The lost Regiment 07 - A Band of Brothers by William R. Forstchen

Author:William R. Forstchen
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Imaginary War and Battles, High Tech, Fiction, Science Fiction, Roum (Imaginary Place), Imaginary Wars and Battles, Adventure Fiction, Roum (Imaginery Place), War & Military, Military, General, Adventure
ISBN: 9780451457059
Publisher: Roc
Published: 1998-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Exhausted and moving slowly, Pat came back into his headquarters, glad to finally be rid of his greatcoat, which was still covered with the gore of the dead Bantag and the filth of the sewers.

One of his staff came up.

"Sir, dispatches just came in on one of the monitors."

"Where are they?"

"Sir, Dr. Keane was up here, and she insisted on taking them to the colonel. Word came back up to find you

at once."

Pat whispered a quiet prayer. Andrew was nowhere near out of the woods yet. Emil had briefed him on how the wound inside the lung would take time to scab over and heal. There was no telling if it might suddenly hemorrhage. He was pleased to hear that Kathleen had finally come out of her confinement with Andrew.

Pat headed down the long flight of stairs to Andrew's room. At his approach the door opened, Kathleen barring the way. She took one look and held up her hand, beckoning for him to halt where he was.

"Pat O'Donald, you're as filthy as a pig. Now damn you, we've got a bath down in the basement. You're to get your dirty hide down there and wash. I'll have new clothes sent, then you come up here."

A half hour later, feeling strangely refreshed though he would never admit it, he finally stepped into the sickroom. Andrew was propped half up in the bed. His eyes darted over to Pat, and he forced a weak smile.

"Tell me about what it was like."

Pat briefly talked about the fight at the temple, the confusion in the sewers, and his decision to pull 1st Corps out and bring 12th up to the line.

"That's the last fresh reserves," Andrew whispered.

"I know, Andrew. But 1st is used up. Besides, there are two other things. One, they're bitter, feel that the Roum troops aren't bearing their share of the fight. After all, it was the 9th that broke."

"That wasn't their fault. The attack was aimed straight at them."

"You can't explain that to a boy who's been eyeball to eyeball with them furry bastards now for near on to two weeks."

Andrew finally nodded.

"Second, something's scaring me a bit. It's the boys, Andrew. They're hardening. I don't mean becoming tough veterans—they were already that on the Shenandoah, at Rocky Hill. It's something more. They've been too close for too long, and they're getting as vicious as the Bantag. Maybe that's what we need to win, but if so, we've also lost something."

Andrew sighed. "Become like your enemy in order to defeat him. Years of war are doing that to us. We saw it a bit at Hispania, but that was only three days of constant battle."

He fell silent and looked away for a moment.

"What is it we're fighting for, Pat?" Andrew whispered.

"Andrew?"

"I don't mean the Rus, Roum, that's obvious. I mean us."

"Because we're here, Andrew, we're here."

"Why? I've wondered that of late. Why us? If it hadn't been for that damn boat, theOgunquit,we'd be home now, you in New York, me in Maine.

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