by W. R. Benton
“I have a dead man back here.” one of the door gunners yelled.
“Leave him, now go!” the pilot said as he opened the door to leave.
The co-pilot screamed as he left the helicopter, a partisan machine-gun almost cutting him in half as the bullets punched holes through his body. Then, one of the door gunners, who was running slightly ahead of Romanovich, must have stepped on a mine because he disappeared in a narrow flash of fire and hell. In an instant his body was dismembered and thrown in all directions. All that remained of the man was one smoking shoe.
Crawling beside a long log, the Master Sergeant heard mortars fired off in the distance. The loud thumps could be heard at great distances. He glanced up to see the other helicopters veer off and gain altitude. It was then the mortar shells began landing, and they walked the rounds right to the downed aircraft. Then three rounds struck the damaged helicopter.
The fireball from the fuel was huge, with balls of bright red flames and dense black smoke rolling into each other. Then the compressed gases and munitions began to explode and cook off, the noise so loud it made it hard for the Master Sergeant to think.
He crawled up to a radioman, only to discover the man dead, so he took the headset and yelled, “Hello any station! I am call sign Cobra Three, on the ground and we are taking hard ground fire from the trees to our north and mortars from our east. We need assistance immediately!”
“Uh, Cobra Three, this is Wart Hog One and I am a fast burner out of Saint Louis. Get your heads down as my wing man and I make a run. Wart Hog Two, I will use my Gatling gun while you use your napalm. I am rolling in hot now. Get your heads down, Cobra Three.”
There was a sound like a gigantic zipper was pulled down and tree limbs and huge sections of bark were seen flying through the air. Screams were heard as the first jet pulled up and the second began his run. What resembled fuel tanks dropped from the diving aircraft as it suddenly nosed up. The tanks rolled end over end until they struck the trees, and then a huge fireball moved toward the sky. Master Sergeant Romanovich knew when the tanks hit the ground the fire would keep moving from the forward momentum, and it would soon be a large burning wave that killed all under the flames. More screams were heard.
“Cobra Three, this is Wart Hog One, and we are going for your mortars next. Two, use your Gatling guns as I use my napalm. I am coming in low and hot. I will use the remainder of my Gatling gun ammunition before I use napalm.”
The aircraft was seen just barely above the trees. The zipper was pulled once more, but before the jet could pull up, there was an explosion near the tail and the aircraft struck the trees and then disappeared, replaced by a huge red fireball and dense black smoke.
Wart Hog Two continued his run, fired his Gatling gun and then said, “War Hog Two to Cobra Three, I have taken heavy ground fire, have my console well lit with warning lights so I am returning to base.”
“Copy Wart Hog Two, sorry about One, over.”
“Understand about One. I have a flight of Black Sharks inbound in about ten minutes. This is Wart Hog Two, out.” The aircraft gained altitude and soon disappeared.
Troops were moving now toward the trees away from the fire of the napalm. Other helicopters were starting to land and more soldiers were unloading. Once in the woods, they'd break into squads and try to find the Americans. Already the troops were complaining about the sixty to seventy pound packs they had to carry all day, but the complaining was typical. For some of the smaller men and most of the women, it was half their body weight. As Romanovich always said, “No person in the infantry has trouble sleeping all night after carrying a pack all day.”
The Master Sergeant gathered his squad around him, including a new Junior Lieutenant named Slavavich. “Okay, all is well right now. We are going to move on a heading of 220 and we stay on that heading until nightfall. Tonight we will sleep back to back. Vasilievna, you are my point and Isaak, you are my drag. No talking, and keep the noise down unless you want to die. Now, let us move.”
The rest of the day was slow and the heavy packs became heavier after an hour. Every hour on the hour a ten minute break was taken, but loads were almost too much for some of the smaller troops.
Near dusk, the Master Sergeant had the squad move into thicker trees and place four NON-50 mines out and also some buried mines. They then sat back to back in a circle as they consumed their rations.
