[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 6…Storm front

Captain Cantatore had his headquarter in a small house between Hale Avenue and Walker Street on the south Western corner of Brooksville; a sentinel armed with a Beretta SC 70 assault rifle on duty at all times. Fires from the recent riots and incidents were still visible on the south eastern part of town accompanied by the smell of uncollected trash, smoke and the occasional unburied body due to lack of time or family members of the dead one.

The sentry at the HQ was about lighting a cigarette when he spotted a civilian casually walking towards him coming from a lateral street. The approaching man was pretty tall and broad, wearing jeans, winter boots, and a heavy leather worn out jacket. A black wool cap completed his suit.

The carabiniere chambered a bullet in his AR and threw away the cigarette he just lit, at the same time trying to get a better picture of the newcomer, who was advancing towards him.

When the civilian approached the 20 yards distance range, the Carabiniere put the rifle on the ready. The approaching guy has his hand in plain view at least.

“Halt…what do yu wont John”

The civilian stopped walking and kind of leaned towards the Carabiniere, like if he was ready to whisper something to him.

“I need to talk to your boss kid” said the civilian

The Italian didn’t understand, and dismissively answered to the American to go to hell, in colorful Italian: it was not the right day for Carabiniere Rabito to hear any complaints from the locals.

The American did not get a single word of what the Italian soldier said but he grasped a hint from his tone.

“Listen up you asshole; you guys are going to be hit by a tornado in the next 24 hours. I need to talk to your chief now”.

The Italian grasped the harsh tone as well, and started to get pissed in a very Italian way. He shouldered his assault weapon and was about to draw his riot baton, when an NCO came out of the small house which served as command post, avoiding everybody a big bag of trouble. Rabito stopped advancing toward the American, who was waiting for him with his hand on his hips not at all impressed by the aggressive stance of the Carabiniere. At the same time, another American civilian, unseen and prone on a nearby roof, eased his finger off the trigger of his M 21 sniper rifle.

The NCO asked in a passable but heavy accented English if he could do anything to help.
The Heavy Jacket guy was starting to lose hope that any of these illiterate WOPs could ever understand him. He collected all the patience he could muster, and went through the routine again: slowly he pulled off a white handkerchief from a chest pocket, waved it at the Italians and proffered:

“A-M-E-R-I-C-A-N N-A-V-Y ...W-E N-E-E-D TO T-A-L-K”

The Carabiniere froze, undecided if he should grab his rifle again but at the same time not wanting to show to the American that he was almost peeing in his pants, while the NCO remained considerably calm and had the presence to ask the American to wait right there.

After no more than thirty seconds the NCO was back with Captain Cantatore, who stared at the American for a couple of seconds:

“My Sergeant here told me you need some help, Sir…what can I…”

“I am Petty Officer Joshua Talbot and you are the one who needs help; I request a truce to talk”

“You alone?”

“No…my commander is waiting for a signal to join us”… Talbot didn’t mention the third member of the team on the nearby roof.

“You can have your commander join us officer” said Cantatore taking off his gloves and shifting his weight on his left leg, assuming a waiting kind of posture.

Ralston lifted his right arm over his head, his fist in the air, and after a few seconds, another American appeared form the door of a convenience store on the same road the group was standing on. When the second U.S. sailor reached the group he introduced himself as well:

“I am Master Petty Officer William Ralston, captain. I am in command of an U.S. naval infantry detachment operating in this area. You can consider us negotiators under the protection of the white flag. Will you grant us that status”?

“I doubt you’d be here if you didn’t take your precautions - Mister Commander of an U.S. naval infantry detachment”, said Lario shooting a gaze at the two men.

“Not a lot of precautions captain: I have a sniper who by now should be able to waste more than one of you guys if he sees any weird movements, and some further little precautions; nothing major. On yhe other hand, I bet none of that will be necessary. We have been observing you guys for a week now, and we know that we are among gentlemen”.

Cantatore almost smiled at the American NCO; who said the Americans had no style.

“I thank you for the consideration Mr. Ralston. Shall we go inside, or would you rather have me in the scope of your sniper for the entire conversation”.

“It was now the turn of the American to grin”. He gestured with his hand that he was ready to follow the Italians inside.

“You Captain…or to say better… we all have a big problem” said Ralston sitting with his elbows on the back of a wooden chair…”Actually two big problems…but one is strictly yours, and the other is…let’s say…a common concern”.

