by W. R. Benton
“I hear you, sir, and will have them gathered up.”
“Now, let's get back to the base and I want a staff meeting within an hour of returning. This murdering of my men must be stopped.” He said, and then moved toward his staff car.
The Russians moved through the woods cautiously as they looked for tripwires, mines, or checked out sites for potential ambush. Major Abdulov suspected they'd run into something eventually, because it was the way the resistance always fought. Colonel Vetrov is doing this all wrong. Killing the hostages will not reduce the attacks on us and even a private soldier knows this. We should be helping the people, feeding them, building medical centers and schools, not shooting them. Violence breeds violence, it is just common sense, he thought.
“Sir, I have some tracks here, but they are not clear.” A private said as he squatted in the grass.
Abdulov looked closely but saw nothing out of place. “Show me the sign.”
“Sir, see where this rock has been knocked over? The soil is different texture than the other dirt beside it and if,” he pointed to a limb about chest high, “you look here, you'll see a broken twig. That tells me it was done by something big, like a man or woman, not a rabbit or squirrel. They have moved this way.”
“Is it enough to follow?”
“For now it is all we have to follow. I think after a few meters, the sign will become easier to read, sir.”
Confused, Abdulov asked, “Why will it become easier?”
“Following most ambushes the attackers make every effort to hide their trail at first, sir. If we have no idea where they have gone, we cannot follow. Then, after a short distance, it becomes more important to them to increase their speed to get out of the kill zone. They do not want to be discovered anywhere near where the attack happened.”
“Then follow the tracks, and I hope this was not done by a deer or other large animal.”
The Russians had fifteen men, which included one on point and one bringing up the rear. Keeping the tracker as the second man in line, Abdulov hoped to keep the man semi-safe, but he had to be near the front to keep them on course. The Major was in the middle and the lieutenant was near the front of the group. This was done so if ambushed both leaders would not be killed, hopefully. The soldiers were well trained to follow orders, but they were not strong independent thinkers, and required strong leadership. Master Sergeant Belonev could run the men if needed, but he lacked, in Abdulov's mind, the refinement and knowledge of an officer.
There suddenly sounded a loud explosion and the man on point disappeared in a cloud of dust, smoke and fire. The noise was still echoing in the trees when Sergeant Belonev ran forward, passing the men in the group. As he ran by the tracker, he tapped the man on the shoulder, and said, “Come.”
Five minutes later, they returned and Belonev said, “Mine with a tripwire across the trail, so they expected to be followed. As near as I can tell, it was one of our mines, but our point man is dead.”
“Are you sure?” Abdulov asked.
“Major, you could bury what is left of the man in a shoebox, if you took the time to gather up the pieces.”
Turning to a private beside him, the Major said, “Take the point, and watch for tripwires.”
A few minutes later, the group began to move once more, but too slowly.
About an hour later, the major said, “We move too damned slowly. Sergeant, move forward and instruct the man to double his speed. We will never catch them at this rate.”
As the Master Sergeant moved forward he thought, You may catch something you will want to let go of quickly. I just want to live through this assignment and retire. I miss my Alena and my farm, and I'm am getting too old to run around in the woods of America looking for people. Home is all I think about these days, but I grow close to retirement, so what else is important?
When the point man heard the sergeant nearing, he swung around, his weapon ready. He saw the NCO and lowered the barrel of his weapon. He suspected he was about to receive an ass chewing, but like most soldiers, he wanted to survive.
“Private, the Major said for you to double your speed.” Belonev said.
“That is crazy. It takes time to look for mines, tripwires and ambushes. If I speed up, I cannot do the job properly.”
“You have your orders, now move, or I think he will have you shot.”
“All officers are fools. You do not see his ass out here, do you?”
“That is enough! Double your speed or I will arrest you for failing to follow lawful orders.”