No sooner had they finished than a voice was heard in English, “Hey Sarge, do you think this trail might be mined?”
“Assume it is, dumb-ass and keep moving. Don't speak again unless I ask you a question. Move, Jones.”
When Romanovich looked around, the eyes of his men and women were huge, but the Lieutenant looked like he wanted to crap his pants. He looked absolutely terrified. It was good the Americans were heard, because now his people knew the enemy was around, and they'd stay alert.
The enemy avoided the mines and it was obvious they were off the trail. Minutes later the group was gone, but the fear of hearing and seeing them remained.
It was near midnight when helicopters were heard flying in the local area and the Master Sergeant whispered to the Lieutenant, “Sir, did you call in our night position?”
“Uh, no, I thought you did.”
The Sergeant shook his head and thought, New Lieutenants are about useless, and then he picked up the handset for the radio and said, “Base this is Cobra Three.”
He'd no sooner than spoke when the ground around them was being torn to bits by machine-gun fire from one of the infrared equipped helicopters. Corporal Isaak stood, probably to run, and in an instant was knocked to his knees as machine-gun rounds passed through his body. Even in the dark, his body could be seen flying apart.
“Attacking helicopter, you are killing friendly troops! Break, break, break, this is Cobra Three and you are firing on my position!” Boris Romanovich screamed into the radio.
Chapter 10
I was tired, and fully understood I was no longer 18 years old. My back hurt, my legs felt like they were made out of lead, and my lungs hurt from running. All of my people had gotten out of the area before the aircraft strikes, but some others were burned to death or blown to pieces. I'd get the report from intelligence at some point this morning. I was glad I'd left Dolly behind, too. She was a great dog, but at times I wanted to only worry about me. I loved her like a child, if that is humanly possible.
There was a dirt road we were to cross, but about a hundred feet north was an intersection which was now guarded by a machine-gun nest and a huge Russian T-14 Armata, a tank that weighed over fifty tons and had a crew of three. I'd seen very few T-14s, with the T-90 as the most common tank in the states. I decided right then to take this tank out of action.
The only problem was I'd never tackled a T-14 before. I had nothing that was able to take it out at any distance, which meant I'd have to get close enough to drop something down the forward hatches, which were open. The turret of the tank was not manned and the crew sat in a protective capsule which offered them some additional safety. I then moved back into the woods with my people to allow the day to pass. I would attack the tank near midnight.
The day passed slowly and rightfully so, because we stayed as still as possible to avoid detection. I was more worried about a chopper detecting me than ground troops. We wore camouflage uniforms, had face-paint on, and wore gloves or paint on our hands. We were deep in a blackberry patch and few could get anywhere near us without making noise.
Just before midnight, I gathered up all the PVV-5A Plastic Explosive and detonators we carried. We usually used PVV-5A for cutting through fences, locks or other metals. Tonight I'd use two blocks of the explosive, all we had, and each was approximately 2 inches by 1 and a half inches, by 11 inches long. My explosive total weight with two blocks was approximately 2.50 pounds. I wasn't sure if it would do the job, but if nothing else I'd damage some electronics and computer systems on the inside, and perhaps kill the crew, if they were in the tank
. I'd ignite the fuse and then have five seconds to clear the area.
I wanted my group to move in closely from the front, then I'd approach the tank from behind. I'd climb on the tank, move to the front hatches and hope one was open. Usually at night hatches were open because there was always a man in every crew with gas problems. It's hard to sleep when one or two are passing gas all night.
Once my explosive was dropped, Dobins, who would be with me, would toss a grenade into the machine-gun nest. We'd then move at a 90 degree angle from the tank. It sounded good, but I expected something to go wrong. I just hoped I didn't mess things up and get a bunch of us killed.
As my folks slowly moved toward the machine-gun, crawling, I took Dobins and we began circling the tank. We were wearing NVGs, and weren't slowed down in the least by the dense brush. When I neared the tank and machine-gun nest, I was surprised to only see one man on guard.
