The Fall of America: Call Sign Copperhead (Book 6)

by W. R. Benton

“Uh, Cobra One, go Base.”

  “Be advised of a large company size group of partisans headed your way. Attack helicopters just chased them from the woods and they scattered, but we expect them to join again and continue in a westerly direction. If that happens, you will encounter them.”

  “Copy base, understand, and do you want me to engage this group, if possible?”

  “Correct, but only if favorable for you to do so. If you do not have the upper hand, let them go by you.”

  “Copy, Base. Cobra One out.”

  “Junior Sergeant Timur, get some NON-50 mines around us, we are expecting visitors tonight. I also want mines on the trail and two NON-50 mines in the trees, up high, pointing down toward the trail.”

  A Corporal took to the trees with the mines in a small pouch. Once up high enough, he wired them in place and then fed the wires for the clackers down between the tree branches, across the trail and then in the bushes where Ilik was.

  In less than an hour, they were ringed with mines and their two flamethrowers were ready to go too, but it could end up being a long night.

  “One hundred percent awake this night. If I catch you sleeping, I will either kill you or take a stripe, depending what happens during the attack. I want no sleeping, and I mean this. No talking and do not get up and walk around under any circumstances or you may get your ass shot off. If you have to pee or crap, do it in your position and in your helmet, if you have to go badly enough. Do not give us away to the enemy.”

  Ilik's men and women knew him as a fair man so his threats were taken seriously, which was good, because he meant them. If one of his troops caused the enemy to be alerted, he'd send them to a gulag in Sibera, if he didn't shoot them first.

  The early evening was quiet; the only sound heard was a few helicopters off to their north, but they didn't know which side they belonged to, so they remained still. Of course the mosquitoes came out and started feeding. They seemed to absolutely love the Russian insect repellent. Each slap to kill one of the flying pests brought a whispered, “Stop,” from a Corporal, Sergeant, or the Captain.

  It was near 0230 when Junior Sergeant Timur tapped the Captain on the shoulder and pointed. All were wearing their NVGs, so he spotted the movement of the point man for a group of partisans. They were moving down the trail and the point man was good. He marked two mines and continued walking until he was out of the kill zone. The main body followed and it looked to be close to 40 or 50 men and women. When they were all in the kill zone, Ilik squeezed the clackers and at that point, hell visited the resistance. Screams were heard and three more NON-50 mines exploded, each in itself an individual form of hell.

  Bodies were shredded, limbs blown off, and heads disappeared. The air was replaced with a light red mist that hung over the trail. Then the Captain squeezed the clackers for the mines in the trees. Some victims had been screaming, some obviously praying, and others yelling for their mothers or wives. With the explosion of the NON-50s in the trees, it grew quiet. But the coppery smell of blood filled the air, along with the disgusting scent of human feces from released bowels and ripped intestines. One young troop beside the Captain began to puke. She puked until she had dry heaves.

  “Sergeant Timur and Corporal Snetkov, move to the trail and fire your Bisons up and down the bodies. Then, stitch the side of the trail on both sides, in case some crawled away from us.”

  “Move, and now!” Master Sergeant Danovich said. “Each second gives them a chance to get away from us.”

  The two men moved to the trail and fired into the bodies and along the sides of the trail. Timur was surprised to hear a scream as he fired into the brush beside the trail. After firing two magazines of ammunition, they both moved back to the others.

  “Now, we wait until sunrise.”

  The rest of the night passed slowly, and Ilik wished he had a cup of tea or coffee. He grew very sleepy between four and five, but was able to fight it off. As he looked around with his NVGs, his people were awake, so he had to set an example.

  Once the sun was full up, he sent two troops to check the ambushed. They found where two seriously wounded had crawled away, leaving trails of blood, but they counted 49 bodies. All weapons, munitions and ammunition was taken and would leave by helicopter.

  “Base, Cobra One, over.”

  “Go Cobra.”

