Then popping a 303 round out of the clip, his other suspicion was confirmed. The ammo was from 1918. He waved Sandy over to him.

“Tell the colonel, I need four hundred Garrands for these boys and fast,” Nicolas said. “If he can’t do it, we’ll figure out another way.”

“Ok private,” Nicolas said handing his Garrand to the prone trooper. “This is a standard thirty ot six Garrand semi-automatic rifle.”

Taking the firearm back from the private, Nicolas opened one of his ammo pouches and showed the private how to load the five round stripper clip into the rifles breach, then went to one knee coked the bolt and fired all five rounds into the target, the empty clip ejecting from the breach with a soft ching sound.

“Your turn private,” he said, handing the rifle to the surprised eighteen year old. Nicolas gave the private instruction on how to load and aim the rifle and had him take slow even shots, all of which hit the target.

Nicolas pulled the ammo pouches off his web belt and handed them to the private. “Ok, there are ninety rounds left. You teach the rest of your fire team how to use this weapon. They have all been watching us. Ten rounds each man no more. Let the barrel cool off between each man. Got it? And I want the weapon and empty clips back after.”

Nicolas walked over to the now nervous group of Canadian officers who came to attention as he approached, clearly expecting to be chastised.

“Ok,” Nicolas said in a normal voice. “I can see them issuing you those rifles. For a front line regular infantry unit they might be ok and the ammo you could pitch and be issued new stuff once you got in theater. There is no way that old ammo would work in a Bren. Ah they didn’t even issue any Brens? Sheeit! How the hell were you supposed to fight? Sandy make a note. Major can I inspect your side arm?”

As expected, the major pulled a Weatherby 38 caliber revolver from his holster. Nicolas waved his hand and told the man to put it away. Pulling his Colt from his holster, Nicolas removed the clip and pulled back the bolt making sure it was empty, then went through the motions of cocking and firing the weapon demonstrating it to the officers and explaining its capabilities and limitations. Then he let them handle and dry fire it. By the time all the officers had given it a try, the rifle practice was over, due to a lack of ammo for the Garrands and Nicolas called a halt for the day, dismissing the soldiers and his troopers for the rest of the day.

He and Sandy walked to the headquarters building and asked to see the colonel and were ushered into his office immediately.

“I’m sorry Colonel Bekenbaum, but I only have two hundred Garrands myself and I have been told I won’t get any more until we ship out,” the colonel said.

“I see,” said Nicolas. “How about BAR’s and ACP’s, what’s your status on those?”

“We have eight BARs and all the officers have ACPs as standard issue,” was the reply.

“Ok, so we need eighty Brens, six hundred ACP’s, and six hundred Garrands then,” Nicolas said. “Sandy make a note. Do you have a telephone here Colonel? What’s the number?” then he nodded at Sandy who left the building.

“It always amazes me,” Nicolas said. “How a decision is made that makes complete sense to anyone with any brains, but because it does not sit well with the establishment or even worse, because they did not think of it first, they go through the motions of complying with the order then put all kinds of road blocks in place to make sure you fail. Lucky for you I don’t have to play by their rules.”

“Now you know the trouble I have been facing getting this up and running,” said the colonel. “This base has been sitting here empty for two years. Nothing works and we are fighting to get things repaired every day. I have little transport and less fuel for what little I have.”

“Ok first things first,” Nicolas said, as Sandy returned from her errand. “We get the weapons situation straightened out, then tomorrow after lunch, you and I head to Billings and we’ll see if we can get the rest done, Ok? How’s the beer situation?”

They kept up the question and answer session regarding supplies for a while, Sandy writing down answers to Nicolas’s questions when the telephone rang. The colonel answered it, then handed the receiver to Nicolas.

“Hey Bill,” Nicolas said. “How’s the weather in Springfield? The family is good? Oh yes I spoke with my father last week, all is good back home. Listen Bill I need eight hundred ACPs, one hundred Brens and six hundred Garrands. A thousand rounds of aught six ammo for each and five hundred forty five. Right that’s correct. Have them sent to Billings Montana, First Special Forces Group and bill our account. Right, no worries about customs for this order. End of the week, super Bill really appreciate the help.”

