The Red Line

“Pull it through and strap it as tight as you can to the board.”

The boy pulled the strap up and buckled it in place. “All done.”

Three additional straps were threaded beneath her torso. When the task was finished, the medic checked everything one final time.

“Okay, we seem to be all set. Everyone get a corner. We’ll need to turn her over before we do anything else. Try to lift her as evenly as you can.”

The four took their positions.

“Ready?” the medic asked.

His companions indicated they were.

“Okay, on three . . . one . . . two . . . three!”

They lifted the backboard straight up. The straps were as snug as they could possibly be under the circumstances. Still, Kathy’s pummeled body pressed against them as she was lifted into the air.

Searing pain ripped through her. Consciousness leaped into her tortured soul. Screams of anguish crushed the quiet afternoon.

Three sets of concerned eyes looked into the medic’s.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s get her turned over. Once that’s done, we’ll get the pressure off her, and she’ll be a lot more comfortable. Flip her over, real easy.”

They turned her right side up. Kathy screamed again. The pain was too much to bear. She passed out once more.

“All right,” the medic said, “let’s get her out of here and into the ambulance.”

• • •

“Kathy . . . Kathy O’Neill,” the sergeant major said. His voice was sweet and comforting.

Kathy’s mind told her she knew that voice.

The gentle voice entered the darkness of her terrifying world once again. “Kathy . . . Kathy, can you hear me?”

“Wha . . . what?” she said. Her response was less than a whisper. And she couldn’t yet find the strength to open her eyes.

“It’s me, Kathy, Harold Williams from next door. You remember, don’t you?”

“Yes, I remember. Where am I?”

“You’re in an ambulance. We just brought you up from the basement. You know, Kathy, the basement.”

The basement! Her eyes flew open wide. She fought to lift her head. Unspeakable pain raced at her from every part of her body.

“Easy, Kathy,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“I can’t move. Why can’t I move?”

“You’ve been immobilized by the medics. You’re badly hurt. Try to lie still.”

“My baby! Where’s my baby!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, but it left her parched throat as little more than an anguished gasp.

“He’s right here, Kathy,” Williams said. “He’s fine. A little dehydrated, and very dirty. And he’s really quite angry. But he doesn’t have a scratch on him.”

A weak smile formed on Kathy’s tortured lips.

“Kathy, I need your help. You and Christopher are the only ones we’ve found so far. I know it’s difficult, but you’ve got to concentrate for me. Where was everyone else when the building collapsed?”

He could tell she didn’t understand.

He tried again.

“Kathy, where were my wife and boys when the building fell?”

There was still no sign of recognition in Kathy’s eyes.

“Kathy, where’s Clara?”

“Clara? Clara’s right here next to me in the laundry room.”

“Where are the others, Kathy?”

“Others?”

“Yes, Kathy. Where are the other women and children in the basement?”

“The others are in the storage room across the hall. They’re hiding from the Russian planes.”

Williams could hardly contain his excitement. He had what he needed now. He knew where to dig. The sergeant major pulled up a filthy sleeve and checked his watch. There were nearly two hours of daylight left. He couldn’t free them all by then. Still, two hours would be more than enough to clear the remaining wreckage from the laundry room.

By sundown, he’d know his family’s fate. By midnight, he’d have reached all the women and children.

“Kathy, I’ve got to get back and help the others dig. You lie still. As soon as the medics have finished examining you, they’re taking you and Christopher over to the mobile hospital they’ve set up at the airfield. Good luck, honey.”

He gently patted her hand.

And with that, he was gone.

• • •

Just before midnight, the sergeant major pulled the last tiny body from the debris. He took the child to the edge of the hole and handed her up to the waiting arms.

The dead child, a girl of five, was carried over and placed in the snow with the others. Twenty-one bodies, all in a row, lay in the shimmering moonlight.

For the seven deliverers, thirty-six hours of soul-devouring effort were finally over. Their horrific journey had reached its end.

After the rescue of Kathy and Christopher, they’d located no more survivors in what remained of Building 2417.

The sergeant major wandered back to the spot in the laundry room where he’d discovered the bodies of his wife and sons. The hulking figure dropped onto the cold cement. He started to sob uncontrollably. Tears flowed from his unseeing eyes. His sorrow ran in torrents down his dirt-streaked face.

The rescue had been a triumph for the spirit of man.

Harold Williams had saved two lives. In a few weeks, the sergeant major would come to realize that he’d always have this small victory to carry him through the rest of a long, lonely life.

CHAPTER 46

January 30—3:47 p.m.

1st Platoon, Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 69th Armor, 3rd Heavy Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division

At the Crossroads of Highway 19 and Autobahn A7

The leading Russian tank turned west off the long-ago-deserted north–south autobahn. The T-72 started up the narrow highway. In the gunner’s position of Richardson’s M1 Abrams, Anthony Warrick watched his main gun’s laser range finder lock in the

T-72’s coordinates. The enemy was less than a mile away. The armored column was taking its time as it waited for a handful of stragglers to catch up. In the enveloping dusk of late afternoon, Richardson and his crew prepared to open fire. They sat waiting for the order to come from the platoon’s command tank.

In the command tank, Lieutenant Mallory called out over the radio to 2nd Battalion headquarters. “Echo-Yankee-One, this is Sierra-Kilo-One-One.”

“This is Echo-Yankee-One. Go ahead, Sierra-Kilo-One-One.”

“Echo-Yankee-One, we’re in contact with an enemy formation of a dozen heavy tanks, supported by what appears to be a company of infantry in BMPs. This force is presently leaving Autobahn A7 and turning west onto Highway 19. In the distance, we can see another armored column of equal size heading down the autobahn toward our position. Request immediate air support. Say again, request immediate air support.”

“Sierra-Kilo-One-One, wait one.”

The three-tank platoon waited as the radio operator conferred with the battalion commander.

“Sierra-Kilo-One-One, be advised, we’ve nothing available at this time. Eliminate as much of the first column as you can, then withdraw to your secondary fighting position.”

“Roger, Echo-Yankee-One. We copy. Attack enemy and withdraw to secondary position. Will do.”

The Americans still controlled the skies over most of the battle zone. Yet with the tremendous losses of the past thirty-six hours, there were no longer enough Apaches, Warthogs, or Multiple Launch Rocket Systems to assist many of the ground forces. In the coming days, the men of the 3rd Infantry Division were going to often find themselves on their own.

“Well, you heard the man,” Mallory said into the radio. “Looks like we’re alone on this one. Greene, Richardson, prepare to fire on the enemy column.”

“Roger,” Greene said.

“Will do, Lieutenant,” Richardson said. “Preparing to fire.”

“Richardson, Warrick’s still got the leader. My team will take the second one. Greene, you’re on the third.”