The man moved off at a faster rate and the Sergeant could hear him cursing officers, the Russian army, and America. He is right, and I suspect if the American's left other surprises on their trail, he will soon discover one. But, he forgets he is a soldier in the best army in the world, and like all soldiers, from the beginning of time, we must follow orders. An army cannot function if orders are always questioned, he thought, and then turned to wait for the main group to move up to him.
Close to noon they took a short break in the middle of a small open area. Rations were opened and the men tore at their food like hungry wolves. The sunshine felt good on the Sergeant's face as he checked the guards he'd posted.
The Major had just opened his beef stew and hard biscuits, when a man beside him screamed, grabbed his bloody head, and fell jerking to the grass. The echo of a single gunshot was heard.
“Medic!” Abdulov yelled.
“Sniper!” Screamed the men as they scurried for cover.
“Medic, see to the private!”
A thin man, wearing no identification ran to the downed man's side and lay down beside him.
“Did anyone see where that shot came from?” Lieutenant Ivanov asked.
“No one saw it, sir,” The Sergeant replied, “because they were busy eating. Everyone stay down or you will be the next one hit.”
One of the guards posted earlier by Belonev, who was laying beside a huge pine log said, “I saw movement just before the shot was fired. Look to the west and look at the largest pine, maybe fifty meters from me. The movement was about eight meters from the very top.”
“Spray that tree with fire, now.” The major ordered.
AK-47's spat flames and shots filled the air as pieces of the pine were seen flying in the air. The Sergeant suspected the sniper had moved right after firing the shot, but kept his mouth shut. A minute or so later Abdulov yelled, “Cease firing!”
The injured man continued to scream and kick wildly at the grasses. He was flat on his back, bleeding profusely from his head, and screaming for his mother. The man giving first aid, pulled a needle from his pack, and inserted it into a vial of medicine. Abdulov was watching as the medics head exploded, sending skin, bone, and blood high in the air. His lifeless body fell over the injured man and lay unmoving. The Major knew the medic was dead, because the top of his skull from the eyebrows up was missing.
“That shot came from the same tree, Major!” Belonev yelled.
Scared and confused, Abdulov ordered, “Lieutenant Ivanov, take three men and attempt to circle the tree. If possible, come in behind the sniper. I want that man dead!”
Ivanov pointed at three privates and said, “You three, come with me. Back into the brush slow and crawl into the trees. Once in the trees, we will kill a Yankee.”
“Fire to cover the men, but single shots, now,” the Sergeant commanded, knowing the Major was unable to think clearly.
AK-47 fire was sent into the tree and the sergeant knew the bullets would completely penetrate the soft wood of the pine. But snipers, he knew from experience, would kill one or two men and then run. It was very likely Ivanov and his men would find nothing.
“Cease fire!” The Major yelled after a few minutes. He wanted to move, but didn't dare stand or reveal himself in the least. The sniper was an exceptional shot, shooting twice and hitting heads both times. The first victim was now moaning and groaning; his screaming ceased.
“Watch the tree, but no
firing unless you have a clear target!” the Sergeant shouted.
They heard four sharp cracks, followed by a pistol shot, saw no movement in the tree, and then a horrible scream. The gunfire had come from a distance and on the other side of the pine.
“No one move. We wait.” The Major said, and then scanned the area.
A few minutes later, Ivanov walked around the tree and approached the team.
Where are the rest of his men? The Major wondered and then stood, realizing the lieutenant wouldn't be walking in the open if the threat was still around.
Ivanov appeared to be in shock as he neared and his eyes were staring off into space. The Sergeant, having more combat experience than the other men, moved forward and said, “Sir, take a drink from my canteen. It is vodka and will help.” He held his drink to the young officer.
Taking a long drink from the offered canteen, Ivanov said, “The sniper is gone. When we neared the tree someone was laying in the grasses. Then, with three quick shots, I lost all my men. I shot at her as she ran into the woods.”
“She?” The Major asked.
