by Cliff Deane
“Of course, Don, come with me and we’ll get you some of Sgt. Wong’s famous fare.”
“WONG!” blurted Don, “Levi, I ain’t eatin’ no cats. Please tell me this is a different Wong, ‘cause I’m sure hopin’ this is the wong Wong.” Again both burst out laughing as they made their way to the Mess Tent.
Upon entering the tent, Don noticed that Sgt. Wong was, in fact, the wong Wong, or the right Wong, depending on your perspective. Levi and Don went over to the Sgt. who began getting to his feet, but Levi told him to remain seated.
Wong looked fondly at Don and said, “Don, it good to see you. You hungry? I have purrfect medium rare steak sandwich for you.”
Don, also smiled, but said, “Hold on there, Wong, I told you before I don’t eat no cat meat.”
The Sgt. pretended to be hurt and said, “Don, I tell you before, I don’t see your cat. Come on try my purrfect sandwich.”
Laughing loudly, Levi and Don sat down across from Wong. Don said, “Okay, I’ll give it a try, but it had better not be cat.”
“Hey, no sweat, not cat meat,” smiled Wong.
One of the cooks brought sandwiches which were quite good. After Don had finished his, Wong muttered, “Woof.”
Don gritted his teeth, got up and walked around the table to Wong, who was now also on his feet. Levi thought there might be blood as Don closed in on Wong.
Levi was about to intervene when Don said, “Come here, you big, ugly Chinaman and give me a hug.”
As Levi and Don were walking out of the tent, Don turned and asked, “Wong, you old reprobate, that wasn’t really dog, was it?”
Wong said, “Don, ole fren, don’t be sirry, of course, it not dog, I just kidding.”
Relieved, Don said, “Thanks, buddy, see you at dinner.”
“Okay, see you at dinner; meow.”
“Aargghhh!” said Don, as Levi took him by the arm and walked him to the first dead semi.
Levi said, “Come on, Don, you know you can’t win with Wong, why, to do that, you would obviously have the wong, Wong.” Levi chuckled all the way back to the TOC.
*
15 August 1600
Conversion of Insley Rd and I-75 S
TOC
Levi spent the day doing what he most hated, having meetings, about fuel, food, ammo, maintenance, continued attacks wherever a mosque or gang could be located, the Tank Crews wanted into the action, so they bitched that their tanks weren’t being sufficiently exercised, and on and on. At 1600 he stopped the meetings and went to his tent to get cleaned up a bit for dinner.
When he opened the tent flap, he saw his two favorite people in the world, Susan Turner, and Katherine Levins. His mood immediately brightened as he grabbed them into a group hug.
“Daddy, you look exhausted,” said his daughter Kate.
“Yes,” agreed Susan “are you getting enough sleep?”
Levi turned tired glassy eyes to his girls and said, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just that these meetings are beating the crap out of me.
And just what in the hell are you two doing running around when you have a flight scheduled for 0230? Please tell me you are here just to visit with you old dad; and your fiancé, who is desperate to get back to Defiance so you can have Ralph perform that shotgun wedding you’ve been raving about.”
Susan exploded, saying, “Why, you conceited, egotistical horse’s patoot. If that’s how you feel then maybe there just might not be a wedding. So stuff that in your pipe and smoke it.”
“Huh, what, no wait: oh my God, did I say that out loud,” laughed Levi.
Both girls jumped him and forced him onto his cot, holding him down. Kate looked down at her dad and said, “Daddy, you should be ashamed of yourself. Now you had better listen up, because Susan; oh, may I call you Susan in here?”
“Of course, sweetie, go ahead, we’re on a roll; please continue.”
“Well okay, as I was saying, Susan and I both love you, but remember Hell hath no fury like a woman who gets pissed.”
Levi looked at Susan and asked, “Honey, you didn’t think I was serious, did you? Because if you did, I’m really sorry, I love you, and as God is my witness, I want to spend the rest of my life with you; however long that may be.”
