The Fall of America | Book 8 | Operation Hurricane

by Benton, W. R.

  “I'm awake, so see the others are made ready to go. I want us right by the fence at midnight. Shortly after we'll cut the wire and enter.”

  “Yes, sir.” he said, and then moved off into the darkness.

  John donned his NVGs and adjusted them for fit. Minutes later he pulled his heavy pack out from under the tree and mentally prepared for the mission. Half the troops would enter and stay near the fence, while the other half would wait outside the fence. Both would come running if a fire fight started.

  “Chicken-hawk this is Tiger One, over.” the radioman said in a whisper.

  “Go, Tiger.” came a quick reply.

  “We're moving for the fence now. Once the mission is complete I will send you a classified and in-code report. Over.”

  “Roger, copy. Good hunting. Base out.”

  John, standing by the radio, said, “Let's move slowly to the fence.”

  Once there, he quickly used the bolt cutters to snip the chain-linked fence and two men held it open as ten troops entered with John. They slowly made their way to the hanger, with Dolly in the lead.

  Chapter 19

  Lieutenant Colonel Vitya Barisovich, on the promotions list to Full Colonel, was assigned as the new commander. Since he was the vice-commander and being promoted, Moscow decided to allow him to take command and save the bother and expense of sending a new man or woman from Russia. The position of base commander was a Full Colonel slot, so he had to extend his tour another year to take the job. So far, he'd made no big changes, other than the prisoners at the gulag were back on starvation rations.

  He was in bed asleep, when his enlisted aide, Junior Sergeant Valdikov, woke him and said, “Sir, the tower said a flight of Black Sharks spotted almost 100 heat images with their thermal sights a few minutes ago near the post.”

  Swinging his legs out of the bed, he asked, “Where?”

  “Near the fence behind the hospital and near the gulag.”

  As he put his trousers on, he asked, “Why there, I wonder? Get me the chief of Civil Engineering on the line and contact our security police immediately. Tell the desk Sergeant I want all available police to that area and do the job now. I want no lights or sirens on when the police respond and make sure they understand that. Then, get me the tower. By then I should be finished with the civil engineering.”

  The Sergeant disappeared to do as instructed. A couple of minutes later the phone in the Colonel's bedroom rang.

  “Colonel Barisovich.” the Colonel answered.

  “I am Lieutenant Colonel Vadik, sir. I was told you wanted to speak with me.”

  “What do we have stored in the area of the school, hospital and gulag?”

  “Not much, some ammunition, supply storage areas, and the GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast, or MOAB as the Americans called it, is in a small hanger there. Why?”

  “Shit, they must be after the bomb. Meet me at my conference room in twenty minutes or so.”

  “Colonel, what —” the phone went dead.

  “Sir,” Sergeant Valdikov said, “The security police are responding and I have the tower on hold for you on line two.”

  Pushing the number two on his phone, the Colonel said, “Meet me in my office conference room in twenty minutes. In the meantime, put everything with wings or that can fly into the air over the base and do it now.”

  “Sir, does this have to do —”

  “Do as you are told and do it now. If you get a call from the security folks, do as they ask. I think the base is about to be raided. I want everything that can fly airborne, and now. I want them looking for targets too. Nothing Russian is moving around our fences right now.”

  “Uh, yes, sir. I will be at your office in a few minutes.”

  The Colonel hung the phone up, grabbed his helmet and strapped on his web belt which held his pistol, sheath knife, bayonet, and canteen. Opening a bottom drawer to his desk, he pulled out two grenades, six magazines for his pistol, and his first aid kit. He placed each item on his web belt.

  “Sergeant Valdikov! Drive me to my office now.”

  “Do you not want to wait for your driver?”

  “We do not have time to wait for him to get dressed. I think the base is about to be hit by partisans. Let us move, now!”

