by W. R. Benton
Lieutenant Ivanov didn't like the idea, but said nothing. He realized the Major didn't like suggestions, even ones that might save his ass.
“You,” the Major said pointing at a private, “bring the rest of the men here. We will sleep in the barn. Sergeant Belonev!”
“Sir?”
“Throw the bodies in the fire. We must have it tidy when the helicopter arrives in the morning. I want one guard at the door to the barn, one in the loft with the door open, and another at the back at all times while we sleep, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
As he moved toward the barn, he said, “See to it now.”
The Master Sergeant had the bodies thrown to the fire, except for the baby. He picked the child up, muttered a prayer under his breath, and then tossed the small body into the crackling flames. There was no reason to kill these people. The Major is not following orders, he is trying to get on Vetrov's good side by calling in a body count. Hell, he might even be awarded a medal, all for killing a damned farmer and his family. I grow sick of this, because I've seen so much of it.
“You feeling okay, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Ivanov asked and then continued, “We had better get to the barn before the Major comes out looking for us.”
“I am fine, sir, just looking forward to my retirement.”
“I would guess so, but that is a long way off for me, if I can stay alive long enough. Now, let us get to the barn.” As they walked a bright line of lightning lit the sky, a loud clap of thunder sounded and looking up, the Lieutenant saw black clouds rolling. They were just a few feet from the entrance to the barn when the rains came.
Inside the barn, the men were scattered into little pockets, with the Major beside the radio operator. Belonev had passed a guard by the door on the way in and now climbed to the loft to check on the other guard. He found a private sitting on a bale of hay, back in the darkness, looking out the loft door. The man was experienced, using the shadows to help hide him.
The farm house was still in flames, clearly seen from the loft, but if the rains remained long enough, the fire would go out. Nodding to the guard, Master Sergeant Belonev left the loft, and putting on his poncho, went outside to check the guard at the rear. He discovered the man standing under a slight overhang out of the rain.
“Wet night.” The guard said.
“It usually is when it rains. Keep your eyes and ears alert to anything. It is possible the men in the resistance have noticed the fire and they might come to investigate. If so, daydreaming will get your throat cut.”
“I am awake and plan to stay that way all of my shift. Sergeant, I do not really understand why we are in this country.”
“We are in this country because Mother Russia told us to come here. We are soldiers and as such, we do what we are told, when we are told to do it, and without question. Just do your duty, try to stay alive, and leave the politics to the politicians.”
“I understand, Sergeant,” the guard replied, but really didn't. Like soldiers all over the world, he was lonely, tired, hungry, sleepy and confused about why he was stationed in America. He didn't hate Americans, but didn't like them either, because he'd never spoken to one. He knew little about them and the family they'd killed were the first ones he'd seen up close. He'd seen movies about America, also read some westerns and science fiction books, but as a people, he knew little about them. He was a farm boy, just turned eighteen, and wanted to be back on the farm with his cows and chickens. The smell of the barn brought many fond memories to the forefront of his mind.
Belonev said, “Stay alert, and I will be out at odd times over night checking on all guards. If I catch you asleep, if I do not kill you, you will wish I had. I will have you working in the kitchen so long your hands will start to crack from being wet.”
Snapping to attention, the guard said, “I will be awake when you visit my post, Master Sergeant.”
The Sergeant grunted loudly and then returned to the barn. He moved to a dark corner, opened his pack and pulled out a ration. He ate a meat with peas and carrots meal, washing it down with a concentrated tonic drink. He would save the jam, biscuit, and coffee for his breakfast. Opening his canteen, he placed a multivitamin in his mouth, and swallowed a large gulp of vodka. He leaned against the wall of the barn and promptly fell sleep.
It was later, well after midnight, when Belonvev awoke to pounding and banging sounds on the tin roof of the barn. He sat up, rubbed the crusted sleep from his eyes, and then stood. Like most of the men, he walked to the rear of the structure to relieve himself. As urine flowed he groaned in satisfaction as the pressure in his bladder was reduced. Nothing like a much needed pee to make a man feel better.
