Chapter 9

After The Party was over at Varna, could Love be in the Air.

Fate, remember Fate like love works in mysterious ways. Couple things.

Try as it may, even a black plane, no matter how much fuel it may carry have a bit of a problem trying to fly with bullet holes in it.

Odessa International airport just happened to be very close, was a Class I and had runways long enough for Tarinka’s ‘wounded bird’ to slow on a landing.

Remember the Ukraine and Russians did not dance together anymore, so when an Italian shot up plane from Milan asked for permission to land it was fine by them in Odessa. There had been some info about things happening in Varna so the landing made sense, cents too by looking at the holes in the plane. Those extra passports and papers came in handy so did the fact everyone was only speaking English and Italian now.

Meanwhile, during his ‘Long March’, Sam Smith (Not his real name) contemplated his life. ‘What to do?’ he thought.

With the most important element of the mission completed, ‘Why not wait and finish up some other time?’ Of course heading straight into combatant lines may not have been the smartest move one could make but back then, it seemed a smart choice. He figured food, water even some supplies would be there for the taking and one man’s worth of stuff would be attributed to a miscount or pilferage. Besides who in their right mind would head towards the enemy after a job.

Yep, it seemed the right thing to do.

The ‘book’ and those that wrote it would disagree of course. The trouble with them though was that the real world here was a might different than things were when they wrote it. What do I mean?

Well, back when they were young pups, I could imagine men fought standing up, formed lines or ran from trench to trench. Things might have changed a bit in the last hundred years though. Today the ‘enemy’ did not wear a different uniform or speak a foreign language, he or she might well be eating in the same place you were or having a drink at the same bar with you.

‘How things have changed!’ I thought.

Part of the work was ‘to infiltrate, win the hearts and minds of the indigenous peoples and exit’, stage left, before it was ‘Showtime’. Right, that same philosophy had worked so well before. (Not)

On this little sojourn, there was no such a consideration. No one cared what happened here except to ‘eliminate’ the targets. Looking back, I can only imagine that there were not many who even cared about that. That is probably another story though.

That endeavor brought about a few changes though. Changes in me at least, my way of thinking anyway.

First you need to understand where I was. The best way to describe it was being on terrain where a 10 meter rise might be mistaken for a mountain. It was flat land somewhere between ‘walk and don’t walk’. The nearest cities were Kiev or Odessa, several hundred ‘clicks’ (kilometers) to the North or South-East...

I think German, Russian and Polish were all considered ‘native’ speak languages. Today it was no longer part of the USSR but that could change tomorrow. (The Crimea just did) What was different between me and the rest of the folk was my clothes and weight. I was not from around here, it was quite obvious.

It was far enough away from where ‘Showtime’ was that I no longer travelled at night. That made things easier in many ways but more risky. Around here though there were not many ‘uniforms’ running around and no one seemed to care much about someone strolling through the fields.

Life was good. One could get used to the leisurely pace here and not having to hide in shadows at night. That ‘more perfect’ view was bruised a bit when I heard a scream. Hitting the deck, drawing weapons and just ‘playing’ dead was instinct I suppose.

The next sounds, someone whimpering, then crying a might did not sound very like much a threat, but you never know. It was Spring, most of the fields were not yet plowed and varying lengths of grasses covered them. Crawling up one of the ‘mountains’ was enough elevation to let me see where those cries were coming from.

It was a peasant, a farmer, no, a girl farmer who was on the ground. Yep it was a girl all right one could tell by her blouse tied around her waist. Blue skirt, pale coloured blouse around her waist and red legs and feet. Blood from where I lie.

Unless she normally crawled around and had a plow sticking to her feet it looked like she had fallen and cut herself, cut herself pretty badly. Like I said she did not appear to be much of a threat. She looked like she was in her teens. Hard to tell her height and weight but from her accessories on her chest I would say she looked healthy, very healthy.

I’m certain that her swaying breasts and golden tresses played no part in my desire to help her, no way. It was her face. You could see she was hurt and was crying. I never could ignore a crying female, especially a pretty young topless blonde. I stood up and started talking to her as I walked towards her.

“Don’t cry little girl’ I said in Polish, Russian and German to her. I repeated variations of that. I had seen what looked like a house up on another one of them ‘mountains’ not far from where she lay. I assumed it was her home.

