Robert Williams - Ice Fortress

“Alright, enough of the sales pitch, let’s go help those unarmed navy boys up there.” Sam blustered his way past Jack toward the ladder, slapping a full magazine home with his huge palm as he did. He’d emptied one mag trying to save Jacks ass up on the ice. “Come on army boy, you look like you don’t know whether to shit or go blind! It’s time to saddle up, lock and load.”

Jack would have preferred to talk tactics before they stuck their heads out of the hatch and into the line of fire, but Sam clearly had other ideas.

Sam had already begun climbing the ladder when a metallic, almost bell like sound dinged its way rhythmically down the companionway.

“Oh, shit,” Jack yelled and not for the first time this mission.

“What, now?” Sam misunderstood Jack’s reaction and assumed he was sand bagging to avoid the firefight.

Jack said one word, “Grenade.”

At that, Sam practically threw himself off the ladder, nearly concussing Jack in the process. As the two men regained their footing, a metal cylinder landed at their feet and rolled across the deck.

“Block your ears and close your eyes,” Jack shouted as he picked up the grenade and hurled it like a baseball along the length of the narrow corridor. As soon as he’d released the grenade he turned his back and covered his ears.

A blinding flash blazed through their closed eyelids and the concussive blast of the ‘flashbang’ grenade had the desired effect — it disoriented and dazed both men.

At least they still want to take us alive thought Jack. They didn’t have to use non-lethal stun grenades. Strange. Even with the effects of a flashbang in a cramped space, Jack still had enough capacity to realize that this mission was raising more questions than answers.

Through the thick haze of smoke, Jack closed in on Sam. He’d started up the ladder again. The man didn’t know how, or when, to quit.

He grabbed Sam’s belt and pulled with enough force to get his attention.

“Stay down,” he mouthed as he pointed to the deck at the base of the ladder. He knew Sam wouldn’t be able to hear him after the blast.

Sam shook his head.

If he couldn’t work alone as usual, why couldn’t they at least pair him up with a real professional?

Jack yanked on Sam’s belt more forcefully and reluctantly Sam dropped down. Using a combination of hand signals and mouthing like a mime artist, Jack managed to convey his plan to Sam who quickly got on board with it and took his place as instructed.

To climb up the ladder now would have been suicide. The enemy would have shot them like fish in a barrel and they’d have no cover in the narrow tunnel.

It didn’t take long before two of the combatants from the outside dared to descend through the companionway. As Jack suspected, they were waiting for them to climb up and when they didn’t, they must have assumed the men below were unconscious. Mistake.

As the men swept their weapons from side to side, Jack and Sam lay on the deck face down toward the ladder. Both men had their weapons inches from their fingertips but because they weren’t holding them, the two soldiers dismissed them as a threat. Another mistake.

At the same time, both Sam and Jack reached out, slid their fingers through the trigger guard of their PDW carbine’s and fired a couple of short busts. The two snow suited soldiers had their guns up, ready to engage a standing enemy. Before they could lower their sights to the prone figures on the deck, they both toppled like puppets with their strings cut, legs turned to bloody stumps as the vicious armor penetrating rounds tore them apart.

Jack sprang to his feet and in one smooth motion, drew a bead on each man in turn and put one round in each of their heads.

Sam lumbered to his feet and looked at the dead men. As a navy man, he wasn’t accustomed to seeing death up close and personal.

“Now can we go topside?” he asked, deferring to Jack’s authority now that he’d seen the man in action.

“No. We’re going to the weps locker. We need handguns and radios. Ours were lost with the other equipment.”

“But the men…”

“Sam, they’re already dead. They were probably dead before we even got to the ladder. There was nothing we could have done. These guys got the jump on us, so let’s try to make sure that doesn’t happen again. We need to tool up.”

Sam nodded. He looked up through the hatch and knew he’d hear the shouts of the sailors if they were still alive.

“Come on Bluey, let’s get this done. As soon as the others have finished poking around the U-Boat, they’ll be coming over here to find out what happened to these two.” He waved the barrel of his carbine across the lifeless bodies of the dead men.

As he did so, he noticed that they were equipped with Heckler & Koch MP7 machine pistols. Something seemed odd about the choice of weapon given the environment, but he couldn’t piece it together. The concussion from the grenade was blurring his memory.

“We’ll take these,” he said pulling a pair of H&K USP handguns from the dead men’s tactical vests. “They won’t be needing them.” It looked like someone was getting a bulk discount from their friendly H&K supplier. Something told him, though, that brand allegiance could get someone killed in this case, but still the memory was fuzzy and tantalizingly out of reach. Jack hoped the recollection would come to him in time to do him some good. He needed all the help he could get.

He tucked one of the semi-automatics in his own vest and handed the other one to Sam. As an afterthought, he grabbed a few spare magazines for good measure.

Something else caught Coulson’s attention. Night Vision goggles. They both had them raised up on their helmets, giving the dead men an almost insect like appearance. They weren’t expecting the place to be lit up. That meant they hadn’t expected the Navy sub to be there. Interesting.

Jack grabbed a pair of night vision goggles from one of the dead men and slid them over his head. It never hurt to be prepared.

“Let’s go find the others.” With a slap on Sam’s back, Jack shouldered his pack and took off in the opposite direction to where he’d thrown the grenade, leading the way for Sam to follow.

Sam took another look up the companionway, and then looked at Jack’s back growing smaller as he sped down the length of the sub.

“Fuck it.”

Hand over hand, his huge feet clanging against the steel rungs, Sam climbed the ladder with amazing speed for someone his size. Then again, he’d been climbing ladders between decks his entire navy career.

Nearing the top he slowed, favoring stealth over speed. Very slowly and without a sound he reached up through the opening, expecting to have his hand shot off at any moment.

Muller sent two men to deal with the personnel in the American sub, thirty to search the cavernous base and with the remaining eight he proceeded to the wet dock alongside which the U-Boat had been so thoughtfully tied up by the American sailors, right before he emptied an entire clip of his machine pistol into them. To him, they weren’t sailors, unarmed or otherwise. They were simply witnesses and his orders had been very clear.

The sound of the exploding grenade and the ensuing bursts of automatic gunfire brought a smile to his thin lips as he climbed the conning tower of the U-Boat. He would be the first German aboard the boat in over 70 years. He could almost feel the spirit of the founder of The Brotherhood he served. He was climbing the very same ladder General Kammler would have climbed when he began his journey to the Antarctic.