The Fall of America | Book 5 | Fallout

by Benton, W. R.

  “I will be back later, if it is not too late.”

  Albert laughed and moved toward his quarters. He had just turned on the television, when two bullets struck his prefab quarters, flew through his living room, and then exited the structure. The T.V. showed a red screen that stated, 'We are under attack. This is not a drill. Report to your duty section immediately.'

  Unsure what to do, he moved toward the perimeter fence. The first foxhole he spotted had a dead man in it, so he took the man's weapons, ammo, grenades and other gear. From what he could see, the bulk of the attack was on the flight line, but that didn't mean it was the primary target. Often an area would come under heavy attack, only to have the attack changed after men were rushed there.

  As he squatted and thought, he heard a huge explosion and, looking behind him, he saw the fuel tanks blow and the petroleum, oxygen, and liquids (POL) storage area went up. Secondary explosions were rocking the base. He saw a refueling truck leave the fuel storage area at a high rate of speed, only to explode less than a hundred meters from the gate to the facility.

  Then, he heard the sound of a rocket, followed by an explosion, or he thought it was a rocket.

  Gradually, over a period of maybe ten minutes, the partisans withdrew, taking most of their dead and wounded with them. He remained where he was, mainly because many of the troops would be trigger happy right now.

  Thirty minutes later the all clear siren was heard.

  Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, then turning, he made his way back to his quarters.

  The next morning, while looking near where he'd seen the rocket explode, Albert found the remains of a Chinese type 98 rocket, a 120mm unguided anti-tank rocket system, called a “Queen Bee.” He picked up a few pieces and made his way to the Commander's office. He had to wait for the man, but he was in no hurry.

  Two hours later, he walked into the Commander's office, saluted and said, “I think we have a serious problem, sir. The rockets fired on the base last night were of Chinese manufacture, and I think it was a rocket called a Queen Bee, which is an anti-tank rocket mainly.”

  “So, why is that a problem?”

  “Sir, it may be the Chinese are now arming the Americans.”

  “Oh, I see. Ummm, that could be a real problem. Captain, this will be our secret for right now, and share it with no one. I will form a team to determine if most of the rockets fired at us last night were Chinese. If so, I will file an official report to the Chinese, through Moscow. Additionally I will have all partisans killed or captured searched for Chinese products. They very well may have started to aid this band of peasants.”

  “As you wish, sir. I just thought I should bring it to your attention.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I do not think these peasants can last another year, even with the help of the Chinese.”

  Peasants, my ass, and you called them that twice. These men are mostly prior military, experienced hunters, and a great number of older retirees with combat experience. They make up the largest unorganized military in the world, with enough personal guns to most likely arm each of them with two weapons. No, we are not fighting peasants, he thought as he saluted and left the office.

  Later, Albert discovered the Colonel had sent the parts of the rockets to Moscow and claimed they were part of a Chinese rocket called a Queen Bee. He'd discovered hand grenades, some did not explode, and a number of magazines, and weapons of Chinese make. All were forwarded to Moscow, and they made a big deal over the Colonel's fine observation. He was notified he was almost assured of being on the next list of Full Colonels being promoted to the General ranks. He decided if he made General, Pajari would be promoted to Major.

  It was at his next 0600 meeting when the chief of communications asked to speak for a moment in front of the group. Matveev was frustrated his usual briefing was to be interrupted, but said, “You have five minutes, Colonel.”

  The Lieutenant Colonel pulled a message from Moscow and read, 'Effective this date and time, Colonel Ivan Matveev, of Edwards Air Base, North America, is hereby promoted to the rank of Major General.iii Please pass on our congratulations to him. Signed, Vitvinin Zinoviy Anatolievich, Army General.' Sir, my staff and I would like to be the first to congratulate you on your first of many stars.”

  The Commander was speechless, but after a few seconds, he said, “An officer should always reward those men who have helped him climb the ladder of rank. Captain Albert Pajari, please stand.”