Donning his poncho, he opened the barn door and saw the ground littered with hailstones. Some were as large as a walnut and the ground was covered with them. Between flashes of lightning he saw the black clouds churning and twisting, but gave it little thought. The hail stopped, so he moved to the rear of the barn to check the guard. He discovered the man alert; it was not the same guard, and he was standing as close as he could to the wall of the barn, still under the overhang. It was obvious to the Sergeant, the guard was trying to avoiding the hail. It had to be rough out here just a few minutes ago, he thought.
“Rough night?” The Sergeant asked.
“Rough enough. I do not mind the rain, but the hail almost beat me to death.”
Belonev chuckled and after he grew quiet he asked, “Seen anything at all moving?”
“No, I think anything with half a brain is in a shelter someplace, do not you?”
“Maybe, but anytime we spend the night, no matter the weather, guards will be used. That is how I lived long enough to become an old Master Sergeant, so remember my words.” He then turned and returned to the shelter of the barn.
Returning to his sleeping spot, he'd just gotten comfortable when the guard at the door said, “Sergeant, come here. I see something I have never seen before.”
At your age, that could be anything, the old Sergeant thought as he stood and walked for the door. When he opened the door wider, there came a bright flash of lightning, and he saw the tail of a tornado on the ground. He watched a second or so longer, and then yelled, “Everyone out of the barn and now! Now, move, we have a tornado heading right for this place!”
Confused, one young man asked, “Tornado? What is that?”
“Move, dumb-ass, or you may soon be killed by one. Ask questions later, if you are still alive.” An unknown voice replied.
Remaining by the door, Belonev screamed to be heard above the roaring winds, “Move to the lowest spot you can find! Move!”
The Major ran past him and the Sergeant Major thought, You self-centered sonofabitch, you should have been a real leader and been the last man out of this place. Typical officer, worried about his own ass first.
A huge part of the destroyed house was picked up and thrown into three men moving toward the trees, exactly where they should not have been running for safety. In the wind, the Sergeant didn't hear the impact of the debris or screams of the men, but he knew the Major's claim of no man lost, was now a lie. He watched as one man was suddenly raised in the air while still running, his legs still pumping wildly to avoid the twister. In a few seconds the man was sucked into the black funnel and disappeared.
Master Sergeant Belonev saw all of the men were out, so moving at right angles, he moved toward a stream bank. Knowing the creek would be swollen from recent rains, it was the lowest spot he could see in the darkness. Now running as fast as he could, he prayed over and over that God would allow him to survive. He was a member of the Russian Orthodox Church and while now he rarely attended church service, as a child he had gone on a regular basis. Seeing the bank of the stream during a long flash of lightning, he jumped high and landed roughly in the water—on top of someone.
“Sorry!” He screamed to be heard but didn't get a reply.
Looking at the barn, he saw the roof wobble and then fly high into t
he air, and then the walls began to fly away piece by piece as well. This sounds like a train going full speed over me, he thought, and then pushed his forehead firmly against the muddy bank of the stream.
From beside him he heard a shriek of pain and the sound wobbled for a minute, but then turned to what sounded like choking. Scared for his own safety and knowing it would be suicidal to move toward the man, the Sergeant stayed where he was for the time being. The wind threw stones, branches and pieces of lumber from the house and barn into the air. Rain pelted them hard and the water level in the stream was quickly rising.
Then, suddenly, it was so quiet the lack of noise was loud to his ears. He knew he was in shock, but slowly he raised his head, and waited for the next flash of lightning. When it flashed, he saw four men in the stream with him, one obviously dead with a long sliver of wood in the middle of his chest. He stood and called out, “Everyone meet near where the barn used to be, now!”
