by Zack Finley
We had the high ground. If we stayed low, the brow of the hill could provide slight cover. The trees at the edge of the woods might provide some cover and concealment. If we could keep their heads down, Tom could reach our stricken men.
The grenades had a serious effect, based on the screams and moans coming from below us. Mike, Joel, and I crawled on our bellies into a blocking position, while those in our original position kept firing. Everyone had the green light to take any shot.
"Moving to check our men," radioed Tom.
The firing fell off as the tangoes sank out of sight.
"Those on the high ground, stay in cover but move to the north, and monitor the downhill tree line, we don't want a different group to catch us by surprise," I radioed.
"Roger that."
"Need a hand here," Tom radioed.
Allie sent Grady's man to help.
I wanted to turn and look, but my responsibility was below me. My M4 was set on three-shot bursts, and anyone poking their head up was going to be toast.
"Craig, have someone meet us partway to help us get this guy back to the camp," Tom radioed.
"Roger, on the way," Craig radioed.
With our wounded off the field, we could now concentrate on making them pay.
"Returning from the camp, where do you want me?" someone radioed.
"Get back with Allie," I radioed.
"Allie, can you and your guy get down the hill a few feet without getting spotted?"
"His name is Fred. If I toss a grenade in their laps, there won't be anyone looking to spot us," Allie radioed.
"Can you see them?" I radioed.
"No, but the grenades gave them a little crater they are now using for cover. If I toss in another they may decide to move on," Allie radioed.
"Mike, Joel, let's give her some cover fire," I radioed.
Our three-shot bursts kicked up a lot of mud and debris as Allie lobbed the grenade into the same area.
There was a shout from the area followed by the concussion of an explosion.
"Moving down," Allie radioed.
"We are going to move down and sweep up this group," I radioed. "Once we enter the woods." I paused. "Who has a radio up top?"
"Jumper here, what do you need us to do," came back.
"Jumper, creep down to take the tree line to our left. We'll be sweeping anyone from here to River Road and start up the hill from there. We suspect there is a machine gun on the road, so I don’t want to tangle with that right now. We'll take them later," I radioed.
"Take tree line to your left, engage the enemy but hold ground for orders," Jumper radioed.
"Roger," I radioed. "Craig get the M240b prepped for action. Have someone bring us the ruck full of grenades, I'm not playing around."
Jules was the runner they sent. I took three grenades and suggested Joel and Mike do the same. Jules went to Jumper's team and handed them off.
Jules made a sound behind me that made me turn and look. He was on his knees beside the downed sentry. This was the first confirmation I had that one of ours was down, permanently. From the sounds, Jules made I knew it was Andy. "Craig, send someone to help Jules carry Andy's body back," I radioed.
I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't afford to think about it. We had an unknown group of hostiles to deal with, and any distraction could get more people wounded or worse.
Joel pivoted to link up with Allie and Fred as we dragged through the former enemy position.
Jumper and his team were already lying on the wet grass about 25 feet from Mike. The rest of his guys were spaced evenly along the grassy knoll. They would remain in place looking for new attackers until we wrapped up the current group. Heavy rain drummed down all around us.
Five of us swept through the heart of the former attacker line. There was plenty of blood and chewed up body parts, but that didn't square with Tom's initial sighting of 10 men. I spotted three bodies and rifles mucked in the mud. Signs of a bloody retreat indicated some wounded, but we didn't know how many. I told my group not to take any chances, but it would be helpful to know more about the attack group.
I couldn't give the hostiles a respite to reform an attack this close to our camp.
Allie and Fred crept downhill to within sight of River Road. I warned her about the possible machine gun at the top and to stay behind cover. I hoped the attackers might feel safe once they reached the road.
"We have six men, including wounded, trudging up the edge of the road," Allie radioed.
"Can you take them from your current position?" I asked.
"Roger."
I saw Joel react immediately; sliding down the hill to get closer to Allie. I wanted to follow, but we probably had at least one bad guy nearby.
Mike and I began slithering across the slope watching for our remaining nemesis.
We froze as the rattle of automatic weapons echoed from down the hill, muffled slightly by the rain. I hoped Fred had an AK47 because Allie and Joel carried suppressed M4s and we would have barely heard them.
"Contact," I radioed. "Mike, 15 yards in front of you." The tango had moved when the firing started, but I didn't have a clear shot. Mike then showed he was better at creeping through the woods than he wanted anyone to realize.
Either the tangoes or Fred fired another three-shot burst, and Mike froze. I began moving through the dead leaves, mud, and rocks, making enough noise to get our ghost's attention. I stopped, and Joel moved again below me.
That must have done it because Mike's three-shot burst tapped out, not much louder than the heavy raindrops falling around us. “Hostile down,” Mike radioed.
"Allie, what is your sitrep?" I radioed.
"All tangoes down," she radioed. "They have something at the top of River Road, just can't tell what it is."
