John Schettler - Devil's Garden

“What do you make of that?” Sutherland had crept to the far side of the warehouse and was peering out a dislodged board in the outer wall. Haselden crept to his side and the two men looked out to see the strangest craft they had ever laid eyes on. It roared in from the sea with two massive engines aft and looking like an enormous inflatable raft with a steel superstructure. To their amazement, they saw the front of the craft open like a landing craft and disgorge armored vehicles that began amphibiously swimming to the shore. There were three landing craft in all, and each carried vehicles, and swarms of black booted soldiers who stormed ashore to the whistle of NCOs as the little invasion proceeded.

Haselden had seen amphibious tanks like the old Tetrarch, the Valentine DDs and the newer plans for a Sherman Duplex Drive that the British would call “Donald Duck.” These tanks were altogether different, with a low profile and a sharp forward edge for scudding through the surf.

“Have a good look at that, Sutherland. Now there’s a floating tank worth the bloody name. Look at them move!”

“Looks like the Germans are attacking and this lot is here to try and stop them. Now what, Jock? Is this a private fight or can anybody get in on it?”

Haselden squinted as he watched. “We lay low and see what develops. No sense sticking our three pistols and a couple Stens in the mix. If Jerry is coming in force, they’ll take this place. That looks to be a good sized company landing out there, but the Germans will be coming with much more. If so, then the Russians may soon have to abandon that detention center. Let’s get back and keep our eyes on that gate. We won’t want our man slipping away in this mess, but all this gunfire plays to our advantage.”

So they waited, listening to the battle surround them, and catching a glimpse of yet another odd looking Russian AFV that appeared to be a quad Ack Ack gun. It lingered near the prison for a time, then moved off to the north.

“Looks like they sent a couple squads inside that fortress,” said Sutherland. “They may not give the place up easily, and suppose our man gets it in the middle of all this shooting?”

“Then he gets it,” said Haselden. “Nothing we can do about that.”

“Well how will we know?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. One side or another is going to win this fight. Hold on Davey boy, you’ll see.”

Haselden was correct.

After a sharp battle for all of thirty minutes, they looked to see a group of men emerging from the prison entrance, and among them was the tall stocky man they had identified as Orlov.

“That’s our man!” Haselden was jubilant. “They saw a group of soldiers peel off, and two men herding Orlov in their direction. Then a series of three incoming mortar rounds began to thump into the road and nearby rail line and the three men crouched and sprinted for the warehouse where the British commandos were lying in wait.

“Now Maitland! Now’s your time!” Haselden hissed, repeating Wellington’s order to the 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the 1st Foot Guards at Waterloo as they were sent to oppose the French Old Guard.

Sutherland knew the reference at once and gave the Captain a wink. “Up Guards, ready!” he echoed, and the three British commandos tensed up for quick action.

The Russians staggered into the building and, allies or not, the moment required the hardest possible line. Haselden leapt up, pistol aiming and firing at the two armed soldiers, who were caught completely off guard and killed with a snap of four clean shots. The three commandos were up with weapons drawn on Orlov, who gave them an astonished look.

Haselden tipped his beret to the man. He had fulfilled the first important part of his charge in finding this man, living up to the unit’s motto: ‘Attain by Surprise!’ “Sir,” he said with a well earned smile, though he knew the man would probably not understand a word he was saying. “You are now in the custody of Number 3 °Commando, Royal Marines.” He gestured with his pistol to move the man on. “Take the point, Davey. Sergeant Terry and I will keep a close watch on this one. Let’s get to the harbor and find us a boat!”

Orlov had no idea who these men were, or what they were saying to him, but pistols were pistols, and the two dead Marines they had gunned down in their sudden ambush were enough to convince him that this was just another occasion to go with the flow.

They moved quickly to the back of the building, until Sutherland saw a way for them to get cross a series of converging rail lines and out onto the main harbor quay. As they moved they could see that the soldiers and vehicles they had seen were also slowly retiring toward the coastline. Thankfully, there were a good number of old fishing boats and a trawler tied off on the weathered wooden pier. Sutherland made for the craft that seemed most seaworthy. He could not believe their good luck! They had come all this way, into what looked to be a truly hopeless situation, and this Orlov all but walked up and shook hands with them!

The four men scrambled down into the boat, Sergeant Terry herding Orlov into the cabin as Sutherland and Haselden quickly threw off the ropes and pushed away. North, along the rail line approaching the harbor, they still heard the sound of active battle, but it was clear that the Russians who had come ashore in these strange craft were now withdrawing.

“Take note of everything you see here, Davey,” said Haselden. “The Russians have some very interesting equipment here. I’ll bet Seventeen would love to have a good look at those big mothers there. He thumbed at the shadowy forms of the hovercraft, which waited on the shore. Sutherland got the engine fired up and the boat began to glide slowly down the long quay to the harbor mouth formed by a converging jetty. All they had to do was clear that and they could head out to sea.

Whether it was fate, chance, happenstance, or just damn good luck, they made it out of the harbor and Sutherland beamed as he spun the wheel to point the boat due east. Like a mouse fleeing a burning building, they got clean away. The cats were too busy clawing at each other to notice them or bother them in any way. At one point, a turret gunner in one of the hovercraft spotted their trawler and rotated his twin 30mm gun about for a look at them through his cross hairs. Seeing no threat, he let them go.

* * *

Fedorovwas back in the ZSU-23, elated. They had found their man, or so he still believed, and now all they had to do was get everyone else safely back to the waiting hovercraft and out to sea. Troyak was conducting a skillful fighting withdrawal and displacing back toward the shoreline. The last PT-76 tank was back and already loading on a hovercraft. Now Fedorov had to get his vehicle to the big Aist class hovercraft by the main harbor. The engine gunned and they trundled south along the rail lines, soon seeing the stark silhouette of the craft ahead, its forward ramp still yawning open and resting on a narrow beach.

The ZSU quickly made its way towards the maw of the beast. Groups of Marines were filing in under the watchful eyes of their Sergeants, who were counting their eggs as the squads reported in. Then Zykov’s voice was in his earbud.

“I’ve got Orlov’s jacket, but we lost a man in the prison, and two more at the warehouse just outside the main entrance. I’ve recovered the bodies. Hope it wasn’t too bad for Troyak.”

“Where is Orlov?” Fedorov wanted to know where his prize was.

“I ordered the men to get him into the PT-76 for safekeeping. It’s loading now to the north on the light hovercraft.”

“Well check in on them,” said Fedorov, “and tell everyone to head for the Anatoly Alexandrov . Good job, Corporal.”