  Albert stood, feeling out of place in a room full of officers.

  “Gentlemen, I considered promoting this man, once again, to the rank of Major, but I will not. Instead, he is now Lieutenant Colonel Pajari, and will be the new head of Partisan Operations. This meeting will close early today, so I can call my wife, and then Moscow.” He started for the door, and the room was called to attention.

  Master Sergeant Emin Ivanovna approached Albert and said, “My, I have never seen an enlisted man get promoted as often or as high as you have, my friend. Care to share your secret?”

  Lieutenant Colonel Pajari said, “I was able to recover parts of a rocket fired on us during the last attack and also found a few weapons used. They were of Chinese make. Which means the partisans are now supplied, at least partially, by China. I think Moscow was so happy to find proof to use as propaganda against the Chinese, they promoted our Colonel. He in turn promoted me. The odd thing is, all I wanted to be was a Master Sergeant and now I am a Lieutenant Colonel.”

  “The army is the army, and usually is not concerned with our wishes. I do not envy your new job as the Chief of Partisan Operations. It will be a job, I fear, that may bring you many ass-chewings at meetings like this one.”

  “Let them chew on me. I have already been chewed out many times, so they will not get a virgin. Come, and let us eat breakfast together. Once that is done, I need to get my new rank sewed on my uniforms. My wife will be very pleased with my increase in pay. Being overseas in a combat zone, having access to classified information, and all the other pay incentives will raise my base pay a great deal as a senior officer.”

  “You will earn every ruble, my friend. The army gives very few free rides.”

  The same afternoon, as General Matveev was packing things in his office and getting ready to leave for Moscow, Lieutenant Colonel Pajari showed up, as ordered. The General had the Colonel sit, and he moved to his chair. Pulling a bottle out of his lower right desk drawer, he poured into two glasses about three fingers of vodka. He handed one to Albert and then said, “My last act as the Commander here is for you to join our special teams that are creating problems for the Americans. No, you are not to spend a great deal of time with them, since you do not speak English, but perhaps a couple of days and one night will be enough. Since you are their Commander, you should have a working knowledge of their operations.”

  “I agree, sir.” Albert agreed, but didn't really like the idea. He knew any Russian caught dressed as a partisan would be treated as a spy, and shot.

  “If you do your job well here, Albert, I will see you make Full Colonel. My new assignment is Chief of Army manpower and promotions.”

  “I understand, sir.” he replied, but didn't care what officer rank he was. He missed his enlisted friends and most, except for a couple of Master Sergeants, no longer spent time with him. The Russian army had strict rules against fraternization of the officer and enlisted grades.

  “When am I to be inserted with a team?”

  “You will be inserted alone, with a team already in the field, when we resupply them this morning. We have determined the Americans have a suitcase bomb; they are attempting to move it near Jackson, and they plan to detonate it. We have no idea which team of partisans has the bomb, not really, and we are attempting to meet all units moving north or toward Jackson. That task is a difficult one, because the Americans are frequently moving around Edwards and I-20 and I-55, the highways that run around and to Jackson.

  Your teams are not to engage any unit, unles
s they are positive they have the suitcase bomb. I have no desire to scare the Americans away, because this way we may recover one of the two bombs stolen earlier from a train. Later this morning you will be shown the container the bomb comes in, given partisan clothing, and then flown out to meet your team. You are not to speak in the field at all, unless it is important, or an actual emergency. The teams will only speak English, so you may be confused at times.”

  “Yes, sir. Why aren't Spetsnaz doing this work for us?” Albert asked.

  “They are currently tied up in another part of the world. The idea to do this is mine, which I took from the Germans in World War II where they used Operation Grief during the Battle of the Bulge. The original genius who came up with the idea was Waffen-SS commando Otto Skorzeny, of the German army, and while his attempt did not work, ours is having great success. Many of our units have misled the partisans, changed signs, and even issued false orders over the radio. Much confusion has been caused by just a few Russians.”

  “How many teams are currently in the field that speak English, sir?”

