by W. R. Benton
He picked up his Bison sub-machine gun and moved to the edge of a nearby field.
Five minutes later, a Mil Mi-14 still camouflaged in the Navy white and blue, flew overhead. Senior Sergeant Vova moved into the clearing and waited for the aircraft to pass over once more. As the aircraft approached, obviously looking for someone or something, the Sergeant waved. The aircraft stopped about fifty meters from him and then lowered to the ground. Never had the Sergeant been so happy to see an Ellie before. That was the nickname of the helicopter.
A single man ran from a side door and once near the Sergeant, he asked, “Are you the only survivor?”
“No, I have them hidden in the trees. I had no idea you were a Russian aircraft and if you had been Chinese, I would not have waved. I have wounded, so can you take them out?”
“Yes, of course, but hurry. If we are caught on the ground, the Chinese will make short work of us.”
“I will be right back. Oh, I also need a radio, personal gear for five people, rifles, sidearms, and rations with ammo. You can call that in while I bring the wounded to your aircraft.” the Sergeant said and then ran to where he had everyone hidden.
Ten minutes later, with two of the injured in the aircraft, a radio was handed to him, half a dozen Green Frogs, two AK-47 rifles, six magazines, and one grenade.
“We have called in your needs and once we get your people to a hospital, we will return with your supplies, people, and gear.”
Good, now go!” Vova said.
Two minutes later the helicopter was gone but the whop-whop-whop could still be faintly heard.
Colonel Andrei Lazarev stood in front of his commanders and it was early, 0600, and everyone was meeting for Stand Up. That was where if the Base Commander asked questions, the one providing answers stood up at attention out of respect for the senior man's grade, and providing him answers. This morning, the Colonel was not in a happy mood.
“So, Colonel Isaak, the reason our attack failed was our navigational systems were off and we dropped troops all over the place but none landed close to the partisan base?”
“That is correct, sir. We even had a company dropped right on the base and they were slaughtered as they fought to stay alive. That was 100 men and they died for what? No, our navigators messed up too, and should have overrode the electronic gear when they knew it was malfunctioning.”
“And they did nothing?”
“No, they did nothing. One Navigator was overheard saying that he had almost forgotten how to navigate without electronic assistance.”
“That is horrible, and well, uh, my next question is to Operations Commander, 'What have you done to correct this problem?' It is serious enough I should court martial someone.”
“Remedial training on navigation is being given as we speak. Each navigator is to attend a week long course, refresher course, and will not fly until the course is completed satisfactorily.”
“That may work. I have been getting calls from Moscow about our mission and I keep them at bay by telling them it is still continuing. That is why it is so important we find that Chinese pilot who was rescued by an American squad. Thank God Moscow does not know about the pilot, or we would all be out looking for him, and I tease you not. I think if we can produce a Chinese pilot, Moscow will suddenly have a great deal of satisfaction with us. They have not brought him to the partisan base yet, or the news would be all over it. Gentlemen, I learn as much by watching the news as I do here, at Stand Up.”
Silence.
Then the Colonel said, “Colonel Zubov, as my operations officer, how many aircraft did we lose on the partisan base attack?”
Standing, the Colonel replied, “Fewer than we originally thought. Right now it appears we have twelve helicopters either crashed and burned, with sixteen sustaining some damage, with a total of 28 helicopters out of service as of right now. Some of those will be returned to us within a couple of days. The cost, however, is staggering and I do not have it tallied as of right now. We are, nonetheless, looking at billions of rubles.”
“Ummm, not good, because the General will wonder why we had such heavy losses.” Colonel Lazarev said and then, placing his hands behind his back, he walked to the closest window and looked out.
