Alekseyev strode to Beregovoy's side and surveyed the available units. NATO still was not cooperating. The attack had come at the junction of two divisions, one worn out, the other fresh but unblooded. A lieutenant moved some counters. The Soviet regiments were pulling back.
"Keep the reserve regiment in place," Alekseyev ordered. "Have this one move northwest. We'll try to catch the Belgians' flank as they approach this road junction." Professionalism dies hard in the soldier.
"Well, there it is." Edwards handed his binoculars to Sergeant Smith. Hvammsfjordur was still miles away. Their first sight of it came from the top of a two-thousand-foot hill. A sparkling river below them fed into the fjord, more than ten miles away. Everyone kept low, afraid to be skylined with the low sun behind them. Edwards broke out his radio.
"Doghouse, this is Beagle. The objective is in sight." This was a particularly dumb thing to say, Edwards knew. Hvammsfjordur was almost thirty miles long, about ten miles across at its widest point.
The man in Scotland was impressed. Edwards's party had covered fifteen kilometers in the past ten hours.
"What kind of shape are you in?"
"If you want us to go any farther, fella, this radio might malfunction."
"Roger, copy that." The major tried not to laugh. "Where exactly are you?"
"About five miles east of Hill 578. Now that we're here, maybe you might tell us why," Edwards suggested.
"If you see any, repeat any Russian activity, we want to know about it immediately. One guy taking a leak against a rock, we want to know about it. Do you copy that?"
"Roger. You want the size in inches. No Russkies in view yet. Some ruins to our left, and a farm a ways downriver from us. Nothing moving at either place. Any particular location you want us?"
"We're working on that. Sit tight for the moment. Find a nice place to hide and stay put. What's your food situation?"
"We have enough fish to last out the day, and I can see a lake where we might get some more. Remember when you said you'd have some pizzas sent out, Doghouse? Right now I'd kill for one. Pepperoni and onions."
"Fish is good for you. Beagle, your signal strength is down. You want to start thinking about conserving your batteries. Anything else to report?"
"Negative. We'll be back if we see anything. Out." Edwards slapped his hand down on the power switch. "People, we are home!"
"That's nice, skipper." Smith laughed. "Where's home?"
"Budhardalur is other side that mountain," Vigdis offered. "My Uncle Helgi live there."
We could probably get a decent meal there, Edwards told himself. Maybe some lamb, a few beers or something stronger, and a bed... a real, soft bed with sheets and the down quilts they use here. A bath, hot water to shave. Toothpaste. Edwards could smell every part of himself They tried to wash in the streams when they could, but mostly they couldn't. I smell like a goat, Edwards thought. Whatever a goat smells like. But we didn't walk this far to do something as stupid as that.
"Sarge, let's secure this place."
"You got it, skipper. Rodgers, sack out. Garcia, you and me have the first watch. Four hours. You take that little knoll over there. I'll head over to the right." Smith stood and looked down at Edwards. "Good idea that we all get some rest while we can, skipper."
"Sounds great to me. You see anything important, give me a kick." Smith nodded and moved about a hundred yards.
Rodgers was already half asleep, his head resting on his folded jacket. The private's rifle was cradled on his chest.
"We stay here?" Vigdis asked.
"I'd sure like to go see your uncle, but there might be Russians in that town. How do you feel?"
"Tired."
"Tired as us?" he asked with a grin.
"Yes, tired as you," she admitted. Vigdis lay back next to Edwards. She was filthy. Her woolen sweater was torn in several places, and her boots scuffed beyond repair. "What will happen to us now?"
"I don't know. They wanted us here for a reason, though."
"But they don't tell you reason!" she objected.
Now there's an intelligent observation, Edwards thought.
"They tell you and you not tell us?" Vigdis asked.
"No, you know as much as I do."
"Michael, why all this happen? Why do the Russians come here?"
"I don't know."