  “Our dance last night was attended by 49 people and I need a helicopter to come for the weapons and other gear.”

  “Wait one.”

  “Will do.”

  “Cobra, was a search done for patches, papers or maps?”

  “Affirmative, but only one unmarked map was found.”

  “Understand only one unmarked map was found. Be ready to load the helicopter with any of your people who may need medical attention and the gear from the partisans shortly. A helicopter, call sign Gopher, will make contact with you.”

  “Copy and out.”

  The loading of the helicopter was quickly completed and the unit once more began it's walk back to base. All went well in the morning, but just after noon the point man suddenly screamed and stood jerking and shivering.

  Master Sergeant Danovich ran forward and yelled, “Medic!”

  Private Teterev must have turned right when his foot stepped on a fulcrum and it pivoted up, a steel spike struck his left arm, went through the soft flesh, and then entered his rib cage.

  Danovich knew most barbs on the booby-traps were smearing with human waste, so he said, “He needs an antibiotic in his IV, because the Americans cover the barbs with excrement. That is to insure the wound gets infected.”

  “How are we going to get him off the barb?” Ira asked; she was the second medic assigned to the group.

  “We are not. Let me move a bit and I will untie the part that holds the barbs in place from the wood below it. It is a separate piece. They can remove the barb in him easier at the hospital.”

  The second he moved, Danovich knew he'd just made a mistake.

  “What is wrong?” the medic asked.

  “I am standing on a mine. When I remove my foot, it will explode. Let me untie him, because there is no reason for all of us to die.”

  Once the injured man was untied from the wooden beam, he was assisted to the main group by the medic. The Master Sergeant remained in place, gave long thought to his wife and family, prayed a while, crossed himself, and then jumped to the side.

  There was no explosion, nothing happened. Looking at the mine closely, he saw it was made in China, so he marked it and moved back to the group. He pulled out his canteen, took a long swig and then enjoyed the burning the vodka did all the way to his stomach. It was the closest he'd come to death so far in twenty-eight years of service.

  “Why did it not explode?” the medic asked.

  At that instant the mine detonated and the blast was loud. Dust, flames and smoke filled the air. After it grew quiet again, the Master Sergeant said, “Thank God the Chinese make poor munitions, and their grenades are just as bad. Nothing they make with a timer is worth a damn. Then again, it may have had a delayed timer. All that matters is that I am still alive.”

  “Let us move; someone may have heard that blast. Master Sergeant, I think you need another drink of water, because only the good Lord alone kept you alive today.” Captain Georgiy said and then winked at the old NCO. He knew what most carried in their canteens, because he used to do the same and he didn't care. He didn't care as long as the Master Sergeant could still do his job.

  The Sergeant took a longer drink this time and then shook his head. He'd come so close to dying and very well could have. He should have probed for mines with his bayonet, but got in a rush, and being in a hurry had killed many a soldier. I will never do that again, he thought as he screwed the cap back on his canteen and placed it back on his belt.

  Just before dark, they entered the front gate at the fort and made their way toward their quarters. All were exhausted and wanting a real meal and not something out of a “green fro
g” for a change. The Master Sergeant saw his troops squared away and then showered and shaved. He slipped on a clean battle dress uniform and moved to the club where he had a few drinks. He didn't go there to drink so much as to socialize with other senior NCOs and to eat. He had supper and by 2000 hours he was back in his quarters listening to the radio as he sprawled out on his single bunk bed. Within minutes he was asleep.

  Colonel Zakhary Leonidovich was livid. As the head of the Anti-Partisan Unit, they'd interrogated the two Chinese, using a Chinese speaking Mongolian, and had gotten nowhere. The two kept repeating that China was a signer of the Geneva Convention, as were the Russians, and they expected to be treated with the full respect due to their rank as officers. So far, the Russians had not used torture, but it was next. Captain Xinya was of special interest because of his father's position in the Chinese Government. The man was worth his weight in gold if they could get him to talk, and torture almost always made a man or woman talk. There was a limit to just how much pain any person could take.

