The Best Defense

by Todd A. Stone

  “Room clear,” she pronounced. “You’d think they’d learn to get some cover to their rear. There’s all this shit lying around.” She kicked a pile of lumber and sandbags. One of her soldiers looked at the scraps.

  “Let’s hope the rest of the MPs’ old positions are as screwed up as this one, Sarge.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope,” Claire answered. “You two take up front security, we’ll switch off and let your partners bust the next one. And don’t call me ‘sarge’. Okay, move out.”

  ~*~

  SSg. Patricia Choi waited until she was confident the upstairs hallway was full of Russians, then she squeezed hard on the Claymore’s firing device. Lying behind a sandbag wall on the stairway down, Choi heard the blast and felt the wave of overpressure and dust as the mine detonated, sending its deadly steel balls down the hallway. She looked up, rifle at the ready. From the pellets’ deadly work the upstairs hallway looked like a great cat had clawed the walls from top to bottom, and the floor was carpeted with enemy soldiers. She stopped congratulating herself when bullets thumped into the sandbags around her. She put four rounds down the hallway and backed quickly down the stairs.

  At the bottom, her Admin section personnel crouched in defensive positions.

  “Horowitz’s people have hit them in 16A and that Claymore will give us a minute. We’re going in two minutes. I want two people who can move up front, two in the rear to cover us, everybody else pair off and help somebody who’s hurt. Got it?”

  From upstairs, above them, came the sound of heavy boots as the Russians advanced. Then a grenade detonated, and Choi grinned at the effectiveness of the booby traps Denight had taught them to rig. More footsteps overhead, then the sound of a mortar round impacting nearby. She took her radio off her belt.

  “We’re breaking in one minute.”

  ~*~

  Nearby, Claire “rogered” Choi’s message. She turned to one of her squad leaders.

  “Move your squad back now. Get set and cover Choi, then cover us. I’ll bring the last team back myself.”

  “I thought the MPs were going to cover us all.”

  “I want some insurance.”

  She rounded up her squad, waited for a gap in the firing, then led her soldiers out.

  ~*~

  Tense minutes later, Choi lay panting and counted noses. The four still-whole soldiers still with her were elbowing their way into narrow firing positions, ready to cover Horowitz and the last of the Hornets as they dropped back from 16A. The rest of her Admin section was escorting or carrying her wounded back. She wormed her way forward to a hole in the wall where she could see. Part of the 16-series complex was burning, and by following the lines of tracers back to their origin she could tell that the Russians now owned—and were pouring heavy fire from—the structures her section had owned only a few minutes earlier.

  The enemy fire increased, all of it bearing down on 16A and Horowitz’s position. A Russian squad burst from the side of Choi’s former defense, moving to flank the remaining Hornets. Patricia Choi put a half-stride lead to one of the figures and fired. The Russian fell, but a second enemy squad was following the first.

  “Nail that counterattack force!” Choi yelled. Her soldiers flicked the selector switches on their M16s to full automatic. Bursts of three rounds dropped a half dozen of the attackers, but the Russian assault element nonetheless battered down a side door and forced its way in. Their supporting machine guns spewed fire first at Choi’s position, then raked the building near Rich’s MPs. Choi grabbed her radio.

  “Hornet Five, you’ve got company coming. Get outta there!”

  ~*~

  Inside of the warehouse labeled 16A, Claire Horowitz was all too aware of her uninvited guests. From her left, outside the office area where she and three other soldiers had remained to hold off the advancing Russians while the rest of the Hornets dropped back, one group of enemy soldiers were massing for an assault. To her front—inside the building—another group worked its way across the junk-strewn floor of a large open bay, using the stacked equipment for cover. Paired off two and two, the four women faced off their enemy, two women rolling from firing port to firing port as they tried to hold back the left flank enemy, Horowitz and a partner blazing away at any Russian inside the warehouse who stuck his head out from behind one of the piles.

