by W. R. Benton
The Senior Sergeant left the building and noticed the blood had not even been washed away by the fire department and was still staining the steps. He'd call them and have the job done tonight, so it would not be there in the morning to remind others of the deaths.
He walked into his tent quarters and removed his boots, shirt, and trousers. Just wearing his underwear, he pulled out a bottle of vodka, and took a long pull. His mind was full of information and running so fast he needed the drink to slow him down. After the third long drink, he made his way to the community shower and washed. He also shaved, intending to be in the field in the morning way before dawn, and he'd have his people with him. It was time to teach them how to stay alive in combat.
At morning stand up, Colonel Romanovna, Chief of Base Intelligence, stood and said, “Our reports indicate the overall commander for the three state region of Washington, Idaho and Oregon has changed. Actually, for the first time, one has been assigned. We know little of the man, except I have initial reports he was a senior leader in an old partisan group called the Aces. Let us hope that part of the information is false, or more Russians will start to die here, and quickly. The Aces alone killed thousands of our troops and at the cost of only a handful of theirs in return. The group was cold, calculating and professional in all ways. We have reports this new man wants operations stepped up and for blood to flow.”
The Commander asked, “Do you have any information on the man at all?”
“Not on paper. I was assigned to the Mississippi Delta area four years ago, sir, and know a great deal about the man, from personal and professional experience, and he's deadly. I suggest our threat level be elevated and steps taken to better secure the whole base. Entry control points, remote areas, and supply storage areas must be made more secure, and our people must realize this is a war zone and not a holiday assignment. I have seen what the Aces did to our people.”
The Commander thought for a few minutes and then asked, “Colonel, do you have time to stay after the meeting and speak with me privately?”
“Yes, of course I do, sir. I work for you.”
“Good, now weather. I suspect you are going to forecast more drizzling rain, right?” The Commander tried to joke and, while all laughed, his attempt was hardly funny. No one at the table wanted to laugh now. All wondered if they'd still be alive at the end of their one year tour.
After the group left, the two Colonels sat in plush chairs in the Commander’s office as they discussed the new partisan Commander.
Colonel Romanovna said, “Do not take this new American lightly, Senkin, or you will be returned to Moscow and placed against a wall and shot. The man is deadly. That is, if he is the same Colonel John Williamson that was part of Aces.”
“You make the man sound like a superman or someone that cannot be killed. If he pisses me off, I will bring Spetsnaz in to clean his clock. More vodka?”
“Yes, but only half a glass this time. Uh, he has fought Spetsnaz before and while he lost a few battles, he won a few too. Spetsnaz would not scare the man and I think he would be happy just to tie up some of our valuable special forces resources to come after him. I do know he would end up killing some of them.”
“That tough, huh?”
“Professional is what he is. We once tied five Americans to a fence and poured petrol on them. We then burned them alive to scare the partisans into leaving us alone. The man had ten Russians burned alive, but tied to trees near the base so everyone could see the flames and hear the screams.”
“He sounds like a damned animal.”
“No, he is human, and at times even compassionate with our wounded. But, do you not see? For every one of his to die a horrible death, two Russians died the same way. We soon stopped the executions of American soldiers.”
“By God's holy name, the bastards are not soldiers, but ignorant peasants!”
“Do you really believe that, Senkin? Do you know that the average American partisan over the age of thirty has a college degree? About a third of them have an advanced degree. Does that sound like a peasant to you? Hell, most of our troops are farmers and kids off the streets of some large Russian city. If anything, we are the peasants. Remember the first rule of combat, know your enemy.” He gulped down about half of his vodka and smiled.
“Why the goofy smile?”
“When I faced the man years ago, I often wondered how I would deal with him in combat if I had been in charge of the fight in those days. I will soon find out, if this John Williamson is the same man. Time, just a short time too, will soon show who he is. If he was a part of the Aces, order more coffins and replacement troops. In the meantime, I will check with Moscow and Saint Louis to see what we have on the man. I think, I really do, that he is the same man. I will give you an updated briefing as soon as I get the information.”
“Damn me. I am close to retiring too. Good night, Colonel.”
“Good night, Senkin, and if you are a praying man, pray this Williamson is not the same.” Colonel Romanovna downed the rest of his drink, gave his friend a half assed salute and left the room.
Two days later at the Russian stand up, Romanovna stood and said, “I have some information to share on the new three state Commander, Colonel John Williamson. Approximately one week ago the Colonel was sent here by parachute to take command of operations against us. Gentlemen and ladies, things are about to turn extremely rough for our side.
Here is just a little about Williamson. Our DOD files, captured intact when we invaded, tell me he was a ten year army veteran, airborne qualified, HALO qualified, scuba qualified, he earned Thai jump wings, has Philippine jump wings, and is Ranger qualified. Now, he got out of the army, went to college and earned both a bachelors and masters degree in criminology. He started his own business in security and was financially well off when this country fell. There are a couple of years after the fall that we lost all information on him. I mean we have nothing. Then, he suddenly turns up in our records as the assistant to a prior special forces Captain named Willie Williams, who is now deceased.”
