The Bear and the Dragon - Tom Clancy [454]
"When do they refuel, Comrade Captain? We haven't seen them do it, have we?"
That made his captain stop and think. "Why, no, we haven't. Their tanks must be as empty as ours."
"They had extra fuel drums the first day, remember? They dropped them off sometime yesterday."
"Yes, so maybe they have one more day of fuel, maybe only half a day, but then someone must refill them—but who will that be, and how … ?" the officer wondered. He turned to look. The fuel came out of the portable pump at about forty liters or ten gallons per minute. Grechko had taken his BRM south to reestablish contact with the Chinese. They were still sitting still, between frog-leap bounds, probably half an hour away if they stuck with their drill, from which they hadn't once deviated. And people had once said that the Red Army was inflexible …
"There, that's it," Aleksandrov's driver said. He handed the hose back and capped the tank.
"You," the captain told the driver of the fuel truck. "Go east."
"To where?" the man asked. "There's nothing there."
That stopped his thinking for a few seconds. There had been a sawmill here once, and you could see the wide swaths of saplings left over from when whoever had worked here had cut trees for lumber. It was the closest thing to open ground they'd seen in over a day.
"I came from the west. I can get back there now, with the truck lighter, and it's only six kilometers to the old logging road."
"Very well, but do it quickly, corporal. If they see you, they'll blast you."
"Farewell then, Comrade Captain." The corporal got back into the truck, started up, and turned to the north to loop around.
"I hope someone gives him a drink tonight. He's earned it," Buikov said. There was much more to any army than the shooters.
"Grechko, where are you?" Aleksandrov called over his radio.
"Four kilometers south of you. They're still dismounted, Captain. Their officer seems to be talking on the radio."
"Very well. You know what to do when they remount." The captain set the radio microphone down and leaned against his track. This business was getting very old. Buikov lit a smoke and stretched.
"Why can't we just kill a few of them, Comrade Captain? Would it not be worth it to get some sleep?"
"How many times must I tell you what our fucking mission is, Sergeant!" Aleksandrov nearly screamed at his sergeant.
"Yes, Captain," Buikov responded meekly.
CHAPTER 56—March to Danger
Lieutenant Colonel Giusti started off in his personal HMMWV, the new incarnation of the venerable Jeep. Using a Bradley would have been more comfortable, even more sensible, but overly dramatic, he thought, and there wouldn't be any contact anytime soon. Besides, the right front seat in this vehicle was better for his back after the endless train ride. In any case, he was following a Russian UAZ-469, which looked like a Russian interpretation of an American SUV, and whose driver knew the way. The Kiowa Warrior helicopter he'd seen at the railyard was up and flying, scouting ahead and reporting back that there was nothing there but mostly empty road, except for some civilian traffic being kept out of the way by Russian MPs. Right behind Giusti's command vehicle was a Bradley flying the red-and-white guidon of the First of the Fourth Cavalry. The regiment had, for American arms, a long and distinguished history—its combat action had begun on July 30, 1857, against the Cheyenne Indians at Solomon River—and this campaign would add yet another battle streamer to the regimental standard … and Giusti hoped he'd live long enough to attach it himself. The land here reminded him of Montana, rolling