The Fall of America: Winter Ops

by W. R. Benton

  “Me as well, sir. Now, knowing we are planning to use nuclear weapons and the fact we just executed one thousand women and children, the Americans will come for us. You had better pray, sir, they have not found a way to arm the weapons they have —or we are all dead men.”

  “Moscow thinks it would be impossible.”

  “Let me remind you sir, before the fall, this country had some very well trained scientists and engineers. Where have they all gone? Why have we found so few of them? I honestly feel the only thing that will keep them from being able to arm the weapons, maybe, is the lack of tools or equipment. I know they have men and women with the knowledge.”

  “Shit.”

  “So, the question is, do we call Moscow and report this, or keep it between us?”

  Slamming his open palm down on the flat of his desk hard, Vasiliev's face turned ruddy and he asked, “Have you lost your damned mind? Hell no, we are not calling Moscow over this! I want all personnel on 100% alert. I want choppers in the air, I want teams on the ground and I want those partisans found! Do you hear me, Major!'

  “Oh, I hear you, sir, but I suspect if the resistance can get within five miles of this base and detonate one of the nuclear warheads, we will all be blown from the face of this earth. So, sir, it matters little if we call Moscow or not, eh?”

  “Sit down, Major.” the Colonel ordered as he moved to his desk, sat, and then opened the top right drawer. He pulled out a quart of vodka and two glasses. He filled two glasses and handed one to the other man. Borisovich noticed it was a fresh bottle and not the one he'd drank from the night before.

  After they both took a healthy drink, the Colonel said, “We are two smart men, are we not? Surely there must be a way to keep the Americans at bay. Oh, and by the way, you have just been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, Sambor.”

  Careful, Borisovich thought, he is using your first name. He thought for a moment and then said, “Well the promotion is a great surprise to me, and my wife at home will love the increase in pay. Colonel, there is always a chance no one can read the Russian words on the note or by the time they find someone, we will have detonated our own nuclear weapons.”

  “What you say is true, but what if they can read it?”

  “First, authorization does not mean you will use the weapons, only that you may if you choose to do so. I do not think they will expect you to detonate one in a town and the other near where we last saw the partisans.”

  “That's true. Yes, very true.”

  “However, sir, we must assume they will come for us, and I am serious. I have a bad feeling about this situation and think all non-essential personnel need to be evacuated to Jackson, just to be safe.”

  “I disagree, mainly because if we pull a lot of troops out, the partisans will know, so they'll attack without nuclear weapons. Everyone will stay where they are, all of us. Nevertheless, after further consideration, remove the 100% alert, because they do not need to get close to us, not if they can detonate a nuclear weapon, now do they?”

  “Within five miles is what I know of the weapons. If you wish, sir, I can have a weapons expert prepare a briefing for us.”

  “It would be a waste of our time. Look I want everything that flies in the air and I want as many teams out looking for them as you can put together. We must find them, before they find us.” the Colonel said and then threw back the remainder of his vodka.

  Newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Borisovich knocked the rest of drink back, stood, saluted and said, “Will do, sir.”

  Three hours later a helicopter contacted the base and reported seeing hundreds of partisans on the ground, slowly moving north. Both Vasiliev and Borisovich were contacted and then the Lieutenant Colonel had an idea. He called the Colonel and requested an immediate staff meeting, so Vasiliev told him to be in the briefing room in thirty minutes.

  A Senior Sergeant yelled from the pit of his stomach, “Tennn—huuut!”

  Borisovich entered the room, cleared this throat, and said, “Is there anyone in this room that does not have a top secret security clearance? If so, you need to leave now.”

  Two young officers stood and left the room.

  The two senior officers made their way to the podium. Colonel Vasiliev said, “Gentlemen, I have dependable intelligence that the Americans are on their way here to detonate a small tactical nuclear weapon. I will now turn the rest of this briefing over to the head of my intelligence section, newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Borisovich.”