  The fence was easily cut by the bolt cutters and minutes later John and his men entered Fort Leonard Wood. The hanger was surrounded by his men and John saw the door had a special lock that was flush with the door so the bold cutters were useless now. Dolly sniffed the air, but must not have caught the smell of Russians, because she hated them and would have alerted.

  “Use some C-4 and blow the sonofabitch off.” he ordered, and immediately Sergeant Ben Cuff pulled the explosive from his backpack and molded it around the lock. He inserted a fuse and warned everyone to move back. He then activated the fuse and moved to the side of the hanger. Twenty seconds later there was a loud explosion and the door swung open.

  “Well,” Sergeant Cuff said, “they know we're here now.”

  “Move into the hanger, now!” John ordered as he turned on his flashlight and entered the dark interior.

  Shots were heard outside and coming from the gulag, or so it seemed. Then the unmistakable sound of a machine-gun firing from the direction of the school. As John placed C-4 on the part of the bomb the experts had told him that would render it useless, a loud explosion was heard just outside the door.

  “Mortars and small arms fire.” the radioman said in a calm voice.

  “Tell them to return fire and to stand firm. We're just about done here.”

  The radioman said, “Large number of folks moving this direction and they're coming from the base proper. One estimate is over 300 troops.” John was impressed with the calmness in the man's tone as he spoke.

  “Use mortars and flamethrowers on them. Just keep them away long enough for us to completely destroy this bomb.” John yelled.

  The radioman sent the message to the troops by the fence.

  Inserting a fuse and then igniting it, First Sergeant Anson Robinson, the explosives expert, said, “Better hope all this blast does is destroy this bomb or there will be a long line to speak to Saint Peter before all of us get into heaven.”

  “Everyone out of this hanger, and now!” Lieutenant Cheryl Stacy said, as she moved for the door. She flipped the safety off of her old AK-47 and stepped from the door. She fired three shots and yelled, “They're close. Hurry things up in there.”

  “Move for the fence and let's get the hell out of here. Break down into small cells and return to base, just as we talked about earlier. Move, we have exactly one minute to clear this base!” John yelled as he led Dolly away on her leash at a run.

  John and the rest had just cleared the fence when the explosive charge went off, and it scattered parts of the hanger all over the place. Russian police men and women, not knowing an explosion was coming, were caught in part of the blast. Three or four, right beside the doomed hanger, just disappeared in the explosion. Glassing the burning structure with his binoculars, John saw nothing of the big bomb. He fired his bison on fully automatic and knocked two Russian troops to the ground. One fell screaming while the other died instantly.

  Suddenly a flight of Black Sharks lined up and made a pass over the partisans, their Gatling guns firing. The men on the ground fired back but had no visible results. An RPG fired and while it was close, it missed all three aircraft. John saw missiles being readied by some of the men and he prayed the withdrawal would not cost too much in human lives.

  While his people were scared of the choppers, they maintained their discipline, and broke into cells and ran in all directions. People were heard screaming as the Black Sharks began to hunt the red glowing bodies on their Infrared sights. There sounded a loud explosion and one chopper was seen going down in flames. Two more missiles were fired, resulted in the downing of yet another helicopter. Both of the aircraft exploded on impact with the trees and just seconds apart. The last bird lined up and b
egan firing the big nose cannon.

  Three missiles fired, with only one getting through the chaff and flares dropped by the chopper to lead the missiles astray. The missile exploded near the exhaust on the chopper and the engine suddenly sounded different, as smoke poured from the aircraft.

  “Go down, you sonofabitch!” Corporal Freeman yelled as he lowered his shoulder-fired missile.

  “Don't stop to watch, move, and now!” John yelled as most of his troops discarded the heavy backpacks and useless gear. The only good defense they had against the choppers was distance.

  Seconds later the aircraft moved toward the runway with the ass of the bird in flames.

  On they ran, and at times a jet or chopper would swoop down to attack this cell or another and John was starting to wonder if they'd survive.

  Someone in the woods near them yelled, “Napalm!”