“Ok weapons and ammo by the end of the week” Nicolas said. “Transports by then as well Sandy?”

“Yes sir,” she said. “Home base is arranging trains for them now. I should arrange to have them here the same day? Make loading and unloading easier.”

“Ya ok,” Nicolas said, then Sandy hustled out of the office again.

“How did you do that?” the American colonel asked. “I have been trying for months.”

“We own twenty percent of Browning,” Nicolas said. “And the Regiment always pays up front in cash. The vehicles will be coming from the regiment’s spares. Our base is only three hundred or so miles north of here and we can get replacements for them later. I think that with the resistance you are receiving from your military establishment and our politicians, getting out of North America for this group might be difficult. If, in my judgment and my judgment alone, I feel you and this group are capable of participating in the types of operations that we specialize in, then my family is prepared to use its considerable influence to ensure that you and this group go into active duty. If you would be kind enough to assemble your troops at thirteen hundred, I will address them on what they are about to face.”

Nicolas walked out of the room and headed for his own office, where he flopped on his cot and was sound asleep in seconds.

“Naj!!” Sandy yelled and Nicolas bolted up and out of the cot, reaching for a weapon until he realized it was Sandy standing grinning at the doorway. “It’s quarter after twelve.”

Nicolas stood up and tidied up his uniform and the both of them paused at the doorway putting on their berets with the brass maple leaf square in the middle of it perfectly square on their heads. Then they gave each other a quick once over making sure all was in order and marched out the office and down the street to the parade ground where one of the Cougars stood broad side to the area. A large number of American troops were standing around waiting. One of the groups waiting were ten Native Americans engaged in a very animated discussion and eventually one of them was shoved out of the group and towards the two Canadian officers. He squared himself away and smartly marched up to them and saluted smartly. Returning the salute, Nicolas saw that he was a master corporal.

“Excuse me sir,” the corporal said. “No disrespect, but those patches on your right shoulder, are they a symbol of your people. They are not anything like any of the other patches we have seen.”

“Yes,” replied Nicolas. “They are a miniature of our regimental flag.”

“Our elders tell us of a great band of warriors that came through this land when we were still free,” the corporal said. “They were led by a great warrior and his warrior wife. Like you, they had eagles on their collars.”

“That was my grandfather corporal,” Nicolas said. “What is your tribe?”

“Oglala Lakota sir,” the corporal said. Then pulled out a chain from under his shirt. At the end of the chain, dangled a brass eagle, a double to the ones Sandy and Nicolas had on their collars.

“My grandfather gave me this when I was awarded my corporal stripes,” he said. “He got it from your grandfather. I hope one day I can put it on my collar.”

“Those men there,” he said pointing at the group of Natives. “Some are Oglala, some Cheyenne, some Blackfoot. They all know the stories. They have eagles too, but not like these. Thank you for your time sir.”

He saluted again and marched back to his companions, who after hearing him talk, lined up and saluted the Canadian officers, who just as smartly returned them.

A bugle sounded the American assembly which was responded to in a mixed way. Some of the men, like the native, responded quickly and smartly, dressing their ranks evenly and stood in the at ease position silent in their ranks, while others strolled leisurely into a line and chatted the whole time. A couple even made wolf whistles at Sandy, who took note of who they were.

When the colonel and his second in command marched onto the field, the men were called to attention and the colonel stopped in the center of the group made an about face and both officers saluted the Canadians. Nicolas jumped onto the hood of the Cougar, then the roof and took up the microphone that was positioned there and attached to the load speaker system in the vehicle.

“At ease,” he ordered.

“By the end of our time together at this base one of three things will have occurred. You will have graduated, you will have failed and been sent back to whatever duty you were doing before, or you will be dead. I don’t give a rats ass either way. Those of you that graduate will have proven to me and my brothers and sisters that you will not do something stupid to kill us or get us harmed in any way.”

“And just what the hell do I know? After all, until you Yanks came along, we were losing the war. In action in Libya, we destroyed five refineries, ten pumping stations and miles of pipeline. Before the Brits got off their asses and did something. When the Germans got involved, we made their life hell, attacking their supply lines, coming out of no where to attack their air bases and barracks. We destroyed over a thousand trucks, one hundred aircraft, thirty tanks and three to five thousand casualties. We lost one Cougar to mechanical failure and three wounded.”

