by W. R. Benton
“Out the back. I suspect the Russians will be here and soon. Move toward the old fire station on highway 80 and do it now.” I ordered as I looked everyone over, but saw no injuries. Each of us wore Russian NVG's, so moving at night would pose no problem.
“Kerr, you take point and Silverwolf, you bring up the rear. Let's move, folks, I see headlights on the street now,” I said.
Three Russian trucks, equivalent to an American deuce and a half, stopped in front of the house and a squad of men poured from the rear of each vehicle. They approached the house cautiously, but then I heard three mines go off, followed quickly by screams of pain. I hurried to catch up with my people. The Russians would be angry.
The old fire station was just as it always was, except unmanned and deteriorating quickly. Hoses were still stacked neatly inside, firetrucks were still parked at the ready, but each vehicle was missing a gas cap and the diesel had been stolen years ago by desperate men and women. Food was long gone from the kitchen and the place was cold. It's better to be cold than dead, I thought as we entered the recreation room and moved to sofas and chairs. Joyce immediately pulled her sleeping bag out, as did Arwood and Kelly. Walsh was downstairs keeping watch, and I didn't have to wonder about him falling asleep this night. He'd been the guest of honor of cannibals before and then they attacked us tonight, so he would remain alert.
I walked to a far window and curled up in my sleeping bag, too. It was cold in the room and my bag was warm so I tried to sleep, but it avoided me. My mind began to fill with all sorts of things, and most were about Sandra. Sandra, you were a good woman, baby, and I miss you, I thought.
As I said earlier, my once stunning wife had been disfigured while a guest of the Russians, after she'd been raped by them countless times. During questioning, she'd turned defiant and it had cost her her beauty. Her ears were removed, one at a time, then the tip of her nose was sliced off. It wasn't until her lips were hacked off that she began to talk, but slowly, her pain beyond endurance. More than once she'd passed out, only to awaken in the same nightmare. We'd rescued her, or what was left of her, as soon as we could, but not before she'd been physically and mentally damaged. She'd cried the night we freed her and begged for me to shoot her, only I loved her and couldn't lay a finger on her. She was hideous with her face as it was, but over time, I grew used to it and life went on.
Most folks don't realize true love is not about looks or sex appeal, but a spiritual bond between two people. It's deeper than physical attraction, which is shallow, and disappears over time. Sandra and I knew each other better than anyone else in the world. Now, well, she's gone and I'm alone. Only a fool would have joined the resistance and expected both of us to survive, but I had done just that. I knew, beyond any doubt, she was still near me, because I would feel her presence at times.
I believe in God, but I'm a poor excuse for a Christian. I'm fighting a holy war in my mind and defending a country founded on Christianity and no other religion. There is little mention of any other religion except Jews in our nation's history, if you look at it closely. The Jewish folks I knew before and after the fall were deeply respected, and Israel was the only nation that tried to help us, but our President at the time refused help, saying, “Americans will overcome this alone.”
I knew our nation was doomed when we started bowing to the demands of the Muslims and allowing their laws to be followed, their foods to be served and their customs to be adhered to. Our nation was known to respect other religions and we allowed other faiths, even if we disliked them, to be practiced. We were truly the only nation on earth where freedom of religion was practiced and enforced by laws. We are and always were a Christian nation, always, but the liberals had us twisted, and since they were in power we sat on our asses said nothing. Our lack of speaking up cost us many lives in the years before the fall of America, with wars with Muslim nations, then allowing them to immigrate to our country in large numbers and granting them almost instant citizenship. Following that, those that spoke English well were hired for high level government positions, which was a terrible mistake, because they were bound by the Koran to kill all non-believers. In other words, the Muslims wanted all Christian Americans dead and out of the way, and they actually had a plan organized, but the financial collapse of our nation caused many of them to return home. Those that didn't leave fast enough were hunted down by good ole boys and killed.
Then, one aspect of the collapse that always confused me is how stupid our paid politicians were at the time. Here we were zillions of millions of dollars in debt, and they allowed four million illegal Mexicans to become citizens almost overnight. Most of these Mexicans weren't doctors, lawyers, or other professionals, but minimum wage workers, and a large number were not working at all. The Liberals stated over and over that these aliens would make our country stronger by providing workers, but if that was true, why was Mexico such a poor country? They instantly qualified for unemployment benefits, but they'd not worked a minute in the United States. The treatment of these illegals brought instant resentment from Americans born in this nation and who had a whole different set of rules to live under. Then, when it became known that the illegals were getting better benefits than our nation's retired military, protests began in the streets.
Lastly came the clashes with police and riot control units. Looting became such an everyday thing the evening news no longer spoke of any occurrences of looting or rioting. At first people started sniping at police officers, blaming them for a lack of protection from looters, when in fact our society was terminally ill. Kids had grown into adults with little or no respect for each other, authority, or laws. Finally, just before the fall, folks started attacking police stations with explosives and weapons. Civil law was about to undergo a massive change, because the first thing the President did was enact Marshall Law. Shorty after that, God withdrew his blessings on America, and we fell hard as a nation.
