This is issue #54 of The Universal Dispatch, a weekly newsletter for short-form science fiction.

A short story today, set in the world of Twilight 2000.

Previous Issue: His Merciful Lady

Journal Entry — Yuki “Shutter” Yoshida — 06/23/1999

The Louisiana National Guard has been dug in by Gostyń for a week now. After the shelling at Leszno by the Soviets—or whatever is left of them—we finally have a chance to breathe.

Sarge says we’ll be dug in for a while here. Morale is good, people are using humor to cope with the horrors of the past year, I guess.

Blackjack asked why I never smile today.

I think I remember the last time I smiled. Before the winter of ’98. Before the National Guard. That winter is a gap in this journal. I haven’t been able to write down what happened.

Here goes nothing.

I had been embedded with Echo Company since I moved to Germany in ’97. I was with Delta Squad for most of that time. We called ourselves the Vikings.

I try to take a photo of everyone I meet—commit them to memory, to my own and history’s. Delta Squad. Stoat, Fencer, Quarter—I can see them smiling in the negatives. Cap. I always tried to get one good picture of everyone. To catch them smiling when they don’t notice. I even asked Cap to pose for a portrait—I don’t do portraits. The man just wasn’t photogenic.

Delta Squad and the other Vikings were tasked with taking Ostrzeszów in December ’98. The whole company was down to 70 men. Air support was already essentially non-existent at that point. OSO, as we called the city, sits on a hill. I heard we were supposed to get intel looking down into Kepno.

On the morning of the 14th, we stormed OSO. Hell opened its gates that day. By the time we had taken OSO, we were down to 21 men and women. We holed up in an old office building. I still remember how, on the third floor, it felt mundane. Like everyone had just left for the night and would clock back in the next morning. Like I was back home, going into work. Only when you looked closer did you notice that no one had cleaned off the dust in years.

Holed up on the top floor, I was trying to patch up Fencer as best I could. We knew he wasn’t gonna make it.

That’s when Cap came up to me. He gave me a postcard. Some small Polish town. Nonsensical good wishes on the back.

“It’s code,” Cap said. “The big shots will know what it means. Our primary objective is to hold OSO, slow down the Soviets as much as possible. Our secondary objective is to get this intel back to Interim-HQ. We lost comms and we lost most of our men. You’re our only chance for this intel.”

I tried to protest. I wasn’t gonna leave my squad. Cap just said: “These are our orders. We’re gonna defend this city. You’re civilian. These are not your orders. Wear your PRESS vest. The Soviets might just not shoot you if you’re alone. This is not an order; I ask that you deliver this message. Protect it with your life.”

There was no arguing with Cap. He was a serious man. As I was about to leave, he said, “Here, take this.” He gave me his pistol. “You’re civ. Put it in your backpack. It’s out of ammo, but maybe it’ll come in handy one day.” Cap’s M9.

“And another thing,” he said then. “You said you never got a good picture of me.” He handed me a photograph. It was of him with his wife. He looked happy there. He was smiling in the photo. I looked at him. And I smiled at him. I was thankful. But it was also a sad smile. I looked in his eyes and saw that the man in the picture was gone.

The Russian attack started that evening, as I was leaving OSO through the underbrush.

I think it was our office building that I saw crumble from a distance. I never saw any of them again. I did hear the fighting from far away. They slowed down the Russians all right.

I managed to connect with American troops just outside Wrocław. They passed on the intel. Now, I’m with the Louisiana National Guard. I still have his photo. As I do all the pictures I took of the men and women I will never see again. I no longer worry about catching people smiling. Not enough time. When Cap gave me that photo, my knowing, sad smile was the last time I smiled.