by W. R. Benton
They then ran the wires from their explosives to a ditch that ran parallel to the tracks. They'd be in the ditch when the C-4 and Claymores blew. Joshua moved a distance behind to cover their rear as they did the dirty work. Once the explosives were detonated, he was to join the other two in shooting up the train.
At 2345 hours they heard the train approaching and a bright light was shining from the engine. The speed was low, approximately twenty-five miles an hour, and when it neared, John spotted people on a platform in front of the engine. They're using captives to make sure the train isn't attacked; well, it won't work today, he thought as he picked up the clackers for the Claymore mines.
“We let the captives go by and when I yell now, we blow the mines. Hopefully no civilians will be killed. Okay?”
“I'll squeeze when you give the word.”
As John waited, he decided to set the explosives off a second before the engineer's door reached the mines. John thought his forward speed would have him in the kill zone and most of the hostages out, but no matter where the civilians were, this train would be destroyed.
The engine ran over the C4 and kept moving and just before the engineer was between the two mines, John yelled, “Now!”
Both mines exploded, riddling and knocking the engine off the tracks, where it quickly fell on its side, smoking. Tom exploded the C4 and two flatbed cars loaded with troops flew high into the air. He then picked up his RG-6 and sent 40 mm grenades into the five remaining cars.
Joshua opened up and heard his bullets hitting cargo cars and pinging off into space. Then one car exploded, a large fireball lighting up the darkness as clear as day. Screams were heard from the engine, so John ran to the train. The engineer was dead, his bloody head almost ripped from his neck. He quickly untied the prisoners and told them to go. They scattered into the winds in ones and twos and some had minor injuries, but he couldn't help them.
Russian bodies were spread all over the place and all were dead. John pulled an ace of spades from his pocket and placed it in the open mouth of a dead Master Sergeant. He then used his right foot to close the dead man's mouth.
“We need to move and do the job now. I'm sure they'll have choppers up looking for us shortly.” Tom said.
The drizzle had changed to rain so they began a distance eating trot to put some distance between them and the tracks. At the main highway, they crossed as a group, to lessen time needed to cross, and were soon back in the trees.
An hour later, choppers were heard overhead, but they simply stopped and hugged a tree. Minutes later the aircraft moved away.
Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting the area, and a few seconds later a loud boom or crack was heard. They never slowed and soon saw the safety of the cabin in front of them. It was pouring rain now and each was tired, wet and hungry. John wanted to dry off, eat a little and then get some much needed sleep.
Walking up to the door, John knocked twice, waited a second and then knocked twice more. Sandra opened the door and asked, “Well?”
“The Russians are short a train and a large number of men. I'll tell all of you about it after we dry off, get something to eat.”
“There is some stew on the stove. We opened a few rations and placed the canteen cups on the edge of the stove to keep warm.”
As soon as they'd changed into dry clothes, they each took a canteen cup from the stove and started eating. John told his story as he ate.
When he'd finished, Sandra said, “Sounds like it went smoothly.”
He laughed and replied, “It did and that scared me, too. Most missions have something go wrong, but not this time.”
“We're lucky, that's all.” Tom said. “I think because they've never been attacked before we got away with it, this time. We need to space the attacks out and hit them on different days and not show any routine. If they get the rhythm of our attacks, we're dead meat.”
“Yep, I know, so tonight we'll hit them again.”
“Tonight? Have you lost your mind?”
“Nope, I honestly don't think they'll change much in 24 hours. It takes time to make changes, and then we'll hold off for a week or ten days.”
“Are you taking the same people?” Sandra asked.
“Nope, I'll take Joshua and Sally. Sally needs the experience and Joshua is a proven hand in the field. Now, Tom, make out a guard detail for those that remain behind. The three of us need to get some sleep.”
“You should take the RG-6, because it makes a big difference on the train cars.”
“We'll take it,” John said and stood as he continued, “because it adds firepower to the group. The key is to avoid any injury to those held captive on the platform riding in front.”
“Hell, let the engine go.” Joshua said.
“Can't do that, because it's a valuable piece of equipment. The engine must be blown and any fuels, petroleum or liquids destroyed. Plus, any troops we can kill are an added bonus, because it keeps them out of the field looking for us.”
“When do we leave?” Sally asked.
“At dark, so get some sleep.”
At 2000 hours they were ready, with the mines placed, and all three wide awake. They'd walked nearly two miles closer to Edwards to avoid using the same ambush spot. Just past the mines, they'd pulled the tracks out about four inches, which would cause the train to derail. They had no idea of the train schedule, none were printed, or even if one would run this night, but John thought they would, to make up for what had been lost the night before. All faces were wearing camouflage paint and they'd be hard to see if explosions resulted from their attack. Dolly lay near John's feet.
It was two hours later before Joshua lifted his ear from the steel track and said, “Something coming, but I can't tell if it's moving east or west.”
John looked both directions and saw a pin-point of light to the east. “Looks like they're trying to resupply Edwards again tonight. Look to my right. Do you see the light?” Vicksburg gets most of their supplies shipped up river, on the Mississippi, he thought.
“Uh-huh.” Joshua said and then grinned.
