The Fall of America: Winter Ops

by W. R. Benton

  Motya looked that the Colonel and then asked, “Well, is that not a surprise?”

  “It is to me, but I think Moscow decided the Russian people need a hero and I am awfully glad they chose me. Only in Russia, can a man be close to a firing squad, then be proclaimed a hero five minutes later.”

  Standing, the lawyer extended his hand and smiled.

  Vasiliev grunted, met the man's eyes and said, “Avoid me, Motya, because I have little use for men with no backbone.”

  Before the lawyer could reply, a Corporal neared and said, “Colonel, you are the new base commander here and if you will follow me, sir, I will take you to your quarters.”

  As he walked away, he turned, pointed his finger like a gun at the lawyer and said, “Stay away from me, Major.”

  Motya felt a shiver go through his body.

  Master Sergeant Morozov was standing in Colonel Vasiliev's office early the next morning and the Sergeant was almost completely healed. His earlier injuries pained him at times, but the pain was managed easily by a few sips of vodka. The senior NCO was standing about three feet in front of the officers desk at attention.

  “Master Sergeant, do you understand your mission? I know my directions are vague and I do not know for sure where I was being held, but the partisans have five of our senior officers and they must be rescued.”

  “If you are sure it was in this area, we will find the camp, unless they have moved. With your escape, it is not likely they remained there.”

  “I want you to take three dog teams and look for them. It is absolutely essential that we rescue the officers. Now, what I am about to tell you is not to be spoken of outside this room, understand?”

  “Yes, sir, and I have a security clearance.”

  “This pertains to your mission too, or I would not bring it up.”

  “Then I have a need to know, sir.”

  “A few days after the attack on the base, two tactical nuclear weapons were taken by the partisans following an attack on a train. These weapons are small, just big enough that a man can parachute in, set the timer, and then get safely away. The blast is small, but sufficient to destroy a city, lets say, the size of Saint Louis, Moscow, or Jackson.”

  “Sir, they are useless to the partisans if they cannot arm them.”

  “That is true, if these were a bunch of peasants, but they are not.” The Colonel opened his top desk drawer, pulled out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. Nodding toward his chair, he asked, “Drink?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Once in the field, I will not get much vodka.” He moved to the chair and sat.

  “My intelligence section is positive they have a number of learned men with the resistance and some are known scientists. I feel over time they will be able to arm both weapons.”

  “Oh, that is not good, because they could kill a lot of Russians, sir.”

  Pouring two crystal glasses full of the clear alcohol, he handed one to the Sergeant, and then said, “I can assure you, if you happen to recover the tactical nuclear weapons, of a promotion, medal and an immediate return to Russia, Sergeant.”

  “Sir, I lack the formal education to be promoted to a higher rank.”

  “The message I have from headquarters is the man who is responsible for the recovery of the weapons will be immediately promoted to the rank of Captain, regardless of his current rank. In your case, since you are a Master Sergeant, I am sure I can have you promoted to the rank of Major, or maybe even Lieutenant Colonel, due to your obvious intelligence and combat experience. It is something to think about during your mission.”

  “But what of my limited education?”

  “This is a war, Sergeant, and I think education means much less than experience. I do not know much more than what I just told you. So, I want you to lead a group of men, along with a Lieutenant Ioann Oleg, after the partisans. The Lieutenant will be on his first mission, so he will be more or less useless to you, but he will be in charge, on paper. I will personally brief him that he is to listen to you and agree with your suggestions. In other words, he will be there for show, while you will be calling the shots.”

  “When do we leave, sir?”

  “We had to borrow some helicopters from Jackson, but as of right now, you will leave at 0400 in the morning. You and a company of men will be inserted near a swamp that is slightly north of where I think the camp is located. Then, moving due south, you should find the place. I want hourly radio reports or when something important is discovered or happening. I have a squadron of fighter jets on standby to support you, along with ten Black Shark helicopters. We must recover these weapons at all costs.”

  Knowing the conversation was over, Morozov stood and saluted.

  Returning his salute, the Colonel said, “Good hunting.”

  The Master Sergeant nodded, did an about face, and left the office.

  That evening, right after supper there was a little knock on his door. Morozov moved to the door and opened it. Unlike the junior enlisted, his quarters was actually a small prefabricated structure with many luxuries denied the common soldier. The lower grades slept in tents, while the Master Sergeant actually had a bathroom and bed.

  A small squirrely looking Lieutenant asked, “Master Sergeant Morozov?”

  “Yes, sir. Please enter my humble quarters, sir.”

  The man was small, maybe five feet four inches, about a 54 kgs, with short blonde hair. He wore thick glasses with military issue black frames and he looked about fourteen years old.

  “Have a seat, sir. Drink?”

  “Uh, no thank you, Master Sergeant. I do not drink.” Oleg sat in a wooden chair.

  Pouring himself a drink, the Sergeant asked, “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I am here mainly to meet you and let you know I have no combat experience. I will have to depend on you a great deal during our mission.”

  “I will keep you out of trouble, sir, and try to save lives. How old are you?”

  “Twenty, why?”