  “Six, but that may double over the next year, because in the Motherland, they are searching now for those people who are fluent in English and have lived in this country at some point.”

  “My only concern is if our people are caught, will they not be executed as spies? It is illegal to fight in the uniform of your enemy, is it not, sir?”

  The General laughed and replied, “Of course our troops know they will be executed if caught. It is a risky job, Colonel, but one vital to the Russian Army. A single unit of squad size can cause more problems for the Americans than a battalion of infantry. It is well worth the risk.”

  “Uh, I see, sir. And, where is this special unit I will join?”

  Moving to a large map of central Mississippi on his wall, drink in his left hand, he used his index finger to point at an area just south of Pearl, Mississippi. He took a drink of his vodka and said, “They are currently about five miles south of Pearl.”

  “Why Pearl, if the target is Jackson?”

  “If the partisans can detonate a nuclear bomb at Pearl, Colonel, they will get all of the international airport and all of Jackson, or at least the bulk of the city with the blast alone.”

  “What of the civilians in the area?” Albert asked, and then took a sip of his drink.

  “What about them? I think the Americans are willing to sacrifice the civilian population to show us they will retaliate when and where they wish. They have more or less proven over the last year that they are willing to allow civilian deaths to further their cause, which is to have us leave this country. That, Colonel, will never happen.”

  “Oh, and why not, General?”

  “There are any number of reasons we will stay; many are political, but this country is rich in raw materials that Russia wants and needs. Over the next few decades, we will rape this nation of what we want and need, and then, when the time is proper, we will leave.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Major General Matveev, looked at his watch and then said, “Finish your drink and then get to supply and speak with Master Sergeant Khramov. He is to have your partisan clothing and gear ready for you. If you run into any problems with clothing or weapons, call me.”

  Yes, sir.” Albert threw back his drink, stood, and then saluted. As he left the room, the General said, “Best of luck on your visit with your team.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  At 1000 hours, after the helicopter made a number of false insertions, Albert was unloaded with a small mountain of food, ammo, and munitions in a small field. Seeing movement, he squatted and flipped the safety off his Bison. He waited.

  “We are friends.” a voice said in Russian.

  “Captain Kuklov, is that you?

  “Yes, Colonel, it is I. We need to move both you and the supplies to the trees, and quickly.”

  “Oh, is there a reason to rush?”

  “Yes, sir, we are in position to block an American unit moving this way. They may or may not have what we are looking for.”

  “Good, I will move to the trees with some boxes.”

  “Come, all, let us move this stuff, and now.” the Captain ordered.

  Ten minutes later, they were in a defensive position along a well used trail. The weather was clear with a slight breeze from the southwest, which Albert hoped was blowing the fallout from the first bomb away from him. Less than twenty minutes later a lone partisan walked down the trail looking for booby-traps or mines. At times his eyes would scan the country-side, looking for ambushes or danger. This man was a very cautious man. Albert noticed the man was thin, of average height, and very alert. He was wearing, like Albert, a mixture of Russian and American clothing. His shirt and jacket were Russian, but he wore an American ball cap and a pair of jeans. His boots looked to be Russian, but due to the dense brush, it was hard to tell.

  Five minutes later the main body of Americans moved into view and while they were carrying loads, none were a suitcase or big enough to be the bomb. Captain Kuklov let them pass and then waited until their drag man passed before he spoke. “We will stay where we are for now, because a second unit has been reported to be behind this one. I suspect they will be here in less than 30 minutes.” He spoke in Russian, in a voice almost a whisper.

  “They are coming!” Lieutenant Gagarin said almost 35 minutes later.

  Chapter 15

  I was tired, and fighting the straps of my pack. The heavy load I was carrying had the nylon straps digging into my shoulders and I knew at the next break I'd need to either place something under the straps or divide some of the unit gear I was packing. I knew beyond a doubt my pack was well over 70 pounds.

  It was then Brewer squatted and raised his right hand in a fist. It was time to stop, because he'd spotted something.