“So, is he a special forces type?” someone asked from the back of the room.
“No, but he is considered smart and damned dangerous. Williams was a man who understood the Russian mind and was raised by Russian parents. Williams taught Williamson a great deal about us, which makes him even more dangerous. Then, add all the years he has survived in the resistance, and he becomes one of the most valuable men the partisans have.”
“Okay. What has he done with the resistance?”
“Some of the information I am about to tell you has not been validated by more than one source, which means, plainly, it may be bullshit. We suspect, highly, he was responsible for the success of the nuclear suitcase bombing of Jackson, Mississippi. We have confirmation he was in the area at the time. We know he and Williams led the Aces for at least two years and maybe more. He is more than partly responsible for the loss of a detachment of Spetsnaz shortly after two of our suitcase nukes were taken from an ambushed train. He is a master at making booby traps and other explosive devices that kill Russians and he will scatter them to hell and back. We know he hates us because we killed his second wife. His first wife was raped and killed shortly after the fall. And, here he is. This photo was taken slightly over a year ago. While it is grainy, it is the best photo of him we have that is age appropriate. All the other images are at least 20 years old.”
Colonel Yakovich gave a dry laugh and asked, “So, see, he is no superman, because I see no cape on him.”
“Sir, if he decides to come here and fight, you will wonder why he is not wearing his cape in the photo. No, he is just a man, but a well trained one and one with nothing to live for. We just have word that his girlfriend, who was pregnant, was killed a while back in a battle with Spetsnaz. So, as I said before, our special forces do not scare the man and he will face them any time we want to send them.”
“You have told me much about his man and his skills, but what are we,
us here, going to do to stop him? How do we keep our losses low? If a total no quarter given war has come to the region, how do we win this battles?” Yakovich asked.
“That, Colonel, I do not have yet, but I am working on an answer. One mistake and it will all blow up in our faces. Patience, sir, and I will provide you with a plan.”
Chapter 5
I stood in the shower and let the crud from two days in the field wash from my body. I was in a good mood because earlier in the week my sniper teams had returned and their reports were excellent. I also had good word from Oregon and Idaho on sniper teams working there. I'd finally made Major Hall a Corporal and assigned him duties with the Security Troops as a guardhouse guard. He'll spend the rest of this war guarding others. I felt it was a waste of a good mind because he was intelligent, but he lacked guts and I needed some brave people working with me.
“Sir, I thought I might find you here. I have an important message from Headquarters for you.” Birdie said.
“What does it say, Top?”
“There are cases of smallpox popping up down south, making Russians and Americans ill. Deaths have been recorded on both sides. So far the Chinese have stayed clean, but their shots are up to date before they deploy here. We currently have vaccines being flown in by the Chinese, and I'm sure the Russians are doing the same.”
“Try to get some of the medicines sent to us. It's easier to avoid the disease than it is to treat it later. Also, see if some of the clothing from a victim can be sent here. If so, we'll introduce the Russians here to smallpox through some very simple germ warfare.”
“John, Smallpox is a horrible way to die. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“If it kills Russians, we can use it. Now, you and I both need some rest, because in the morning, we're off to mine some roads and ambush a train. The troops have the knowledge of how to do the job, now is the time to let them do it. We'll go with Major Cynthia Morgan's unit.”
“Yes, sir, I'll be ready.”
The next morning was cool, but not cold, with a slight warm wind from the west. It was an excellent day to be in the field. It was warm enough not to need a jacket, but chilly enough to not sweat excessively while carrying a 60 pound pack. Most folks don't realize the typical member of the infantry carries at least half their body weight in their backpacks. Clothing, food, ammunition, explosives and weapons are all carried. No wonder most of us have bad backs.
Thanks to the pallets that dropped with me, we had better gear, and for the first time had NVGs, grenades, and other individual gear. Individual weapons, Russian, Chinese, and American, were available for use, but most of us didn't trust the Chinese weapons as much as American or Russian models. I stuck with the Russian Bison.
Morgan gave a detailed briefing before we left and as we started walking, she said, “Walker, you're my point and Johnson, you bring up the rear. Keep an eye out for mines and watch for trip lines across the trail.”
While few areas were mined now, soon I hoped to have them all over all three states. Why? Mines kill Russians. I knew once we started hurting them with injuries and deaths, the Russian Bear would come for us.
About every mile, or maybe a little less, mines and homemade toe poppers were planted. Toe poppers were usually shotgun shells in small wooden holders with the shell primer sitting on a nail. The shell protruded about a quarter inch above the wood. A person stepped on the shell, pushed it down and the nail set off the primer, sending pellets into the victim. Usually the groin area or a leg was severely mangled with a toe popper. They were cheap to make, too, and any gauge shell could be used in a bind.
By evening we'd covered some miles, but this day was really a test and dry run. To place the anti-personnel mines where they'd cause the most damage we had to get closer to the Russian bases, on the road and trails around them. That would come with time. After eating and relaxing a bit, we moved to the railroad tracks and prepared to take a train out of action.