He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the sandbags and every few minutes he'd stand up straight and walk in circles in an attempt to stay awake. I pulled the .22 pistol I carried with a silencer and moved to the very rear of the tank. The second time he came near me, I'd put him down.
He stopped, pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a lighter. He took a deep drag and then moved for the rear of the tank again. As he moved, I watched him closely as he passed, and on the next pass, he was mine.
When he passed the next time, I stepped up behind him, threw my arm around his neck and fired the .22 pistol into the side of his head. When he didn't stop jerking and fighting, I fired twice more and one bullet entered his temple. Each squeeze of the trigger brought a low phoot sound. He collapsed to the grasses.
I climbed on the tank slowly and as quietly as I could. I made my way to the only open hatch and heard men snoring below. I ignited the fuse and dropped the explosives in the tank. Just to make sure I did maximum damage, I dropped a fragmentation grenade, too. Someone in the tank screamed as I jumped from the heavy beast. I heard an explosion, saw the machine-gun fly up high into the air, and heard the screams of men dying. I was running like hell, attempting to get away from the tank.
I heard a loud ka-boom, and looking over my shoulder saw the turret of the tank flipping end over end as it moved in and out of a large fireball filled with black smoke. Dobins was now running right beside me as my troops dropped back to the woods.
Once together, we all decided to wait a bit and then move toward the tank. At about that time the munitions and other flammables began to cook off, which caused minor explosions in the fireball.
“Do you think the machine-gun is still good or the ammo?” Taylor asked.
“Hard to say, and depends how hard the grenade was on them. I did see the gun fly into the air, so it may be damaged. Once in place, we go through the stuff quickly and then haul ass out of here. Let's give the tank a few more minutes and then let's move.”
When we arrived at the tank, I could smell the burned bodies, and all those assigned to the machine-gun were dead. Most of the ammo was still good, but the gun was a mess. We salvaged what we could and just as we turned to leave, I heard a chopper!
“Split up, and everyone run in different directions!” I yelled, hoping we'd not just committed a fatal mistake of being out in the open.
They must have seen the flames from the tank burning, I thought as I ran like hell for the trees we'd just left minutes ago. A long line of bullets passed by, missing me by less than a foot, and clods of dirt were flying high into the air. I made it into the trees, and watched the chopper very systematically follow each of my people, one at a time. I laid in the grasses and had my poncho close to me, so I could cover up if need be.
About thirty minutes later the bird circled the burning tank, and then landed near. I watched a crew member run toward the machine-gun nest, and then start back for the chopper. I heard a shot and the man dropped. I then heard a series of single shots, but the aircraft left the downed man and slowly gained altitude. My shooter must have caused some damage, because once up high enough, the aircraft flew toward Fort Leonard Wood. I cautiously made my way to the downed Russian. As I moved toward him, so did other members of my group.
“The bird was smoking when he left us.” Dobins said.
“Good shot, Brown.” I said to my sniper.
“Where are Green and Wilson?” Paxton asked.
“I saw Green catch a line of machine-gun bullets, so I know he's dead.” Davis said, and then scanned the countryside for any sign of Wilson.
“Check the dead Russian for arms and ammo. Then form on me; we'll make one quick walk around the area, and then we head home.” I said as I squatted and went through the man's pockets for papers. I pulled a couple of patches from his flight suit and by then we were ready to leave. I crammed what I'd found in my pockets and off we went. I watched Dobins place the man's watch on her wrist.
Minutes later we were once more moving in the darkness of the forest and I relaxed a little. We spent the remainder of darkness walking. At daylight, I stopped for four hours to allow everyone to rest a little. We'd been all night with no sleep. I'd just opened a Russian ration when Dobins came to me, almost in tears. Her eyes were wet and when she sat across from me I asked, “Are you okay?”
“No, sir, I'm not okay. I thought I could handle my problem alone, but I can't. I'm pregnant.”
