Once it had been determined that a smaller group might be better able to make contact with the native population, the rest of the troops piled back into the truck, going back uphill, back into the Forstlager Falkenhorst. Forstlager. It would need to be renamed Lesnoy bivak.
Sokolinoye Gnezdo.

Maybe Medvezhya Peshchera - bear cave - would be a better name for a Russian mountain camp. The capitalists weren't enough to claim a new name for the place anyway.

This were idle and useless thoughts, of course. Konnikov dwelt on them to push away the feeling of doom. HE had agreed to the troops being split in Berlin. And now, again, they split up.

His command got smaller and smaller.

They passed the spot where the Nazi's head had been stuck on a pike, the pike itself rammed so hard into the ground that it had been impossible to move. But now the wooden stake had sagged sideways and when they stopped to remove it, it gave way easily enough.

Konnikov could hear the men and women grumble, but nobody spoke a word.

Not much later, and he remembered the column of smoke he had seen earlier, when they had been down at the crossroads looking back up to the mountain.
Someone had burned down the camp!

His heart sank. But the damage was not as bad as expected. One of the barracks was half-gone. The larger buildings, most likely the ones housing the officers, was mostly burnt down. But whoever did this had not used gasoline or anything like it and the fire had burned out after eating through the dry wood, the heavy rains of previous days having soaked the rest of the logs good enough to save them from the fire.
Still, damage needed to be assessed and repaired.

[Language unknown: "Oerterstande Forthukorwitiou, istic io earconthe ch ta res but, eisom ain werticeen e ho unalie, ta k fila t tiwhac eele chnce t ho, i any teanek pa ulmial ain wewh-eist ul erding standesta ndeec stierawhe wer.  Nedindio Ntiithanyintnde, cononsera noie oneibe, trshe e icahersom tekor ncesomameome ure mo eremenith, no eve t noatpe leplecheha fint poniilse li ac be ughkorvenwas a haati.  T liun haswernde romstater'eramanshe utee Loasti'wach nechpr sheivefor."]

Konnikov cast eyes over the damage, Renaming can wait, but Medvezhiy lager' (Bear Camp) might work... if not Sgorevshiy lager' (Burned Camp).

He turns to Major Lewis,


(( [EDITED]
Just noticed that Captain Jackson is with the diplomatic mission.
[/EDITED]  ))
This message was last edited by the player at 01:16, Thu 01 Sept 2022.

It takes a few hours, but by the time the sun goes down, the other truck has been moved half the way down towards the fort before breaking down completely. Still, the Russians managed to strip it bare for some parts already and with the proper tools more should be salvageable.

Inside the fort, the buildings that are no longer suitable to be occupied are torn down, others are re-inforced and fixed up. There will be plenty of space to sleep and rest up, better than your men and women had in quite a while, actually.


The scouting party returned with one man wounded - a primitive trap of a branch with spikes driven through it, impaling the man's leg. But it was impossible to tell how old that trap had been and there had been no sign of an imminent attack or ambush.

There isn't much to do but set watches (split with the OSI) and get some rest.  Tomorrow will be another day.

Max nodded at Semyon's suggestion that the OSI do similar work to where Semyon had deployed his own forces. [Language unknown: "Omrepr one e il."]

The major issued orders to his men, then supervised and helped where needed.

When the scouts came back, he nodded approvingly. [Language unknown: "Se ameek iv ei u asfibe, M tersomstr." ]

The night settled over the camp, the Russians, Americans and Britains enjoying a warm meal together after what felt like years. Just a few days ago they had been in friendly territory, in a warm bed, all the supplies one could ask for. Now they were deep behind enemy lines, no, just enemy territory. Strangers in a strange land. No supplies and no way home.

It should have been a somber evening. But the Russians, seemingly refused to despair. Vodka was shared with the Brits and the Americans and at least a few sips of bourbon and whiskey had been offered, too.

Kondrati Boldyrev and Manka Komzina started singing in his fine baritone - Suliko, Echelon and a few others, with the rest of the troops joining in at the chorus.

Gunnery Sergeant Matthews finally picked it up in an effort to save the honor of the Western Allies and offered a rendition of Sentimental Journey. But then something extraordinary happened - Matthews started singing Lili Marleen, but the Russians took over the second verse, before handing it back to the Brits and Americans.

Lieutenant Shagidzyanov offered Konnikov another shot of vodka. "Isn't it ironic, Comrade Kapitan, that the only song that everybody knows happens to be a German song?"

"The songs of my enemy are... ah, hah."  Konnikov takes the shot.  "This place will make a fine temporary camp I think.  But we need to finish this and get home.  The war is being won without us."

