The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3)

by W. R. Benton

  Grinning, the General look at Rusak and asked, “Do you share his opinion?”

  “Pretty much, sir, except I think they are still loosely organized. See, they usually run in small squad size groups, which we call a cell. Well, last night I had never seen so many partisans in one spot in my life. There must have been a thousand cells all around Edwards, the gulag and the air base.”

  “Surely you jest Major; that would be over 10,000 men.”

  “I know exactly how many men it would be, sir, because I saw them.”

  “Do you agree with his estimate, Captain?”

  “To be honest, sir, I have no idea how many were there, because I was a busy man at the time, but I have never known Major Rusak to exaggerate. If he claims he saw ten thousand men, then I am damned inclined to agree with him.”

  “Guard, please hand a bottle of vodka back here so these men can have some much deserved refreshment.”

  A Sergeant extended his arm and in his fist was a bottle of first class Russian vodka. Since both men were yet in pain, Major Rusak took the drink and said, “Thank you, sir. We both injured our backs upon landing and while I have a bottle, we could not drink enough to kill our pain.”

  “Driver, when we reach Edwards, take both of these men straight to the hospital.”

  “Uh, sir,” Paley said, “that will not work because the last time I saw the hospital, it was in flames.”

  “Very well, then. Gentlemen, feel free to share the whole bottle if you wish. I will not have fighting men riding with me in pain.”

  Edwards was a mess, a real goat roping mess; structures were black from flames and most of the hard buildings were gone and all of the tents. The hospital was a black spot, still smoking, and the only building to avoid the flames was headquarters, where the General's staff car stopped.

  Colonel Dubow was standing in front of his building, hands on his hips, yelling at his men to look for survivors. The first person out of the car was Captain Paley, then Major Rusak, and finally the General. Master Sergeant Turchin called the area to attention.

  The General walked to Dubow, extended his hand a said, “Well, Boris, it looks like you have had a fight on your hands.”

  “Very much so, sir. Intelligence suggests well over 10,000 partisans hit us at 0210 last night.”

  “Really? What did they use to come up with those numbers?”

  “Well, we discovered over a 1,000 of their dead, sir. Additionally, we took a few prisoners and a couple are talking.”

  “I would not suspect that many partisans in the whole country, Colonel.”

  “You would be surprised, sir. Perhaps you would like to sit in on one of our interrogation sessions, sir?” Colonel Dubow asked and then thought, You pompous ass, come in here right after an attack and start questioning me. How dare you, you arrogant sonofabitch!

  “I would like that, Colonel, very much. When is your next session?”

  “Master Sergeant Turchin, pull the prisoner named Esom. Why... right now, sir.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Esom was in bad shape, with a broken left leg and an arm dislocated from his last questioning. He was hanging tough, but it was taking all he had not to break. The Russians were vicious during interrogations and he'd only been questioned once. He knew if they discovered he was a sniper, he'd be skinned alive. His job had been to hang back and wait for daylight, then try to kill a senior officer. He'd been with the new woman, Amy, and she'd disappeared just before he'd been captured. He prayed she'd escaped. She was a sniper too, so it was possible she was watching his torture sessions, through her rifle scope.

  Esom was pulled forward, the broken bone of his left leg seen through his trousers leg. He screamed in pain as he was pulled to Colonel Dubow; Major Taras, one of the few surviving officers that spoke English, stood beside the Colonel. A huge infantry Private stood by with a steel rod in his hand, to break bones, or cause pain.

  Dubow would speak, then Taras would ask the question in English.

  “How many men are in your cell?”

  Esom said, “What is a cell? I live in Edwards and came here to help you following the attack.”

  Now, Taras spoke to the Colonel, who grinned.

  “You are a liar, because you were caught with a gun.”

  “I found it.”

  “Private,” Colonel Dubow said in Russian, “break his left arm with your metal rod.”

