War with Russia

He looked around and saw that, for a brief moment, they were alone. “I’ve been wanting to thank you, Marina. I saw how pissed off Jānis Krastiņš was, when he handed us over to Arvydas Lukša and the Lithuanian Forest Brothers. I didn’t understand a word he was saying but, from the look he gave me when he left, I’m guessing you insisted on staying and looking after us.”

“Yes… Well…”

For a moment there was a softness in her eyes when Krauja looked back at him and Morland thought he detected the faintest of blushes beneath the green-and-brown camouflage cream smeared over her cheeks. Then it was if she caught herself before giving him her normal, no-nonsense look.

“When you and I first met in Riga, Juris Bērziņš, my boss, ordered me to stay with you and look after you… whatever happened. He had predicted something like this years ago. He had no doubt about what he was witnessing when he asked you to visit him and he assigned me to be your liaison officer. I told him yes, and I am fulfilling my word to a man I respected. Major Krastiņš’s view was that with Bērziņš dead and Latvia overrun by the Russians, my promise no longer applied. I disagreed. That’s all.”

“Is that so?” said Morland, unwilling to pursue the matter further. She was with them and that was that, and he certainly didn’t want her anywhere else right now. Then another thought struck him. “Please don’t say this to anyone else, Marina, but I’m guessing we are going to get pulled out of here sooner rather than later. Although I have no idea how or when… If we are extracted, I think you should strongly consider coming back to the UK with us. You’ve more than done your bit and, what’s more, you’re much more useful alive and helping our Int people back home than stuck in the forests and being hunted down by the Russians. And something else I’m sure everyone is very aware of but they don’t want to articulate, I think it’s going to get very hairy around here once we complete this mission.”

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your concern.” Krauja looked at him gravely. “But I’m Latvian. My country is occupied by Russia. The only way we can fight the invaders is from the forests. My duty is to get back where I’m needed. Besides… the Russians killed my brother.”

From the set look on her face, Morland knew better than to push her. Anyhow, it was time to clean his weapon, prepare his kit for the long patrol back to the compound and get some rest.

Five hours later, long after they had left their patrol base, Morland saw the shadowy outline of Captain Arvydas Lukša, the Lithuanian Forest Brother who was leading, hold up a hand. It was the signal to stop. He repeated the signal to Sergeant Wild behind him and he, in turn, passed the message soundlessly back to the rest of the patrol. He checked his luminous army issue watch: 0255 hrs. Twenty minutes later than planned, but better to take longer and go quieter, than rush and be heard and caught.

The other four Mercians, Krauja and two other Lithuanians automatically spread out to take up a position of all-round defense. When Morland saw they were in position, he swung his daysack from his shoulders and lowered it to the earth. Suppressing the urge to flop down next to it and rest, he moved to each team member in turn, careful not to snap any of the twigs or branches that littered the forest floor, and confirmed with a suppressed whisper that they were now in their lying-up place. This is where they would remain until the following night.

Only when Morland saw the unmistakable silhouette of Corporal Jezza Watson move away from the team to do the first sentry stag did he sit down and consult his map by the faint red light of his torch. He knew they were in exactly the right place, but he double-checked all the same. Now it was time to settle in for what remained of the short summer night. They would stay hidden here all the next day until the scheduled parachute drop of US Special Forces tomorrow night.

He swigged a mouthful from his water bottle, extracted his bivvi bag from his daysack, felt the forest floor to make sure he was not placing it over any stones or protruding roots that would keep him awake and then unrolled it. Next he took off his webbing vest and laid it carefully beside him, ready to pull on at a moment’s notice, and wriggled into his bivvi bag, boots still on. If anything happened out here, this close to the Russians, there would be no time to pull them on and lace them up. It had only been this level of attention to infantry drills by every member of the team that had meant that when the Spetsnaz—and he was convinced that only their Special Forces could have got that close to their camp undetected by the Forest Brothers—had ambushed them in the forest, five long-and-grueling weeks ago, he had been armed and ready for action in seconds.