Shagidzyanov scratched the stubble on his chin and looked around, making sure that no-one was close enough to hear them.

"Comrade Kapitan. Do you think really there is a way home?"

Semyon smiles and jokingly says, "As long as we draw breath, there is a way."  Then he draws him in, hand on Timofey's shoulder, and speaks a little more solemnly, "The Nazis figured out how to get here, we will figure out a way back."

A wave of relief washed over Timofey Yurievich's face.
"Yes, Comrade Kapitan. We will find a way."
Shagidzyanov was well-liked by the soldiers in the company. Always optimistic, always looking out for everyone. He was a good leader.
But if even he was getting worried, things could be dire for some of the others.

The next morning, Shagidzyanov brought the second squad's platoon serzhant to disturb Konnikov's breakfast.
"Good morning, Comrade Kapitan. It seems we have a problem." He nodded at his serzhant, who saluted and said:

"Comrade Kapitan, permission to report a man missing." He waited for the confirmation before continuing. Less formally now.
"Comrade Kapitan, Ryadovoy Mikhail Yemelyanovich Moiseyev took over the watch at the Upper Gate after midnight." With no certainty about North and South, the troops had come to refer to the gates as Up the mountain and down the mountan. So the Upper Gate was the one leading higher into the mountain, where they had first came into this world.

"Fucking Misha has always been a bloody baby and I believe he's run off like a little girl and gone crying under a tree for his whore of a mother. Sir. Permission to hunt this human shitstain and punish him accordingly."

Konnikov slides the meager portion of his breakfast aside, thinks for a moment, then straightens adopting a distinctly more military bearing.  "Comrade Leytenant, have our best tracker get a read of the ground.  If it appears to them that Ryadovoy Moiseyev has left of his own accord, rather than being abducted by locals, then Serzhant Zolotov you have permission to hunt him down and drag him back to face disciplinary action."

Konnikov pauses, glances at his breakfast, then continues, "Leytenant Shagidzyanov, report back before the hunting squad leaves to retrieve our absent private.  Serzhant, I expect Moiseyev to be capable of answering to me when he comes back, so try to keep him from falling down too much.  Comrades, you have your duties."

Not half an hour later, the leytenant returned.
"Comrade Kapitan, the search party is ready to leave."

Having finished breakfast, Semyon looks up from his list where he was detailing rotating guard and repair shifts.

"What did the tracker report?  Did Moiseyev run off alone"

The leytenant sighed.
"I do not know for sure, Comrade Kapitan. Stepashina reported that she saw Moiseyev walk the perimeter, but kept kept walking back and forth. As if to keep warm or to alternate his route. The tracks confirm this. Then we found tracks that seem to have him walking backwards, his eyes to the palisades, before turning around and running.
Could mean he wanted to make sure no-body saw him before dashing off."

Konnikov nods, "Send out the search party, no more than half a day, then they must return, even if empty handed.  It is too dangerous to stray too far afield.  Also, should the search party encounter natives they are to withdraw and return.  Do not engage, do not attempt to communicate.  If attacked they may defend themselves on a retreat.  Is there anything else comrade?"

Shagidzyanov saluted. "Nothing further, Comrade Kapitan!"

---

Konnikov was just having lunch when the leytenant returned, this time with Stephashina in tow. The young woman looked pale and nervous, keeping her head down.
The captain tried to remember when she joined his company. Late Spring '44 he thought, during the Liberation of Crimea during one of Stalin's ten blows.

Shagidzyanov looked grim. "The search party found Moiseyev, Comrade Kapitan. He's dead. Zolotov and the men are still out there, guarding the remains. Stepashina was sent to make a report. I assumed you'd want to hear it from her directly."

Stepashina looked up, her eyes wide.
"Com... comrade Kapitan..." she started, then fell silent, saluted awkwardly and fell silent again.

Semyon deliberately softens his usually stern gaze, "It's okay Comrade Ryadovoy.  Take a moment, take a deep breath, find your calm, and then just tell me what you found."

Stepashina nods, closes her eyes, lowers her head and takes some deep breath. Some color returned to her cheek. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger again.

"Comrade Kapitan, we found Comrade Moiseyev."
Comrade. So maybe not a deserter after all? But it could be just be a habit.
Another deep breath.

"He is strung up on a tree by his feet. Naked. He... he was gutted, Comrade Kapitan. His organs were arranged around him. No sign of his weapons or uniforms."

The lieutenant nodded.
"He didn't have a lot of ammo with him", he said. That one was obvious - the whole company was running dangerously low on ammo.
"But he had two grenades, his rifle and a bayonet. Plus whatever else he might have collected from the fascists."