[h1]Siberia[/h1] [h2]Yerofeysky[/h2] Wu Hong sat on a log at the side of the road. Nearby Ju Gan stood in the shade of a tree, smoking a cigarette. His rifle hung slung across his chest and he rested his hands on it. Looking around, things appeared eerily calm, empty. A few villagers went on their ways passed the Chinese soldiers who found themselves in the past couple days loitering around in the village. Orders had been sparse, and command silent. The only standing issue to them was to hold tight and remain in the village. Ostensibly Long company would be catching up in the next few days, surveying and staking their way through the wilderness of the Russian far-east to help made that final connection with them. For now, without armor, without heavy artillery, or any mechanized support of any kind they were on their own, a few hundred men to a few hundred Russians. Passing down the street a small patrol of men walked by, acting more casual than security like. They held their wool caps in their hands, and their padded coats worn open at the chest. A gang of children followed close behind, practically nipping at their heels in excitement and wonder for the strange soldier men who wandered through their hamlet. They looked poor, a little dirt, a little worn down, their shirts and trousers worn through and wearing a layer of caked dirt. “Still no phones?” Ju Gan said to the men as they passed, knowing what the answer was. Everyone did, it was the first thing they found out. As well as with the electricity. The men shook their head. “Company commander I guess sent some men down the rail road to follow the electrical lines too. Looks like some time ago a storm had knocked over the electrical poles.” the patrol leader said, joining Gan in the shade, “Only the rail road got cleared, and the roads out of town. But one way or another these folk are isolated.” “Damn.” Gan said, puffing on his cigarette. “I heard from down the chain that even so, it's kind of been that way for a while. Or on and off. Nothing really works here, except the trains; and the cossacks use that.” “Fucking hell. What's the update on Long?” he asked. “I don't know. Maybe half way here? Could be about anywhere, but no one has told me anything exact. Not exact.” “We're going to be here for a while I take it.” The other soldier nodded, and looked around. “Place gives me the creeps. Like someone's watching.” he said, turning to leave. As they walked down the road Gan turned to Hong, “So, how are you liking war?” he asked. Hong looked up at him with an unfamiliar bizarre curiosity. “It's, ah- now what I was expecting.” he said. “Not I either.” Gan said with a long sigh, “I had hoped once to be a part of the Tibet invasion, but that never happened. Now here we are, at war but we haven't seen any action.” “Mhm...” Hong nodded. “If things are this easy, say we have one good battle. We'll be at the Urals by Dongzhi.” Hong nodded along. But truth be told, he didn't want to think about it. Crossing the Urals would mean crossing into Europe, and into Russia's heartland. He could see as well as any of them they were in Russia's backwater. “Come on, let's take a walk.” Gan said, putting out his cigarette on the tree trunk and pitching the butt aside. He walked off down the street, following the foot steps of the other patrol. The streets of the village were all dirt. In places, raised corduroy sidewalks offered a way out of the dirt streets, which may presumably turn to mud during spring time thaws. And throughout the community, the houses were space so far apart each had in their backyards rich full gardens, behind leaning and sagging wooden fences, tied together by strips of rusted iron wire. Hong looked at the homes they passed. Despite many being gray, built of weather worn and tested logs from the surrounding wilderness some had been painted over, though over the years the brightly colored paints needed to coat and finish them must have become hard to find, as much of them were beginning to chip and peel back from the homes themselves. Pigs and chickens rooted around in the dry streets and in the shade of the trees and the tall grasses. Walking towards the creek they stopped. Older women stood at the shoreline and laboriously bent over the waters, washing blouses and trousers, and underwear and shirts. “I was sort of hoping there'd be cute girls here.” he said distantly, looking up into the hills on the other side of town, “But the young flowers have all gone.” Hong didn't have anything to say. The community straddled either side of the small creek that bisected it. A small wooden bridge was the only crossing between the two halves and much the same dominated the other side. There was a homestead with an orchard in the back, and between the full green boughs of the trees the bright reds and yellows of apples hung ripening on the branches, in their shade a handful of pigs scavenged for the over ripened apples and those that had fallen into the clover. “Fuck this shit.” Gan complained, turning and walking the other way. But in the distance Hong could see something. It was distant, barely visibly before the underbrush on a hill the other side of town. But in the sunlight cast along the edge of the trees he thought he could see a figure at the edge of the treeline, dark and silhouetted against the underbrush. He looked to be wearing a hat, or a helmet, or a mask. He – it – was all in black. Before Gan could get away Hong asked, “Sergeant, comrade... What