  The General was watching the whole thing with a smirk on his face. He loved the look of anguish on Esom's black face and he knew the black man would soon experience more pain when his arm was shattered by the rod. As he watched, a black dot appeared in the middle of Esom's face and the back of his head exploded, sending bone, blood, brains and gore into the face of the private. Esom's body fell limp.

  The General was still smiling when his back exploded, sending men and women scampering for safety as Rusak yelled, “Sniper!”

  The General was down and Dubow made a move for the man, only to receive a bullet in the chest, and as Taras moved for the Colonel, he fell with the top of his head missing, his body jerking and quivering as he died. Paley took a swig from the vodka bottle and remained squatting behind the staff car. Rusak, extended his hand and the bottle changed ownership for a few minutes. Damn, Rusak thought as he looked around, I am the senior man here.

  “Master Sergeant Turchin, take two squads and find that sniper.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Abram?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Watch your ass because this sniper knows the business.”

  Turchin laughed and took off at a run toward his men.

  Paley asked, “Why did the sniper shoot his own man?”

  “To keep him from talking, maybe, or the man might have been a friend and the sniper wanted to end the suffering. Who knows?”

  “The black man was brave.”

  “In case you did not notice, the black man is dead. In the end we will all end up in a grave, but some ways are better than others.”

  “My, you have turned cynical on me since we got here, my friend. And pass me the drink. Better yet, let me open the door and get a fresh bottle. You can keep that one.”

  The door opened, but the movement brought a shot, and a bullet narrowly missed Paley to hit a stone, and then it zinged off into space.

  “Got it!” Paley said with a stupid look on his face.

  “No more moving until the sniper is caught.” Rusak said, while wearing a drunken grin.

  Twenty minutes later, as the two men passed the vodka bottle, a series of shots were heard in the distance, near where the snipers shots were fired.

  “They got the sniper, or so I would bet.” Rusak said.

  “Maybe.”

  “Master Sergeant Turchin just radioed and the sniper was a woman; she is dead.”

  Major Rusak took charge, “Someone get a medic for our injured. You, Private, find some blankets to cover the faces of our dead. Lieutenant, I want you to gather some men and let us see about turning this place into a military base again.”

  A medic looked up and said, “Colonel Dubow and the General are dead, sir.”

  “Check the Major.”

  The medic moved to the man, but the top of his head was missing, “Major Taras is dead, too.”

  Rusak, who a year ago was a Master Sergeant, was the surviving ranking officer. He took charge, cleaned up the base, and released the prisoners from the gulag, except those guilty of serious crimes. Then he waited, knowing new commanders were coming and the situation would change again, maybe for the better, but likely not.

  He'd discovered hundreds of deaths, most burned to death in the fire from the leaking fuel. His first task assigned to the civil engineers squadron was to find a safe place for fuel storage. Three days after they started construction, he walked into his office and saw three Colonels and a Lieutenant Colonel waiting to speak with him. All of them were from Russian Headquarters Mississippi and assigned to Jackson.

  Stand
ing when Major Rusak entered, a thin Full Colonel said, “Major, I am Colonel Duboff and have been sent to take overall command of Edwards Air Force Base.”

  The Colonel extended his hand and said, “With me is Colonel Ivanov, the new Gulag Commander, Colonel Eline, the new Anti-terrorist Commander, and Lieutenant Colonel Kot, your new Infantry Commander. You have been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, for your efforts during the recent attack, and assigned as the Deputy, or Executive Commander, of our infantry. You are second in command of our troops, behind Lieutenant Colonel Kot.”

  “Welcome, gentlemen, and if you will give me an hour, we will have a staff meeting and I will introduce all of you to your staff. Colonel Kot, we are very short of men right now and I am unsure when Moscow will send replacements.”

  “Additional men will be here by the end of the day. Right now, they are in Jackson, waiting for transportation to Edwards.” Duboff said and then grinned.

  “Good, because right now, we have less than a company of men and hardly need two Lieutenant Colonels in charge.”