“A young girl of maybe, sixteen, sir. Each of my men was shot in the chest and dead in an instant.”
“A woman did this? A woman killed five of my men?”
“Sir, I'd like to remind you,” the Sergeant said, “during the Great War, many of our women snipers were credited with over three hundred kills. All women can be lethal at the right time.”
“Give me the radio!”
As the major called, the lieutenant listened to part of the conversation as he sipped the strong drink.
“Reinforce me with an additional squad, a medic, and ammo.” Abdulov was almost shouting into the headset as he spoke. “Now, damn it. I have orders from the Colonel to find these partisans, and I intend to complete my mission.”
The voice back at base must have ended the conversation, because the major handed the radio back to the private.
“Well, sir?” Sergeant Belonev asked.
“Retrieve the bodies of the Lieutenant's men and place them near the other two. A helicopter will bring us additional men and supplies within the hour.”
“You four men, come with me.” The Sergeant said and then thought, How many fights have I survived in the past? How lucky can one man stay? One day, my luck will run out.
The rest of the day was quiet and uneventful, but slow. The new troops, brought in by helicopter, heard the story of how the men in the unit had been killed and no one wanted to be the next one. Frustration at fighting an enemy who wouldn't stay and do an open battle was making tempers short. The Sergeant had seen it all before, in many smaller nations, and his father had even told him stories of the same thing in Afghanistan. His grandfather, a survivor of the Great War, had told him of the French resistance and others who'd battled the Germans.
“Sergeant, get a defense ring placed around us. I want all guards using NVG's3 and I am to be awakened, time permitting, and warned of any danger prior to any shooting. Send our tracker and another man to circle us, maybe a hundred meters out.” Major Abdulov said.
“Yes, sir.”
Once the men were in position and the scouts gone, the Sergeant took a drink of his vodka and opened a ration. He removed the chocolate and hazelnut paste, along with two biscuits. He smeared the paste on his biscuit and started eating. Supper was his only meal and he rarely ate breakfast at all, because his stomach often rejected food early in the day. Most of the time his duties caused him to miss lunch, but when available, he could eat then.
Removing a serving of beef goulash he quickly ate and then placed the empty wrappers in his backpack. He'd leave nothing behind for the Americans to find of his passing. He wanted a smoke, but knew the thought was stupid. The uncontrollable desire for tobacco, which showed a red burning tip on a cigarette, had killed more than one man or woman in wars. Besides the glowing red tip, the smoke could be smelled a long distance. I will do without, for now, but will surly enjoy my pipe after I retire.
The two scouts soon returned and reported of a house off in the distance. According the tracker, it could very well be where those that ambushed the trucks were hiding.
“Any lights seen at the building?” The Major asked.
“One light, which I suspect was a lamp of some sort.”
“Any movement spotted inside or outside?”
“None.”
The Major gave the finding some thought and then said, “Sergeant, bring our men and come with me. We will pay a visit to this house and see what we can find. I want all troops wearing NVG's.”
As the tracker led the group back to the house, some of the newer men were heard complaining about the need to be out at night looking for the partisans, but Belonev silenced them with a low verbal warning. The house sat in a clearing with what looked to have been open fields of crops, at one time, surrounding the place on three sides. A single lamp of some sort burned in one room.
The Major quickly explained his plan to the men and then said, “Let us finish quickly, so we can return to our night camp for some sleep.” He then stood and started for the small farm house.
The Sergeant laughed at the Major's words in his mind, as he followed the man. Most of the men were new, on their first or second year of service, so they were wound up tighter than a cheap watch. After a fight, if there was one, they'd have a hard time going to sleep.
The men moved silently to the front door, then two moved around to cover the back door. After giving all the men enough time to move into position, the Major stood and kicked the front door in. He entered, ready to start shooting, but saw a family of four siting unmoving at a kitchen table. Their eyes were huge in surprise and he noticed a young boy with his hands together, as if they'd interrupted a prayer.
