“When he saw the dim lights of Stopen Michael stopped walking and crouched down. He slung his AK-74 down his chest and grabbed map and compass.
“Yeah that must be Stopen” he told himself checking that his navigation from Mariestad had been accurate.
Michael put map and compass back in his backpack and raised his binoculars to his eyes. He observed very carefully the access road. The last thing he wanted to happen was being shot by some trigger happy village kids. The Swedish civilians were not usually armed or particularly aggressive, unless they were gangs, but you never knew. He gave a long look at the surrounding area, past the city limit sign on the right side of the carriageway. At first he didn’t notice it, but looking better, Michael managed to spot a helmet behind a thick fence on the left side of the road next to a low building.
“Damn!” he though. “Military in town.” He brought the binos back up to his eyes to have a better look. He even removed his sky mask in order to see better. It looked like an American shaped helmet. That was plausible. The yanks had their divisional command in the area.
Americans in town meant that he still had to exert some degree of care, depending on how much the cowboys were nervous or gung ho that particular night; but at least it would be easy to communicate with them.
He decided for a direct approach to the guard post.. He took cover behind a tree and exploded a single tracer of his AK in the air, being careful to direct it high and left.
Corporal Bartoli jumped at the explosion of a single shot right in front of his position 50 meters ahead. Why in the hell someone would shot in the air like that to give out his position. Then he occurred to him that the someone in question wanted to give away his position. He yelled at Alpino Magli to come out of the car shop. He didn’t have to wait long. His man rushed out keeping low and carrying with him the radio man pack and the rifle.
“Somebody shot in the air from somewhere on the right of the road. He is probably hiding in the trees around there”. Bartoli tried to lean over he fence a little bit to see if he could see better. He looked for a short while
“There...right there! There is a man in the woods at the edge of the road!” announced Bartoli to his subordinate. “Do you see him?”
Magli carefully scanned the area indicated by his Corporal. “Yes...I see him...there he wears cam of some kind.” Both alpini pointed their rifles using the fence as a support point.
“Hey...tu...stop...esci da lì e vieni verso di noi...piano!” Bartoli yelled, as he did the day before with the Russians.
“What bloody language is that?” thought Michael. “Certainly is not yank...may be Spanish...yeah it sounded like Spanish.” Michael didn’t have any report ever about Spanish troops in Sweden, but he was better to get in the open before those soldiers started being less polite. He carefully left the cover of the trees and walked on the road, holding his rifle over his head with both hands so that they could be seen very well. The two soldiers didn’t move but continued to cover him with their rifles. Michael gathered all the Spanish he could muster.
“Amigos…Amigos...Soy Inglés...Inglés!”
One of the two Italian soldiers carefully left his position and moved tactically towards him, rifle still pointed at him. These were the moments one had to be very careful.
“Inglese?” asked Bartoli…“Good, put rifle down keep hands up” babbled Bartoli trying to look as calm as he could.
Michael promptly and slowly complied. The second soldier was now living the fence as well and creeping toward him, with his rifle pointed at him as well. When the first one came close to him, he noticed that his helmet had a small black feather sticking out on the left side, and he understood why the language sounded Spanish to him. He also remembered that a regiment of Italian mountain troops had been attached to 2nd US marine.
“Italiani?” asked the man who had started searching him under the cover of the other soldier’s rifle.
“Yes” answered Bartoli. “Who are you?”
“Mi name is Michael Quincy saar. I am an English security guard. I worked in Mariestad for a Swedish shipping company.”
Bartoli understood the name and security guard; the rest was Greek to him. So he answered based on the limited information he managed to grasp. “Mercenary?”
“If you want to put that way” smiled Michael.
Bartoli removed a combat knife from a holster on the chest of the English man, and when he was sure that he didn’t hide any other weapon, ordered to Magli to call the HQ.
“Come” he gestured to the stranger...”we go in warm” and lead the Englishman inside the car dealer building. Magli recovered the weapons and followed.
Not more than three minutes later, Major Sivglia appeared on the scene with the VM. He parked it outside and quickly entered in the shop house. The Englishman didn’t even stand up, he didn’t want to do any unauthorized move before the Italians were a bit more confident with him.
“Good morning Sir. My name is Alberto Siviglia, I command the garrison of this town. May I ask who you are?”
Michael was glad that that Major (he had glanced at the Italian officer rank) had a decent English.
“Saar. I am Michael Quincy, English national. I work for a London security firm. My detail worked for a Swedish shipping company which transferred values and money among locations on the lake
Vänern. The Russians occupied the town for a long time before they moved the majority of their troops East, at which point I and my colleagues tried to slip out of town to join the NATO lines. We were caught in ambush two days ago and my two friends were killed. I am the only survivor. It looks like I reached the NATO line saar.”
“Can you please wait here a minute Mr. Quincy?”
“Course”
Corporal Bartoli accompanied Major Siviglia in a separate room were he had put all the Englishman equipment.
“Sir, this guy is seriously over equipped sir... binoculars, compass, maps, individual portable radio, combat knife, AK-74 with grenade launcher, British Army issued flack jacket...the guy is better equipped than we are sir. A private guard Sir?” He look interrogatively at the boss of his boss.
Major Siviglia massaged his chin. He walked back and forth trough the room for several a minute or so. Then he glanced at Bartoli walked back to the other room.
“Mr. Quincy...I don’t have any way to check the veracity of what you have told me, therefore you are free to go. I will give back all your equipment and set you off for whatever place you were going. Since you are alone, we can probably even spare some extra food rations for you. How about that?”
“Frankly Major, now that I found a military unit, I would love to be able to join you.” answered Quincy quite excited.
“You mean fitting in my chain of command?”
“Yes Sir. Something like that. Be honest with you I don’t have a lot of places where to go right now. All mi mated got killed far as I know. What are your plans Sir?”
“We haven’t decided yet. For now we are here, using this village as defense and at the same time defending the village. Our chain of command is broken and we are without orders for the moment”
“I am ready to help; working or whatever you say Saar. Fore sure I can work. I served in the Graen Jaikates regm’nt saar, got military sperience.”
Siviglia gave one more inquisitive look at Quincy. He certainly didn’t want to turn away an alone man that sought protection, if he could earn his due.
“Look, for now you might be with me at my HQ. I have a recon unit out on an assignement. When it returns. I might assign you to that unit...if you want to be with us, you will have to follow orders, and you are free to live at any time you don’t like them.”
“at’s alrig with me saar me I’m used to follow ordaars.”
Michael Quincy