Claymore mines were placed facing the tracks and some C-4 under one rail. When the time was right the C-4 would blow and the mines were there to take out any Russians on or in the cars. I had two Russian machine guns brought along and they had interlocking fields of fire, so they'd be deadly once they opened up. I could see one bright eye heading for us and had everyone get into position. The train was cooking as he came out the mountains and was on level ground, knowing home was right around the bend and then about twenty more miles.
I knew the trains were engineered by civilians, but they knew the risk when they took a job with our enemies. I've killed more than one railroad employee and I was about to kill even more this evening. There was a good chance anyone with the engineer would be killed when the engine left the track this evening. I was in a war and I'd not avoid destroying a train just because a civilian might be killed; after all, I did consider them traitors. They either lived or died, depending on God's will, not mine. I think anyone who offers their skills to the Russians should be shot.
Major Morgan was to blow the C-4 just before the engine reached it and that meant waiting until the last second. Blow too early and the train would just stop on the tracks, or blow too late and the engine would go to the next city and call the Russians. Timing was important. I moved to her side and watched the big beast move toward me.
Just as the train neared the C-4, maybe 20 feet away, I yelled, “Now!”
A narrow wall of fire appeared on the tracks and I saw a rail, broken, pointing toward the skies. The engine hit the open space and continued to roll forward even when the tracks gave a gentle turn to the right. The engineer was attempting to stop the train, but that wouldn't happen now because the engine was off the tracks. It moved forward about 50 feet then leaned to the right and fell over on its side. I heard a horrible scream and knew the engineer was crushed by his heavy engine. The noise all this made was thunderous and loud. Steam, smoke, and debris filled the air. The second car held troops and it struck the rear of the engine, and then the Claymore mines went off.
Screams, yells, and shouts were heard as hundreds of small steel ball bearings filled the air, striking the Russians hard. Men fell and body parts were blown from torsos. A mist of crimson hung over the car as the troops fell, many to never get up again. Then the rat-tat-tat of the machine guns were heard as the gunners racked the length of the train and back again. More screams were heard and I knew men and women were dying. This was a killing field and this day it was the Russians dying; tomorrow it might be my troops.
There was little resistance and soon we swarmed the train, shooting and looting the passenger cars as the infantry tried to fight us off. We'd fire a few rounds through the wooden sides of the cars and then lob in a grenade. Within ten minutes the battle was over.
A search of the supply cars provided us with Russian rations, called a Green Frog by them, RPGs, ammunition, two more machine guns, NVGs, bayonets, and all sorts of various clothing. We took all we could carry and then I'd have someone return later to pick up what we hid. I did find five cases of vodka and one of bourbon, a fine Kentucky sipping whiskey, and took it all for our wounded. Medical supplies were a priority and that's all one car had, medications, needles, gauze and other supplies. I destroyed any medical machines, because we had no electrical power.
“Colonel,” the Major said, “I think our first train robbery was a great success. I'd like for you to take a bottle of the bourbon and my medical team will take the vodka. Think of it as a celebration of passing our first skills test. The rest of the bourbon will be kept for your use, sir.”
“By God, I'll do that.” I said with a smile. “Have half of the dead Russians bodies booby trapped and lay mines and toe poppers all over the place. Any injured Russians that are still alive should be given medical care and left here. We do not have a POW camp, yet.” I then found a young, but very dead Russian Captain and placed an ace of spades card in his open mouth.
“Yes, sir.” she replied.
“See to this now, Major, because I
want to leave in ten minutes.”
She smiled, proud of herself and her troops and said, “Yes, sir.”
Ten minutes later a dozen bikes were loaded down with supplies, every troop carried a box of something and it was almost a walk in the park to get back home. I knew this would be the last trip we'd get away so cleanly, because we'd just brought war to the three state area. While we hit this train, the other two states were to hit trains too. Three trains in one night, one in each state, would alert the Russians that things were forever changed and war had come to stay.
Once back in camp and after a mission debrief, which would always be done, everyone settled down to shower, eat, and then get some sleep. It was near 0200 before I was in bed. I did have one small glass of the bourbon and must say, it was smooth. I placed the other bottles under my cot.
Morning dawned cool with gray clouds low in the sky and a distant sound was heard right after daybreak.
“Chopper, and I've never heard or seen one out here.” a male Lieutenant I didn't know said.
“Searching for us, most likely. Hitting a train like we did last night cost them big time, and they're pissed now. Have everyone get in the tents and under the camouflaged netting. Let's pray they don't come back this evening with one equipped with infrared radar. All they'd have to do is shoot at the running red images on their screens like a video game. We'll discuss those helicopters this morning, once this one completes his search grids. In the meantime, Lieutenant, have some RPGs brought out and LAWs if you have them. I don't suspect you have any SAMs do you?”
“No, sir, no SAMs. I'll see to the RPGs and LAWs.”
I stood in place watching the chopper look for us and when about a quarter of a mile away, he broke out of pattern and flew south. I knew then we'd been lucky.
I walked into my quarters, gave what I'd just seen some thought and then called out, “Radio!”