I was shocked but not overly so, because we were human beings first, then partisans. I thought for a moment and then asked, “Why did you come on this mission then?”
“That's it? All you care about is this damned mission?” she asked, and she was livid.
“What did you expect from me? We are lonely people, and I think it's natural for each of us to need someone at times. I have a woman I'm seeing and it's part of life.”
“Would you want a baby born now, the way this country is? I may not survive this war!”
“Well, your baby may not survive either. Look, anytime we have men and women living together, this will happen. The fact that it has happened is not surprising, but after this you'll go on no more missions. You'll have a baby to raise, but I'll put you to work in Intelligence with Stas and the rest. I'm sure even the Russians face this problem. We cannot put men and women in lonely jobs together and not expect this to occur. How is the father taking all of this?”
“Ledford is mad because he doesn't want a baby to be born right now.”
“Well, it's not like you have a choice in the matter. Look, I'm happy for you, actually for both of you, but you both might have planned this a little better.”
“It just happened the first time, but after that it happened often. I'm not a slut, sir, but we love each other and I'm pregnant.” She broke down in tears again.
“It's not the end of the world. Look, you'll work Intel, but Ledford is one of my snipers and he'll stay in the field, because he's too good to let go. I hope for your sake and the baby’s he lives, but that's out of my hands. Reassigning you to Intelligence is all I can do right now. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“Oh, no, sir! He'd think I put you up to all of this and get mad at me.”
“I thought you said he was already mad.”
“He is, but . . . you're confusing me. I don't think he'll stay mad if I talk to him about this, but if you speak to him, he'll think he's in trouble.”
“Look, you're both adults and as long as you don't break any laws, I have no reason to speak to him or you about this. What happened was natural for two consenting adults who just happen to love each other.”
She met my eyes and then asked, “You don't think it's wrong? We're not married and don't plan to be because we seem to die so quickly living as we do.”
“It's not my place to judge anyone, so your question is best saved for a preacher and not a commander. I will say this though, if any one of us gets a chance to forget this war, even for a few moments, they'd better grab it. Our lives are filled with little joy as it is.”
“Thank you, sir. I don't have a moth
er or father still alive, so you're all I have.”
As she turned to walk to Ledford, I realized I was much more than just a commander to most of my troops. Many of my people were still in their late teens, like Dobins. Just the thought made my chest swell that she trusted me enough to speak with me about a personal issue. Now, if the three of them survived this war, all would end well.
Later that day we entered main camp, and I made my way to Intelligence to file a report of a machine-gun and tank destroyed by us on the way back. I was bone ass tired, sleepy, and hungry. I needed a shower, shave, and clean clothes. When I entered the room, Staff Sergeant Grant yelled, “Officer in the room!”
Everyone came to attention, and it took me a minute to realize he meant me.
“As you were.” I said and then looking at the Captain, I said, “Stas, I need to file an after action report. I had three lightly injured and one killed. My dead man was Green and Wilson is missing. On the way back we knocked out a machine-gun nest and a new Russian T-14 Armata tank. The tank is a powerful and big bastard.”
“Sit, Colonel, before you fall on your ass, sir.” Stas said and reaching into his cabinet, pulled out a bottle of bourbon whiskey. He poured a half a glass and added, “You need a drink.”
I took the drink from him and then asked, “Any progress with my favorite Russian POW, Dennis?”
“A little, and we know now he was sent here in preparation of a chemical attack. He has no dates, but he knows one is planned for the future.”
“Anything else?”
“Some secret stuff that you don't need to know, boss. I sent it in code to headquarters.”
“Good, I can live with that decision. Give me the forms so I can sip this bourbon as I fill out my after action report.”
When I finished the report, Stas said, “Sir, you have a newly assigned woman waiting for you in your quarters. I gave her permission; I think she said her name was, oh, what was it, Grant? I'm not sure, but she was cute, had a nice figure, and now that I think on it, I think her name was Mary or Carol. Oh, it was June, I think.”
