Read Online Rally Cry by William R. Forstchen - Free Book Online
Authors: William R. Forstchen
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coward."
There was a loud snap and a grunt of pain, and Andrew winced. He hoped his officers all had the good sense not to be looking; otherwise there'd be hell to pay for Schuder.
"All right then, you bastards, we understand each other. Now back to your posts."
Seconds later the tent flap opened and Schuder strode in and saluted.
"The camp is back in order, sir."
"I could hear that, Hans," Andrew said, suddenly realizing that Hans's little display had braced him back up as well.
"All right, then." Andrew turned his attention back to the man who called himself Kalencka.
"Kalencka is your name?"
The man nodded and tapped himself on the chest. Smiling, he stepped forward and touched Andrew, his eyebrows raised in an exaggerated quizzical manner.
"Keane."
Kalencka looked at him and smiled.
"Cane."
"Close enough," Andrew laughed.
"Doctor, what do you think?"
"It's too uncanny, son," Weiss replied. "Some years ago I went to Lodz to visit my uncle and his family."
"In Russia, isn't it?" Hans asked.
Kalencka turned to face Hans.
"Rus!"
Emil looked at Kalencka and nodded eagerly.
"Da, Rus!"
Kal grinned at him.
"Da, Rus," and with a broad sweep of his arms he turned around.
"Suzdal, Rus," Kalencka said.
"Da, da." Standing up, Emil reached into his haversack and pulled out a bottle, uncorked it, and held it out.
"Vodka," Emil said.
Kalencka grinned broadly, even as he gingerly took the bottle and peered at it cautiously. Understanding, Emil took it back, put the bottle to his lips, and took a healthy slug. Smiling, he offered it back, and the peasant followed suit, took a couple of gulps, and a quizzical expression formed on his face as Emil took the bottle back.
"Gin," Emil said, pointing to the bottle, "and not your rotgut variety either."
"Major darling, I've been feeling a bit of a chill meself," O'Donald said hopefully.
"We all need a shot or two," Andrew said, and with a look of remorse, Emil gazed fondly at the bottle and handed it over to the artilleryman.
"Gin," Kalencka said with a broad grin.
Grabbing the bottle back from O'Donald, while it was still at the major's lips, Emil passed it back to Kalencka.
"Don't ask me to explain how," Emil said softly. "As I was saying, when I went to Lodz some years back I saw thousands of peasants dressed almost like this one. And damn my eyes, Andrew, this man's speaking Russian or something awful close to it."
"And you can speak it too?" Andrew asked hopefully.
"A couple of words, that's all. Enough to talk my way past the goyim."
"The what?"
Emil shook his head and grinned. "Ah, you Americans. Never mind."
Emil looked up at Kalencka, who was starting to get a little bleary-eyed.
"Kal, gin."
"Da, da. Gin."
"Well, colonel, I guess we'd better start the language lessons."
Kal looked about at the men and smiled. These were the best damned spirits he'd ever had, and for the first time in his life he thanked Ivor Weak Eyes. Perhaps these foxes weren't so bad after all.
Chapter 3
"Beautiful morning, isn't it, son?"
Andrew turned to see Emil emerging from the shadows.
"Quiet. It's just so peaceful and quiet," Andrew replied. He looked about and smiled softly. In the trenches this was always his favorite time. It'd still be dark enough so you could climb out, stretch your legs, and just listen to the gentle quiet before dawn. At those moments it'd seemed as if the war were a million miles away.
"Maybe it's the same right now on another world," Emil replied evenly.
"Just where in heaven are we?" Andrew asked.
The doctor smiled sadly and shook his head, while looking up to the sky.
"I don't know how or why," he replied, his voice carrying a slight sense of awe. "But I think wherever our war is, it's somewhere out there. We're not on earth, that's for certain. The sky alone proves that."
"But those people," Andrew started, pointing to the camp-fires that shimmered in a glowing arc around them.