“In Sicily, we were landed behind the lines a week before the invasion and supplied up to date intelligence for the landings. During the landings, we directed sea based artillery barrages and air strikes on enemy strong points, then attacked several enemy positions from the rear when they held up the main advance. All during that time, we were behind enemy lines and operated undetected until the last moment.”

“My people have been fighting this kind of warfare from before America was discovered and they are still in Russia fighting the Germans right now as we speak. What you will be doing is hard, you will be hungry and thirsty and scared out of your minds. You will see your friends with their heads cut off, their guts hanging out, screaming for their mothers or God, at the top of their lungs in mortal agony. You will be fighting an enemy that thinks nothing of raping twelve year old girls then cutting their throats after they are finished with them. Killing babies by swinging them against a wall to smash their skulls in, or torturing a man to death, because they can.”

“My people and I, we know what we can do, how we react when the bullets are flying and smashing the wall beside your head. Question is, do you?”

He tossed the microphone back inside the Cougar and jumped back to the ground, then he and Sandy walked back to their office and began looking at personnel files.

Next morning the Americans assembled on the parade square after revile was sounded to find the Highlanders already lined up and at ease ruck sacks beside them. Then they saw the regiment, all four hundred of them, barefoot, pants rolled up, going through the final movements of their one hour Tia Chi regime.

After putting his socks and boots back on and rolling down his pant legs, Nicolas walked up to the American commander.

“Right then,” he said pointing at a hill about five miles away. “Top of that hill over there then to the firing range before breakfast colonel. You really should read the memos we hand out.”

Walking back to where the regiment was standing, he put his rucksack on his back, slung his rifle across the top of the rucksack and behind his neck and without a word, the regiment started a dog trot in column of four up the trail leading to the hill. The Highlanders ruck sacks on their backs followed them.

“Now colonel,” Nicolas said running backwards. “The whole brigade, now!”

The Americans belatedly started to jog in their companies. First the Highlanders passed the regiment, with grins on their faces, then the Americans many of whom were making comments on how slow the regiment was going.

The regiment reached the top of the hill as the last Americans, visibly beginning to suffer, started making their way back down. The regiment still at their same pace began to overtake, first the Americans then the slower of the Highlanders. The more fit of both groups jogging side by side, no longer singing cadence as they had at the beginning and starting to make a breathless competition out of it. Half a mile from the rifle range the regiment had passed all the groups but two groups of five, who were fading fast but unwilling to concede to the other group. That’s when Nicolas began to sing the Don Cossack song in Russian.

The whole regiment began to sing in unison and pick up their pace to match the song, passing the other two struggling groups. When reaching the rifle range, they broke into firing teams and rifles and Bren guns were put into action, while the mortar crew assembled their mortar and fired a round.

Nicolas waited until everyone was assembled at the range, then picked out the one soldier who had been the loudest mocking the regiment as he passed them on the way to the hill. He took off his pack and tossed it one handed at the man who caught the sixty pound weight and collapsed under it.

“Take that to my office for me, will you private,” he ordered. Sandy did the same to another loud mouth.

“Those are standard sixty pound loads people,” Nicolas said. “If you can’t handle that run with that load by the end of the week, you’re out of here. If you can’t do that and put five rounds into a target at the end of the run by the end of the month, you’re out of here. Now go get some breakfast.”

“That’s being a little hard on them don’t you think?” the American Colonel said as they ate their breakfast in the cobbled together officers mess.

“At the end of six weeks colonel,” Nicolas said, “they will be doing thirty miles and making an assault or they don’t make the cut. You too Colonel.”

When they left the officers mess the Highlander major approached Nicolas.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t read the part of the memo that said rifles and ammo sir,” he said.

“Sandy did you forget to put that in his memo you naughty girl,” Nicolas said with a grin. “I suppose you ran out of paper before you could make up the American’s memo?”

“Why no sir,” Sandy said in all seriousness. “I had to stop and go to town to have my hair done. A girl has to look her best with all these men around.”

Try as they might, both of them could not stop from laughing.

