Before the Storm by John L Lynch

Author:John L Lynch [Lynch, John L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781613093511
Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
Published: 2018-09-25T23:00:00+00:00

Twenty-one

The next morning Basir returned to supervising the unloading of the tanks at the Kerman railyard. Each tank had to be broken free of the chains holding them onto the railroad flatcars. The tank crews assisted the railroad men in this before unhitching each car and extending a ramp for the tank to roll off. Each tank had barely enough fuel to start the engine and drive the machine down the slope. There was no ammunition loaded. Both were precautions against fire during transport.

Half the company’s tanks had been unloaded and were waiting in an assembly area chosen by Sergeant Saeed and Basir the night before. There they remained for refueling and rearming before they could begin the road march north.

Basir watched the first sergeant supervise the unloading of the first two tanks of Lieutenant Ahvaz’s platoon with Lieutenant Pahlavi. Basir asked Pahlavi, “How long did the other platoon take?”

“An hour to the assembly area,” Pahlavi said. He pointed over his shoulder to the tanks parked facing away from each other in a field to the north.

“That long?” Basir asked.

“These should be faster,” Pahlavi said. “The railwaymen aren’t used to unloading tanks.”

“They better get used to it,” Basir said. “If things keep going the way I hear on the radio.”

“Yes, sir.” Pahlavi had heard the same radio announcements. The Azanian ambassador had been recalled from Persepolis for consultations. The newspapers were full of speculation about a second war with the Azanian giant of the east. It had happened very fast. Basir thought the Azanians must have their own weather service and their own spies among the Northern Tribes of the Waste. They must have learned after what had happened to Azania during the last war, when their land had been ravaged by a seed storm. The storm, more than Persian force of arms, had decided the outcome.

Pahlavi looked thoughtful. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to put the tanks in the assembly area under nets.”

Basir raised his eyebrows. It was standard procedure. Each tank carried a camouflage net designed to hide the outline of the vehicle from observation from above. He hadn’t ordered it because they were in Kerman, far from the frontier. He thought about the suggestion and nodded.

“Do it,” he said. “We need to start acting like we’re at the frontier sometime.” And because I forgot about it, Basir thought. He’d spent more time inside the walls of Councilman Kermani’s house than with his men. They all needed the rest, but it was past time to start acting like a military unit again.

Pahlavi saluted and began walking over to the parked vehicles half a kilometer away. Either he or Basir Turani could have radioed the order, but Javad Pahlavi liked doing things in person. He was the new second officer of the company, chosen by Basir to replace a man who had suddenly developed a reluctance to command an armored unit when it was sent to the frontier. So far, Basir had been pleased with his choice. Pahlavi was diligent without being a taskmaster.

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