  Of the two, Captain Shui was the most expendable of the two and they might have to kill him in some horrible fashion as Xinya watched. They'd once burned a partisan alive as an American Colonel watched, and then he talked quickly after that.

  The two men were being kept in the fort's old brig and each cell was crude at best, with an open toilet, concrete bed with one blanket, and a light in each cell that burned 24 hours a day, seven days a week. They had nothing to read, except a Holy Bible printed in English. They were fed twice a day. Breakfast was bread, jam, and tea. Supper was what the Russian soldiers ate, but as men raised eating rice and fish, the meals were not to their liking. As a result the two men were losing weight. Russian music was played around the clock in the jail, and neither man liked the music either. They'd taken the flight suits from both men, so they were wearing underwear and yellow shower shoes they'd given them.

  Captain Xinya heard the keys the guard carried jingling way before he saw the man. Soon his cell door was opened and the guard motioned for him to come with him. He suspected another interrogation was in his near future. So far the Russians had not mistreated them, but as the son a high political figure in the Chinese Government, he knew torture would come at some point. The Captain was well aware that his father’s status made him a valuable propaganda tool for the Russians. It was karma, and he'd deal with the pain when it came.

  The big burly Chinese-speaking Mongolian was in the room this time, and he held a steel pipe in his right hand. The guard placed Xinya in a wooden chair and, using cuffs, secured his ankles and wrists. It was then he knew they'd torture him on this visit. He'd spotted blood on the chair before he'd sat down and suspected Shui had been interrogated earlier.

  A Russian Full Colonel entered the room and said, “Well, Captain Xinya, I trust you are enjoying your stay as a guest of my people. However, today you must pay for your room and food, so you will answer a few questions.”

  The Mongolian translated the words for the Colonel.

  Xinya kept his head up, maintaining his dignity and asked, “What kind of questions?”

  The Russian spoke and then the Mongolian asked, “How many Chinese are in this country assisting the Americans?”

  “I am a Captain, not a General, so I am not told such things. Surely something like that would not be told a Captain in your army either. I have no idea how many of us are here.”

  The Mongolian translated and the Colonel suddenly slapped Xinya in the mouth. The small Chinese raised his head and ignored the slap.

  “How many aircraft are in your squadron?” the Mongolian asked.

  Silence.

  “Answer me, or the game will turn rougher and much more painful for you, my friend.” the big man said.

  Silence.

  The Russian said something and the steel pipe in the big man's hand slammed down on Xinya's left arm. He screamed from pain and glancing at his arm he saw broken bone sticking from his skin. The pain was rough and he had to grit his teeth to keep from passing out.

  “How many aircraft are in your squadron?” the Mongolian asked, and then added, “Tell me, or I will break a leg next.”

  “There were fifteen assigned, but I am sure we have had some losses since my aircraft went down.”

  “And, your Commanders name?”

  “I do not remember.”

  “You lie. Answer the question or I will break a leg.”

  Xinya spat in the big man's face when he leaned over to threaten him. He hoped the man would get mad enough to kill him with the pipe. However, the pipe moved in the air, impact was hard, and deep pain shot up his leg and he knew his shin was broken.

  “He is stubborn, but he will break. Everyone breaks at some point. Now, ask him if he will pose with the wreckage of his helicopter.”

  “He says no, and for us to go to hell.”

  “Twist his broken arm a few times, but only until he passes out. Then take him to his cell and let him think about what is in store for him in future interrogations with you.”

  By the second twist of his broken arm, Xinya passed out while screaming from pain. He next woke up in his cell. He crawled to the wall to Shui's cell and tapped on it with the metal spoon he ate with. Their cells were side-by-side. The tapping they'd learned before they'd been assigned to a combat squadron.

  Shui immediately responded by tapping code on his wall in return.

  “Are you well?” Xinya tapped.

