As the World War 3 raged all around him, Gavin Barr fought his own personal war. He was a man who got things done, but the idea of taking care of Cpt Rivers's 'dirty laundry', even at the cost of no fire support for the 1-40th, which he now thought of as 'his batt', was a price too heavy to pay.

What was more, the emotionally stunted First Lieutenant realized that he was responsible for Abernathy's death. Oh sure, he could rationalize it any way he wanted.

She coulda bought it anywhere, ya'll

That bitch was nothing to me

Easy come, easy go, Gav

It didn't change the silence in between the seconds.

In his heart of hearts, he felt her loss on many levels. The usual armor he wore to protect himself emotionally from people, the war, and life in general had a hole in it, and Tabitha Abernathy's name was there in its absence.

Jerking the green plastic steering wheel to the right, the FISTv roughly took a dirt path to the right off of 470. Trees lined the well-worn path as 1Lt Barr looked to bury his driver. After twenty minutes, he found a place that he thought was to her liking.

The work wasn't easy. The metal frame that held the shovel, pick, and axe in place at the vehicle's rear chronically filled with mudd, and just getting at his tools took ten minutes. The mass-produced shovel was barely adequate, and the rocks found in the soil sparked loudly every time the FSO struck them.

The roar in the distance of the Soviet and Polish assault was constant, and from Barr's travels he well knew that all his effort didn't do one damn bit of good. Someone handed him a crap sandwich, and he not only had to take a bite, he had to say how great it tasted.

That was par for the course in the Army, but knowing that his life could end at any second like Abernathy's and his entire existence would've amounted to 'a fart in the wind' as his grandfather often said, weighed heavily on the man from North Cacalac.

Goddamn Poland

His eyes burned as dirt started to cover the PFC's body. It made him think of the movie where Jed told his younger brother to hide his emotions over his father's death.

'Let it turn, Mattie, let it turn'

Twenty minutes later, Barr was back inside the FISTv. The engine was running, and he could feel the steering wheel flex in his hands as he thought of what to do next. Where to go? Where was safe? Did he even care anymore?

Shoving the e-brake forward, Barr's foot pressed the rectangular brake pedal down. The black plastic button pushed in, he shifted to 'D' and left that chapter in his life behind him.

Another woman that left him. Another in a long line of disappointments.

Back at 470, he turned right, heading southwest. The thought was that either he was going to punch that greaser General in the mouth, or the Commies could use him as target practice. Either way, Barr was looking for satisfaction.

He had heard the enemy helicopter or helicopters that were working over the NATO positions both south and north of the river all morning. He didn't know if the sounds he now heard were rotorblades AND tank fire or enemy art'y, or just tank fire and enemy art'y.

The wooded area quickly gave way, and he was in the open as the road neared a grouping of houses. His speed he realized was faster than he thought, and with his distractions he couldn't tell if the battle he heard raging was in fact ahead of him or behind him.

He knew that speed meant life. As he bumped past the small pseudo-village, the two lane country highway became wooded once more. After a few seconds, it once again opened up to farmland on either side of the road.

From this vantage point, Barr could see that the battle was in fact in front of him. Some enemy tanks with mech support and a couple cargo trucks were on his right, heading southwest in open terrain pursuing an FAV and a few NATO cargo trucks on his left. The FAV was doing its best to protect the trucks, weaving in and out as the Americans scurried across open ground.

To make matters worse, Gavin Barr was unfortunately all too familiar with the black dot in the sky as it neared the scene of the engagement. At that moment he would have given his left one to be an ADA officer and not an FA observer.

If frogs had wings...

The Mil Mi-24 Hind that neared them all might have been mass produced and poorly made, but the man from North Click new that even the Russian vision equipment during the daytime could make him out clearly as his line of travel was perpendicular to and closing with the enemy tanks.

Fuckin' bring it

Booted leather toes spurred on the FISTv even faster. The steering wheel shook in his hands so much, he could barely keep in on what poorly passed for a road in this one horse craphole so many of his friends fought and died for.

The Hind's firing pass came in low and fast with a ferocity that surprised even Barr. Unguided rockets spit forth from both sides of the fat fuselage under stub wings; their flight motors trailing dark smoke as they stretched out like tendrils from an octopus.