“Move back into the brush. As soon as the Claymore fires, come up shooting.”
“Train coming?” Sally asked.
“Yep, from the east moving toward Vicksburg. I want you down low, behind that log, and do your shooting from there. They may be ready for us this time, so we need to be more careful.” John said as he squatted and picked up the clackers.
The train was moving fast down the tracks and Joshua knew they were afraid of an ambush, so he relaxed a bit. If they were well prepared for an ambush, they'd not be traveling so fast, he thought.
Again, there was a platform of some sort welded to the front of the train and a dozen captives were seen chained in place. John waited until the platform was well past the Claymore mines and then squeezed them. The mines thundered in the air and the smaller mine gave a dull boom. The train continued moving, until it hit where the track was pulled apart, and then it derailed. The locomotive engine exploded, sending flames, dust and smoke high into the air. Screams were heard all along the train—but most came from the front, on the platform.
Joshua stood and sent out 40 mm rounds at the rate of about one a second, and then ducked to reload. Explosions shook the ground, fires erupted and men screamed as they burned to death inside the derailed cars.
Sally opened up with her AK-47 and began to walk her bullets down the short train. When her weapon was empty, she inserted a fresh magazine and did the same thing again.
From between two cars on their sides, a machine-gun opened up, with deadly results. Sally screamed and rolled to her side where she began to jerk and twitch, the top of her head gone.
Joshua fired one 40 mm round and the machine-gun grew quiet.
“Sixth car seems to be fuel, take it out!” John yelled.
Bloop, went the PG-6 and a gigantic fireball rolled to the sky. Burning fuel began to move into the other cars, forcing soldiers out into the open. Tak
ing his time, John killed as many as he could. It was then he heard a jet fly over.
“Break contact and haul ass to the south and do it now!” John screamed.
“What about Sally?”
“She's dead; move!” John glanced at the brain of the woman and knew she was gone.
Joshua took two steps when something slammed into his back and fell to the ground. John, stopped, looked back, but heard his friend yell, “Move, don't worry about me! Go!”
John suddenly had a change of plans and moved west, toward Edwards. He had just cleared a fence when he saw the jet diving to where he'd been a few minutes ago and something fell from both wings. A few seconds later, the area straight south of the tracks was engulfed in flames.
“Napalm,” John said aloud and then thought, damn me. It's a good thing I wasn't still moving in that direction. I don't like leaving Joshua like this. If he's captured, he'll tell them where we're at. Move, we'll have to relocate again.
The jet made another pass, guns firing and bullets zinging in all directions. John kept running, until he'd covered about two miles and then turned south. Part of him wanted Joshua to survive and yet he really hoped the man had been killed. He knew the Russians would be hard on any prisoner they took involved with the resistance. It was more likely a slow death awaited him.
The highway was bare, not a thing seen, and John was wearing NVG's, so there could be no surprises. The deaths or loss of both his friends ate at him hard, but he ignored his emotions and kept moving. He crossed the road as quickly as he could, jumping at the last second to cover where he entered the woods. He then scattered a few leaves around where he'd landed. Slowly he moved toward the cabin.
Once at the cabin, he knocked once, then three times before he entered. Tom was guarding in the trees and seeing John return, he entered the structure.
“Margie, go pull guard. I have to talk with John about the mission.” Tom said as he touched her left foot.
She yawned, sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes. Five minutes later, she was gone.
“Where are the rest?” Tom asked.
“Dead if they're lucky, captured if they're not.”
“Tell me what happened.”
John told his story and left nothing out. He paused at the end and said, “I don't know how badly Joshua was hit. He yelled for me to run, so I did. I suspected, obviously he did too, that the plane was going to drop napalm or use rockets. The only reason I'm still alive is I ran west instead of south and it took the pilot a bit to determine where we were. The whole south side of the tracks was in flames when I looked the last time. I know Sally was dead, because chunks of her skull and brain were missing.”
“What now?”
“We move and we do the job within an hour. If Joshua talks, this place will be swarming with Russians, and we don't want to be here. He'll talk, so the only question is, when? We're making one trip out of here, so what we can't pack, we leave. Once everyone is out of the cabin, you and I will make some booby-traps.”
In a loud voice, Tom said, “Everyone up and get ready to leave! We've got to move now.”
“Leave?” Sandra asked.
“The Russians may be here soon.” John replied.
All were soon putting on their boots, grabbing gear and ammunition. John said, “Don't overload yourselves, because we have to move fast. Load up on food, ammunition and medical supplies. Take your chemical biological suits, masks and filters. The rest we leave.”
Mollie asked, “Can we go with ya?”
“Uh-huh, as long as you can keep up with us. Do you think you can carry Ruben five to ten miles?”
“Tom, I ain't got any idea, but we'll damned sure see, now won't we?”
John said, “Tom, go relieve Margie and have her gather up the gear she needs. I want to be gone within twenty minutes.”
Placing a hand grenade with the pin pulled, John wedged it between two boxes of ammunition, tied some two pound fishing line they used for trip mines to a shotgun with a broken stock and ran the line to another grenade. He pulled the pin and slid the grenade inside an empty bean can he'd found. The can was taped to a support leg on the bed. The idea behind the trap was, someone would pick the shotgun up, the line would pull the grenade from the can, and it would explode.
