Overlord by Jerry Ahern

Author:Jerry Ahern [Ahern, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, War & Military, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Science Fiction, Military
Amazon: B00BA5A496
Publisher: Speaking Volumes
Published: 2013-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Michael Rourke was reloading the spent magazines for the Berettas as Maria Leuden slept beside where he sat on the gound next to the German SM-4 vehicle, Bjorn Rolvaag tending Otto Hammerschmidt. It would be dawn in less than an hour and they would use the vehicle then to reach the First City. Some of Hammerschmidt’s burns, to heal properly, would need better treatment than emergency first aid could offer. Michael had gone through more ammunition than he wished to count and he took the time while they waited for the dawn to clean the Beretta pistols.

His father had given the Germans a container of Break-Free CLP and asked them to duplicate it. It was one of these which Michael took from the vehicle, unloading both pistols—he still carried the 629 in the crossdraw holster—and beginning to field strip. Using the disassembly latch, he slid the slide forward and dismounted it. He separated the barrel from the slide and began cleaning. The Berettas disassembled like Natalia’s Walther P38, basically.

“You will like my city. And your friend —he will be well cared for in our hospitals. We have fine doctors and they practice their art with great skill.”

“My father’s a doctor. If all of this ever gets over with,” Michael said slowly, running a patch down the bore of the

disassembled pistol, “I’d like to try it myself. Seems a useful skill.”

“My father too was a physician,” Han said enthusiastically.

Michael scrubbed the feed ramp to get rid of powder residue, then took a dry patch to wipe out the bore. They had spoken throughout the day between attacks of the ongoing war with the forces of Vladmir Karamatsov and how Karamatsov’s forces seemed to be coming this way. “I have watched you with your guns. You are by far the best man at arms that could exist,” Han said suddenly.

Michael laughed so loudly that Rolvaag turned and looked up from ministering to Hammerschmidt.

“Why do you laugh, American?”

“My father is better with guns than I could ever be. Believe me.”

Han said nothing for a moment, then, “And what if you were to discover that you were better than he? Would it disappoint you?”

“My father told me a story once. He and his dad used to arm wresde, you know?” And he looked into Han’s eyes for a sign of comprehension of the term. He saw it and went on. “My dad was always big for his age, strong, worked out a lot. A good natural athlete but he never went out for sports beyond the regular stuff every kid does. But he figured by the time he was sixteen he was strong enough to beat his father at arm wrestling. And so he never arm wrestled his dad again.”

Han nodded. Perhaps it was something all sons could understand, Michael thought. He began reassembling the pistol …

Hartman had not requested that his sleep be interrrupted an hour before dawn, so when it was he came instantly awake. “Herr Captain —the Soviet forces are moving, more rapidly it appears than thev have moved before.

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