Susan was trying not to laugh when she said, “Well, Kate, do you believe his lame excuse, or should we just neuter him right here and now?
In her next breath, Susan leaned down to Levi, her hair cascading around his head, and diffusing the light; her lips slowly dipping to his left ear, whispering, “I love you, Levi Leonard Levins. She then raised her lips to his, and kissed him gently, and lovingly. I know you were kidding my love, we all were.”
Kate said, “Whoa, wait just a second now, I want to hear more about this tutoring thing,” and broke into such an infectious laugh that each of them couldn’t stop laughing until they had tears of laughter.
Finally, Susan said, “Kate wanted to drop by to get a hug and a kiss for luck. Personally, I wanted more, but I will settle for a hug, a kiss, and an hour, or so, of snuggle time, before we make our jump; but dinner first, I’m famished.”
Kevin joined them in the Mess Tent, and after dinner, he and Kate left for parts unknown. Susan told him not to worry; they were going to have some quality snuggle time in her tent.
“Oh, good lord, Susan, I’m not sure I wanted to know that.”
“Oh, shut up, so we can get out of here and get some quality time of our own.”
Hi, boys!
16 August 0200
Built up area
I-270 and I-71
As Major Turner flew through the night, the sky above and the trees below reminded her of a poem by Alfred Noyes called The Highwayman. Two lines from his elegant poem came to her on his night as the Cobra’s sped to the target; The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees; The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Kevin who gave her an adjustment to her heading.
The night’s objective was to level the entire neighborhood and set it afire. As the flight of six Snakes arrived in the target area, Major Turner said, “All right, Kevin, are you ready?”
“Roger that, Major, locked and loaded.”
“Well all right, light ‘em up.”
The first missile fired by Major Turner’s, Martyr Maker was the signal for all of the Super Snakes to open fire and level the area.
As the missiles flashed from their firing tubes and tore into the buildings, Armageddon was loosed upon these enemies of humanity, and the hellish light of the fiery fingers of Heaven’s Arch Angels lit the night sky, erasing the MS-13 gang members sleeping in the target area around I-270 and I-71.
After completing mission one, the flight then began searching for movement on the ground; there was none.
The volume of missile fire left no stone unturned, and no one was left alive to wish they were somewhere else.
The entire area was almost instantly ablaze; mission accomplished. Martyr Maker turned and led the flight back to Base for reloading before making secondary attacks on mosques, and gang neighborhoods as far away as Dayton, hitting targets that Captain David Smith had pointed out on their maps.
Lt. Michael Sears had the mission of taking a flight of two, with orders to rearrange the eight mosques from Findley to the north side of Columbus into piles of rocks. His Cobra, named The Arch Angel Michael, accompanied by Gangsta, left nothing in their wake but piles of rubble. They also encountered armed Caliphate JJ's running from the target areas; they died, all tuckered out.
When fully armed, the Super Cobra can carry up to seven-hundred and fifty rounds of 20 mm Gatling gun rounds, nineteen 70 mm rockets, eight 127 mm rockets, eight TOW missiles, and eight Hellfire missiles.
Sadly, transporting such heavy munitions required more than the 1st Brigade was able to handle. The 1st Brigade armed their Super Cobras with six thousand rounds of M-61 machine gun ammo, seven-hundred and fifty rounds of 20 mm Gatling gun
rounds, and nineteen 70 mm rockets. This Basic Load proved to be sufficient for the task at hand; facing only unarmored targets and soldiers equipped with small arms.
This night the Cobras fired nearly one-half of their remaining 70 mm rockets; resupply was required.
*
16 August 1000
I-270 and I-71
N Columbus
MS-13 soldiers from their other zones of control in Columbus arrived to see the results of the previous night’s very loud battle. Seeing the destruction caused by the Cobras left these men speechless. They simply could not mentally process how so much destruction could result from one very loud, but very short battle. They had no way to know of the existence of the Cobra Gunships and instead thought that the damage must have been done by heavy artillery.
When they arrived back at their Headquarters, they were shaken to the core. It was decided that MS-13 should leave Columbus and find some other place to terrorize.