After he left the water, he helped his men up the muddy bank one-by-one and then as a group, they moved for what remained of the barn. From flashes of light, all Belonev could see was a slab of concrete, and even some of it was missing, blown to where, only God knew.
As men gathered around, Lieutenant Ivanov approached and asked, “Have you seen the Major?”
“I just got here a few minutes ago, and I do not think most of the men are here yet.” Lightning flashed, and the Sergeant saw blood streaming down the young officers arm, so he asked, “Are you okay, sir? I see blood.”
“I took a piece of something through my arm, but have no idea what hit me. I know it hit with the force of a bullet, but that is all I know.”
The radio man neared and said, “Base contacted me and said due to the weather, our pickup is on hold. Weather reports a long storm front just passed, but three more heavy lines are coming in about an hour.”
Glancing at his watch, Ivanov said, “It is about an hour before dawn. We should have more men here than I see. Have half of the men break into small teams and use flashlights to see if any of our men are injured and unable to move. We must hurry, Sergeant, because we have more bad weather coming.”
“Yes, sir.”
A rough night was spent by John, Joshua and Aaron as the storm battered them to the point they had to crawl under trees to keep from being injured by hailstones. Joshua had an extra poncho he'd taken from the convoy ambush and gave it to the boy. When dawn arrived, water dripped from limbs and leaves, and the ground was muddy. After a quick breakfast, where the three of them shared a Russian Ration, they began moving toward the main group.
Rain fell, off and on, most of the early morning but near 10 hundred, Joshua suddenly stopped, just as a voice called out, “It took you two long enough.”
“Sandra,” John said, “the Russians were all over the place. No choppers were heard, but they were on the road in large numbers.”
“Come with me, my dear, Tom is about to have a conniption fit worried about you two. Who is the new man?”
“Aaron, and the Russians murdered his family. They had a farm a few miles from here and I saw it burning last night.”
“Well, unless they unassed the area by foot, they're still at the farm. We had a twister last night and scared the hell out of all of us. It missed us, but by less than a mile, but that was as close as I ever want to see one.”
Entering the camp, John said, “We're back, did ya miss us?”
Tom chuckled and said, “By God, I did. I thought the Russians caught you.”
Shrugging he replied, “No, but it grew dark early and we had to dodge a convoy of twenty trucks. Our new man is Aaron and while he's young, he's tough enough. Let me explain how we ended up with the young man.”
When John finished, Tom said, “It's likely the Russians are still there.”
“Aaron said he saw about twenty men, give or take a few.”
Tom asked, “Aaron, did your farm have a barn or other out buildings on it?”
“We have a big barn, but it's old with an old rusted tin roof and it was made by my grandpa, or so my daddy said.”
“Any animals?” Tom asked hoping for horses.
“We ate 'em a couple of years back and our pets, too.”
“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” John asked with a grin.
“Uh-huh. Aaron, if we got you back to where you met John, could you find your way home from there?”
Confused, the young man replied, “I know where I am right now and know a shortcut.”
“We'll plan our attack once we see the place.” John said and then added, “Saddle up, we're moving.”
The walk to the farm was short, just under two hours. As Kate glassed the area, John did the same with his Russian binoculars. He said, “Looks like the tornado hit the place and I can see where the barn used to be, but it's gone. Most of the rubble from the fire is gone as well. I count ten men.” He then handed the binoculars to Tom and added, “Take a close look.”
The Russians, were all in a group near a fire and eating. Kate counted ten men and two were pulling guard.
Tom noticed the area around the barn, except on the south side, was bare of any cover, so they'd have to take 'em out there. One man, who he recognized as an officer, was strutting around like a big rooster and yelling orders. The man's left arm was in a sling. A man walked to him, wearing a radio on his back, and handed him a headset. He couldn't near the conversation, but that didn't matter, because Tom couldn't speak Russian anyway.
“I count seven bodies wrapped in ponchos and three more walking wounded. I'll bet they're waiting for an evacuation chopper.”