  As the Russians focused their attention on the remaining Americans, inches above Horowitz and her crew’s heads the room was a ringing haze of bullets, splintering wood, and flying glass. One of her soldiers yelped. Claire crawled over to her.

  “I’m hit, Sarge. Damn MPs couldn’t even fill sandbags right.”

  “Lemme see, and don’t call me ‘sarge’.” Blood streamed down the woman’s arm and leg. Claire first pulled out the woman’s first aid compress, then took her own out of its pouch.

  “There, that’ll hold you for a while.” Claire rolled over. “All right people, in four minutes I want you three out of here. One of you help Macmillan. On my signal we go for thirty seconds on full auto, then I’ll cover you going back.”

  “What about you?”

  Claire pulled two Claymore mines out of their carrying cases and began unrolling the firing wire. “The soldiers’ manual clearly states that it takes thirteen minutes to properly emplace a Claymore mine,” she said, unscrewing a shipping plug from one of the mines. “I’m about to do two of ‘em in three.”

  ~*~

  Annette Rich sighted in and pulled the trigger. Her M16 bucked gently. A Russian soldier clutched his groin, and in doing so tumbled off a rooftop. A floor below, a piece of wood flew out where someone was knocking out a firing port. She shifted the weapon down. The barrel of a rifle appeared. Rich aimed six inches to the left of the protruding barrel and squeezed off three rounds. The Russian AKM rifle drooped, then fell out of the hole.

  Suddenly friendly fire poured out of 16A, then three figures emerged, one turning every few steps and firing, the other half-carrying, half-dragging one of their wounded. Rich noticed that Horowitz wasn’t among them. The three figures went past.

  “Where’s the Horobitch?”

  “Back there, she’s coming. Cover her!”

  Annette Rich put her face back to her weapon, then turned to look behind her. The three Hornets were gone. Annette Rich smiled, edged back, then stood in triumph.

  “MPs break contact,” she yelled, “fall back!”

  ~*~

  “Roger,” Claire Horowitz spoke into the hand mike, “understand you are down to two effectives and must pull. Also understand Mike Papa element has bugged out.” Around her the hammering of automatic weapons fire built up to a roar. She crawled to look over her escape route. Steady streams of bullets lashed across the open ground between 16A and the buildings beyond. The wall separating her from the Russians in the main warehouse area had been shredded. Four bursts riddled it even further, telling her the enemy outside was closing in. Her right leg suddenly burned like hell fire. She looked down. Blood soaked through her battle dress trousers. She crawled to the two Claymores and made some adjustments, then pulled herself toward a corner.

  Not much left to do, thought Claire Horowitz, but to check out of the net. I’ll be home soon, Daddy.

  “Hornet Four, this is Hornet Five. Contact the Leprechaun. Tell her I will cover the withdrawal of Mike Papas and remaining Alpha element.” She was calm inside, calmer than she’d ever been before. “Hornet Four, pass to Leprechaun that I will then link up with Thunderbolt. No other options. Hornet Five out.” She clicked off the radio.

  Claire Horowitz dragged herself into a corner position facing both entrances to the room. With one hand still on her weapon, she propped herself up, then pulled sandbags around her until she was covered. She put a fresh magazine in her weapon, pulled the Claymore firing device close to her, readied a grenade, and waited.

  The Russians had learned. They came in firing, their bullets cutting across the room. A couple of rounds penetrated the sandbags, and Claire felt the sti
ng of new wounds. She held the M16’s trigger down and the enemy’s number one and two men fell. Grenades sailed in around her, the concussion knocking her half senseless. She squeezed the trigger again, held it. Through her haze she thought more Russians fell. The magazine clicked empty. Another bullet spray. Claire’s head suddenly filled with a flash of white pain. She could sense the rooms filling with Russians. The hazy forms came toward her. One of them moved a sandbag off of her. From beneath it a grenade, its pin already pulled, rolled to the floor.