Cantatore stared at the man with an interrogative expression.

“The first problem is that we have news of a horde of refugees coming from Tampa Bay and S. Petersburg; a mix of scumbags of the worse kind, and a wave of desperate people fleeing away from the radioactive ruins of the two towns.

“Do you know who released the nuclear weapons there”? Asked Cantatore in a haste.

Ralston exchanged a brief look with his colleague.

“I don’t know Captain, and even if I knew, I could not tell you. What I can tell you though, is that it’s a total disaster down there, and it is going to be a disaster up here very soon as well; worse than you have seen so far”

Cantatore remained silent; his turned to exchange looks with his subordinates.

“The second problem, captain”, resumed Ralston, “regards you guys in particular…I mean the Italian forces in Florida; moving around, south of here, we eyeballed several Italian units belonging - according to our sources - to the 132nd Tank Regiment. Do not expect any of these troops to put a dent into the refugees flooding sir…said troops are on the verge of collapse.

Cantatore didn’t manage to hide his horror hearing that news. It could be certainly a bunch of bull, but the American knew what Italian units were located in the area, and also their composition. On the other hand, the 132nd could have been ordered to ignore the flow of refugees…no it couldn’t, considering that the movement was directed to the heart of the Italian salient and to the proximity of its logistic bases. The American had to be at least partially right about the pitiful status of the Ariete tankers.

CPO Ralston seemed to guess what Cantatore was cogitating and recalled him to reality:

“Captain, the mob will reach this town…I estimate… in 24-36 hours. We don’t have much time to prep the defenses. I offer you the cooperation of my troops to defend the town. I have seen the efforts that you have put in keeping this area in order Captain, and let me tell you that we appreciated these efforts. This is probably going to be the supreme challenge for us, if you still intend to commit your forces to this purpose”.

Cantatore slowly raised his look on the American navy man with a mix of anger and sympathy. The man was talking to him like if the Italian expedition corps was already defeated and on the verge of total collapse. Was he really offering his cooperation or was he trying to use the Italians to work for him and spill more of their blood to defend a territory that they should have firmly in their control instead.

“What kind of cooperation are you offering exactly Mr. Ralston” demanded Cantatore…”would you consider to put your troops under my command”?

“How is the children evacuation going Captain”? Ralston suddenly changed subject

“F#$k this yank knows too many things” Cantatore thought while gazing again the man of the Navy.

“Not as well as I hoped Sir. I am afraid that we have much less Avgas than available sorties to complete the mission”.

“It’s ok Captain” answer Ralston trying to reassure the Italian. “I suggest we put the remaining children in the northern part of town with the other civilians, and that we prepare the defense of this town. For the duration of the crises, I am ready to submit my forces under you tactical control according to the old NATO standard procedures: you give me a radio and you can issue your orders to my troops; I listen and I reserve to myself the right to overcome any orders that I believe doesn’t make any sense; how does that sound to you”?

“It sounds exactly like old NATO standard procedures: bunch of crap” said Cantatore…”But I guess it will have to do for now. I will tell you what: I am decided to defend this town. Many of my men have already died for it, and many more are incapacitated and laying in my improvised hospital downtown. By the way, there are a number of civilians as well that are using that facility. We will have to plan its protection, since most of the patients cannot be moved”.

“It’s ok captain; I guess you will have to spare some assets to defend the hospital. For my part, I will set an observation post on the southern edge. Do you have a vehicle to spare so I can send my men to recover some of the weapon caches we have scattered around here? We have our own supplies, and we will not burden you guys. I just need a vehicle to collect my stuff quickly”.

Ralston saw the perplexed look on Cantatore face at his request of a vehicle and quickly added:

“I’ll stay captain. I’ll prepare my OP and wait here with you that my guys come back with the equipment”.

“I have a Civilian truck that belongs to a recon team from one of our units out east. The commander of that team is currently out of commission after an unpleasant encounter with one of the local gangs. You can use that vehicle if you want”.

“My boys will probably be back in less than six hours”.

Cantatore instructed Rabito to take the Americans to the motor pool where the Chevy truck that Lario used to come into town was being kept.

After the party left, Cantatore asked his NCO:

“What do you make of them Sergio?”

“Navy Seals captain”.