  “No, I have a broken arm, broken leg, and all of my fingernails on my left hand were pulled off. I am in great pain.”

  “I have the same, except my nails are fine. Do not give up, comrade, because I suspect we will either be rescued or killed by our own forces. They must know exactly what building we are in, and I am sure a guided bomb will take this place out.”

  “I hope so, because I cannot take much more of this. Two days ago they tied my arms behind my back, then they tied another rope to my hands. The Mongolian then pulled a rope routed through a pulley, so I was lifted off the ground. I was pulled two feet off the floor and left like that for hours. I know both of my shoulders are dislocated, too. I am in much pain.”

  “Have courage my friend.” He tapped as he thought, It will be much more painful in the future, and we will leave here permanently maimed.

  “I am trying, Qin, I really am trying, and I have prayed much.”

  “Good. Can you rest now?”

  “No, I have a headache. I have struck the corner of my concrete bed many times with my head, trying to die, but it does not kill me.”

  “You must stop that and if we are to die, die like real men, not cowards. As your aircraft commander, I order you to remain alive as long as you can. You must not attempt to kill yourself.”

  “I will obey.”

  “A guard comes.”

  The tapping stopped.

  The guard slipped a tray of covered dishes into the cell. The dishes were all hard metal and could not be broken like glass or china. The man then took a tray to Shui.

  Xinya uncovered his bowls and to his surprise found white rice, sticky rice, and some traditional Chinese foods. He used the provided chopsticks to eat his meal and then placed his tray with the empty dishes in the hallway through a wide slot in the bars of his door.

  He moved to the wall and tapped, “How was your meal?”

  “Good for a change, but I think that means things are about to turn really rough.”

  “They have already twisted my broken arm, so how much rougher can it get?”

  He was to soon discover it could turn a hell of a lot more rough.

  Chapter 18

  I was angry as hell. I'd just gotten off the radio with Headquarters and the General said our raid on the Fort would be this evening. I was expected to attack the place now, and I'd actually thought the mission was more or less dead. I'd heard nothing over the past weeks and then I'm to do the job tonight? I looked at the map of the fort on the wall and selected the spot I'd use the tanks to
break through the fences. It was the shortest distance to the brig. Hopefully, with help from the Chinese, I'd be able to get in and get out quickly, because I'd lose in a long drawn out fight.

  I immediately called a meeting with the tank commander and all my officers and Sergeants. Slowly they began to filter in and they arrived in ones and twos.

  Once all were in place, I said, “Gentlemen, this meeting is classified Top Secret and anything you see or hear here will not be discussed outside of this tent. Tonight at 0001 hours, we're to hit Fort Leonard Wood in a joint operation with Chinese air support and our tanks. We are to rescue, if we can, and kill if we cannot, two Chinese POWs currently held by the Russians.”

  Eller asked, “How much air support and how long will they be on target?”

  “They'll start with bombers and as they bomb, we'll breech the fence. Then, if all goes as planned, a squadron of fast movers will strafe and use napalm on known hard targets. The jets will use all their munitions and then return to base.”

  “Any Chinese choppers in on this?”

  “We'll have a squadron of attack choppers and two teams of rescue choppers to assist in getting the POWs out if we can. Each rescue team is made up of two Z-8 Search and Rescue choppers. No Chinese military personnel will be used in this ground attack on the Fort. Once we are in the area of the brig, I want the tanks to surround us and protect us as we storm the jail.”

  “How much time do we spend in the fort?”

  “As little as possible. My people will try to rescue the two men, but if that proves to be impossible, I'll call an air strike in on the brig. We either get them out or kill them. Any questions?”

  Silence filled the tent.

  “Spend the rest of today cleaning weapons, packing gear, and selecting the mines we'll take with us. I want the Fort heavily mined when we leave. Gentlemen, please see to your troops.”

  As the senior enlisted man, Master Sergeant Brown started to call the room to attention as I left, but I said, “Please don't come to attention this morning. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in.”