  Over the next month, the base was strengthened, more and more men arrived, and the gulag became full again. Colonel Ivanov, improved the diet for all prisoners, allowing about 1200 calories a day. Food was served twice daily; once in the morning and then each evening. Those working in some way, received three meals a day and were getting about 1800 calories.

  This morning, Duboff was conducting his morning staff meeting. The partisans had disappeared following the attack and were not to be found. It had intelligence stumped and Duboff mad.

  “We must go on the attack once more, but first we have to find the resistance.” Duboff said and then asked, “Colonel Eline, do you have any idea what has happened?”

  “Well, I am unsure, but have some ideas. Intelligence in both Alabama and Arkansas have reported an increase in terrorist attacks and strength of the partisans. It is my thoughts that our members of the resistance have moved to those states to assist, and they may be planning a major attack. We have concluded that the attack on Edwards, earlier this year, was not done by Mississippi partisans alone.”

  Duboff thought for a moment and then asked, “What can we do right now?”

  “Well, sir, it is unlikely we will have any major battles, but we can look for their supply bases, support groups, or simply deactivate mines and booby-traps. I suggest we look for supply bases and wipe out their support groups.”

  Colonel Kot said, “They must not figure we are much of the threat to them, if they have left the state to fight with others.”

  “We are not sure what they think of us, but keep in mind that a major combined operation would take months to organize, so this may have been planned way before Edwards was attacked.”

  Colonel Duboff said, “I like the idea of looking for their supply bases and those left behind. While it will be hard, tedious work, any army needs supplies, and to wipe them out may help us a great deal in the long run. Gentlemen, as of 0600 tomorrow we will enter the field looking for any signs of the partisans. All supplies found, especially weapons or munitions will be destroyed in place. We will not risk the lives of our men by returning guns or explosives to supply to be reissued. Partisans are known to tamper with gear and leave it to be found.”

  Colonel Eline said, “Well said, sir, and you are correct. Over the last year alone, we have had over 50 cases where our gear was tampered with and left for us to find. Usually it was a firing pin removed from weapons, C-4 placed in cartridges after the powder was removed, or grenades with the time delay set to zero, which is rough on the user. If we can find their supplies and wipe them out, the resistance will be reduced, but not killed as a fighting unit.”

  “I do not understand.” Colonel Ivanov said.

  “If the resistance loses, let us say 60% of their supplies, they will do one of two things. They will either speed up their attacks on our convoys, trains, or supply areas. Or, they will get additional gear from the resistance in other states. As long as there are Americans that hate us being here, they will find a way to fight.”

  “Enough of this kind of talk. Gentlemen, I want all of you prepared to start this mission at 0600 hours tomorrow, especially my infantry and aircraft commanders. If you have any questions, see me in my office. Dismissed.”

  “Ten-hut!” Master Sergeant Turchin said, from the very pit of his stomach, and everyone stood as the Colonel left the room.

  At 0600, Lieutenant Colonel Rusak stood on the flight-line with his troops. Choppers were to take them deep into the woods and release them as squads. Rusak would go as well, wanting to keep control of his men, and to be on the scene to verify their findings. For many of the men, it was their first combat mission, so they were understandably anxious.

  Rusak addressed his men, “Once in the field, listen to your Sergeants and Officers. They know what it takes to survive in a battle. If you are given an order, follow it to the letter and remember, to do less would let your comrades down. Keep in mind, you are all members of the best army in the world, the Russian army.”

  The choppers had their engines running and the wide rotor blades were turning overhead. A senior member of the aircrews, walked to Lieutenant Colonel Rusak and said, “Bring the men out, sir, squad by squad. You have too many men, so it will take three trips to get all of you in the field.”

  “Lieutenant Markov, get the men to the helicopters, a squad at a time.”

