War with Russia

“You can guarantee that the Russians will be predictable,” Lukša answered with his usual smile. “When I was younger, I made my living from smuggling cigarettes across the border from Lithuania into Kaliningrad. If we had been caught? Well… but we risked it, because we knew where their minefields and standing patrols were situated. Improvisation and initiative isn’t something they teach their soldiers. Don’t get me wrong. The Russians can be brilliant planners, but once they have a plan they stick to it, and woe betide anyone who doesn’t follow that plan. That’s why crossing the border was never a problem. That and knowing every track and hiding place…”

“Thank God for your dodgy past.” Morland grinned at him. “We owe you guys a lot. If you weren’t so brilliant at driving motorbikes down forest tracks in the middle of the night at one hundred kilometers per hour using night vision goggles, and scaring the living daylights out of us Brits, we wouldn’t have even got this far. In fact, I can say this, hand on heart, I never want to get on a bloody motorbike ever again… But now it’s time to get serious. Those American Special Forces guys are depending on us to guide them in to the bunker. This is your backyard, Arvydas. That means we are following you.”

Lukša thought before replying. “This is where it gets tricky. We’ll leave a couple of my guys here with the bikes, ready to extract us fast back across the border to Lithuania once we’ve completed the task. We’ll be able to hide up much better there.” He looked at Krauja and Morland, who both nodded their agreement.

Morland knew the Russians would swamp the area with troops once the Americans arrived and did whatever they were planning to do. That meant the team needed to be as far away as possible before that happened.

“We’ll move out from here on foot at 2200 hours, once it’s properly dark. I’ll go ahead as lead scout. Tom, you follow me with the rest of your team and Marina behind you. Two of my people will bring up the rear. I’ll signal when we’re in the LUP—the lying-up position—and then it’s the usual hard routine for the rest of the night and through tomorrow. We’ll only be five kilometers from the compound and that means no fires or lights or cigarettes, pissing and crapping where we are, no movement, complete silence. We’ll move out after dark tomorrow night to link up with the Americans for their drop. Then we take them forward so they can get eyes on the compound. We’ve recce’d the routes. We all know where we need to be and what we need to do. We just need to keep doing what we’ve been doing to make sure that we remain undetected. No mistakes…” He stopped and looked at Morland. “Happy with that, Tom?”

“Spot on, Arvydas. Exactly what London wants.” Morland looked around the patrol base. Everyone had been briefed and was ready to go. He nodded at Wild, “Time to get something to eat and a bit of rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

Lukša moved over to his soldiers to confirm they all knew what was planned and had no questions, while Wild did the same with the three other Mercians.

Morland reached into his bergen and pulled out a tin of sardines from his Lithuanian ration pack, together with a packet of dry biscuits. He looked at Krauja. “It’s hardly cordon bleu, Marina, but have a bite.”

Krauja pulled a face. “No thanks, Tom, I’ve got some of my own. I wouldn’t want to deprive you. But thanks anyway.”

“If only we could cook something. I’m a dab hand at putting together a classic compo all in stew.”

“A what?” asked Krauja.

“Everything in the pack put together and heated up: baked beans, meat, veg, hard tack biscuits, cheese—with lashings of curry powder and tabasco sauce,” said Morland, with a faraway look in his eye as he thought about hot food.

Krauja smiled. “I hadn’t seen you as a domestic god, Tom. I might just hold you to that… If we ever get out of here, that is.” For a moment her control faltered.

Morland saw that for all her Baltic strength of character, Krauja was frightened. “Don’t you worry, Marina. We’ll make it out.” He gestured at Wild and the three other Mercian soldiers. “Those buggers have been in much worse scrapes. They’re natural-born survivors and so are you!”

For the first time since he had known her, she looked unconvinced.

“I’m being deadly serious here, Marina. I don’t know what the Americans are planning, but I reckon that the Russians in that compound are going to get the shock of their lives tomorrow night. If we keep to the plan, keep quiet, we should be in and out. After that, of course…” As he said it, Morland was all too aware that, while they had been living almost cheek to cheek, they had hardly spoken to one another properly since they came into the forest; the consequence of living and operating tactically and on the run for weeks on end.