Mercer got the hint and interjected firmly but respectfully, “We understand, sir. We’re mindful of that, and that is why we are looking to maintain a minimal footprint. No unnecessary presence in civilian areas. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Hmm, that’s good to hear. Public perception remains sensitive,” Eriksson pressed, looking directly at Mercer. “I appreciate the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ mentality, but perhaps some community engagement might reassure some skeptical locals? You know, show the human side of NATO operations if you will.”
Tanner coughed quietly, suppressing amusement at the thought of paratroopers conducting soft community outreach.
“Perhaps once the units and their equipment have fully arrived, we can consider how to do something like this,” Lindqvist replied, ending the discussion.
As the delegation departed, Bertil appeared silently beside Mercer, observing the civilian cars leave. “Politicians… they want safety without soldiers, security without weapons. An impossible balance.”
“Same everywhere, I guess,” Mercer laughed. “Don’t worry, Bertil. They’ll appreciate us quickly enough if things turn ugly.”
“If,” Bertil echoed solemnly. “A small word with large consequences.”
Mercer gathered his team later that evening inside Roma’s tactical operations center. Maps and laptops filled the tables, powered by strong Swedish coffee. First Sergeant Tanner briefed on the main body’s imminent arrival, detailing housing arrangements and logistics. Major Holt outlined Patriot battery positions near Gråtmon, with secondary sites identified to the north and east.
Before adjourning, Mercer revisited Eriksson’s point about community relations. Ideas circulated: language training cards, sports matches with locals, structured activity to minimize friction. Yet Mercer knew the best reassurance came from effective defense.
As his team dispersed for the night, Mercer paused, staring across Gotland’s landscape now fading into twilight. Stepping outside, he felt the Baltic breeze again, crisp and invigorating. Soon, NATO’s pledge to Gotland would be tangible, embodied by soldiers ready to hold the line. Only time would reveal if their preparations would be tested, but until then, readiness was their watchword.
The kettle clicked off just as the front door opened. Klara Hedevig didn’t move from the window. She watched the mist crawl across the rooftops of southern Visby, soft tendrils of dampness rolling inland from the sea.
“You left the lock undone again,” came her boyfriend’s voice, boots thudding as he entered. “One of these days, I’ll walk in and scare you half to death.”
Klara turned just enough to offer a faint smile. “Maybe that’s what I was hoping for.”
Lars snorted. “Well, if you want a scare, I’ve got news for you.” He shrugged off his field jacket, tossed it over the back of the chair, and ran a hand through damp, wind-mussed hair. “You remember how we were told it would just be one company of American paratroopers?”
“Bravo Company, right? The ones at the Grönt Centrum in Roma?”
He dropped into the kitchen chair, rubbing his face. “Yeah. That’s changed. Everything’s changed. The Chinese Foreign Minister opened his mouth yesterday — made it official that the PLA and Russian Navy have their little love nest up in Kaliningrad. And guess what? The PLA restored that old Soviet air base outside Gvardeysk.”
Klara stiffened slightly. She kept her back to him, pouring two mugs of tea with practiced calm. “I thought that base was derelict.”
“So did Stockholm. So did NATO. But turns out the Chinese have been quietly rebuilding it for years. And now, we find out there’s a full PLA amphibious task force exercising with Russian Marines. So now, NATO wants to move all their American paratroopers, consolidated here on Gotland.”
He accepted the tea with a tired nod. “Whole regiment’s coming. Not just Bravo. Alpha Company is taking over Vidhave Eco Lodge and some surrounding property. Patriot missile crews and C2 elements are moving in with them.”
Klara sat slowly across from him. “That’s… a lot more people.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” he replied, clearly irritated. “Charlie and Delta Companies are going to be billeted near the P18 compound and the Tofta Range.” He shook his head. “That area’s going to look like Fort Bragg East by next week. We were never set up to house a full regiment. I’ve got HVAC techs flying in from Malmö and Stockholm, commercial tenting companies on twenty-four-hour call. We’re bringing in those massive, long tents with integrated flooring and climate control — you know, the ones they use for disaster relief? We’re converting half the logistics park in Slite to house gear and overflow billets.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” Klara said, voice low, distracted.
He laughed bitterly. “You have no idea. We’re about four trailers of portable toilets away from losing our minds.”
