4
40 miles northwest of Delta
Captain Joe Coffey of Easy Company, 3rd Parachute Infantry Regiment, Republic of California Army, hustled through the woods and dropped next to his commanding officer. “They aren’t doing much rear guardwise, Del, uh, Colonel Buhrman.”
“You’re out of shape, Joe,” the colonel said with a wide grin only partially covered by his walrus mustache. “How far ahead are they?”
“No more’n half a click, shit, I couldn’t run farther than that.”
“Do they know we’re back here?”
“Don’t think so. They seem more worried about what’s in front of them. They don’t act like an army in full retreat.”
“Good. But if they figure out we’re back here, it could get hairy and damn fast. Nothing like a cornered rat for a real fight.”
“Kinda reminds me of that Spanish fight over in the Arizona no-man’s land. Remember that?”
“How the hell could I forget it?” Colonel Buhrman said with a snort. “Only time I’ve ever been suckered, and by the sheep-humping Spanish at that!”
“But we kicked their asses,” Captain Coffey said through his grin.
“And we lost four good men because we weren’t paying attention.”
Coffey’s smile evaporated. “Yeah, that’s right. Better keep our act together on this one, huh?”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself. Where do they have their tanks?”
“Way forward. You’d think they were attacking instead of retreating.”
“I’ve come to the conclusion that General Myslosovich likes to kid himself. He never retreats, only attacks. That suggests he’s vain and can be bullshitted. Good thing to know about your enemy.”
“Sometimes you scare me, Colonel Buhrman.”
“I must be losing my edge, used to be you were in constant terror of me.” He grinned again.
Joe laughed. He and Del had gone through the Presidio together. The officers the Republic of California Military Academy provided could more than match anything offered by West Point, VMI, TMI, or Sandhurst.
It had taken Joe Coffey nine long years to make captain; marginal peacetime was hell for a soldier. But Del had made colonel in the same amount of time. Joe felt no envy; Del was the smartest man he had ever met. Give him another five years and he’d have stars on his shoulders, no doubt about it.
“Constant terror? Naw. Worried that we might not live through your latest adventure, maybe. You always pull us through and I’ll take that to the bank.”
“As if you ever had anything left over to put in a bank!” Colonel Buhrman was still grinning.