Soon after thinking about God being disappointed with America, I entered the dark void of sleep.
CHAPTER 12
Master Sergeant Fedorovo awoke in a hospital, his head aching and his body sore. At first he was confused, then he remembered the partisan attack. He raised his right hand and felt a bandage on his head, then his eyes blurred and he felt nauseated. A few seconds later the feeling disappeared so he called out, “Nurse!”
“Oh, so you have finally awakened?” a short doctor asked as he neared the Sergeant's bed.
“What has happened to me?”
“You took a glancing blow from a bullet. You are a very lucky man, because the round was fired at an angle or ricocheted from the pavement, and it simply gave you a slight wound.” the doctor said as he read from a chart hanging from the end of Fedorovo's bed.
“When will I be released?”
“Master Sergeant, head wounds are very tricky and while you may look and feel fine, we have no idea yet of the damage done internally. We will run some tests this morning and then we will discuss this again.”
“Bullshit, sir. I have to see to my men. I can do as well with a bottle of vodka in my hand as I can laying here swallowing your useless pills. I am leaving.”
The doctor, a Lieutenant Colonel, knew old Sergeants well, so he replied, “If you can get dressed and walk out of here, you are free to do so.”
“Good.” Fedorovo replied and slid his legs over the side of the bed. Standing, he suddenly was overcome with a sense of dizziness and had to sit back on the bed again. It was then his vision became blurry again.
“So, as I suspected, you cannot walk from your bed. I know you have blurred vision, you are dizzy, and your stomach may be upset. It is all symptoms of a head injury. Now, lay back down and rest.”
Moving slowly back into the bed, Fedorovo asked, “How did the attack go?”
Writing on Fedorovo's chart, the doctor said, “Well, not good for us. We are still counting casualties and checking the base for damage. The last numbers I had were: We had lost over 800 men and women, dea
d, a good dozen or more helicopters, and almost two thousand wounded. So many were injured, we had to send the more serious cases to Jackson by convoy or helicopter.”
“And the partisans?”
“That, Sergeant, is a good question. We counted only 300 bodies and found no injured, or more likely, those discovered wounded were killed. Colonel Ivanov ordered that all captives be executed on the spot and from what I have heard, he is one mad commander.”
“We are going about this war wrong and will never win as things are.”
“That statement could get you a room in a gulag, but I will ignore it as a result of your head injury. To challenge the government is not wise, Sergeant.”
“My Grandfather used to say, 'You attract more bees with honey than you do with vinegar.'”
“So, off the record, what in the hell has that got to do with this war?”
“Sir, we should have come into this country and tried to win the Americans to our side. We should have brought food, medicines, and clothing to help these people. Instead we came in issuing orders and hanging people. When we started mass executions, or reprisals, we lost this war, because it does nothing but instill a deep determination to see us beaten by the enemy. It places hatred deep in each Americans heart for all Russians.”
The doctor laughed and once sober he said, “It was exactly that the Americans tried in the Vietnam War. They had a motto, 'Winning hearts and minds,' except it did not work. No people want their country to fall in the hands of others, so they fight, and I agree, we will not win this conflict.”
“To quote a doctor I know, ' That statement could get you a room in a gulag.'”
The doctor grinned and then asked, “Are you in a lot of pain? And, by the way, our conversation never happened.”
“My head hurts like hell. With each beat of my heart, the pain throbs.”
“Nurse!” the doctor yelled and when a young male Lieutenant appeared, he said, “I want morphine added to this patients IV, and do it now.”
“Yes, sir. I will see to it right now.” the Lieutenant said and then walked to the controlled substances locker.
“You will be feeling fine in just a few minutes. Now, over the next three days, I want you to rest as much as you can and that means sleep, too. I want no contraband vodka in this room, either, and I know how you Senior NCO's can be about booze. If at the end of three days, you can get out of bed and walk out of here, you are free to leave, deal?”
“Deal.” Sergeant Fedorovo said.
The nurse entered the room, injected a medication into the IV and few minutes later, the Master Sergeant was getting sleepy. He was asleep before the doctor left his room.
“By the end of the day, Major Borisovich, I want to know how in the hell we lost over 800 dead and the partisans only lost 300! My whole base is in tatters, with the flight line littered with burned helicopters, my fuels and oils all gone up in flames, and over 2,000 wounded! I lost over half of my well trained and expensive air crews to what, a bunch of peasants? I want answers, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir. My intelligent specialists suspect we were attacked by a force of well over 1,000 partisans and by hitting us at night, they had the element of surprise on their side, sir. Sir, you must stop thinking of this resistance as a bunch of peasants because they —”
“Do what? Do not tell me how to think, Major, or I will have you shot, you arrogant bastard! How dare you sit there and challenge my thinking!”
“Sir, with all due respect, I only meant the partisans are made up of many prior military members, hunters, and gun owners. As a result, they are, in most cases, better trained than the average Russian Private, sir.”
