Three Kings

While he was talking Fedorov turned discretely and pinched his own collar microphone. “Troyak,” he said in a low voice. “All is well. Stand down immediately and stow all weapons in the helo. Understood? All weapons in the helo. Contact the ship tell me immediately if they respond. Then come forward, and no man is to carry as much as a pistol with him. Get it done, Sergeant.”

He looked to Popski and told him to tell them they were bringing his men up at once, unarmed. At this the Lieutenant seemed satisfied, and he seemed to stand easier now, shifting his eye goggles to his forehead.

“Well then,” said Reeves. “Get your party over there, and Sergeant Williams will see to you. We’ll have a lorry sent up for your men, and I’ll inform my Brigadier that you wish to speak with him.”

The winds were beginning to quiet down now, and visibility was improving. Reeves got a glimpse of the KA-40 for the first time, and could hear the sound of some activity there, men moving about, deep voices. He was still very guarded, and he left the odd, unhappy Major and his Russian officer with one last remark.

“Now if you don’t mind, Major, I think I’ll have a good look around with my squadron. Any trouble, mind you, and I’ve got plenty more to share with you and your Russian friends. Understand?” Then he ordered two more armored cars, which is how Popski saw them, to come up and cover the helicopter.

“Don’t worry yourself, Lieutenant,” said Popski. “With those monsters at your beck and call, you’ll get no trouble from our lot.”

“What? This here?” Reeves gestured to his IFV, still waiting behind him, gun at the ready. “Those aren’t the monsters, Major. The big boys are well behind us, as you’ll soon see.”

He gave orders that his Sergeant should get everyone rounded up, secure the scene, and prohibit all radio communications. Then he leapt back up onto his IFV, turning and offering Major Popski the courtesy of a salute, which Peniakoff did not return.

Brigadier Kinlan had a problem on his hands, and one he did not expect. He had finally come up in a Panther Command Liaison Vehicle with three staff officers, leading the Regimental HQ Scout Troop of eight Scimitar light tanks. If Popski was impressed by the eight wheeled IFV that Reeves had rolled off in, the appearance of these tanks widened his eyes even more.

“They look to be a new breed of animal,” he said. “Never saw a tank like that one before. Why it’s as big as a Matilda II, and I hear you boys call that the Queen of the battlefield.”

A soldier standing by heard that and spoke. “The Queen? Well you can have a look at the King now. Here he comes.”

Then Popski got the surprise of his life. One of the ‘monsters’ that impudent Lieutenant had spoken about came up in a cloud of blowing dust and he could hardly believe his eyes.

The Challenger 2 tank was truly an awesome spectacle, a 62 ton beast that dwarfed the biggest tank Popski had ever seen, which was one of the stalwart Matildas. This tank was nearly three times heavier, almost twice as long and wide, and with a gun on it that looked to be a full sized artillery piece, bigger even than the 25 pounder he was familiar with. It made the 2 pounder on the Matilda look like a tiny popgun by comparison.

“God in his heaven!” His jaw dropped as he stared at the tank. If the British Army had things like that at its command, then all would be well in the world. He simply could not believe what he was seeing, and there was a second monster right behind this one, rumbling with the sound of unmistakable power.

“Sweet Jesus,” he breathed, looking at Brigadier Kinlan now. “Where did you get those?”

“And what part of the British Army do you say you belong to if you never set eyes on a Challenger?” said Kinlan.

“Long Range Desert Group,” said Popski. “Chaps call us the Libyan Desert Taxi Service out here. Italians call us Pattuglia Fantasma, the ‘Ghost Patrol.’ I was assigned as a guide for this man here, and we were out on search and rescue until your cheeky Lieutenant with that scout detail stuck his nose in it.”

“Long Range Desert Group?” Kinlan knew something of the history as well, and the name immediately registered. What was this man doing here, pulling his leg in the middle of a hot zone? Was he daft?

The Brigadier was a quiet, intelligent man, somewhat taciturn, and not given to idle chatter. He ran his outfit with precision and competence, and expected the same from every man under him. He was taking Popski in with a calm, careful gaze, and he could see through a brick wall if given the time. Yet there was something about this strange interloper in the desert and his Russian officer that rang true. These men were not posing or role playing here, though he could not imagine why they were here at all, unless to conduct some deep sabotage or special ops raid. He said as much.