  From the woods off my left side, I heard a voice say, “Rapid!”

  Brewer grinned and replied, “Deployment.”

  A tall man stood from the brush, not twenty feet from me, smiled and asked, “Want some coffee and hot grub?”

  “You bet,” I said, and then added, “I'm Quarterback.”

  “Well, you're right on time, sir. Come with me and we'll see your immediate needs are cared for and your supplies issued.”

  I followed, along with the rest of the group, the man back to his camp. He was just outside the swamp in a thicket of briers and brush, surrounded by oak trees. His unit, which had started with ten people, was down to five now, due to combat losses. While any unit with that few people left should return to base, they'd not, because of the importance of supplying us. While we were gathering goods and sipping on real coffee stolen from the Russians, I repacked my gear and removed a lot of junk. By now you'd figure I'd learned over the years exactly what I needed in the field, but I am a bit of a pack-rat.

  I removed every single thing except what was mission essential, which meant rations, bullets, and munitions. Even my paperback book I'd found months ago and read at least six times was discarded. I did keep a Russian .22 pistol with a silencer and two magazines. I'd taken the pistol off a dead Russian Colonel years ago. All the rest I dumped. The unit gear was divided, so each of us carried some. Like most, I usually carried a change of clothing in the event I got soaked, and a light Russian jacket. I kept the jacket and my poncho, but threw away the extra clothes. I figured once I set the bomb, I'd have one hour to get the hell out of Dodge, and it was very likely I'd toss my pack to the side. I'd want speed and not munitions or explosives as I left Pearl. I figured anyone with me would likely do the same.

  We spent the afternoon packing and repacking our fresh supplies, and of interest to all of us was the fact many of our items were made in China. My ammo, six grenades, and my rations were Chinese, and I had no idea what was inside of them.

  “If you're wondering about the Chinese rations, the meal includes a compressed food packet, an energy bar, an egg roll with pork, a pickled mustard tuber, and a powdered beverage p
ack. Most of the rations contain high energy foods, such as instant rice or noodles that are self-heated and luncheon meat. You will find the entree pretty tasteless and mostly a rice or noodles dish, but the energy bar is pretty good.” the team leader said with a grin.

  Another man said, “They are a welcome change to Russian rations and while not as good as MREs, they'll keep you alive in a pinch. By mixing the three types of rations, a person can have a fairly decent meal, mainly because of the small bottle of hot sauce in the MREs.”

  “Any time change in the Chinese grenades?”

  “Supposedly not, but I've discovered to take no chances, because some detonate early and some late, or not at all. I suspect they have a huge quality control problem with munitions.”

  “So pull the pin and pitch, right?”

  “Pretty much, and I try to use Russian grenades to toss and Chinese for booby-traps.”

  “Got ya, and that's what I'll do,” I said, and was beginning to think the Chinese helping us may not be that good of an idea.

  “Any difficulty in reading the labels on the gear sent for our use?” I asked, and then took a sip of the wonderful hot coffee.

  “There can be, but on most supplies they've sent, the contents are listed in both Chinese and English. I have no idea if that's because this gear was just sent to us, or if they do that all the time. But, the wording on the directions can be funny. It's obvious most of those translating from Chinese to English are not fluent in our tongue.”

  “We need a new medical kit. Do you have one?”

  “Yep, and it's Chinese too. It's a field kit for a trained medic, similar to what an Emergency Medical Technician would pack. There's morphine and codeine in the bag for serious injuries. Over all, it's satisfactory.” the leader replied, and then gave us a weak smile.

  “Anything else we need to know?” Brewer asked as he met my eyes.

  “Yes, you'll find 6 shoulder fired rockets, called a Queen Bee, in your gear. It is unguided, so make sure your aim is true, and it fires a 20 mm all-purpose high-explosive rocket. It comes equipped with a night vision sighting system, which I have found functions fairly well, and the rocket has a maximum range of about 800 meters.”