“Sorry major,” Sandy said, while Nicolas was catching his breath. “We wanted to make a point is all. During that assault in Sicily? We had to do that for real. When we landed on the beach two weeks earlier, they were eighty pound packs. Your boys did ok. The whole point is that speed is not necessarily the best thing. Are you originally from Calgary?”

“Just east actually,” the major replied. “My folks farm near Conritch.”

“Really?” Sandy said. “How interesting. Nicolas a real farmer not a poor one like you. Do you have a name, or is it just Major?”

“Calvin, Major. Calvin Motz,” replied the Highlander.

“Oh such a nice German name, I am Sandra Chimilovitch,” Sandy said.

“And how many other nice German boys do you have in your fine company?” she asked in German.

“About half,” he replied in the same language. “Most of them understand it well enough and some can speak it like natives. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all,” Sandy said. “How do you think we are able to operate so well behind the lines silly.”

“Now why don’t you take a girl for a walk and tell me about yourself,” she said, slipping her arm through his.

As they walked away, she looked back at Nicolas and mouthed, “What a hunk” and winked.

Oh that poor sob doesn‘t know what’s about to hit him, Nicolas thought, shaking his head as he walked back to his paper work in the office.

Nicolas was just about to leave for lunch on Thursday when the American major announced himself and came into the office. He had shaved off the mustache and gotten rid of the attitude, now he carried himself in a nonchalant, but professional manner and had become friendly, not superior. He plunked a bottle of bourbon on the desk.

“I brought the booze, you got the glasses?” he asked.

Nicolas pointed over to a cabinet where two coffee mugs were standing and the major took them and poured the bourbon into each mug handing one to Nicolas.

“The trucks will be in Billings this afternoon,” the major said. “The weapons about sixteen hundred tomorrow.”

“Good, works out perfect,” Nicolas said. “About thirty of your people are going to fail tomorrow. They will ship out right after breakfast in your three trucks. Three of my people will go along and bring back three of our trucks and load sixty of our best performers to load up the weapons, bring back the trucks and the weapons, then they can have the night off back in town.”

“What about the three highlanders in the infirmary?” the Major asked.

“Next north bound is Saturday morning,” Nicolas said. “They will be on it.”

“To bad, they are good kids,” the Major said.

“Rules are rules,” Nicolas said. “They can’t run Friday morning, they don’t pass.”

“What’s next?” the Major asked.

“Weapons and hand to hand,” Nicolas said. “After the next weed out, we get serious. Map reading, artillery spotting, radio handling, stealth attack, night attack. They want us ready to ship out in ten weeks and you have a lot to learn yet.”

“Ten weeks? What the hell do you know that we don’t? They are still stone walling us up in the Pentagon.”

“In ten weeks,” Nicolas said. “We and the Highlanders are out of here, with or without you.”

Nicolas picked the thirty best of the Canadians and the Americans to make the town trip and had them report to him while the thirty fails were being bundled into the backs of the trucks and headed into town.

“Boys as a reward for finishing at the top, when those trucks return you will be taken to Billings,” Nicolas said pausing, while the men cheered and patted each other on the back.

“Where,” he continued, “You will load our new weapons and ammunition into the back of our new trucks and transport them back here. You have two hours, dismissed.”

“Man, what a hard ass,” said one of the American Privates as they walked away.

“Shit, you think he would have given us a little credit,” said a Canadian corporal.

“Goddamn officers,” they both said in unison, then looking at each other laughed and starting talking to one another.

Nicolas smiled. Good they are starting to bond, he thought.

At six they were back with the loaded trucks and pulled in front of the building that they were using as a warehouse. Nicolas called them over after they had gotten down off the trucks.

“In twenty minutes,” he said. “A convoy of my people is headed for Billings to have a few beers and some real food. If you’re not on those trucks when they leave, it’s not my problem.”

Not surprising to Nicolas, the ten Native Americans had been among the thirty best. What was surprising was that they headed away from the barracks and toward the mess hall. Nicolas called them all back.

“You are not coming?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”

“The white men don’t like to be with us,” said the corporal. “We will stay here.”

“No,” Nicolas said. “You will ride in my truck and we will go together, that’s an order.”

“If you say so sir,” the corporal said.