Lieutenant Colonel Zubov said, “Sir, I have news that will, perhaps, be a bit brighter on the attack. Seems the attack on all the other bases have failed too, but at even a greater cost than what we paid. The Fort Leonard Wood attack cost them 4,000 troops dead or wounded, 43 aircraft destroyed or out of commission. The New Orleans attack was a complete disaster with 5,000 killed and over 3,000 injured, with a loss of 64 aircraft from helicopters to transport planes. They are by far the worst in cost, and I suggest you inform the next caller from Moscow that you still have troops in the area and as far as you are concerned the mission is still being carried out.”
“Well, now, Colonel Zubov, your information is good to hear. I think I can rest better now that I know we lost much less than any other unit. Colonel Isaak, I want all available troops put into the field with the others to look for a Chinese pilot. I mean every man or woman not used in the protection of this base and our resources is to be inserted into the field. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, I fully understand and I will have troops air dropped this day and others brought in by helicopters and transport aircraft.”
“Good, now if that is all and you do not have any additional questions, this meeting is over.” Lazarev said and as he headed for the door, Master Sergeant Luchok Katin yelled, “Teeen-Huuut!”
Everyone stood until the Commander was gone and then they began to talk between themselves.
“How many airborne troops can you provide me to drop around the American base?” Zubov asked Lieutenant Colonel Vera Ginovich, the vice commander for the largest unit on the base.
“I can safely provide you with 2,000 of my paratroopers, but they will want to jump into combat.”
“I do not know about direct combat, but they will be able to jump into a potentially hostile environment. I would actually like them to be dropped and never seen by the Americans. Stealth is the only way to end this battle.”
“When do you want to drop them?”
“I want to drop them tonight at 2200 hundred hours. You will need to mobilize your soldiers as soon as you can. I will plan as if we can get them on the ground by 2300 today. That means in the morning, right at daylight, they will all get their marching orders from me and I will send them after the Americans.”
“I understand, sir, and we will not let you down. Give me today, and by tonight you will have your paratroopers ready to drop.”
“Good, very good.” Zubov said as he turned and walked to the door.
It was getting late and all of John's troops were sleeping except for him and his radio operator. The colonel was sitting on a log as he held the radio in his left hand. He'd just been sent a classified message that Private Porter was translating into something that could be read.
“Sir, about all it says is the Russians may risk another parachute drop in our vicinity within the next 48 hours. Our eyes have photos of them rigging the transport planes with jump cables and topping off their fuel. Seems to be a lot of hustle and bustle there right now. Headquarters suspects the Russians want the Chinese pilot and right now.”
John chuckled because he was just four hours away from the base with the Chinese pilot, and if all went well, he'd be on the base before the Russians were even airborne.
“What are our orders?”
“To reach the safety of the base as soon as possible.”
“I was afraid of that. I'm worried that if we rush returning, we'll end up being ambushed and all of us, including the Chinese Captain, will be killed.”
“We have our orders.”
“Yes we do.” John said and then looking at Master Sergeant Dias, he said, “Mary, get the troops up, including Captain Tam, and we need to be moving. This will be a long hard tramp, because we'll be walking ab
out four more hours. There will be no rest stops. By then I suspect we'll be at the main gate of the base.”
“Some just went to bed.”
“Get 'em all up, because our orders have changed.”
Soon everyone was up and moving around, which brought some cursing from those that had just gone to sleep.
Growing tired of the complaints, John said, “I don't like not getting a night of sleep too, but our orders are for us to return Tam immediately, with no breaks taken to rest.”
The noise grew less and finally, Msgt. Dias said, “Saddle up and let's move. Jones, I want you for my point man and keep an extra eye out for booby-traps. The traps you find will probably be ours and that won't matter much if you trip one. All mines are equal opportunity killers.”
“Captain Tam, you need to move to the middle of this group, sir. That spot is the safest and in the long run safety is what it's all about.”
“I can do that.” Tam replied and, as for himself, he was enjoying the way the Americans thought and lived in a combat zone. A quick thought ran through his mind. Americans were more relaxed than a Chinese unit. The NCOs and Officers in Chinese units kept the conversation more formal and with full rank spoken when addressing someone else.