  The Lieutenant Colonel then said, “Gentlemen, we have reliable reason to believe the Americans have found a way to explode one or both of the Russian made nuclear weapons they have in their possession. Approximately 45 minutes ago a force of more than a hundred partisans were seen moving toward this base.”

  “Sir, surely it would not take that many men to detonate a nuclear weapon.”

  “Excellent observation, Captain, and you are correct. It would only take two men, or even one, if in a pinch, to kill every man in this room and on this base. We feel the other men are along to provide security for the nuclear weapons and to insure it reaches it's intended target, which we feel is this base, as I said before.”

  “What are our options, sir?” a nervous looking Major asked.

  “We have a plan, and we are sure it will work. At their present location and even their projected advance movement, they are too far away to be a threat to us right now. Also, the wind currents, if they stay as they have been for the last six months, offer us protection too.”

  “Protection from what,” a young lieutenant asked and then added a late, “sir?”

  “Nuclear fallout, Lieutenant.”

  The young officer suddenly looked confused and said, “Oh.”

  “Tonight at dark, after 1730 hours, some of our men will be loaded on a chopper, along with a tactical nuclear weapon. After making a number of false landings, the men and weapon will be unloaded and the chopper will leave, to continue making false landings. This will make it impossible for the partisans to know when the two men get off the aircraft.

  They will move to the last known position of the partisans, arm the nuclear weapon and then clear the area. This weapon will be set to detonate at midnight, gentlemen.”

  Smiles were starting to show around the room and even a few cases of nervous laughter were heard. Feeling confident now, Borisovich asked, “Is the Weapons Commander and his Sergeant here?”

  “I am filling in for the Colonel, sir, he is overseeing the arming of aircraft.” a tall and lanky Master Sergeant said. He then added, “I am Master Sergeant Luka Milan.”

  “Sergeant, what is the blast distance for a small nuclear weapon about the size of a suitcase.”

  “It depends on the type, sir, and there are many in our inventory.”

  “Uh, how about an RA-115?”

  “A little over 16 kilometers, sir.”

  “Oh, that far, huh?”

  “Yes, sir and it is a dependable weapon too.”

  Colonel Vasiliev stepped forward and said, “Sergeant Milan, you will remain after the briefing, and the rest of you are excused, but remember, this meeting has been classified Top Secret.”

  After everyone left the room, Colonel Vasiliev asked, “Can you arm this weapon?”

  “Oh, sure sir, it is simple. All I need is the key and a code. I insert the key and it unlocks a console that pops up, type in the code, and then run like hell.”

  “Can it be easily turned off?”

  “No, it takes a different key and a new code which is written only to disarm the weapon.”

  “How many men will you need to go with you?”

  “Go with me? What does that mean, sir?”

  “It means Master Sergeant, you are about to become a hero, get a big medal, and a promotion to Captain, which will double your retirement pay. But if needed, you can consider this an order.”

  Realizing he was screwed, the Sergeant said, “Five men, including me. I want four to provide security
for me while I arm the bomb. I will set it for midnight, but I want a helicopter to pick us up and return us to base on my call. Agreed?”

  “Not a problem, and we will issue you three radios and five of the small portable ones, one for each of you. I would suggest you find your men now and get ready. I want you in the air at 1730 hours.”

  Grinning, the Master Sergeant said, “When we return, sir, I am sure my men and I would love a case of premium vodka.”

  “It will be in your quarters, and Sergeant?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “When you get on that helicopter, I want you to climb on as a Captain, understood? Your promotion was immediate, so you are out of uniform, sir.” the Colonel said and then smiled.

  CHAPTER 23

  Sergeant Belton was on point and it was already dark. He was wearing Russian night vision goggles and loved them. As far as he knew, they were to move to about five miles from Edwards under the cover of darkness, and then turn east and travel to a spot near Jackson. He also knew most of the units were meeting there for some reason. He figured it was to attack another Russian base. He liked being a Sergeant, because he knew enough about what was going on to keep him happy and he didn't have enough rank to have to worry about a lot of troops. He had his squad and that was it. With rank comes responsibilities, he thought.