“Ya, well if you guys go all Indian on me I’ll be pissed,” Nicolas warned.

“No problem sir,” the corporal said grinning from ear to ear.

Nicolas and Sandy were seated together at a corner table, sipping on a beer after just finishing a steak dinner in the combination dining and beer establishment. Sprinkled about the room were the ten natives and twenty other troopers, Canadian and American, all laughing and telling stories. The men were comfortable with each other, sharing a common bond, country and race being forgotten.

The door to the establishment flew open and ten factory workers walked in surveying the room for some empty tables. A big hulking man pointed at one of the tables with a native sitting at it and grimaced.

“Maybe if there weren’t so many stinking drunk Indians in here, a decent white man could get a meal,” he yelled.

“And maybe if there weren’t so may fat slob red necks in here, a lady could have her beer in peace,” Sandy yelled back, getting out of her chair to confront the man. Nicolas just sat and sipped his beer.

“You’re lucky you’re a woman,” the man yelled, “or I’d kick you’re sorry bitch ass right out that door.”

“Oh the big tough man scared of a little tiny woman,” Sandy said. “I bet your dick is the size of this finger,” she said holding her middle finger up at him.

The man now infuriated, cocked his right fist and swung it at her. Sandy caught the fist with her left hand and as she was leveraging him over, she slammed the palm of her right hand hard on his solar plexus. He hit the floor on his back hard and was struggling to breathe.

“Goddamn bitch,” said one of his companions, who took a bottle from one of the tables and broke it, advancing on Sandy with the broken neck making to cut her with it. Nicolas grabbed the wrist holding the bottle and twisted it cruelly until it popped and he dropped the bottle, then he kicked the side of the man’s knee, visibly knocking it out of its joint and let the screaming man fall to the ground. Both cousins now standing back to back, Nicolas motioned with his hand to the men’s other companions to come for some more.

Seeing the look in the cousins eyes and the damage they had done to both men on the ground, the rest of the men backed off.

“Don’t want no trouble with you soldiers,” said one of the men. “Just let us get our buddies and we’ll leave.”

After the men left, Nicolas and Sandy went back to their table and finished their beer.

The waitress that had been serving them came over. “I am sorry about that, those fellows generally don’t come in here. Dinner is on us,” she said.

“No mam,” Nicolas said. “As a matter of fact, I apologize for our behavior and for ruining every one’s diner tonight. I’ll pay for every ones dinner.”

“That will be about two hundred dollars,” the waitress said. “I can’t ask a soldier to pay that.”

“I’ve got a hundred and fifty,” Nicolas said, pulling out a wad of American bills, turning to Sandy.

Sandy pulled out a roll from her pants pockets and handed it to the waitress, just as the door opened and three police men walked in, their hands on their pistols.

“Is there a problem officers?” Nicolas said, quickly drawing attention to himself.

“I’ve got two citizens in hospital that have filed a complaint about being mugged by a gang of drunk Indian soldiers,” said one of the Policemen.

“Shit, weren’t like that at all,” a senior citizen said from his table, with his wife nodding at his side.

“Clem come in here swearing and carrying on like he always does and the little lady over there asked him politely to quiet down. He took a swing at her and she put him down on the ground. Then Willy came at her with a busted bottle and that little skinny guy over there like to kick the shit outta him. We all seen it.”

All the patrons we nodding their heads and making comments in agreement.

“My apologies” the Policeman said to Nicolas. “Do you want to press charges?”

“No, they have suffered enough,” Nicolas said.

“Ok then, have a good evening,” the policeman said and all three left.

“Alright boys, time to go,” Nicolas said to his troops and they all made to leave.

“Thank you for the dinner and the show,” the old man said as Nicolas passed by, his wife smacked him on the arm for saying that.

“That was a nice thing you did young man,” the wife said. “That poor girl is having a tough time of it and could hardly have afforded to give us all free dinner like she was going to.”

“No problem mam,” Nicolas said. “We caused the trouble, so it’s only fair we pay for it.”

“Canadians, so polite and never want to cause any trouble,” Nicolas heard the old lady say to her husband as he walked out the door.

The next morning, all thirty of the men who went to town were being instructed in basic Tai Chi movements with the regiment.