“So,” Roosevelt stood up with a visible effort and took a few steps around the office. It struck Hopkins that the President's movements had become noticeably more confident since their last meeting. “What do we have in the end? The Russians sank the heavy aircraft carrier Zuikaku, taking casualties and getting into serious withdrawal trouble. In the air battle that followed, they shot down an unknown but apparently very significant number of Japanese aircraft, forcing the enemy's surviving machines to flee the battlefield. As a result of all these events, an unknown number of Russian pilots found themselves in territory loosely controlled by the Chinese, and with a high probability they include General Nagulin, allegedly wounded in the battle with an unclear degree of severity. Chiang Kai-shek immediately took action, to help the Russian pilots by sending his best men to the coast, while we remain on the sidelines. Is this normal?”
“We don't have any formal obligations in this case,” Hopkins' voice didn't sound confident, “but the Russians have acted in our interests, fulfilling and, perhaps, even exceeding the verbal promises made to us…”
“That's my point,” Roosevelt grinned. “ Chiang Kai-shek immediately appreciated the potential of Russian technology and clearly wants to show Stalin that China can become a reliable ally. I don't think we should let the Chinese get ahead in this matter. Besides, we have absolutely no interest in the death of General Nagulin. Zuikaku was just the beginning, but if we don't get Nagulin out of there, that will be the end of it – I'm pretty sure that the entire Chinese mission of the Soviets rests on him.”
“It's hard to argue with that.”
“Harry, what do we have in this region? I'm not talking about General Stillwell's Chinese divisions right now.”
“Only aviation, and not the most modern.”
“The Flying Tigers?”
“Yes. Clare Chennault’s's air group in Kunming. That's about sixty P-40 Warhawk fighters. Until recently they were mainly engaged in covering the Burma Road and Rangoon. This is all we can quickly use to help the Russians evacuate their pilots from coastal southeastern China.”
“Harry, I need the Tigers to get their orders today, and as soon as possible – every hour counts.”
I came to my senses from the annoying itching of the implant behind my ear. My head continued to hurt, but it wasn't the same pain that made me pass out. I was lying on a stretcher, swinging gently – I was being carried somewhere, obviously over rough terrain. Judging from the fact that Letra hadn't pulled me out of oblivion earlier, there was nothing threatening me right now. Nevertheless, I was in no hurry to open my eyes right away.
Realizing that I had come to my senses, Letra immediately informed me, “Colonel Lebedev's men found you and five other pilots. There is absolutely no place to land a plane, and the nearest Chinese units are almost forty kilometers away, but these are not the biggest problems. There are three large enemy reconnaissance and sabotage units on the coast. Apparently, the Imperial Navy is preparing another landing, and they've been sent here to find out what's going on. The Japanese have contact with their commanders. Two hours ago they got orders to check the area around the recently ended air battle, and then there were several more communications that I couldn't intercept… Anyway, there's a hunt for you, and if you do nothing, in about twenty minutes your squadron will be ambushed.”
Without opening my eyes, I unfolded the virtual map. Colonel Lebedev's detachment moved among fairly high hills covered with dense southern forest. Sometimes there were terraces of fields right on the steep slopes, but they looked abandoned – the Chinese peasants did not seem to see the point of farming in areas that the Japanese could seize at any moment. We didn't meet any locals themselves either. Rumors of how the Japanese occupiers were treating the population spread quickly, and anyone who could go inland left their homes and became refugees.
Our unit certainly could not be called a walking hospital, but the three wounded, including me, greatly reduced its mobility. I was carried by Ignatov and Nikiforov. The two pilots found by Lebedev's men carried another stretcher. The third wounded man was carried by another pilot, along with the radio operator, who had been relieved of carrying the radio for the occasion.
In the maze of these high hills, the detachment had to move mostly through the winding lowlands, as it was extremely difficult to constantly climb up and down the slopes with the wounded in their arms. Colonel Lebedev had difficulty navigating these places, and if it had not been for the Chinese guide, he would have been able to keep the right direction only by compass. But the Japanese felt much more confident here. Two squads of thirty men each were moving five or six kilometers behind us, surrounding Lebedev's group from left and right, and there was really an ambush ahead of us.
I opened my eyes and met Lena's gaze. She walked beside my stretcher, remembering to look carefully over the lush green slopes for signs of danger in the jumble of branches and leaves of the subtropical forest.
“There's no one there, I would feel it,” I cautiously tried to smile, and I even succeeded. My head didn't respond to my words with a flash of pain, though I didn't hold out much hope for that.
“How are you feeling?” Lena abruptly stepped toward me and leaned over the stretcher.
Ignatov and Nikiforov stopped and a soft report flew down the chain of fighters forward to where Colonel Lebedev was walking: “The Commander’s come to his senses.”
How about that! Lebedev is the commander here, and it wouldn't even occur to me to challenge that.
“Better now,” I took my wife's hand and slightly lifted myself up on the stretcher. My body didn't protest. Even the headache receded a little more, but the head wound under the tight bandage began to itch wildly.
The soldiers gently lowered the stretcher onto the grass. I slowly raised my hand and groped my head. I could feel the big bump even through the bandage, but the shrapnel didn't seem to have broken through the bone. They make tough skulls in the Sixth Republic.
“Comrade Colonel General…” It was Lebedev, who appeared next to us silently as usual.
“Thank you for getting me out of there,” I glanced around the squad. “Did you find anyone else besides me?”
“Five people. Two wounded. Carried on a stretcher,” Lebedev reported clearly, “We have fifty kilometers to go through these hills to the places where we can be evacuated. The last communication with the airfield was an hour ago. Only half of the regiment was left, but we wiped out a lot of Japanese, all the hills near the shore were strewn with the wreckage of their fighters. We wanted to take some of the Japanese pilots prisoner and interrogate them, but there are no survivors – they don't take parachutes with them.”
“They won't let us go quietly,” I sat down slowly, stopping Lebedev, who tried to object, with a hand gesture. “There are a lot of Japanese around here. They are scouting the area before the planned landing. They probably already know about our unit, so we should expect visitors soon.”
I felt a little nauseous, but in general my body was just hinting that I should lie still for another ten hours instead of acting like a mountain goat, no, I don't want to, I'd rather be a panda. Or don't they live in these hills?
I got up slowly. This time no one tried to stop me. If a senior officer thinks he's ready to get in line, that's his decision, and one wouldn't give him advice, unless he's a doctor, of course.
“I need to go up to this peak,” I pointed to the top of the nearest hill ahead. There were no trees growing there, only grass and bushes, and the view from there was clearly better than from the low place.
“Ignatov, Nikiforov,