  John ran harder, his mind terrified of burning to death. He felt a giant suction and the air around him was pulled into a huge fireball behind him. Something struck him on the left arm and immediately he felt the pain of the burning gel. He didn't stop running, although his arm was partially in flames. He did remove his burning coat and that removed most of the gel mixture from his arm. He slapped at the burning shirt sleeve as he heard screams from others around him, obviously hit harder than he was. He watched Private Miller run by him almost engulfed in flames.

  Then, realizing the heat from the flames would throw the IR screens off a little, John ordered those around him to stop and lay down near some burning brush. Now the flames from the brush would blend, or so he hoped, into the Infrared images of people on the screens. Many were moaning or screaming as they burned. Looking back at where the bulk of the napalm landed, he saw forms dancing wildly in the flames as they burned to death. He lowered his head and prayed.

  Slowly, one person at a time, those around John were able to put the flames out or they died. He remained where they were until the aircraft moved away from them. The Russian aircraft were hunting partisans now and they were deadly as teams. Worried that they'd be attacked again, John had them move deeper into the woods.

  “Lieutenant Stacy!” John yelled to be heard over the aircraft firing at a target maybe a 100 meters away.

  “She's dead, sir.” First Sergeant Robinson replied.

  “Find out as soon as you can how many dead and wounded we have.” John said.

  “Yes, sir. Since most of the aircraft are turning South, let's move North or East.” Robinson said.

  Seeing Staff Sergeant Buse in front, John yelled, “Buse, take out point and move East. Stay off any trails and slow our rate of travel. Some of our injured can't continue running.”

  “Yes, sir.” Buse replied and slowed to a fast walk. He also knew distance was all that would save them.

  “Sergeant Cuff, prepare a missile as we walk. Lowery, contact base and find out where in the hell our aircraft are! If the Chinese aren't here in a minute or two we won't need them at all. Dead men don't need close air support.”

  At that exact second a Chinese attack chopper flew over head with Gatling guns firing and hot brass falling all around those on the ground. Then the aircraft fired two missiles toward the post. John was so happy he wanted to scream for joy.

  He motioned for the radioman.

  Taking the headset from the man he said, “Any Chinese aircraft that speak English well, this is Tiger One.”

  “Uh, go Tiger, this is King Cobra.”

  “There are some fast movers overhead, so keep your six clear.”

  “I understand there are jets around and to keep my butt clear at all times. I will pass it on to the others, because we have some Chinese fighters covering us in the clouds. Any area you need worked over to take some heat off of you?” the pilot replied.

  “Use your guns near the fence line because anyone still near the fence is the enemy.”

  “My infrared screen shows numerous targets near the fence.” King Cobra replied.

  “Take them out.”

  “Copy, and I am rolling in hot now.”

  While John and his wounded could hear the guns, they heard no screams or yells, so they knew they were far enough away to be almost safe. He just wondered how many of his people had been able to slip around the burning napalm. What he didn't know, was a group of twenty Russians had been engaged in hand-to-hand combat with his people when Colonel Barisovich ordered the napalm dropped on his own troops. Seeing the flames consume their comrades was enough to keep the Russians bunched up near the fence. The helicopters big guns tore them to rag dolls.

  Colonel Barisovich had just arrived near the hole in the fence and exited his car shouting orders. A Chinese attack chopper had started his run before the Colonel realized he was in a dangerous location. Looking up at the chopper, the Colonel saw two missiles fly from the aircraft and the last thing he saw in life was the blinking white of the Gatling guns as they blew him to pieces. His screams joined the others as his car exploded, sending a huge fireball into the overcast sky, and burning to death those near the fence not hit by the cannons. His body fell, pierced by four rounds from the big guns, and his left leg flew into the air to land on the other side of the fence.

  “How was that, Tiger?”

  “Sierra hotel! Excellent, King Cobra, and most of your damage was done to the fence line. The Post is yours; if you want to hit some targets of opportunity have at it. I'm headed home. Much thanks, King Cobra.”