Then going outside, he planted a few anti-personnel contact mines on the trail leading to the door, and finally walked about fifty feet down the trail and placed a Claymore with a trip wire, and inserted anti-personnel mine on the other side, just like he did in the swamp. Then, moving down the trail another fifty feet, he lined the side of the trail with three contact mines, hoping when the claymore or one of the other mines exploded, the Russians would jump to the sides of the trail for safety.
Finishing, John called out, “Let's move, people, and head south. I want Margie on point and Tom on drag. Come, Dolly.” Packs were quickly donned and the group began to move south in the darkness.
Over the course of the night and morning, they took turns packing little Ruben, since Mollie was packing her fair share of the supplies as well. John was beginning to respect her, because she wasn't a complainer and he'd never liked a whiner.
Near noon they stopped for a quick bite to eat and were deep in the woods, but a small clearing was near. The clearing was maybe a hundred feet long and half that in width. After everyone had eaten, Ruben was walking around throwing rocks.
Suddenly, Dolly gave a low warning growl. John looked around, but saw nothing out of place. He scratched her ears, but she stood, watching the child.
Ruben moved to the clearing and bent over, picked up a small stone, and tossed it about six feet. He was moving forward, as Tom watched, when suddenly there was a detonation, a scream, and Ruben was thrown to his back. Dust filled the air around him and his loud shrieks were heard.
Mollie stood and screamed, “Ruben!” She started toward her son, but Tom grabbed her.
John yelled, “Stop! He's in some kind of minefield or something. Let me check it out.” Then, turning to his dog, he said, “Stay.”
John moved toward the clearing and off to the left he saw a green PFM-1 Butterfly mine. Glancing around he saw many of the mines scattered over the field, so they were likely dropped by a chopper as it flew over. Using caution he made his way to boy, who'd stopped crying and was either unconscious or dead. Looking closer, he determined the youngster was still breathing. Ruben's right leg was missing from the knee down and he was bleeding heavily. Pulling a cotton cord from his shirt pocket, John placed the line around the boys leg, just above his knee to slow bleeding. He tightened the cord with an unopened pocketknife, by placing it under the line and then twisting it, finally tucking the loose end of the knife under the tourniquet. He picked the boy up and stepping carefully, made his way back to the others.
“It was a PFM-1 Russian butterfly mine, and the field is full of them.”
“Oh, my baby! Is he dead? Is my baby dead?” Mollie asked as she moved toward the child as John handed him to Sandra.
“Keep her ass away long enough for me to see what we have on our hands here. I can't work if she's going to be in my face.” Sandra said as she pulled her medical bag to her side.
Margie placed a blanket on the ground beside Sandra and said, “Put him here, John.”
As Mollie neared, John said, “Come sit with me, because the boy will be fine. He's lost a leg, but give Sandra some room to work on him. I don't think he's in any serious danger of dying, because those mines are designed to maim and not kill.”
Mollie's eyes were darting all around as she attempted to see the extent of her son's injuries, but finally, after a few seconds, she did follow John and sat on a stump. She placed her head in her hands and began to cry softly.
Sandra glanced at John and slowly shook her head. Her hands were covered in blood and a spurting artery had sent a long line of blood from her hairline, across her cheeks and nose, to her chin. She bent back over the boy and started working on his mangled leg. A few minu
tes later, she stood and said, “He's gone, Mollie, I couldn't stop the bleeding. I'm so sorry.”
A loud animal-like wail came from Mollie and she moved to her son. She raised the little boy's head, smoothed his hair, and said, “Come back, Reuben, momma needs ya with me. Do ya hear me, son?”
Tom looked at John and said, “Come with me, we have a shallow grave to dig.”
CHAPTER 20
The Russians doctored Joshua to stop the bleeding and then threw him in the back of a large truck. His feet and hands were tied, but he was unconscious and unaware he'd been captured. Sally's body was thrown in the same truck with Joshua, but most of her brain had fallen out as the troops dragged her body to the vehicles.
The commander of the small relief force, Major Gagarin said, “Keep checking, because the pilot claimed he saw many American's burning in the napalm.”
“If so, the bodies may not exist now, sir. What was the count he gave to the base?” Senior Sergeant Delov asked.
“Over fifty.”
“I would never call an officer in the Air Force a liar, sir, but I have been here since we first arrived and never encountered over ten Americans in any attacking partisan group. Perhaps he is mistaken with his estimate.”
“It matters little, because I will report fifty dead, we have one for proof and one captured.” Gagarin replied, knowing he'd reap the benefits of his report. “How many dead and injured do we have? Additionally, determine how much we lost in supplies, gear, and material.”
“The petrol tank is completely gone, we have thirty-five dead and forty wounded. Most of the wounded are suffering from burns that came from the exploding fuel car. Of the contents of the cars, I would estimate we've lost forty to forty-five percent, mostly due to fire. However, we recovered an RG-6 and an old AK-47 from the two we have in custody.”