What the returning soldiers of the gang did not notice was the small drone that followed them to their Headquarters.
Before they could make good on their plan to move on, they found out what had actually caused last night’s destruction as they heard the telltale wop, wop, wop of the Super Snake’s main rotors. Their worry turned to abject fear as they tried to hide, in the hope that the chopper was just passing overhead. The opportunity to realize their mistake allowed them no time to escape as a 70 mm missile detonated just inside the building. Perhaps ten members of this segment of MS-13 survived and began to run; right into the waiting machine guns of the four Cobras which had surrounded the building. Those ten men failed to make it ten feet from the door.
Inside the building, one gang member had been momentarily trapped under a section of the falling ceiling which pinned his leg. Once free he lay still, hoping the flames would stay away until the Gunships flew off. He then limped to another cell of his gang to relate the disasters.
Within forty-eight hours, Columbus was a true Ghost Town, devoid of all human life as both gangs and Caliphate forces vacated the city and surrounding areas. Birds, rats, and cockroaches were now the heirs of Columbus, just like every other major city in North America.
The continuation of humanity was kept alive only by a small spark, in places like the ROA, but whether mankind would, or could recover was still far from certain.
*
16 August 1100
Conversion of Insley Rd and I-75 S
TOC
The convoy pulled into the campground a day later than anticipated, once again, the problem was maintenance on the LAVs. They simply were not meant to be road marched at such slow speeds in convoy. The LAV bloodline comes from Personnel Carries that had roamed across open terrain. Their internal workings just could not take ten hours of constantly running engines, averaging speeds of perhaps two or three miles per hour. Something had to be done, and the Command Staff knew it.
To Lt. Colonel Ben Smith, the Brigade Logistics, and Maintenance Officer, there were only four possible ways to go. The Brigade could either continue as they had and make it home in a year or two; they could put the LAVs on Low Boy Trailers, if they could find them; they could abandon the LAVs, or they could put them out on the flanks to provide security and scouting duties, as they were designed to do. The primary concern with this scenario, however, came down to fuel; the fuel consumption of the LAVs, jumped exponentially while running scouting missions on the flanks.
Ben said to Levi, “Sir, may I suggest we go with option four?”
Ben, Gus, and Levi all laughed when Levi said, “Gee, Gus, I’m inclined to agree with Ben, but abandoning them is starting to look good to me. Nah, just kidding. Okay, Ben let’s get them in top shape, then move ‘em out onto the flanks where they belong.”
Ben said, “Roger that, sir.”
“Next item,” asked Levi.
“Ben told Levi, “Sir, the Brigade is not currently low on fuel, but we will be in another three days of convoy duty. May I take the M-88, two platoons of Infantry, and one of Mech, along with four of the Snakes and a Huey over to Columbus Air Force Base. It used to train pilots, so there will be large stocks of fuel. An upside is that it’s not far from here. We can road march to it in no more than two days. We should take a day to top off our tankers, get some sleep in real beds, and a day to see if there is anything we can use.”
“Fine, Ben, good idea, go ahead; but I want you back nlt day six.”
Turning to Gus, Levi said, “Gus, we need to do a damn-damn on every gang and Islamic stronghold in our path, just like last night; perhaps even pick up a couple of prisoners for questioning. Let’s start doing five sorties a day, beginning at 0200 tonight, and go until we run out of ammo, or targets.
Ben, speaking of ammo, how are we fixed with rockets and 20 mm to level some more buildings?”
Ben said, “We have around four hundred rockets, and a large supply of the 20s on hand. Are we going to be here long?”
“Ben, I just don’t know how long, but no more than one week. It’s a long way home, and it may not feel like it now, but winter is bearing down upon us.”
“Roger, sir, I’ll get with Lejeune and have another four hundred flown in. I sure wish I had thought of that when I spoke with the Skonk Works about sending good old Diesel Don; I hate wasted trips.”