“Horseshit! We have the best trained army in the world, Major. Let me tell you something and you would be smart to listen well; Our soldiers are the best in the world, the very best. I cannot be swayed to think these . . . these . . . criminals running the streets are better trained. Now, you had better get your thinking together, Major, and do the job quickly. I will not tolerate insubordination and if you ever challenge me again, you are a dead man. Have I made myself clear, Major?”
“Yes, sir, very clear.” The chastised Major lowered his head.
“Now, Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev, what can you tell me about this attack and how can we avoid it in the future?”
Standing, Vasiliev replied, “We estimate over 5,000 partisans were involved in this attack, which may be an overestimation, sir, but we suspect other resistance members were brought in from Alabama, Louisiana, and Tennessee. They must know most of our troops were gone, massed for the pending gas attack, and decided to hit us when our manpower is at it's lowest.”
“And, why do they know so much about us and we so little about them?”
“We know the names of many members of the resistance, but that is about it. Not much we can do with a list of names, sir.”
“Oh, I disagree, Colonel. There is a great deal we can do with a list of names. Right after this meeting, I want you to try and locate the families of all known resistance fighters. I want the families arrested and brought to the gulag as hostages. Then print posters and place them around town, threatening to relocate the families up north, after we select 50% for execution. The only way to prevent us from taking any actions is if the partisans surrender to us. Put the typical lies on the poster about how the partisans will be treated well, fed and given new clothing. Once we have most of them locked up, we will execute them.”
“What of their families?”
“What of them? Shoot them, too. This is war, and all of you must harden yourselves against any thoughts that are not ruthless and cold. If a people will not bend to the will of Mother Russian, by God, we will force them to their knees. Now, I want all of you in this room to understand, my patience is short and I am not pleased. I will soon have Moscow on my ass and when that happens, I will be on yours. I want results, gentlemen, or some of you will disappear. Dismissed.”
Later, as he moved down the hallway, Major Borisovich met the eyes of Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev and in a low voice said, “Taking hostages will not work. During the American Civil War the North took the families hostage of all known partisans. The Yankees threatened to shoot some and all survivors would be relocated out of state.”
Stopping, Vasiliev said, “Interesting, but what happened?”
“I am not sure of all the details, but the building they were being kept in collapsed and some of the women were killed and others injured. The North never executed any of them, but not a single partisan surrendered, and when the families were sent out of state, the partisans became more aggressive and bold. By taking their families, all the North did was strengthen the determination of the resistance.”
“Perhaps our Colonel needs to read more American history.”
“Maybe,” Borisovich grinned and then replied, “but I will damned sure never tell him. I thought he was going to go crazy and have me shot earlier.”
“He can, you know, and I suspect if we do not start producing more results he will start lining us up against a wall. I am at my wits end and not sure what can be done to produce more partisan deaths.”
“Try my job, intelligence, my friend, because it is much too difficult. The Americans do not talk well and by the time we get information, say from a torture session, it is usually too old to help us. It is like we are chasing ghosts instead of human beings. What scares me the most is, the Colonel thinks the average resistance member is a halfwit, but the exact opposite is the truth. Most are between 25 and 35 years of age, with two years or more of university education, four years prior military training, most were hunters, and almost all are in excellent physical shape. But, the Colonel sees them like a peasant on the Russian plains, a farmer with no education, no prior military training, and bone tired most of the time, except he is so wrong in his assessment. The resistance is a finely tuned military force, with lots of experience, and may God protect us if they ever get their hands on the gear and aircra
ft we have.”
“We must stop them before that is allowed to happen. I have heard rumors that China may step in and offer the Americans supplies and aircraft. If that happens, it is all over. I do not think the Russian people want a full size war on their hands.”
“Uh, that is more than a rumor. Just between us, our intelligence has confirmed the meddling of China, and they have their own goals with America. Our experts suggest they want the United States to be the next communist country.”
“Communism does not work. Hell, we tried it for years and even with millions of the opposition killed, the program failed. It is only a matter of time before the Chinese will be forced to admit this fact.”
“Maybe, but right now, that is their goal in America. I hope to be gone before the resistance is better armed and supplied, or it will turn extremely bloody. I shiver to think of Americans having planes, tanks, and artillery in their hands, especially after all the murders we have committed in the name of retaliation.”
“I hope to survive the coming week. Let us stop talking of this foolishness or someone may overhear us. We need to go to our sections and do what must be done. If you will send all the information you have on the partisan families, my teams will round them up.” Vasiliev said and then started walking once again.
Of the more than 2,000 confirmed names of the resistance, only 150 families could be found with valid addresses. After locating the homes, the Russians waited, wanting to hit most of the people at the same time, so the rounding up of folks would not scare some away. Major Borisovich knew if they screwed this up, heads would roll and his would be one of the first. It took time to organize the trucks needed and the troops to collect the people, but once ready, Senior Sergeant Yefrem and his squad were part of the rounding up detail. Captain Vladlen Vanya was the ranking officer, mainly because he spoke broken English.
