Three Kings

“See here,” said Popski. “You can stow that crap about us being prisoners, lad. That is if you want to keep those two Lieutenant’s stars on your shoulder for very much longer. Sorry I’ve only got one on my shoulder, but it’s a bloody crown, mate, and you damn well know what that means in the British army. Now, if you haven’t got any sense in your head, then where’s your senior officer?”

Reeves eyes could not be seen, but his jaw tightened. “I can send you to see someone who’s got one of those crowns on his shoulder if you like. Only he’ll have three stars beneath it! Will that suit you? Now, I don’t care if you’re Prince Harry in the flesh! I’m officer on point, and there’s a war on. You’re standing here with this man-a Russian-and you tell me one of their damn helos is out there. You have crew aboard that helo? How many are you?”

“Of course we’ve got crew! I’ve told your Sergeant here what we’re about and why. Search and rescue! There’s a man out there in this mess, and a particularly important one. He won’t last long with you wagging your ruddy jaws here, will he?”

Fedorov could not follow all the English, but he could see the exchange was heating up, and his heart beat faster as he considered what to do. These men were certainly not British soldiers from the 1940s. There was a modern IFV sitting in front of him with its engine on a low growl, and he had managed to catch the Lieutenant’s remark about Prince Harry. Now he knew he had to discover what had happened. Could we have moved again, he wondered? How? That thing Orlov had-could it be responsible? He said he found it along the Tunguska River on that last mission. That thought knocked down one domino after another in his mind.

He had to determine what had happened here, and his first thought was to get to the helicopter and radio Kirov. If the ship responded, then they were still in 1941. But he did not think this Lieutenant would take kindly to him trying to contact a Russian battlecruiser just now, so he had another idea. Popski had radioed for support from his comrades atSiwa. They were supposed to be bringing in jeeps tonight, and the plan was to establish a base camp here, and at least have vehicles available for a ground search in the event this storm persisted and they could not fly. Time was of the essence, or so Popski stressed. A man could only survive so long in the desert, and this was not just anyone, but General O’Connor himself. Yet if they had somehow moved in time again, all that was irrelevant now. He had to decide what to do; how to find out what had happened here.

“Major,” he said in English, then switched to Russian in a low voice. “When might your men arrive on those jeeps?”

“Soon enough to straighten this lot out,” said Popski with an indignant look on his face. This cheeky Lieutenant in front of him had riled his temper, and he was clearly not happy.

Reeves own impatience got the best of him, as the entire column was lined up behind him and waiting to move out. He reinforced his demand. “I said how many are you?”

“What does he say?” Fedorov asked quickly, and Popski translated, arms folded on his heavy chest.

“Tell him we have two squads of Naval Marines deployed 100 meters behind us with the helicopter. Tell him we have no quarrel with him, and we’ll stand down and cooperate fully as he wishes. But we have an urgent need to speak with his commanding officer.

“Look here,” said Reeves. “Do I have to order my squadron to deploy?”

Popski could hear the urgency in Fedorov’s voice, though he did not understand why. Yet his own instincts also argued quietly with him, and he knew this might be a dangerous situation that he should diffuse as quickly as possible. That tough Russian Sergeant with his Marines looked to be the sort to shoot first and ask questions later, and that could be a problem. This Lieutenant here didn’t seem happy to have found Russians at all, and he wondered why. He also realized the man had a job to do, orders to comply with, and knew they might only get things resolved by seeing his senior officer as Fedorov urged.

“Alright Lieutenant,” Popski relented. “We’ve ten good men behind us, and two pilots, all well armed and holding a perimeter around that contraption back there. But we’ll do things your way. We’ll need to see your commanding officer right away and get this sorted out.”

“Tell your men to lay down their arms and come forward,” said Reeves. “And if you have any ideas about doing anything else, I’ve a column of tanks and infantry behind me five miles long. Understand?”

Popski grimaced, but swallowed his pride. “Well enough,” he said. “But I’ll say one thing. We expected we might get this sort of treatment from theDegos or Jerry out here, but not the Desert Rats!”