"With yours, we have 10 tangoes. You and Fred monitor for other hostiles coming to check on your downed tangoes. We'll verify no others came to the party," I radioed.
Once we verified no attackers remained, I'd send Joel to stay with Allie and Fred. He had orders to kill anyone sent to aid the hostiles now lying on River Road. He would make sure our people moved after shooting to avoid getting targeted. That machine gun worried me; it could reduce most of the trees around us to kindling with enough ammo. There was no need to risk even a random shot. The rest of us would pull back, reload, and regroup before proceeding.
I left Jumper and two men at the edge of the woods monitoring for infiltrators. Allie, Fred, and Joel staked out the dead or dying attackers. The two groups had orders to support each other.
Tom and Lois were wrapping up our sentry's wounds. The wounded man was lying on the stokes stretcher supported on a tailgate. A tarp kept the rain out of their operating field. John focused a bright beam wherever the medics were working. Two wounds stood out, one on the man's right thigh and the other on his right side.
Grady handed me a towel, and we climbed into the front of the nearest truck. Mike and one of Grady's men climbed in the back.
"They are using NATO rounds," Grady said. "Both wounds were through and through. Tom and Lois got him stabilized promptly, barring weird complications he'll be back to normal in a few weeks. What is the sit rep?"
"Andy and the wounded man were patrolling on that side of the camp. Someone must have spotted something because shooting started. The tangoes went to ground when Tom arrived and returned fire. That allowed us to move up. I doubt they expected grenades. They could have really hurt us if they'd finished climbing the hill and shot across that open field toward the vehicles. It is less than 100 yards from River Road to the grassy edge of the park, all uphill. I'm glad they stayed on that hill and let us kill them at our leisure." I paused to wipe my face and head with the towel Grady gave me and took a healthy drink from my camelback.
"For some reason, they thought all they had to do to escape was to get out of the woods and onto River Road. Probably because they have a shooting position at the top of the River Road hill. We disabused
them of that notion. No way we are moving up River Road with a machine gun aimed down at us. I've got three people staking out the dead and dying on River Road, in case someone sends a rescue. Our crew can't see the top of the hill, and I hope those at the top can't see them. I've got two more guys monitoring the edge of the grass, just in case they send up a second group before we are ready," I said. "If you protect the camp and the River Road stakeout, I'll take a force to flank them. I'll leave you the M240b and some grenades. But I need people who've been in the sandbox, I don't want anyone getting hurt because someone hesitated to shoot."
"Most who aren't trained soldiers do fine when defending their family, but even some trained men get squeamish when going on the offense, so I agree. What about Craig and Ben?" asked Grady.
"They will be fine with this. Ben can't shoot a rifle well, but he is a ninja in the woods and has his pistols. I couldn't keep either one from this party. I'll leave you Allie to hold the group watching the road, but I need to pull Joel and Tom. Allie and Jumper have radios, I want to distribute those better before we pull out."
The plan came together quickly. A bend in the river between the park entrance and the shooting position where River Road teed into Zinc Plant Road, should have prevented anyone in the shooting position from seeing our arrival. The attackers must either have had a patrol out or heard us when we arrived. It was a quarter mile from where we parked to their gun emplacement. We’d probably never know what gave us away.
The park entrance coiled south after leaving River Road, to reduce the grade up to the high ground where the park sat. The park itself was about a half mile long but only 150 feet wide for all but the northern loop. The entrance road teed into two paved loops. The southern loop was narrow oval like a mini race track, and the northern loop was a sweeping circle nearly 100 yards in diameter, enclosing a substantial grassy knoll inside it.
While the park looked closed for years, someone mowed it often enough that the grass was close-cropped all the way to the trees, which surrounded the whole park. The trees were so thick even leafless they stopped any view of the Cumberland River to the east.
Our camp was where the entrance teed into the loop roads. While visibility across the pavement and grass was great north and south, the dense woods limited visibility everywhere else.
I suspected the attackers hiked down River Road and then up through the shortest distance through the tree belt, expecting to catch us by surprise. Which they did. It would have worked, but we were better prepared than they expected, and they gave the element of surprise away.
I wouldn't expect mercy from this crowd. It was the same group who machine-gunned men, women, and children trying to get across the Zinc Plant bridge from Clarksville.
The last time we encountered this group, they rallied faster than we expected. They reacted quickly after we captured their position and zipped up their two guards. The two guards carried military-grade gear, but they weren't combat trained.
I led my five remaining rangers plus Jumper, Fred, Deke, Tiny, and Dwayne along the woods on the west edge of the park, as far from River Road as we could get. I left Grady with the charge to have everyone mounted up and ready to go when I gave the word.
Once we entered the trees, Ben would take the lead. I didn't ask what Tom gave him for the rib pain, I just confirmed he was in no danger of puncturing a lung. Craig took nothing for his pain and brought his sniper rifle along with his M4.