Minutes later they were all on a little used path leading toward the base. The area was full of various trees and brush, so there were a thousand places that were open for ambush sites. Then suddenly, fifteen minutes later they were out walking on the plains. While the plains offered few places for an ambush, a squad of people could not hide as well and could be seen for miles.
“Base just called.” Private Gene Green said as he moved closer to the Colonel. It was just a few minutes after sunup.
“Oh, and what did they say?”
“We are to stop here as they send a helicopter out to pick up the Chinese man. They had to fight tooth and nail just to get one helicopter to do this with. Sounds like we have some serious supply problems. The word I got is anything with a rotor blade is moving supplies. At any rate, the call sign for the rescue aircraft is Angels Three, and supposedly he is ten clicks out.”
“Everyone, stop and relax a bit. I have a chopper coming out to us to pick up our Chinese pilot and, Lee, I need you to pop smoke when I tell you to, and visually lower the chopper using your rifle. Any questions?”
“Not from me. I've done this many times.” Lee said with a slight grin.
“Get into position now and wait for word or a sign to pop the smoke.”
“Cobra Two, this is Angels Three, over.”
“Go Angels Three.”
“I have you visual, so pop smoke now.”
Lee pulled the pin, tossed the smoke grenade about 5 feet from him. He now stood straight with his rifle overhead. “I see them,” Lee said and when John looked up, the aircraft was right in front of Lee, maybe 50 feet in the air. As Lee lowered his rifle, the chopper lowered, until it was resting on the grasses.
“Captain Tam, get your ass on that chopper and go home. I've enjoyed having you for our guest.”
Tam extended his hand and as they shook, light gunfire from across the field was striking the chopper. The Asian suddenly turned and ran to the helicopter, where he was placed in the cargo hold and the aircraft began to rise up into the sky. Bullets were heard smacking the aircraft and each hit brought a pinging sound.
“Copperhead this is Angels Three. I have the Chinese pilot in my aircraft and have taken a little ground fire from the west side of the opening. I request —”
The Chinese pilot suddenly made a reactive move and then dispensed chaff. A heat seeking man held missile just missed him, to explode behind him, which damaged his tail.
“Uh, Copperhead, I have a damaged rotor blade and am declaring an in-flight emergency.”
“Roger that and I am sending two fast movers to Cobra Two's position, over. Eagle One is their call sign, Cobra.”
“Eagle One, this is Cobra Two and what is your estimated time of arrival over my position, over?”
“Five Mikes. Over.”
“Roger that, five minutes. Line up on a group of trees, on the opposite side of the clearing we are on. Hit them with napalm if you have any. Over.”
“What is five Mikes?” Private Light asked.
Private Joe Kelly said, “Five minutes is what five Mikes means. Mikes is used because the word may confuse the Russians. There is always a chance the enemy is listening and they have English speakers too.”
“Each aircraft has two canisters of what we call shake and bake, over.” Eagle One said.
“Drop all you have on those trees. Over.”
“Will do, get down, it may get hot down there, over.”
Chapter 9
Most everyone with Vova was exhausted when he called for a stop to RON. They'd been moving all night, but saw no one or even any lights the whole night long. As far as the Senior Sergeant was concerned it was a wasted night to him. Now his people needed rest because they had another night of searching ahead.
“Radio for you, sir.” Olga said and passed him the radio.
“Monsoon, this is Hotel Actual and you are to be returned to base. I have a helicopter in the air coming for you as we speak. ETA is three five minutes, over.”
“Roger, Hotel, understand we are to be pulled and mission terminated.”
“Correct, Monsoon. Find the nearest clearing and your taxi home is called, 'Rescue One, over.”
“Got it and thank you for the ride home.”
“No problem, Monsoon. Hotel over and out.”