do the cossacks wear?” “What do you mean?” asked Gan, turning back to him. “What do they wear, what's their uniform?” Hong asked, he turned back to the hill but the figure that had been there was gone. But he couldn't help but feel as if he had been seen. “Grey coat with a big fur cap, I think.” Gan told him, “Or Russian field uniforms. I haven't seen them yet though, we haven't. Why?” “Just... Wondering.” a hesitant Hong said, under his breath. [h1]China[/h1] [h2]Mohe County[/h2] “What's the status on the search for the pilot?” the radio asked. “He hasn't been located, but he has been spotted.” Man Wu said, he sat leaning over in a chair, again in the communications tent. On the other end of the receiver was one of the junior command officers, taking a regular debriefing of an evolving situation. He hadn't contacted them, but had come looking for him, “Last seen he was in the river about a kilometer and a half away from the camp. A boat crew and patrols have been sent out to comb the forests. Based on his movements he actually passed into China, so unless we have to cross again I'm not worried about our men wandering into Japanese territory following him for the time being. Over.” “Copy that. I don't imagine our pilot has any supplies on him, I take it?” the other officer asked, “Over.” “No, I don't believe so. I can't imagine the Japanese sent him out here to camp so it's not likely he would have anything on him. So this may slow him down, if he has to eat. You think that? Over.” “That's our basic assumption here in command. If he doesn't eat he may slow down. Or he'll stop and forage or find food some other way. The pursuit won't be direct. He's not entirely lost yet. Furthermore, he doesn't know the land. Command still has confidence, we only encourage you to try harder. “And also, have you retrieved the crashed airplane yet? Over.” “We have, it's in our custody and it's being packed so we can ship it back. Over.” “Good. But we should probably discuss other things. What's the situation with our mission? Has it been set back?” the radio asked. “Over.” “We haven't been set back at all. Clearing crews are maybe about ten to twelve kilometers in. The parts and supplies to build a more permanent bridge have arrived, so soon we'll begin laying the road. We're moving ahead on schedule and we'll be able to connect to the forward groups shortly. Over.” “Copy that, so there has been little to no disruption? Over.” “Appears not. The Japanese weren't here to disrupt it seems. To observe, perhaps. But until we have that pilot we can not be sure. Over.” “Then we don't have anything to talk about further. Keep up the good work. Over and out.” the other officer said unceremoniously, and hung up. Man Wu whiped his brow and stepped out of the tent. The northern sun was sharp in his eyes and he squinted back against the strong daylight. Turning his sight north he rested his gaze on the foundations of the span across the Amur. It was by no means a complicated feat. The river wasn't the Yellow River, and its flow was gentle and stately. Its dark waters flowing at a comfortable and genial pace, not very deep, though neither was it shallow. The pontoon bridge that presently connected China and Russia was at either end flanked by steel beams set into the earth and the day time flash of sparks and stars blinked into and out of existence as engineers with welding torches fixed additional spans and struts into place. [h1]Kazakhstan[/h1] They were up by early morning with the demands of the old man. Words spoken in a language neither of them understood. Rising out of their slumber between woolen and hide blankets, Guo and Chao staggered to their feet. They stumbled through putting on their pants and their clothes before they stepped out into the freezing cold night. After sleeping under blankets, it hit them impossibly hard, like stepping into a steel door. They shivered and wrapped their arms around themselves, the coats they were given helped but in the dead of morning, before the sun even rose, and with a northern breeze it all felt out of time for a mid-summer's morning. They walked out between the yurts of a camp, being joined by the other men and the young boys of the family band. Some of them still looked sidelong at them. Others had warmed, and treated them to the hospitality of neighbors. And as with the yurt they had abandoned, the warm smell of smoldering dung-fueled fires crackled in the inside and the smell of buttery cooking floated out the door as mothers and grandmothers began the work of preparing breakfast. For them though, this immediate luxury wasn't for them as the followed the rest out to the pens where the goats were kept. It was here the men split. Some went off to horses, and mounting rode off to graze the horse herd on the open steppe. For the likes of Chao and Guo they shuffled to the goats, low and stubborn they milled about in a paddock of metal posts driven into the ground and wired together to make a impromptu fence. All the same, many of the goats were secured to the fence itself directly for security. Mixed among them were the sheep, themselves waiting to eventually be let to graze in the open steppe. Shuffling in with the animals they went about their work. Pulling out leather sacks they approached the nannies of the herd. Squatting down at the side of one, Chao ran his hand along her side, betting the doe as she turned a head to sniff and investigate the man squatting alongside