  She heard the ping of the grenade’s spoon-like safety lever flinging off. Claire Horowitz’s last act was to put all that remained of her will and strength into squeezing the firing device. The Russian soldier, standing over her with his rifle pointed at her chest, instinctively pulled the trigger. The mines, turned inward, detonated. The grenade’s afterthought of a blast came a fraction of a second later.

  Then the office in building 16A was quiet.

  ~*~

  Christine looked at Val as the roar subsided.

  “Time to go downstairs, Ma’am?”

  Val thought of Denight and Horowitz.

  “Yes, Lieutenant, time to go downstairs.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tunnel Complex Freight Entrance

  Infernesk Munitions Depot

  Piled rubble blocked the entrance to the tunnel complex, and Dimonokov blocked Stanev’s attempts to blow his way through it.

  “Eight hours is much too long, Captain. Entirely too long. I want these women finished off tonight.”

  “Colonel, there are two, and only two, known entrances to the underground storage complex. I have demolition teams rigging both of them. However, those preparations take time. One miscalculation and we may collapse the entire system.”

  “I fully appreciate the dangers involved, Captain. However, you must work faster.” Dimonokov stood and pointed his finger at Stanev. Stanev noticed Dimonokov’s hand was shaking and that the colonel’s skin was peeling. “If you cannot force your men to do it, I will have you shot for failure to do your duty.”

  “Then you will be doing a lot of shooting, Colonel.” Stanev considered himself a patient man, but threat after threat from Dimonokov ate at him until he felt he could barely hold himself together.

  “How dare you use that tone of voice with me?”

  “Colonel, you may shoot me and as many others as you wish, but that will not get these demolitions emplaced any faster. In fact, the faster we work the greater the chances of error. Too great an error and not only the tunnel complex, but the entire facility may go up in a chain reaction. We are sitting in the middle of an ammunition depot.” He looked out the shattered window at the flickering oranges and reds from across the compound. “A great part of which is already burning.”

  Dimonokov’s red face drained to flat white. Dreading he’d find a nightmare in the window, he slowly turned his head to look at the flames. Stanev pointed to the floor between the colonel’s feet. “This spot would be vaporized.”

  Stanev smelled the fear-sweat as it poured out of the fat colonel. Dimonokov’s eyes were riveted to the lights. He tried to moisten his dry lips with a drier tongue. Long seconds passed before Dimonokov forced his eyes from the flames and followed Stanev’s hand to where it pointed on the floor.

  “Perhaps,” Stanev said, “you would like to personally inspect the demolition sites?”

  With the look of a madman who’s just found someone even madder, Dimonokov slowly turned his head and stared at his captain. I’ve eaten four-course meals off plates smaller than those eyes, thought Stanev.

  “No, no, Captain. I have great faith in your assessment of the situation. You may continue the work at the present pace. You should ensure the men take the greatest care possible. I must return to my command post to…to coordinate. Yes, that’s it, to coordinate the many details. I will return after you have fired the demolitions.”

  I didn’t know he could move so quickly, grinned Stanev to himself as he heard Dimonokov’s command car sling gravel on its way out. Good thing he doesn’t know the Americans store their ammunition in the bunkers, well away from here. Stanev picked up his rifle and set out to check in on his soldiers. He had put all but the demo teams and a very few others to bed, anticipating a long and heavy fight once they blew open the tunnel entrances.

  Eight hours, he thought, eight hours and we go underground. This will be bloody, very bloody indeed.

  Level 1, “The basement”

  Infernesk Munitions Depot

  Val chewed her lip as she considered the plan Christine and the sergeant laid out.

  “You’d be taking quite a risk.”

  “In the long run, it’s no riskier than doing nothing.”

  “It’ll tip the Russians off there’s another way in,” Val countered, “maybe close off our only escape route.”

  “They’ll have to find it first, and they should be too busy or too worried to look. We’ll see to that. As far as escape goes, Ma’am, you said yourself we weren’t leaving.”

  “Sergeant Rich,” Val said, “you volunteered to go on this mission?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. All the patrol’s members are volunteers.”