Levi commiserated with Ben before saying, “I anticipate that, for the most part, our Snakes will take the fight to our enemies. Our Mortar Crews can take care of any mosques, or gang strong points within sight of the road; speaking of the road, it’s taking us much longer to traverse than I would have believed possible. I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m beginning to hate this campaign.
Think about this, my friends, could you have imagined being seven hundred miles from home in the middle of August? At twenty miles per day, we are over a month from Defiance; I reiterate that’s if we make twenty miles per day, seven days a week, with no breakdowns, no battles, and nobody needing medical attention from being bounced around in a danged truck bed.
Gentlemen, I have no doubt that we will have an early winter, hell it’s the Dog Days of summer, and the daily high temps are already in the low seventies. At our current rate of advance, we will be ass deep to a tall Chinaman in snow by mid-October.
So, being the Sweet Mary Sunshine that I am, I believe we should set our sights on getting home, and let the Snakes fight our battles. I know it puts a lot on their shoulders, but I still want those mosques destroyed, and let’s remove the head of any snakes we find.
Whew! Now, your thoughts, gentlemen?”
Gus said, “Yeah, sounds good.”
Ben snickered and said, “What he said.”
Now, Levi tried to look irritated, but he just could not hide his smile when he was with these two. He said, “Oh, nice, I give this long speech, and all you two can say is, sounds good, and yeah, what he said?”
Gus put on his most serious face and said, “Yup.”
Ben did give a bit more of an answer when he said, “Yes, sir.”
Levi just shook his head, stood, and said, “Come on, let’s eat.”
*
17 August 0900
Patrolling
Downtown Columbus
The early morning air, stirred by a cool, light breeze seemed to whistle as it passed among the tall buildings of the government, law offices, shops, and small restaurants that mostly catered to the lunch crowds.
Newly promoted, Sgt. Eric Penn and the men of his patrol all felt the hair on their arms stand straight up as they made their way into the center of Columbus to the Governor’s Office in the Capitol Building. The city appeared to hold many secrets as it gave the impression of impatiently waiting for its missing people.
There were signs of rioting; many windows were shattered, and several buildings had been ravaged by fires that had swept the interiors of many brick and steel structures.
Each member of the patrol could feel the eyes of the thousands of spirits which we
re now the only inhabitants of Columbus. Those eyes were always just at the patrol’s peripheral vision peering through slatted blinds, or at the edge of upper floor windows. They were watching these men who dared to walk their haunted streets.
Eric decided to enter the Capitol building. He directed six men to establish a security cordon, while he and three others entered the huge building. He was surprised to see that the rioters had not made an effort to destroy this building which housed the seat of government for the state of Ohio.
The gloom from dirty windows added to the unsettling feeling of angry eyes watching their every move, creating an unnerving tension, which was only enhanced by the echoes of Eric’s voice as he gave directions to each man who dared to enter the confines of this marble crypt.
Though each man knew the building, like the city, was deserted, they still moved with a nervous caution. Their search of the building produced only one thing; a palpable beating of their hearts that became so loud, they felt sure everyone could hear. Edgar Allen Poe would have certainly understood their trepidation.
Just beyond the main entrance the walls rose into to a high, arched ceiling, where a mural, displaying long dead men and women who now seemed to take on scowling expressions as they looked down upon these intruders, who were not the rightful heirs.
When Sgt. Penn spoke, everyone jumped back as his voice was amplified by the domed interior as though he was speaking into a bullhorn.
Eric ordered a tactical withdrawal from this unnerving environment, and once outside the relieved patrol continued, almost giddily performing their mission; now hurriedly searching for any sign of human life.
PFC Owens, the Patrol Point Man, could not shake the feeling of being watched; as he walked past a small restaurant with shattered windows; the hair on the back of his neck stiffened as he thought he had discerned the tiniest hint of movement within the darkened interior. He signaled the patrol to stop, and slowly eased into a position to see inside the dimly lit interior of the eatery. He could see nothing, but as he began to return to patrolling, he heard a hushed, but distinct rustling sound coming from inside.