  “How did you finish a university so quickly?”

  “During my secondary school years I attended a military academy and when I entered college, they gave me two years of college credits. Then, once I finished the university, I was made a Junior Lieutenant.”

  “Do you speak any languages?”

  “Some English. I took the language at the both the academy and university. I have never spoken to an English speaking person, so I have no idea if I can do the job well or not.”

  “If we take prisoners, you might come in handy in the field.”

  “We will see.”

  “What was your major at the university?”

  “Arts; I am a painter of sorts.”

  Arts? For God's sake, the partisans will eat this man for breakfast, he thought and then asked, “Do you have all your gear packed, sir?”

  “All but my chemical biological gear.”

  “Leave it. We are the only ones with the capability to release either, and it will not be done while we are on this mission.”

  “Because of what we are looking for?”

  “Yes, sir, and I take it the Colonel has briefed you?”

  “Oh, yes, and made it clear that you are really in charge. He has a lot of respect for you and your skills.”

  “Well, no disrespect intended sir, but I have been in the army longer than you have been alive. So, I know a few things that can keep us safe and alive.”

  “Good, because I hope to learn much from you.” The officer stood and made his way to the door.

  Morozov moved to the door and said, “Enjoy your evening, sir.”

  “You as well, Master Sergeant.”

  As the young officer walked away, Master Sergeant Morozov thought, If he is alive twenty-four hours from now, I will be surprised as all hell. He is like a big baby.

  CHAPTER 19

  We moved quickly and by dark, were in the new building. I immediately had a squad of carpenters building cells for our prisoners, and selected a private office f
or Colonel Lee. As I was setting his office up, Silverwolf walked into the room and said, “Our men on drag and two fellows I left near our old headquarters state Russians are all over the place, with an estimated strength of a company. I ordered them to come here in a roundabout way and for two men to shadow the Russians as they move.”

  “I think they're looking for the Nukes.”

  “They can't know we have them.”

  “No, but obviously the escaping Colonel remembered where we were located. It's a damned good thing we moved. I want all trails and roads to this place heavily mined and booby-trapped. I want snipers planted in trees, with assigned areas of responsibility for shooting. Rush the job too, because if they have dogs, they'll trail us easily enough.” I said, and then scratched Dolly's ear. She was closer to me now that Sandra was gone. She was all I had to remind me of the old life.

  “I hear you, and John, Colonel Lee is looking so much better now than earlier. I honestly thought the man was dying on us.”

  “He is, but slowly and over time. John, we don't have time for small talk, so get people working on the mines and such. Thanks for your help, too.”

  “Will do.” He turned and left.

  As I was moving some books, the Colonel entered and said, “Good news, I guess. Our scientists say the nukes can be activated with a magnetic key and code. They've managed to reset the code and a key is being made. I pray we never have to use a tactical nuke, but we may.”

  “How are you feeling, sir?”

  “Weak and like hell warmed over. Thank you for putting my office together, because I can't do it. I suspect within a month, John, I'll be forced to turn command over to you. You're intelligent, have the needed skills and experience. You'll have to make some rough decisions, son.”

  “Oh, I know it, and don't really want the job. I've seen a lot of good commanders come and go, but count you and Willy two of the best.”

  “Thank you, I'm flattered.”

  I then explained about the Russians and Lee thought for a moment and then said, “Once we know the trail they are using, we need to set up an L shaped ambush and take 'em out. I'm positive they don't know we have the nukes, so I doubt that is the reason they are after us. Most likely the Colonel remembered where our camp was, is all.”

  “Sergeant Fox!” I turned and yelled from the Colonel's door.

  “Yo!”

  “Gather up all the fighters you can find, pull some Claymore mines and be ready to move in an hour.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “That's taken care of, and now I need to sleep.” he said and moved toward his cot.

  “Colonel, as soon as the ambush is over, I'll let you know what happened. It may be, and I think it will, we'll have to move again, but further.”

  The Colonel, now suddenly looking old and worn out, sat on his cot, ran his fingers through his hair and said, “Once we move, if need be, I'll turn command over to you. My legs feel heavy, I have trouble breathing, and I have little strength. I can't keep moving like this and maintain a clear head to run things. Each move costs me both mentally and physically.”

  “I fully understand, sir.”

  “See to the ambush and I wish you good hunting.”

  I knew I was being dismissed, so I said, “Thank you, sir, and I'll keep you in my prayers.” I walked from his office.

  The ambush was ready, and if things went well, we'd kill all in the group. But in combat, things rarely go as planned. I grew nervous as their point man walked by us, scanning as he moved, but my folks lived in the woods and were experts at camouflage. A good fifty yards later the whole group showed up and there were a shit-pot full of them. I looked, but didn't see any officers but suspected they'd mingled with the private solders, so they'd not stand out.

