The Write Place

The cold winter snow fell to the ground, joining the bodies that lay upon it. A man in his long grey trenchcoat huddled in the trench that tore through the earth. The snow had reached several feet in some places. Here the whole world was silent. Even in the silence, one could hear death hanging in the air about them.

“Truce got a deadline?” asked the first man buckling his stahlhelm.

“Till further notice Friederich. At least in our sector,” replied a man wearing a Hauptman’s shoulder boards.
“Yeah and my pig whistles” said the first man. The Hauptmann looked over to him. A simple smile formed on his face.

“Guess he does young Oberleutnant because with wolves this rampant, we both have enough to worry about,” he said before turning back to look over the trench. He raised his binoculars in gloved hands. The men in the trenches were rifles at the ready, watching as others gathered the remains from the field. Just coming into view appeared several human figures. “Here comes Ivan. Smile wide Friederich,” he added to the young Oberleutnant.

Friederich reached for the binoculars his commander offered him. Through them he could see the drab, olive green uniforms of about twenty Russians approaching. The chief officer walked on point, carrying a stick with a white flag.

“Just one squad for tonight I assume?” asked Friederich.

“So, looks like the Russians trust us,” came the reply from a soldaten, appearing from the dugout quarters.

“More than the wolves at least Kuester,” said Friederich.

“Flattering,” added the Hauptman. “Well, over the top as they say. In manner of speaking.” He climbed the ladder, giving an informing wave to the men waiting in the trenches below. The squad followed with timid approval. The Hauptman pulled out a white kerchief, taking care to wave it high. All the men, behind and in front of him wore their respective thick winter coats. Some pulled them tighter as they stepped out into the biting winter of the open, snowy field.

“Guten Abend. How many are you tonight?” asked the Hauptman to the lead Russian. Clearly an officer by the insignia he wore on his cap. Most nights he would be the first they would shoot. Tonight however, it was man they neither feared nor hunted.

“Twenty two, here at least. Together we can cover maybe ten kilometers I think? Our two units about five for the night at the least?” said the man in accented German.

“I’m not so confident to split but, good results in that range are doable shall we say. Friederich…” he said looking over his shoulder. Friederich rushed to the side of his Hauptman.
“Yes sir.”
“Take your squad with his. We can split up and cover the woods going clockwise. Going together we’ll know the woods. Count to two minutes, we should stay that close in front of you. It should cut down the chance of being ambushed like poor Walter.”

“Sounds in order to me,” said the Russian Captain, confirming agreement.

The officers synced their watches. The Hauptman left, leading a mixed unit. Friederich watched his clock. After the time passed the remaining men followed behind as one.

“So, warm day in Russia, isn’t it?” said Friederich. The Russian privets stifled a laugh, much to the chagrin of their Captain.
“Not warm, but not as cold,” he replied finally cracking a thin smile. “Eyes forward. We lost two men yesterday. Stay on task.”
“Of course. I am a German. I wouldn’t know what else to do. We lost one this week, problem enough but they have been scavenging for dead bodies.”
“They are getting bolder here too…”
“Of course. And they’re as hungry as any of us,” said Friederich. The two squads moved on, keeping a competent distance of 3-5 meters between men. Close enough to know who is next to you, not close enough that you die in pairs. “Stay close and keep your eyes peeled. You on the corners watch the sides. Move slow.”
“Funny how none of us want this war.”
“Which?” asked Friederich.
“Either, I suppose. But at least with wolves, we know it is our war.”
“There is something somehow more natural to it,” Friederich said. He held his gaze at the Captain across from him. “Your name Ivan?”
“How did you know?” he asked, missing the obvious joke for the tension in the air. He kept his eyes forward. With their experience, they knew how to move in war.

“You look like an Ivan,” said Friederich, holding back tears. The man was likely no older than he, caught in something handed to them by fate and not their choosing. Friederich and Ivan stopped, raising their hands, signaling to stop and raise rifles. The prints in the snow were fresh, clearly trailing the earlier party. The wolves were fighting, but they could see it was not the earlier squad. They had ambushed something else, a rival pack one would assume. The night filled with fierce, pained canid growling. They could make out the sounds and shapes of the pack. Not looking to waste the opportunity, they gave the order to open fire in their respective languages.

The bullets ripped into the wolfpack, sending bloodied flesh and fur into the air. Friederich noticed they had not stumbled on two packs fighting. As the carnage unfolded, he realized it was not two packs. Before him was one pack that had a large, black wolf cornered in the trees. The volley of flashes lit the night for seconds at a time only to be interrupted by the darkness of night. With fierce growls and a bloodcurdling cry, the large wolf threw several of the pack away. The pack fled the hot lead and the black wolf, their gaunt bodies carrying the survivors as fast as they could. Several wolves had fallen. Then all the firing stopped as the large black wolf… stood.

“Guten tag Uropa,” said Jaeger as he stood looking down at the gravestone. The day was bright but foreboding for those who knew his piece of the world. “I regret to inform you that they came to America too. Before you even. I remember the stories you told me about them. The big ones, the small ones,” Jaeger said with a heavy sigh. His great grandfather’s voice returned, mixing with his own memories. “Don’t worry pop-pop. I’ve killed them before too.”
Familiar footsteps broke the quiet reciting of memories.
“We’re clear to go,” Umberger said. “Not saying your final goodbyes, I hope.”
“No. Not the plan anyway. More like I’d rather not say hello again in person too soon.”
Jaeger turned to face the uniformed man next to him. “We’ve hunted them before kid. If you’re scared you can say it. Don’t mask your feelings with humor. You’re in the Army, let it out bro.”

“Army not Navy,” Umberger said with a smug grin.

“Now you’re catching on kid. I hear the civi is an army man himself,” said Jaeger
“Was anyway. Honorable service. Corporal from what I hear. He’s our first stop.”
“Let’s hope he’s as open as the southern border.”
“Not my favorite administration to work with either. I’m sure the civi will want someone to get the thing. It tore his side open,” said Umberger. “And Rodriguez’s team apart.”
“Well let’s see if we can return the favor for our friends new and old,” said Jaeger. The two looked to the road. McCready and Lefleur stood by the black SUV. “Well, let’s make the boss happy. I’ve got a big space over my fireplace that needs something.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” said Umberger.
“Not for every day, but when my daughter brings home a boy it’s going right up there.”

“Oh…”said Umberger pensive. “Mind if I borrow it sometime?”
“Even if it’s my kid?” Jaeger asked as he hid his smile.
“Especially if it’s your kid.”
“Well, in that case, what are friends for? But let’s get it first.”