John glanced at the dark sky and said, “It won't be anytime soon, because more rain is on the way. We need to move to the South and enter the woods. We'll try to take the group out by the fire with a Claymore, and Kate, you take out the guards. Once the Claymore fires, move in among them shooting. Then, if we get lucky, maybe we can snag a chopper later. Let's do this job first and see what happens.”
It took them almost an hour to loop around and approach from the woods. All the while they kept listening for a chopper and John knew if a window in the weather opened, a bird would show. He leaned close to Kate and said, “If things turn to hell and a chopper appears, wait until it almost touches the ground and then take out both pilots.”
She didn't reply, but gave him a big grin. He knew the idea of downing a chopper appealed to her.
The Russians, when John parted some bushes to see, were still gathered around the fire. Tom positioned the Claymore and the soldiers were less that fifty feet away. He looked at John and nodded. Taking once last look around, he check the positions of his people, saw they were spread out well and then looked at Tom. He then pointed at the man and nodded.
The explosion was loud and quickly followed by two sharp rifle shots. John knew Kate had taken the guards out as expected. They rose from the wet grasses and charged the downed Russians. Many of the downed men were dead, but three were screaming in pain. Margie ran to a major and the long sharp blade of her bayonet entered the man's soft stomach. A scream erupted, so she stabbed him again, but this time in the chest. The knife stuck, either in the ribs or the major's back, which she quickly fixed by firing a round from her rifle. His screaming instantly stopped. She pulled the bloody blade from his body, looked around and saw the other soldiers were dead.
“Tom, you and Margie check the guards. I'm sure Kate killed them, but make sure.”
“You bet.” Tom said as he walked toward the downed men with his rifle held at the ready.
Kate walked to him and said, “They're dead; both were head shots. I saw movement in the woods off your left side, but never found out what it was.”
“It might have been a deer or rabbit.” John replied.
“I don't know, because right after that, the Claymore exploded and I dropped the two men.”
John walked around, looking at the dead Russians and pulled an Ace of Spades from his pocket. He squatted beside Major Abd
ulov and placed the card in this open mouth. He started to close the man's eyes, but then remembered the killing of Aaron's family and stood instead. Aaron had stayed back in the grasses and John figured the boy had seen enough blood in his young life anyway. There was no need to expose him to more.
Tom approached and said, “Both are dead, now what?”
“We move back in the trees and see if we can catch us a chopper. The first shot you fire, Kate, has to put the door-gunner out, or we're all dead. Then, pop pop, take out the pilot and copilot. Do you think you can do the job?” John asked.
“Honestly?”
“Uh-huh, honestly.”
Kate nodded and replied, “Yes, I can fire three shots in the time it takes your heart to beat three times. Is that fast enough?”
He grinned and said, “Everyone back to the trees.”
“What about the radio?”
“Take it. None of us speak the language, but we'll know when the chopper gets close, if nothing else by the background noise.”
Tom stripped the radio from the back of the dead man and carrying it by the straps, moved for the trees and brush. As he waited, John shared part of his rations with Sandra.
Lieutenant Ivanov and Master Sergeant Belonev had both gone into the woods to answer the call of nature. Neither man knew of John and his group until the Claymore exploded. The wise old sergeant shook his head as he thought, I warned the Major the men should be spread out and in holes, not sitting on their asses by a fire eating. He has paid for not listening to his senior NCO with his life and the lives of our men.
“Did you hear that?” Ivanov whispered.
“Yes. Follow me, sir.”
Moving away from the farm and toward a road he knew was south of the farm, the same road where the ambush had happened, he knew there were no survivors. His expert ears had heard the two shots immediately following the exploding mine and knew the two guards were dead. If we can make it safely to the road, all we have to do is wait for a convoy.
Glancing behind him, he noticed the lieutenant was too close, so he whispered, “We have to take it slowly, sir.”
