“Sir?”
“Ah, my apologies. Ragnarök is a mythical series of events that culminate in a terrible battle. How many will volunteer for this enterprise, do you think?”
Crisp smiled with twinkling eyes and turned to Ferdinand Sunday.
“Let’s ask them, Sir. Sergeant Major?”
Sunday nodded and came to full attention, before marching smartly around the assembly to take post at the front of the parade.
“Parade… parade, listen in! Parade… all those wishing to volunteer for the mission… on my command… one pace forward… parade…” he left his orders hanging whilst the customary translation was rapidly spoken for the Ukrainian contingent,”… Volunteers… by the left, one pace…march!”
Seven hundred and six pairs of feet took one smart pace forward and came back to attention with a crash of their right boot.
Churchill had his answer.
1300 hrs, Thursday, 27th March 1947, Timi Woods Camp, Paphos, Cyprus.
Churchill had left Cyprus at 1240 on the dot, having taken lunch with the leadership of the 1st SSF.
He had spent some considerable time handling the tomahawk and battle knife of Captain Charley Bluebear, and hearing of their history, both from olden times and more recently at Rottenberg.
Rossiter scheduled the first briefing on their mission for 1300 hrs, and the leadership, down to senior NCO level, were all present, as well as four men who were in pseudo military uniform, although clearly not military.
The part that Hughes, co-pilot Dave Grant, and the two flight engineers, Don Smith and Joe Petrali, would play required their presence and input.
Donovan made a statement introducing the four men, and then stepped aside to leave Rossiter as the main briefer…
‘…or harbinger of doom…’
On a nod from the Marine general, the covers were pulled back on two maps, one showing a detailed area of Southern Russian, the other a painstakingly hand drawn map of a facility near Uspenka.
Rossiter left the men a few moments in which to absorb the information and to let off a little steam.
He looked Crisp directly in the eyes as the hubbub died away and understood that the paratrooper colonel immediately understood that he had been handed a real hot potato.
He would have not been surprised at Crisp’s thoughts.
‘Jesus H…the biggest bastard of a fucked up mission in the history of bastard fucked up missions!’
Rossiter spoke to the man in the front row of seats.
“You ready, Colonel?”
‘How about fucking never?!’
“Good to go, Sir.”
Crisp suddenly realised that Rossiter was referring to the new unit insignia he had passed to Crisp, ready to hand out prior to the briefing.
A positive measure that Rossiter hoped would help ease the pain of what was to come.
“Ok, listen in, Gentlemen.”
Crisp produced the box that Rossiter had given him and held aloft a unit insignia.
Two U’s superimposed on a yellow background, with red, white, and blue stripes as a border.
“This is our new badge. A U for the Ukraine… and one for the good old US of A… yellow for the land on which we will first fight, and with a red, white and blue border for the RSM and his boys.”
They all laughed and then, as each man looked at Sunday’s face, stopped laughing immediately.
“Take one and pass the box on. There are others to take back to your boys. All badges of rank and unit insignia to be sown on uniforms before reveille tomorrow morning.”
Crisp passed the box to Shandruk who took his badge and moved the box on its rounds.
Crisp quickly moved over to Hughes and his crew, and handed over four badges, accompanied with handshakes, symbolising the inclusion of the civilians in the group.
For their part, the four men were clearly delighted by the gesture.
The Marine officer nodded to himself.
‘That was well done, Colonel… very well done.’
“Let us begin.”
Rossiter pointed at the map of Southern Russia.
“You’ll fly from here to Talesh, where you will refuel, before flying north and into the Soviet Union.”
He let that sink in for a moment.
“This is the great city of Stalingrad… here is the town of Akhtubinsk… the River Volga… village of Uspenka… and here, gentlemen, is the prize… Camp one thousand and one.”
He moved across to the second display.
“This is… sorry, was… as far as we were concerned, a POW facility for Allied prisoners. It is that and more, boys. This schematic shows you the layout of that prison camp… we estimate enough accommodation for approaching two thousand prisoners. We’re still trying to get recent figures from Red Cross sources.”
The pointer swept over other points on the diagram.
“We also estimate that the guard force consists of a full guard battalion here… a mobile company based here… plus…”
He moved back to the main map.
“Here… right there’s a Red Army training facility… tank training facility… probably at regimental strength.”
The low groan escaped no one’s ears.
“And there are two airfields… the complex here at Akhtubinsk and here…at Butyrki. This is a small strip that is also the main Stalingrad-Astrakhan highway and appears to have nothing stationed there, so it’s assumed to be an emergency runway and little more.”
Rossiter coughed.
“However, the main complex here is home to at least three squadrons of aircraft, most of which are fighters.”
Crisp looked off to his right and saw that Shandruk’s eyes were boring in to him, and he wasn’t sure if they were angrier or more incredulous than his.
He gave the slightest of shrugs and turned back to Rossiter, who in turn was looking directly at him.
“Colonel Crisp, gentlemen, your mission is to liberate the prisoners in this camp and to take over the secret facility that lies beneath it, remove certain items of note… any scientists too…demolish whatever you cannot carry, and evacuate… all within one hour maximum.”
The hubbub of voices was immediate as the enormity of the basic mission was laid bare.
“Bullshit!”
Crisp leapt to his feet and his eyes swept the room, although he had recognised the voice immediately.
“Whoever you are, you’ll can that sort of talk, soldier.”
Crisp resumed his seat and Rossiter resumed without further comment.
“That’s the idea, and we have to put meat on the bones of it. There is so much that I don’t know… can’t tell you. There’s nothing I won’t tell you if I know it… I owe you all that much. I have dedicated and skilled people working all hours, trying to get more information, but for now, all I can tell you is this.”
He moved back to the schematic of the camp and pointed at some unlabelled parts,
“We believe these are vents… entrances… for an underground complex that holds the Soviet atomic programme. We believe that they have been assisted greatly by equipment and expertise from Japan, and have made startling progress. We believe that this facility holds the greatest threat to our cause… and our freedom… and that’s why we’re sending you to destroy it.”
“They have the bomb or are developing the bomb?”
“I cannot say for sure how advanced they are now, Colonel Crisp, but I can say as sure is eggs are eggs that this is where it’s being developed and that we do know, from other sources, that they’re much further along than we’d given them credit for.”