The section of woods we planned to traverse was between three and five hundred yards. The rain was an asset, even if it made travel uncomfortable.
Once through the woods, the plan was fluid, depending on what we could see and learn. As a minimum, we had to take charge of the gun emplacement. I was flexible after that.
As much as these people angered me, we'd lost enough today. I wasn't on any vendetta. I just wanted to get my people across the Cumberland River without losing anyone else. That said, I felt no urge to save any fragmentation grenades for another day.
Ben led the raid that got us through the first time. During that assault, my team came ashore near an abandoned restaurant on the waterfront. After capturing the two men on the roadblock, we learned they garrisoned in a house on the high ground above Zinc Plant Road. Today's objective was to clear the roadblock and prevent anyone, including those in the house, from interfering with our passage.
The first order of business was to get through the forest and across Zinc Plant Road without anyone seeing us.
We huddled within feet of the wooded edge at the northwestern end of the park, waiting for Ben to scout a route through. This was another mostly young forest of deciduous trees. The forest floor was thick with leaf litter and gnarly vines. The spacing between tree trunks was inches rather than feet. The branches from one tree intertwined with its neighbors to make penetrating very far into the forest a daunting task. How Ben twisted and turned his way through that mat of obstacles remained a magical talent.
We crouched in the rain and waited. I was soaking wet, cold rain trickled down my back. Waiting just made it worse, dropping my body temperature. In some ways, I'd have preferred snow. At least it was dry.
Ben ghosted back and led us on a scant animal track that went mostly in the direction we wanted. The track was marginally better than moving cross country directly. The amount of noise our passage generated appalled me. The trail angled down into a ravine and then followed that ravine downhill.
We left the track at the bottom of the ravine. I quickly learned how much better the animal track was than going cross country. We plodded in single file and tried not to thwack the man behind us with branches. The rain turned the soil into mud and made the rock treacherous. Thorny vines grabbed at my feet nearly making me fall flat on my face. Grabbing onto spindly tree trunks barely prevented it.
I was third in line and wasn't sure whether that position made it better or worse. Grady's men brought up the rear. No one broke sound discipline, despite the provocation.
When Ben found another game trail heading up the far side of the ravine, the whole column perked up. The game trail was no walk in the park, but it sure beats traveling through a jungle.
We came out of the woods in the back yard of a house that looked abandoned for many years. I crept along the forest's edge and crouched in the ditch at the edge of the road, looking toward the roadblock.
They had improved the roadblock since our visit, with stacks of sandbags on at least three sides. A tarp kept the rain off of three men standing near the machine gun. Whatever they were discussing, it was not going well. One had the command presence of a veteran officer, ramrod straight posture, lean build. One man at the roadblocked seemed to be pleading with the officer while the other yelled at him.
I called up Craig and told him what I needed. Craig readied his shot. Joel and I shared the angry one; Mike and Tom shared the pleader. I aimed at the intersection of his neck and chest, not knowing if he was wearing armor. Time slowed down, and nothing mattered but my breathing and holding the rifle steady on the target. I squeezed the trigger, surprised as always when it went off, sending a few ounces of steel jacketed lead toward our targets.
The three targeted men jerked several times before slumping to the ground. Our suppressed M4s seemed loud in my ears, but I doubted anyone inside the garrison house could hear. We waited, expecting alarms over the shooting. All I heard was the steady drone of the rain and the flapping sound of the tarp at the roadblock.
After a full five minutes by my watch, we crossed Zinc Plant Road and started up the driveway to the garrison house. We ignored the paved road to the Catfish House. With two mailboxes mounted on posts on the main road, I wasn't surprised when the driveway split immediately.
I sent Jumper and his team to take control of the roadblock, while we dealt with potential reinforcements. Jumper confirmed the presence of an M240b. His team was setting it up to give a warm reception to any reinforcements. He announced we would need at least the pickup with the chains to clea
r the roadblock.
"There is a zig-zag path down the rockface between us and the house you are going to," Jumper radioed. "It has seen a lot of foot traffic. We are moving the sandbags to provide some cover from that direction. If you come through that way, warn us in advance. Want no blue on blue."
The whole situation puzzled me. Had they sent their whole force to shoot at us? No sounds emanated from the house in front of us, though smoke was boiling out of both chimneys in the old-style well-kept residence. It had a big covered porch, two full stories, and a gabled attic. I guessed some bigwig built it before the last century, but I was an architectural novice.
Joel and Mike slipped away to investigate the detached garage. They signaled it was clear, and all our attention switched back to the house. I left Craig and Ben at the edge of the front yard to monitor the front door while Joel, Mike, Tom, and I prepared to enter through the back. The house faced the river and at one time probably had a fantastic view, hidden now by the trees on the river side of the front lawn. The trees also blocked any view of the Clarksville skyline on the far side of the river. Perhaps those living here now preferred viewing the trees.