Handing the headset back to Olga, Petr said, “We will be picked up in less than 35 minutes. I want everyone ready to board a chopper as quickly as possible. Now, just because we have not seen anyone, does not mean no one is near us right now. We will return fire as we move if needed, and then board the helicopter. Then once in the helicopter the aircraft machine gunners will take over.”
“Private Leonid, you will lead all of us to the aircraft and you will be the first to board. Any questions?”
“Why are they removing us from the field?”
“I have no idea, but maybe they will pick us up after or before they complete their mission.”
“Let us hope it is after and not before. I do not mind a fight, but I would like a little rest first.” Private Petrovna said with a weak smile.
“Uh, Monsoon, Rescue One, I have you visual. Pop smoke, over.”
“Will do. Wait One.” Olga said and then turning to Vova she said, “He wants smoke.”
A minute later the helicopter pilot said, “I have three smokes, so which is your color? I see red, maroon, and white.”
Olga said, “We are the white, over.”
“Uh, Rescue One, this is Bulldog Six and I have rockets or napalm. I am a fast mover out of Omaha, over.”
“Roger understand. I am making a straight in approach and request you drop napalm on the maroon and red smoke, over.”
“Roger. What I miss my wing-man will hit, over.”
“Go as I land. Maybe we can keep the Americans busy and I can load soldiers faster.”
“Copy and do as you have said. I will go around after dropping my napalm and using my Gatling gun. I suggest all of you keep your heads down, starting now.”
The helicopter was just sitting down on the grass when a great wall of flames were seen after hearing the napalm canisters hitting the trees. Then glancing up, the helicopter pilot on the ground screamed into this microphone, “Wing-man break, break, over!” He screamed to be heard and the aircraft was lining up on the helicopter, not the woods.
As the helicopter pilot watched in horror, the canisters came off the wings of the aircraft and began to tumble while in the air. The canister went over his head and crashed into the woods where the Senior Sergeant and his troops were. Already the men and women in the squad were running full speed across the field for the helicopter. The canister struck the trees, burst open with flames and the sticky fire moved like a wave, up and over the tre
es to land a second later. The Russians were lucky, because if the squad had started running a second or two later than they did they would have all burned to death. The momentum of the napalm canisters had the wave of fire moving away from the Russians, but breathing was hard, with the flames sucking up most of the air.
“Damn you, Wing-Man, you have dropped your napalm on the known position of other Russians. Break, break, over.”
The squad with Vova reached the aircraft on the ground and began to quickly load. It was then Captain Griovich realized the soldiers were safe.
“Bulldog Six, Rescue One and I am coming up and out of here. Hold off on any attacks until we clear your air space, over?”
“Did you copy Bulldog Seven?”
“Roger that and sorry about my last run. I was confused by your radio transmission, over.”
“Coming up now.” The helicopter pilot said and then grinned as he rose without taking any ground fire. He intentionally did not answer Bulldog Seven because he planned to file a complaint once back at home base. The fool had almost killed him, his crew and the soldiers he was trying to rescue.
“How far to the base?” Vova asked as he yelled at a door gunner.
“Twenty minutes, maybe. Relax, we will be flying as high as we can without oxygen masks. The skipper hates missiles, rockets and ground fire.” A door gunner replied.
The Senior Sergeant nodded and said, “Good, I need a hot shower and some good food.”
The gunner didn't answer, because they were just a thousand feet or so high and he was busy scanning the ground under them for threats.
“Rocket locked onto us!” the copilot yelled.
Checking the ground under them, the gunner saw something long and thin moving toward them and at the last second he said, “Break left and then reduce power.”
“Copy, guns.” The pilot said and then did as directed.
The gunner smiled when he saw the missile pass over them to explode about a hundred feet away from the helicopter.
Two minutes later, “Crew, this is the pilot. We just took some damage to our fuel tank and engine with the explosion of that missile. I have called in an in-flight emergency and we have been approved for a straight in approach and we are cleared to land. I need everything, especially the heavy machine guns tossed over the side. If you pray, right now would be a great time to speak with God.”