“No one move!” A private who'd been sent as a translator yelled. The family remained still.
Walking to the table, the Sergeant saw what looked like a typical family to him. There was a man, woman, two school-aged children, and an infant in the mothers arms.
As the Major spoke, the translator gave orders to the Americans, “Stand, but slowly.”
“What do you want?” The man asked as he stood.
“You are not to speak, unless asked a question by the commander.”
“Ivanov, check the house and do a thorough job.”
As the Russian troops began to ransack the house, the man protested, “Why are you destroying my home? I have done nothing to you. I demand you stop and right now.”
The Sergeant spoke very little English, except a few words he'd picked up watching American movies, but he knew by the man's tone he was protesting.
The Major slapped the American and said, “Where are the ones who attacked us?”
The translator repeated the question in English.
Giving a shrug, the American said, “I know nothing of an attack on anyone. We live here alone and manage to survive by our small garden.”
“You are a liar.”
“No, it is the truth. We have seen no one.”
It was then a private entered the kitchen with a .22 rifle and said, “There are three boxes of ammunition for it in the bedroom.”
Holding the rifle under the man's nose, the Major screamed, “What is this? Why would a farmer have need of a rifle?”
“I use it to hunt squirrels and rabbits to feed my family. I'm no partisan. I'm a farmer.”
The Major raised his pistol and the shot was loud in the small structure. The bullet took the man in the face, slightly below his nose and a long string of blood flew from the back of his head, spattering crimson on the wall behind him. He fell to the floor, dead before he struck the rough wood.
Turning to the woman, who was screaming, the Major slapped her hard and asked, “Where are the rest of your members? I know your husband was involved because he had a rifle.”
“H . . . he hunted, that's all. He was part of no resistance and didn't attack you. You must believe me!”
�
�Sergeant!”
“Sir?”
“Take all of them outside and line them up in front of the house.”
The translator said, “You are to go with the sergeant.”
After all had left, Lieutenant Ivanov said, “With all due respect, sir, but I think the family is telling the truth. I have read that all American's have guns in their homes. That is the main reason the Japanese did want to go to war with them during the Great War. I think this family is no threat to us.”
“Guilty or not, these people will be an example to those that resist us.”
Knowing if he spoke again it would lead to problems once they returned, the lieutenant wisely kept his mouth shut. He walked beside the Major as they left the house.
Abdulov heard a Russian voice scream, “The boy, stop him! Stop the boy!”
Shots filled the night air and Russian curses were heard.
Nearing the men, the Major asked, “What happened? Did one of the boys get away from us?”
Snapping to attention, a Senior Sergeant replied, “Yes, sir. As the civilians moved along the wall, the boy in front kept moving, slipped around the corner and then disappeared, running into the darkness.”
Slapping the Senior Sergeant hard, the Major screamed, “Why are your night vision goggles perched on the top of your heads like fools? Did you not lower them after we left the room?”
Lowering his head, the Senior Sergeant said, “No sir, we forgot to lower them.”
“Enough of your stupidity! I want these people shot and this house burned to the ground. Can you do that much without help, Senior Sergeant? If so, do it right now.”
The woman, knowing death was coming to visit, was happy her son Aaron had gotten free, but she could do nothing to save herself or the other children. She began to pray aloud, “Lord, I ask you to welcome my family into your loving arms in a few minutes. It is you, Lord, our Father, that adds meaning to our lives.”
“Yes, sir.” The Senior Sergeant forced five privates in a line, as the woman prayed, and then said, “Ready, aim, —fire!”
The shots were loud and all victims fell to the grass —dead. It was then the infant boy began to cry. The Major, boiling in anger that the young boy got away, walked to the child, picked him up by the ankles and swung his small head against the side the house, splattering the wall with brain, bone, and blood. As the baby's body shutdown, it's small frame quivering and shaking, the Russian dropped the child to the grasses and screamed, “Why is this place not burning yet?”