her. “Don't you fucking bite me.” he grumbled under his breath as he gently pushed her head away. She bleated in response, but held still as he lay the stiff leather pouch down under her udders. Grabbing a teat, he began milking. The milk squirted out, uneven at first. Chao had never milked an animal in his life, and his uneven grip and rhythm made it difficult to begin. But as he went along he had gotten into the beat, and soon he was filling the pouch with warm goat's milk. A distance off Guo was doing the same. “Never thought I'd find myself milking goats.” Guo complained. “It's not entirely unexpected.” Chao reminded him, “We had to stop and work our way through China to get some stuff, directions. You really don't think we would've tried this on our way through here, did you?” “Yeah but- shit Chao. We could herd the horses. We got a motorcycle!” “I don't think that's what they're made for.” “But, still.” “They probably don't appreciate it if we did try.” added Chao. The stream stopped, and the goat became stubborn. Before she could begin moving Chao pulled out the container of milk before she could walk away and turn it over. Stubbornly she tried to leave early, resisting Chao's initial attempt to stop her before the leather sack could be withdrawn. Be fore a hoof connected, it was gone and he moved to the next one. This one turned and began to try and nibble on the coat loaned to him. Making repeated attempts at it, he pushed her head away before settling into the tedium of competing against her, and her teets. “What do you think about the old man?” Guo asked, slightly further away. “He seems OK enough.” Chao responded. “What do you mean? Can you understand him? Because I sure can't, he could be doing anything with us.” “Well we can still leave at any time.” Chao answered him, “Or at least we got the bike and a full tank of gas at the least. So we can leave. Besides, how else are we going to get through here?” “I'm just worried something will happen.” “We have a lot of ground to cover. We're likely going to have to put our faith in other people we don't know or can't really communicate to. We're going to have to start at some point.” “That might be true, but, well- you know. Do any of us know what's going on? Have you seen how they gather around the radio sometimes? It doesn't seem like anything good is happening. What if we end up in that situation?” “Well, then we do. And we keep going.” “I really don't like how you're so easy with this, so casual. I don't know if you're thinking about it as much.” “I think about it plenty.” said Chao, brushing away the goat's head and moving along. Guo rose among a cloud of sheep, which startled and shot away the moment he rose. “But, well. Some of these people have guns.” “Your dad had a gun.” Guo pointed out. “Yeah, a Japanese relic from the war! It's not like he had any bullets for it.” “He still had one, didn't he?” “Yeah, right. There's a wide difference between a gun with bullets and without!” “How do you know he didn't have any? He could have. I know my uncle kept his hidden.” “Damn it, Chao. You're not making it any easy.” Chao held his arms out to his side and declared, “What choice do we have?” Guo sighed uncomfortably, and went back to work. [h1]Dragon Diaries[/h1] [i]Li Chao [/i] [i]July 20th, 1960. The year of the metal rat.[/i] We've been riding along, following the river for the better part of several days. We've found no breaks in it and the terrain is rough. Out of fear of loosing site of it in the great steppe we elected to follow it close instead of heading out into the steppe itself to find flatter ground. We've been moving slow as a result. We're starting to run low on food and Guo is getting upset. We've been able to find a few things along the river side to help us along but the sparsity of anything out here has made it difficult. There are often grasses for miles, but it's also all rocks and dirt. There's a barren dryness to this land not unlike the desserts I believe, or the Chinese interior. If there were more mountains and valleys I would however be more willing to call it that, but there is nothing. It's beginning to dampen my expectations. However, fate and luck would have it our journey west didn't end in failure. Before we could get into our last can of gas we ran into the local Kazakhs. We came on a herdsman and his family, or clan, or banner. However you want to say it. We rode across him as he and his sons or brothers were tending to their herds of horses at the river. There was a tense moment when guns were drawn. Guo and I both were terrified, but the situation de-escalated. Unfortunately, our Arabic was either too poor or their grasp of it equally as bad as ours and trying to speak with them came down to a long session of pantomime. I felt like I was in school again, it was not enjoyable. Anyways, I think we've been given the option to stay with them for some time. It was hard to figure out. But in exchange for being kept sheltered and fed as a way south is sought after we help tend their livestock and do the chores. I can't say if any of them have anything planned that would be bad for us. But I feel like I can have faith in it. I can't quite tell, but I think Guo might be uncertain, or afraid. We will just need to wait and see. In the time being, we rest and work, like the days traveling through China. And perhaps we can pick up some Kazakh. By no means do I hope to speak it, but that I can learn a few words to help us.