  It was then he heard a chopper. He pulled out his poncho, so that if it got close he'd cover himself and maybe avoid infrared detection. It wasn't running with lights on, which told the Sergeant it was on a mission. Against the overcast sky, he saw it land in a field, close to a hundred meters away. He watched closely, saw no one get off and then it went back into the air. He heard the chopper do the same thing four or five more times. Now, he thought, what in the hell was that about? It was either a fake landing or they may be having aircraft problems.

  He quickly returned to the main group and reported to Colonel Smith what he'd seen. The old Colonel looked at the oldest member in the group, Sergeant Major Henry, and asked, “Have you ever heard of that before?”

  “They may be inserting a team to follow us. In Vietnam we did it all the time against the NVA and Cong. It makes it much harder for the enemy to discover where the real insertion was made.”

  “I'm not going to worry about it then. They know we're here, hell, they been flying over us all day. Belton, get back on point.”

  “Yes, sir.” the Sergeant replied and then moved forward.

  Almost three hours later, there came a burst of fire and Belton fell to the snow screaming in pain. Corporal Dupuy moved forward under covering fire and pulled the injured man to safety behind a tree. From what he could see with his NVG's, Belton had been shot in both legs and while it must have hurt like a bitch, he'd live.

  “Sergeant Haney!” the Colonel yelled.

  “Yo!”

  “Take your squad and flank them.”

  Haney and his men no sooner neared the Russians than a mine, similar to the American Claymore, exploded and all but the Sergeant was instantly killed. He had been struck in the chest and was having trouble breathing.

  The battle continued, and finally the Colonel ordered the men to pull back so they could go around the small pocket of Russians. He suspected they were some of the squads the Russians had out looking for them. It had taken time to administer to the injured and when Colonel Smith glanced at his watch, it was five minutes until midnight. He started moving and waved the men on to continue the march. Belton was being carried on a stretcher, along with Haney, who had been struck in the lungs, and they'd been given a shot of morphine for their pain.

  No one saw Captain Milan and two other men moving off to the east. They left one dead and one too badly hurt to move. From his watch, it was about an hour before the explosion. He pulled the handset from the radio and called for a helicopter extraction. Twenty minutes later he was in the air moving for the airbase.

  At exactly midnight, there was a super bright light to the south of Edwards Air Base and slowly it dulled. Most didn't realize the light signaled the death of over a hundred and fifty-three partisans in the first nuclear attack on the continent. The Russians had just gone too far.

  “Colonel Vasiliev, I think that ends our partisan problem, at least for a while.” Captain Milan said, and then laughed.

  “Yes it does and by the way, that is a lot of vodka in your room for just three men.”

  Smiling, the Captain said, “Yes sir, it is and we earned every drop. I am sure it will last us a long time.”

  The End. . .for now.

  Coming Soon,

  Fall of America: Fallout, Book #5

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  About the Author

  W.R. Benton is an Amazon Top 100 Selling Author and has previously authored numerous books (over 30) of fiction, non-fiction, young adult, and Southern humor. Such notable authors as Matt Braun, Stephen Lodge, Don Bendell, and many others have endorsed his work. His survival book, “Simple Survival, a Family Outdoors Guide,” is a 2005 Silver Award Winner from the Military Writers Society of America. James Drury, "The Virginian," endorsed two of his Westerns, "War Paint" and "James McKay, U.S. Army Scout."

  Mister Benton has an Associate Degree in Search and Rescue, Survival Operations, a Baccalaureate in Occupational Safety and Health, and a Masters Degree in Psychology completed except for his thesis. Sergeant Benton retired from the military in 1997, with over twenty-six years of active duty, and at the rank of Senior Master Sergeant (E-8). He spent twelve years as a Life Support Instructor where he taught aircrew members how to use survival gear, survival procedures, and parachuting techniques. Mr. Benton and his wife, Melanie, live near Jackson, Mississippi, with four dogs (Dolly, Newt, Benji, and Skillet) and two cats.