  “Ma’am, Sergeant Rich should be given a lot of credit.” Christine threw in. “She came up with the idea.”

  Val nodded and ran their plan through her head again. Risky, but a raid might take some of the fight out of the Russians. “Okay, you go in, sting, and get the hell back here. Nothing fancy, no heroics, just get in there and get out. I want you back by 0400. And Sergeant Rich?”

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “This doesn’t cancel out anything.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  The two women saluted their major and left to brief the patrol members.

  An hour later Christine was satisfied each soldier knew her part in the mission. She walked away from the eight soldiers to plan what she should do next.

  “Why don’t you catch a half-hour or so of sleep, Ma’am?” Rich asked her. “You’ll do better up top if you’re rested. I’ll get these people ready.”

  Too tired to protest, Christine found a corner and crawled into it. She was asleep before she could unfasten her helmet’s chinstrap. Rich watched her lieutenant drop off, then pulled two of the patrol’s members aside.

  “Remember what we talked about. Get your bayonets really sharp. I want the bastards to know what happens to rapists.”

  ~*~

  The two women stood less than a foot apart, painting each other’s face in shades of green and black.

  “I really hate this camouflage face paint.”

  “Me, too. It makes me break out.”

  She hesitated, afraid to reveal weakness. “Are you scared?”

  “It’ll be good to get above ground. It’ll be good to get some fresh air—it’s so stale down here. We’ll be okay, and like Sergeant Rich said, those sexist bastards will get what’s coming to them.”

  “But are you scared?”

  “Lieutenant Tampier is a good officer, she knows what she’s doing. And Sergeant Rich is real strong. She’s been around, you know. I listened to her talk about women and men and power one time. She’s real tough, too, maybe tougher than the el-tee. Anybody who thinks of doing what she’s thinking of doing has to be. I think this is gonna prove something.”

  “Prove what? What is she thinking of doing? What’s all the whispering about in that little clique you have?”

  “Never mind. Keep working, we only have a little while before we move out.”

  “Okay, okay, but are you scared?”

  “Yeah, I’m scared.”

  “Me too.”

  Central Area

  Infernesk Munitions Depot

  “The demolitions are set, Captain.”

  Stanev bent down and methodically inspected each charge. The demolition team chief’s figures worked out; now Stanev wanted to ensure the team had emplaced the plastic explosives correctly. A few minutes later he stood,
rubbing his eyes from the strain.

  “Satisfactory,” he told the team chief, “quite satisfactory. If the charges on the other entrance are set this well you will have performed quite well under extraordinary circumstances.”

  “You can be assured the others are set in the same manner.”

  “I will be assured. I shall inspect them next.”

  “But more than half the night is gone. I wish to get my men some rest before the morning.”

  Sleep, thought Stanev, yes, that would be very good. But first there was the last set of demolitions to check, then the blueprints to go over one more time with the platoon leaders. By that time the assault teams would be awake, fed, and ready for his final inspection. If I am lucky, he thought, I might catch a catnap in between.

  “You will have your time to sleep, but tonight will not be that time. We will inspect the other charges, then your team will provide security for both these sites until we detonate the explosives.”

  “So we are to stay awake while the others rest comfortably?”

  “Tell me, demolitions expert, what is beyond the rubble where you have placed these charges?”

  “A tunnel, Captain. The personnel entrance to the storage levels. It is about six meters wide and four meters high.”

  “Very good. And beyond the blockage at the other firing site?”

  “Why, the cargo entrance. A tunnel wide enough for trucks to pass. But …”

  “And who is on the other side of these passages?”

  “The Americans, Captain.”

  “And who will face them once your teams detonate the explosives?”

  The team chief gulped as he followed his commander’s logic to its conclusion. “The assault platoons, Captain.”

  “Tell me, then, what will your team do while the assault platoons fight their way down these passages?”

  “We are to remain in reserve until called.”

  “In other words, you will sleep. No, tonight the assault troops sleep. For some of them it will be their last.”

  “You will allow me to rotate personnel for some rest, at least?”