Field Commission 22

"Ok gang," I start, spreading the map, "here's where we are. Got say 3/4 mile of Springfield Road to cover. Just after the burnt out RUC station and Dunville Park, it turns into being Grosvenor Road. From there maybe 1 1/2 miles straight east, to catch the bank of the Lagan River."
Parvana asks, "we attempt a crossing?"
"No, both the Albert Bridge in the south and the Queen's Bridge 3/8 mile north will be watched, booby trapped, you can bet on it. We stay on the west bank, work our way north to the west docks."
A Pvt asks, "isn't that taking an awful lot on faith? The main evac hasta be Belfast Harbor Airport, for that you need to cross the river."
I pause, "ok, if I were one of them stick-in-the-mud regular officers, at this point, I'd just pound the table, say 'do it my way'. But I ain't, everyone's life is equal, we vote. My view, crossing the Lagan is tantamount to suicide, I prefer having some faith the authorities will provide some evac in the west. Thompson's view, must go all the way, get to the Airport. Take a few minutes, chat, think, then we vote."
All except Thompson vote for my plan.
Minute late, Thompson asks quietly, "no hard feelings? Not sore at me?"
"Heavens no, but majority rules, whether it is right or wrong."
"Now I've had some time to think, I prefer your plan too. Few ragtag units strung out along various west docks, less bunched up targets. Airport, your perfect killing field, bet the Ra has measured the distances in advance. See I learn stuff, hanging around. Could I ask a personal question?"
"Depends how personal."
"Did you choose this gig or did Fate choose it for you?"
"There are certain things I am not at liberty to discuss. But yes, to oversimplify just a bit, was Fate."
"Still, glad it's you and none of them others in Herrlingen."
"Thank you."
We hear two Brit voices, arguing quietly, "come on take a ****ing rest."
"No, gotta ****ing move."
As they come even with the shop, I invite them in.
"Thank God," one says, "least we found someone." Peers at the badge. "Black Watch huh? Shot down alla them planes?"
"Yep and you are?"
"We's all that's left of Royal Lancashire."
I gasp, "what happened?"
"Me and sunshine there was feeling sick, runs, dismounted, went in an alley. In that time, whole ****ing regiment blew. In each case, first the ****ing motor, then the whole ****ing car. Big ****ing explosions, no survivors."
"We saw the same happen here."
"Ok Lt we's in your command, gotta plan?"
"After dark, head for the west docks."
"Good thinking. Never reach the ****ing Airport. Rumor is both ****ing bridges already ****ing kaput. Can we borrow a ciggy? Bonehead and me left ours on the car."
I take out a full pack, "share it in half."
"Cool, I like Yanks, friendly, informal, generous. Where's your base in Germany?"
"Herrlingen bei Ulm."
"Cool, if we live, buy y'all a round. Real German beer, not the horses' pi** you people get."
Everyone laughs.
Just before dark, one more straggler joins us, lone survivor of the Devon and Dorsets. I don't like her look - 1,000 yard stare. The 2 Lancs don't have that look, are with it.
Same plan as before, stay close to your bud, but leave lotsa room between pairs. Parvana and I will lead, the 3 Brits bring up the rear.
One Brit whispers, "don't ya worry none bout the D&D, took her clip away, we'll keep an eye on her."
"Thanks. You ever seen anything this crazy?"
"Hang round a bit Lt. Everytime the Ra does something, Unionists feel ****ing left out, hafta do ****ing do something too."
I groan.
"Bet you wish you was back home, sipping on a mint julep."
It's raining, clouds seem the height of a two storey building. Dark of the moon. No streetlights, no house lights, nothing left burning.
We slither carefully through a dead city. Yet we encounter no vehicles, no civvies, no Ra, no Brit or American soldiers. Is everyone either dead or in hiding?
We are never in any danger, though always on edge. We arrive at the docks to find what we left behind, absolutely nothing.
Despite the radio silence, I opt to try a short SOS, fast enough Paddy can't get a fix on it. Does not work. My com device is dead, as is everyone else's. No one even gets an on light.
One of the Lancs says, in cheerful tone, "just ain't mathematically possible, all batteries dead at the same time. Come on, they're rated 10,000 hours. Gotta be a jammer. So Lt, your Plan B?"
I gather them for a quick meeting, "one option left. Flashlight with a long sleeve. Every 5 minutes, shine it out to sea for 3 seconds."
Hilz protests, "sounds dangerous, Paddy could be in a boat."
"I got news for you. If the sun comes up and finds us here, we are all dead anyhow. So, a vote, risk the flashlight or not?"
It's unanimous, even Hilz having a change of heart.
To maximize our odds we are at the very furthest tip of Stormont Wharf.
Nothing happens for the first half hour. They're very smooth, very professional, much more so than anything I've seen in the US Army.
I've just turned out the light, when I feel cold steel against the back of my neck.
Cockney accent, "cor, it's Yanks."
Scottish accent, "so what in fekkin hell are you fekkin doing here? Why the fek didn't you fekkin leave earlier?"
For the first time, I speak, "big artillery barrage, danger of spotters, not safe to move out til after dark."
I feel the cold steel remove itself. Scottish accent, "no fekkin Paddy on earth could fekkin fake a Southern accent that good. Gotta be the genuine article. We're Royal Marines."
"We're the Black Watch, American version of it. So, what's the scoop?"
"Rubber raft, sunshine, out to the submarine. We take 3 at a time. Only fair way, Yank, draw names."
"Ok gang, I stay, I'm in charge. Everyone else, drawing of names."
Parvana says, "I stay with you."
I should argue but don't, time is of the essence.
They're fast and paddle quietly, but as I watch my luminous watch dial, I don't like the math.
As the first pre-dawn glimmer of light starts, Parvana and I watch the Marines push off with a load. She and I are all that's left now.
She whispers, "do the ****ing math. They won't be ****ing back. ****ing sub will leave."
"Ok pal, where else do you suggest we go?"
Sheepish, "ok, stick around, hope for the best."
I'm watching landside through night vision binoculars; Parvana seaside.
She gasps, "they got there, loaded up, ****ing sub is diving. Those ****ing morons will kill us."
"Stop, take a deep breath. Ok now, tell me what you hear."
"Chopper whoosh, silent running, so the sub had no choice." Soon the whoosh is a lot louder.
And then a convoy of jeeps rolls onto the wharf. Blinding searchlight, "hands up."
It's the most polite, cursory search possible, these are chivalrous guys.
As we climb into a jeep, it registers no one is pointing anything at us.
A soldier of probably 17 cheerfully hands us each a cig.
We arrive at a field kitchen. Cheerfully a Captain calls us, "come right with me, you must be hungry."
We get our chow, join him and a dozen others at a table. We soon discover we are celebrities. Everyone is talking of the famous Black Watch and their now almost legendary anti aircraft abilities.
After chow, Capt drives us somewhere in a jeep and no, no one is pointing any weapons at us.