  Just when the first of the group neared our last Claymore, I clicked the clackers in my hands and blew a wide path in the middle of the group and then heard three more mines explode. Bodies flew apart, as screams and shrieks filled the air as men were knocked off their feet. A cloud of bright red floated over the trail and then our other individual weapons opened up. A machine-gun raked the trail up and down a number of times throwing clumps of dirt and body parts high into the air. Periodically the gunner would shoot a few long bursts into the grass around the path. More screams were heard and overall there was little resistance. Three grenades exploded on the trail and then silence, except for the moans of the dying and the screams of the wounded. I waited almost an hour, and during that time, an occasional shot was heard from my side as a wounded man tried to crawl into the brush.

  “Jonas and Burns!” I yelled finally.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Yo!”

  “Take your squads, go slowly, and check them out. All of us will cover you as you move forward. I want no survivors, understand? Now, move!”

  “Just don't shoot my ass.” Jonas said, laughed, then added, “Come on guys, let's check 'em out.”

  Silverwolf asked, “What of the point man and the drag man? Those two that got away.”

  “Take Washington's squad after the point man and have Airhart use his squad to find the drag man. Tell him to try to bring his man back alive, but take no chances. If we get lucky, maybe we can find out what they were looking for, if anything.”

  “Yes, sir.” Silverwolf replied and then disappeared into the trees to find Washington and Airhart.

  From the trail I heard gunshots, screams, and then a loud yell, “They're getting away!” Followed by a hell of a lot of gunfire. It grew quiet once again and at times I'd hear a pistol shot. I suspected wounded Russians were being shot. I heard a shout, “To the right!” Then a grenade exploded and someone yelled, “Got 'em.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jonas appeared and said, “All are dead, with the exception of two and they're both wounded. From the bright red blood we found, fatally too. We can track them if you want.”

  “Do that, because I want no survivors. Was the radio in good shape?”

  “Sure and Private Baker has both of them now. But why?”

  “Some of our electronic gurus have found a way to change the radio frequencies, so we can use them on a different frequency than the Russians. Radios will make our lives safer and missions much easier. Get on the trail of those two Russians and now.”

  “Will do, and I'll meet you back at headquarters.”

  There sounded a single shotgun blast some distance away.

  Jonas said, “I think one of the wounded Russians now has a new injury.”

  “Get right on it, Jonas,” I said with a slight grin. I like the man immensely.

  I watched as he left with his squad, heading for the sound of the blast.

  “Everyone move forward and strip the dead of any gear we can use. We need to hurry, people, because the Russians will come looking for these troops. Once they find them, they'll want our asses; now, move!”

  Early the next morning, just as the sun was coming up, Jonas, Airhart and Washington returned, looking rough and missing a woman from Airhart's group. The three leaders walked to me, as their troops moved to find a placed to eat and then sleep.

  “We killed three out of four, but one, a Sergeant, got away from us.” Airhart said.

  Jonas laughed and said, “The sonofabitch must have been an Olympic runner too, because the boy was fast. The way he moved through the trees and brush, I know he's torn to hell and back. Plus he's wounded, but I can assure you, he wasn't injured in his legs.”

  “I need everyone's attention. One Russian survived the ambush, so we need to pack up and get ready to move. We need to hurry too, because if this Russian is picked up by a chopper, we're all dead meat.” I yelled, not angry at all, but needing them to understand how important moving from here really was.

  “Sir, Colonel Lee wishes to speak with you.” one of the administration troops said.

  “Tell him, I'll be right there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Turning to the three leaders, I said, “Get your peop
le up and ready to go. I can't risk all these lives by staying here and while I know your people are tired, it beats dead all to hell.”

  All nodded and Airhart said, “We tried to catch him, sir.”

  “It's not your fault, or anyone's, it's the way the cards fell. Now, get your people ready.” I said and then walked to the Colonel's office. He looked weak and pale, and his eyes were closed.

  “Sir?”

  “J . . . John, take command. I'm afraid I don't, uh, I don't have as much time . . . left as I thought. I want explosives, uh, explosives placed . . . around this house and under . . . my cot.”

  “Why?”

  “When I go, I'll . . . take some . . . of them with me. Do it.”

  “Yes, sir.” I said, and then yelled, “Sergeant Morgan!”

  “Yo!”

  “Come to me, I have a task for you.” I looked down at the shell of the man he used to be. Colonel Lee, like his ancestor, was one hell of a man and I was proud to have served under him.

  “Yes, sir?” Morgan asked.

  I explained about the explosives and he asked, “I suppose Colonel Lee wants to be able to detonate the whole thing, right?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “I'll be done in a few minutes.” He moved from the room and was gone close to ten minutes before he returned. He slid something under the Colonels cot, and handed the man something that looked like an on and off switch.

  “Sir,” The Sergeant asked, “can you hear me?” He was squatted by the bed.

  “I hear . . . you . . . fine.”

  “See this toggle? If you move it in the other direction, this whole place will go up in flames and smoke. Do you understand?”

  “Damn, son, I'm . . . weak, not stupid.”

  I said, “Thank you Morgan, I appreciate you doing this for the Colonel.”

  Ignoring me, Sergeant Morgan snapped to attention, saluted the Colonel and said, “It's been a real pleasure to serve under you, sir.”

  Lee smiled and said, “Dismissed. Get the hell out of here!”

  When Morgan left, I saw the old man wipe the tears from his eyes.