Unbelievably, it was a T-72 and two BMPs that errupted in a fireball that continued to coast forward under its momentum. Gavin shouted out a country swear that suggested that Soviet pilots might not be the best shots in the world. Gavin couldn't believe his luck. Maybe this war could be won, maybe he was meant to live, maybe...

Maybe.

It was the last thought he had when the FISTv shook with such a violent force that the windshield cracked. The whole right side of the vehicle lifted up, and for a fraction of a second, Gavin thought he could get it back on the road. This, unfortunately, was the lag that his senses felt before he realized that the FISTv was rolling on its longitudinal axis.

Oddly, an enemy scout car was also losing control. Why it was only a couple meters away Gavin didn't know, but its death spiral seemed to mirror his own. He thought briefly of then men inside not as enemies, but people; trapped souls who were harried by circumstances just like he was.

Sky, ground, sky, ground. It happened so fast, and yet his perception was very slow. He knew he was in a roll, probably struck by that crazy BRDM driver as he attempted to avoid the errant Hind gunner's fire. He knew the vehicle was destroyed, and he was pretty sure this was how his life would end. Maybe his distraction would allow the other soldiers, good soldiers, to escape. Maybe he should have been more like the crew of the FAV; willing to fight to the end to protect brother soldiers. Maybe this right would fix the past.

Maybe.

Barr felt incredible heat as the FISTv came to a stop on its roof. Bright light peered through the cracked windshield. Light. Heat. Was this heaven or hell? Was he dreaming? Had his whole life been a dream? Also he...heard. What was that? Like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time who works as a stable hand where your daughter rides horses, something didn't seem to fit.

When the heat went from soothing to painful, Barr realized that the FISTv was not much longer for this world. It registered that there was blood on his left hand when he tried to open the door, but it wasn't pain that stopped him but the realization that what was a whole door a few seconds ago had become damaged and inoperable.

There were no thoughts as the FISTer kicked the door open, no thoughts of the future or the past. Gavin Barr wanted to be out of that burning vehicle, and that was that. Once clear he jogged twenty meters, not really getting the speed he wanted. Realizing that this was still an active battlefield, he went prone.

What greeted him did not convince him that he survived the accident.

In the time it took Barr to extricate himself from the stricken vehicle, the Hind continued to attack not the NATO forces but the Soviet ones. What was more, the Hind itself was an oddity: the normal 'double bubble' canopy was replaced by what looked to the FSO to be a 'fat greenhouse' for lack of a better term. Someone as a joke had painted a bullseye in place of the normal red star with white outline.

What was more, the music Barr heard came from the aircraft itself. As the 57mm rockets trickled down sparringly here, in war-torn Poland, Andrew Gavin Barr clearly heard Johnny Cash profess that he got it 'One Piece At A Time'.

The FAV had returned, although the cargo trucks could not be seen, and what vehicles were not destroyed had stopped and concentrated their fire on it as the M2 gunner on the back banged away at enemy troops, armored cars, and anything that didn't burn. Barr could see that it's left front tire was damaged, and the driver was stationary.

By the time Cash got to the end of the song, it repeated, and once again he began to tell the story of how he planned to steal a car piece by piece as the Hind came in for a fast, rough landing in between Barr and the immobilized FAV. The Soviets were still in view, as men had bailed out of stricken vehicles and made a run for the perceived safety of the direction that had come.

A woman in her twenties with blonde hair and civilian clothes opened the pilot's door and went back to the cabin. She opened the bottom access door half and climbed in the cabin. Both the FAV gunner and the FSO had the same idea as they converged on the Soviet-made, highly modified helicopter.

With his accident Barr made it there more slowly even though he was closer. What he saw was an American soldier standing there with his weapon at the ready watching as the female pilot was shouting, first in Polish, then in English at a man laying on his stomach, bound with a combination of zip ties and electrical tape. This was war, and strange things happened, but the fact that the man was wearing black banana hammocks, shooting glasses, a gawdy gold necklace and smeared with tanning oil stood out even in July, 2000.