  Visit him at:

  https://www.facebook.com/gary.l.benton

  or

  https://www.facebook.com/wrbenton01

  Excerpt from

  JAKE MASTERS, BOUNTY HUNTER

  by W.R. Benton

  THE BLAST of the double-barreled shotgun was loud in the small saloon. The target of the shot, knocked violently against an adobe wall fell slowly to the sawdust-covered floor, his eyes unseeing. The big bore shotgun’s breech snapped open and two empty shotgun shells flew into the air to land on the sawdust covered floor near the bar.

  The bartender ran from the bar, squatted by the fallen man and said, “Good God, he’s almost blown in half!”

  The man holding the gun replied, “That’s what I had in mind when I pulled the triggers.” He then inserted two new shells and snapped the breech closed.

  Standing, the bartender wiped his hands on a badly soiled towel and said, “I’ll get the undertaker and sheriff.”

  Pulling his coat open, so a second pistol was seen, the shooter replied, “Get ‘em if you want, but there is no need for the law. I’m Jake Masters, bounty hunter, and I’ve a warrant for this man, dead or alive. His name is Lester Poor and he was a woman killer, wanted in six states.” Jake pulled a folded wanted poster from his shirt pocket.

  “I had no idea you was a bounty hunter. I saw it all and he pulled iron first! Hell, I thought you were a dead man!”

  “Killing is my job, and I do it well.” Masters said and then asked, “Can you get me a double shot of bourbon?”

  “Sure, but what about this dead man, shouldn’t I get the undertaker first?”

  Masters glanced at the man on the floor and then said, “Nope, not until after I have my drink. He’s dead and I figure he’ll stay dead until I finish my whiskey.” Jake placed the wanted poster on top of the bar.

  “S . . . sure.” The bartender said as he moved to the bar, pulled a bottle and poured a generous amount into a water glass. The bounty hunter didn’t seem bothered by the killing at all.

  Jake had just lifted his glass when the local sheriff walked in, l
ooked at the dead man and then asked, “Masters, did you do the killin’?”

  “Yep, that’s Lester Poor on the floor, and he's a wanted man. Make sure the man is properly cared for until I get the reward. I’ll be wiring the Federal Government as soon as I finish this drink. The wanted poster for him is on the bar.”

  “I’m sure you'll wire for the money.”

  “How are you doing these days, Luke?” Jake took another sip of his bourbon as he waited the lawman’s reply.

  “Doin’ fine, I guess. Jake, look, I want you out of my town as soon as possible. Every damn time I meet you, there’s a body on the floor.”

  Taking another sip of his drink, Masters grinned and said, “Luke, that just ain’t true. The last time I was here, I left the body on top of a table, not on the floor!”

  Growing angry, Luke replied bluntly, “Jake, get out of my town! If there’s any law broken here, I’ll take care of it. Besides, I don't like your kind.”

  “Did you like Poor?” Jake said with a smirk.

  “He never broke any laws in Cactus Canyon, so as long as he minded himself, I had no call to bother ‘em.”

  “I disagree, but you and me ain’t never really seen eye to eye about things.”

  “Especially durin’ the war, right, Masters?”

  During the Civil War, Jake had been a colonel and Luke a lieutenant colonel assigned to the same Southern cavalry unit. Luke was Jake’s deputy commander, but they'd fought so many times over orders and decisions, that after two years Masters had him reassigned. Luke was obviously still angered by the move.

  “Yep, we had our disagreements back then too, didn’t we? Look, Luke, the war is long over and it’s time to let the past go.”

  “Not for me it ain’t over. You ruined my military career Masters.”

  “Career? Hell, there was no future or career in the Southern army! We lost our war or did you forget that small detail? There is no Confederate army anymore, so forget about it. I’d say your hopes of ever having a military career died the morning Lee surrendered to Grant.”