As I got close I hurried my pace a bit, more blood was on her skirt. I noticed a look on her face that I did not like but also a twinkle of sort in her eyes. As I drew closer, I told her that I was not going to harm her.

I got to her, knelt down and told her I was going to lift up her skirt and see how badly she had been cut.

Her nod came about the same time she said, in Russian that, ‘I am not a little girl!”

I looked at her chest and nodded, then spoke. “Yes, you are not, I can see that!”

She stuck her chest out further but stated to turn a dozen shades of red. I estimated that she was a teen but not an old one. I raised her skirt and started to examine her left foot and leg. I felt for swelling, looked for bone but only saw open flesh and blood. When I reached over for her right foot and leg, the feel of sharp metal on my throat immediately brought an “Oh Shit!” response.

‘Getting old and careless’ I thought. The gentle kiss on my cheek followed by the “Thank you’ from my patient brought a smile to my face. She could not be that old but there was something about her that belied her apparent age. That knife might have done that too.

That metal edge left my throat. Upon examining that right foot and leg I saw it was a lot worse than the left had been, There was swelling and it was turning colours already.

“Will anyone at that house help?”

I nodded to the only house visible from where we were,

“Da!”

I told her I was going to pick her up and try to carry her there. I said I was not sure I could since she was so big and heavy.

Right, I think a sack of potatoes was heavier. That remark got a small laugh at least. I picked her up. She did not drop her knife but put both her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest.

She closed her eyes. Her foot and leg had to hurt. I bent my head down and gently kissed her forehead, telling her that she was a ‘brave little girl’. About the same time I looked lower, she once again said that she was not little. I nodded agreement. Her blouse was still around her waist and she was flopping those assets with every step we took towards the house. I was a professional, not a really nice guy and on a mission not holiday; but with this girl in my arms I just wanted to hold her and hoped she had not been badly hurt.

When we got to the house, I unlatched the door and backed in opening it. I glanced around, saw a table and sat her on it.

“Do me a favour sweetie; button up your blouse. I need to concentrate on your foot and legs and as you keep saying, you are not a little girl. Okay?”

A giggle as only a girl might; blended with her doing as I asked. I had her scoot back on the table and told her what I needed to do. I had some simple things in my pack, some basic meds too and saw a cloth, soap and water in a pitcher. The bowl nearby would work to rinse the cloth out in.

“I’m going to lift up your skirt only as high as I have to. I hope you’re not shy if I need to get personal; but from your work outfit I think it will not upset you. You are a very beautiful girl you know so this will be harder on me than you I think.” She laughed. I thought she was taking this entire episode rather well. She did not know me yet did not seem too frightened. ‘That was good’ I thought. Keep her mind off the pain. Now I just had to keep my mind off her.

I cleaned up the blood on her left foot and leg. There was not much bleeding there. Most appeared to be splatter from the right foot. That was a lot more difficult. One, trying stopping the bleeding was going to need a pressure bandage. It looked like dirt; grass even metal was embedded in there also. The bruising, swelling and small cuts were going to make this a challenge to keep her still if she hurt too badly. I let it bleed. The wound needed cleaning anyhow. I needed to find out if anything was broken or what before I gave her anything for the pain. I explained that to her as best I could.

She looked at me with those big blue eyes and nodded. For some strange reason I wondered how giving her a bath might be.

I gave her the news; both good and bad.

“Little one, I need you to trust me. (Hell, I wondered if I could even trust myself around her.) I need to work on your leg and foot before I can give you something for the pain. I need to stop the bleeding and make certain nothing is broken before we fix anything. The good news is we can fix everything up. The bad is it is going to hurt, hurt a lot and you will probably get sick, a fever and chill. I will not hurt you so scream, yell, hit me, whatever but unless we fix you up darling you will likely lose a foot or leg if we don’t.”

She looked again at me with those puppy dog eyes, now full of tears.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can but it will hurt like a bitch, you’ll be sweating one minute, shaking and freezing the next. I’m going to keep waking you up every hour or two, have you drink something, and when you are better have you try to eat food. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“If you wake up, feel wet or cold let me know, I will stay by you. If I take off your clothes or you feel me by you it is to get you warm. Where can I lay you down to sleep?”