"God alone knows the answer, colonel. But we've had that
There was a loud snap and a grunt of pain, and Andrew winced. He hoped his officers all had the good sense not to be looking; otherwise there'd be hell to pay for Schuder.
"All right then, you bastards, we understand each other. Now back to your posts."
Seconds later the tent flap opened and Schuder strode in and saluted.
"The camp is back in order, sir."
"I could hear that, Hans," Andrew said, suddenly realizing that Hans's little display had braced him back up as well.
"All right, then." Andrew turned his attention back to the man who called himself Kalencka.
"Kalencka is your name?"
The man nodded and tapped himself on the chest. Smiling, he stepped forward and touched Andrew, his eyebrows raised in an exaggerated quizzical manner.
"Keane."
Kalencka looked at him and smiled.
"Cane."
"Close enough," Andrew laughed.
"Doctor, what do you think?"
"It's too uncanny, son," Weiss replied. "Some years ago I went to Lodz to visit my uncle and his family."
"In Russia, isn't it?" Hans asked.
Kalencka turned to face Hans.
"Rus!"
Emil looked at Kalencka and nodded eagerly.
"Da, Rus!"
Kal grinned at him.
"Da, Rus," and with a broad sweep of his arms he turned around.
"Suzdal, Rus," Kalencka said.
"Da, da." Standing up, Emil reached into his haversack and pulled out a bottle, uncorked it, and held it out.
"Vodka," Emil said.
Kalencka grinned broadly, even as he gingerly took the bottle and peered at it cautiously. Understanding, Emil took it back, put the bottle to his lips, and took a healthy slug. Smiling, he offered it back, and the peasant followed suit, took a couple of gulps, and a quizzical expression formed on his face as Emil took the bottle back.
"Gin," Emil said, pointing to the bottle, "and not your rotgut variety either."
"Major darling, I've been feeling a bit of a chill meself," O'Donald said hopefully.
"We all need a shot or two," Andrew said, and with a look of remorse, Emil gazed fondly at the bottle and handed it over to the artilleryman.
"Gin," Kalencka said with a broad grin.
Grabbing the bottle back from O'Donald, while it was still at the major's lips, Emil passed it back to Kalencka.
"Don't ask me to explain how," Emil said softly. "As I was saying, when I went to Lodz some years back I saw thousands of peasants dressed almost like this one. And damn my eyes, Andrew, this man's speaking Russian or something awful close to it."
"And you can speak it too?" Andrew asked hopefully.
"A couple of words, that's all. Enough to talk my way past the goyim."
"The what?"
Emil shook his head and grinned. "Ah, you Americans. Never mind."
Emil looked up at Kalencka, who was starting to get a little bleary-eyed.
"Kal, gin."
"Da, da. Gin."
"Well, colonel, I guess we'd better start the language lessons."
Kal looked about at the men and smiled. These were the best damned spirits he'd ever had, and for the first time in his life he thanked Ivor Weak Eyes. Perhaps these foxes weren't so bad after all.
Chapter 3
"Beautiful morning, isn't it, son?"
Andrew turned to see Emil emerging from the shadows.
"Quiet. It's just so peaceful and quiet," Andrew replied. He looked about and smiled softly. In the trenches this was always his favorite time. It'd still be dark enough so you could climb out, stretch your legs, and just listen to the gentle quiet before dawn. At those moments it'd seemed as if the war were a million miles away.
"Maybe it's the same right now on another world," Emil replied evenly.
"Just where in heaven are we?" Andrew asked.
The doctor smiled sadly and shook his head, while looking up to the sky.
"I don't know how or why," he replied, his voice carrying a slight sense of awe. "But I think wherever our war is, it's somewhere out there. We're not on earth, that's for certain. The sky alone proves that."
"But those people," Andrew started, pointing to the camp-fires that shimmered in a glowing arc around them.
"God alone knows the answer, colonel. But we've had that
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