  As the men loaded, Rusak looked at them and wondered how many would still be alive when they made the return trip. Out of habit, he then glanced at the sky, saw no clouds, felt a light wind, and was thankful for good weather. Moving to the first aircraft he climbed in and put on a headset. His helmet he positioned between his legs.

  Twenty minutes later as they flew over a deep wooded area, the pilot said, “I have smoke from what looks like a cooking fire at my 2 O'clock position. I suspect it is a partisan camp.”

  “What is the estimated distance from right now?”

  “Eight Kilometers or close to that.”

  “Put us down here but give me a compass heading to the smoke before you leave.”

  “Copy, sir, and not a problem. I have a wide field off my left, so I will put you down there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rusak was on the ground with his men, and wanting to get away from the landing site, he said, “Sergeant Sliva, take the point and Corporal Belsky, you pull drag. Move us out on a north by east direction, using compass heading of 050.” Then looking at his nervous radio man, he said, “And, you, Private Pac, I want you close enough to me to be my shadow.”

  For a mile all went well, but then Sliva stopped and motioned Rusak forward. Pointing, the Sergeant indicated a thin line of fishing line across the trail, so the Colonel slowly moved forward. The line was tied to a stick pounded into the ground at one end, while the other end of the line was tied to a grenade pushed into a can. The idea was a walking man would catch the line on his boots or shins, which in turn would drag the grenade from the can. Since the pin on the grenade was pulled, the spoon would fly off, and an explosion would be the result.

  Rusak marked the line with a stick stuck in the dirt and sent his Sergeant forward.

  Near noon he stopped to allow his men to have a meal. Moving had been slow, because many mines and booby-traps were encountered, and each time they were marked. They'd moved off the trail and were eating under a large oak tree. He'd allowed no fires to heat the meals and some of the men were complaining.

  Laughing inside, because he knew from his days as a Master Sergeant, his men weren't really mad. It was just harder to eat a meal with a good quarter of an inch of grease on top cold. They had small chemical tabs for burning, but when he said no fires, he meant it. All it would take is for a sniper or other eyes to be drawn to them and they'd have a fight.

  I hope we can reach the source of the smoke and take them out quickly, because it'll make the men all more confident, he thought as he ate his simple meal.

  About an hour
later, very near the source of the smoke, Rusak stopped the men and then made radio contact with base. He discovered some aircraft were in the air and near him, but he wanted to see what the target looked like first. If aircraft support was needed, it was nice to know he had it overhead now.

  “Sergeant Sliva, lead us to where we can see the camp and then stop.”

  The Sergeant gave a nervous look and then moved forward. A little later, from the top of a slight incline, they could see a small camp below. He counted twenty people, but most weren't carrying weapons or looked to be fighters. Near the camp, covered with brush, he spotted ten medium size tents. This must be a supply point or why so many tents? Rusak thought as he double checked the camp.

  Leaning close to his Sergeant he said, “I want you to toss two grenades and I will do the same. Once they explode, we charge in shooting. Try to get some prisoners for Colonel Eline to interrogate, okay?”

  The Sergeant, facing only the second combat situation in his career, nodded and removed two grenades.

  “Now, throw them.” the Colonel ordered.

  Both grenades were tossed well, landing in the middle of the people working near the fire and Rusak threw his to land on the ends of the group. A loud scream was heard, followed by four explosions almost immediately after. After the blasts, more screams were heard from those injured or dying.

  The Russians entered camp with guns blazing and the new men were shooting anything that moved. A small naked male child, not much over three, stood crying beside a woman's body until a bullet struck the kid in the chest and down he went. Two resistance men fired at Rusak, just missing him by inches, but before he could return fire, a long line of automatic fire stitched them across the chest and they fell screaming. Private Yudin moved ahead of the group and a bullet caught him in the neck which knocked him to his knees. His injury sent blood streaming through his fingers as he was grasping at it, hoping in some way to stop the flow of blood. The Russians moved past the injured Private and the opposition was quickly silenced.