Part 1: Friends… oh… Friends
After having given it a careful thought, Lario decided to probe the American line further north. With an ear to possible incoming dangers, he started to carefully move with direction north east for 4 – 5 kilometers and then converged northwest – west in order to debouch out of the wood, possibly at its northerner point. Lario’s plan was to venture into the hilly area between Nobelton and Lake Lindsey, and check the consistency of the American position at that latitude.
He proceeded carefully, trying not to feel the exhaustion from the firefight and from the march in the difficult terrain, in a weather that was going from bad to worse. After a two hours march, he found the limit of the wood and he was by then in full red light mode for exhaustion. On the bright side, there was no trace of living being around, no civilians, no military, no nothing. The abundant rain, which had become by then a severe shower, poured down with no mercy, making his journey even more miserable, every step made more difficult by the mud and by the extremely soft terrain. On the positive side, the inclement weather, the light conditions, and the morphology of the terrain made him almost invisible to anybody who was not specifically observing the location where he was walking.
The view of the hilly terrain in front of him past the limit of the wooded area made Lario mind and energies sink. But he could not stop. First of all he had to put more distance between him and the location of the firefight he had in the morning, and secondly he had to find a location with a minimum of shelter for his next break. Also, and even more discouraging, he would have to skip his afternoon foraging because of the heavy rain, and because of his physical status. He had to be careful about that, as more exhaustion led to more inactivity and to more exhaustion and so on and so forth: a very well known downward spiral in Special Forces long range operations. So Lario promised himself that he would draw from his strategic food reserve that night, but whatever happened, he would spend extra time resting and foraging the next day. He could not allow tactical exigencies endanger the whole strategy of his mission. His mission, he continued to repeat in his head, as he dragged one step after the other, was to probe the American lines and to link up with E.F. forces as soon as possible.
And then, once he marched out of the wooded area, he began to climb and descend, climb and descend hills of different size and altitude, none of them very steep, but each of them accumulating more fatigue on his exhausted legs and soul. By the time darkness began to blur the scene, Lario was barely able to compass navigate with a minimum of precision and he had completely abandoned the idea of walking behind the crest lines to minimize his visibility to third parties. It was simply too tired to worry about that. His only worry now was to find a gully or something, where to stop and rest with a minimum of “comfort”, make some hot tea, that he still have in his strategic reserves. At that point, he was not even certain anymore that he would have the energies to eat, but it was starting to become imperative that he found a convenient location to stop and spend the evening and the night.
Completely soaked from head to toe, despite his parka and his hood well tightened around his head and neck, Lario stopped on a crest line to make a 360 observation routine check; more to provide himself with an excuse to take a two minutes break than for a real necessity. He kneeled down, put down his backpack, and paused a moment to massage his sore and stiff shoulders. He extracted his binoculars and gave the horizon a sweep with it, first south and then more carefully, northwest to northeast; the view did not reveal anything encouraging: gray dim horizon, uniform brownish/green landscape, as the showery rain changed the apparent color of the grassland at that particular hour of pre sunset time of the day.
He did not see it on the left to right sweep, but as Lario went back right with his binoculars, he saw it:
“What is that…what is…”
Right in a depression: Lario could not be certain, but yes…a vehicle, a big vehicle. Lario focused better, trying to penetrate the wall of water pouring down from the sky, and yes…it was a turreted APC of some kind. It appeared like miles away, but Lario knew that with that visibility it could not be farther than half a kilometer. Then suddenly, a couple of lights appeared in the vicinity of the vehicle; some movement, Lario could not tell.
And it was decision time again: Approach or evacuate the area. Lario tried to focus his mind on the problem. He had to get closer, see better. If he could proceed with enough caution, the chances that he could be spotted would be slim, especially in that weather. The plan was to close the distance enough to be able to identify the contact, and to get the h*ll out of there if it was a hostile. He was sure that he would have found the extra energies to disengage stealthily if he really needed to, even if he had to collapse short after. He had a contact, he had to identify it. He decided to exploit to the maximum the difference in visibility between him and whoever was “camping” down there.
Lario put is backpack back on, and cautiously started to approach, pausing every 30 seconds or so to observe. Finally, when he was at approximately 250 meters, he stopped, went prone and gave the target another scan with his binoculars.
Lario Realized that he probably could be spotted as well now, even if his prone position and the weather favored him. He gave a good extra scan…
“C.mon…C’mon who are you? Show me who you are buddy!!
“... Go#@mnit…it’s a Dardo”.
At that distance other details became clear. The Dardo AIFV was located at the center of a defensive perimeter which included a pickup truck armed with a TOW antitank fitted in his bed, and a system of hastily dug in positions all around. Inside the perimeter, Lario also saw a circular enclosed fence with some horses, and several tents scattered randomly, including a big one built out of the Dardo’ back door.
Decision time again: chances of having come across elements of the Italian “COMFOD 1”: high.
Chances that it could be an American position with some captured Italian equipment: certainly possible
Chances that he was looking at some kind of illegitimate forces with captured Italian equipment: less likely.
Half aware that he was more wishfully thinking than actually examining his chances objectively, Lario decided to proceed and reveal himself.
According to the Italian Army SOPS for approaching friendlies, without a password, Lario stood up and began to walk with his arms wide open and holding his M16 barrel down.
At about 100 meters from the position, the over worried voice of a clearly surprised sentry froze Lario on his weels:
“Halt…you stoppp and make yorrrself reccognize”
Ah…ha…wrong language and syntax, but damn right accent Lario thought with a smile of relief.
“Sergente maggiore Vailatti...soldato…9° Reggimento Incursori Col. Moschin. Metto il fucile a terra ed aspetto. Non fare cazzate, e nessuno si fa male”, he said overempahsizing his Venice accent.
*Translation: Seargent Major Vailatti here soldier… 9th Raiders Regiment Col. Moschin. I am putting my rifle on the ground. Don’t do anything stupid and nobody gets hurt.
Continues…
Comments and criticism appreciated
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