  “Roger that, Tiger One. I am to hit the fuels storage area, and nice working with you.”

  “You too, Tiger One, out.” John said and then turning to his group added, “Let's move another mile and then we'll stop long enough to care for our wounded, unless we have some critical ones now.”

  Rogers, the medic said, “We've only got one seriously injured and he'll not survive the night.”

  “Would an air evac save him?”

  “I don't think so, Colonel, half his stomach has been blown away and the injury is fatal.”

  “Give him morphine. I think he needs a double dose with an injury like that, don't you?”

  “I was considering it, sir, but wanted to speak with you first. I won't make that kind of a decision on my own.”

  “If there was any hope, I'd not authorize this, but there is no need for him to lay in pain and he'll just die anyway. Put 'em down.”

  “Sir,” the radioman said, “King Cobra reports many hot spots moving toward us. He thinks they have dogs too.”

  “Can he help us? How many hot spots is many? Did he give you a number?”

  “He said near fifty and they're moving fast. His guns are empty and needs more fuel too. There is no second wave of Chinese attacking, just this bunch. He claims it will be a good 45 minutes before he can return.”

  “Okay, tell him to do what needs done and then return. We'll try to ambush them and then maybe we can lower their numbers a bit. Hell, there ain't but about ten of us left. Doc, do what needs done and let's get out of here. All of you, listen to me, if you can't trot, you'll be left behind. I want us moving at a steady jog, until we find a good place for an ambush. If you can't keep up, hide and try to escape and evade back to us. I can't risk all of us for one person, no matter who that person is.”

  They began to dump everything except beans and bullets. The need for a paperback book, canteen of whiskey, or other unnecessary items was suddenly not there. John ran them for almost a mile before he came to a long straight stretch and then he stopped.

  “Private Buse, get two Claymore mines in place and Corporal Freeman, you plant some toe poppers and anti-personnel mines further down the trail. Private Lowery, call base and give this location as our ambush site. We'll be here when the attack helicopters return.”

  “I'll get them on the horn. Do you need to speak with 'em?” Lowery asked.

  “No need for me to speak to Base. Rogers, see to the seriously injured now but no morphine to anyone. I'll need every gun we have to make this ambush work. If we survive th
is, then we can all get better medical care.”

  Lowery raised the handset to his ears and his eyes grew wide. He looked at John and said, “One of our units is getting their clock cleaned. Sounds like tanks and Black Sharks are eating them alive.”

  “Tanks? We'd better hope they don't send any after us, because they'd tear us apart.” John replied, but suspected if tanks were on his tail, the Chinese helicopter pilot would have said something.

  “Copy, Base.”

  “Base has released two choppers in support of us and they will be in place in about twenty minutes.”

  “We don't have that much time. Everyone move back in the brush and wait. I expect our Russian friends to be along in less that ten minutes. Move, and do the job now. No one fires until I do and when you shoot, make every shot count. I'll blow the Claymores before we start shooting. Remember, we're outnumbered about four to one.”

  The Colonel took his pack off, pulled the pin from a grenade, and then placed the heavy pack on top of the grenade, holding the spoon down. When the pack was lifted, the spoon would fly off and 5 seconds later the grenade would explode.

  John felt a small animal come alive in his stomach and knew it was fear. He called his fear the Beast and they knew each other well. He knew he'd not be a victim of fear, but he would allow fear just enough control to keep him alive. The Colonel knew that some fear was healthy and needed, and it worried him to see some men or women not show any fear at all. Those were the kind of people he never let command a large number of people, because they could get themselves and others killed quickly. It just made common sense to him that folks should be afraid if they were outnumbered four or more to one, low on ammunition, most were injured, and they were all alone to confront their enemy. Fear, not cowardice, had kept more than one person alive in combat, and hopefully it would today as well.

  Now we wait and kill as many as we can in the explosions, he thought, and noticed his mouth was dry. He pulled off his cowboy hat, wiped the sweat from his hair with a rag, and then scratched Dolly's ear.