The Fall of America [Book 7]

by W. R. Benton

  “How are we going to stop your bleeding?”

  “We'll have to cauterize my wound, and maybe yours too. I'll try sewing yours up, but I know I don't have enough cat gut to sew both injuries closed.”

  “I don't have much, except a standard first aid kit with bandages, gauze and things you'd use to treat small injuries, not anything for major wounds like gunshots or deep knife cuts. Damn, sir, burning your arm shut will knock you out.”

  “That's why we'll burn me last. I'll take some morphine which will kill my pain for six hours or so. Do you think you can stay awake that long?”

  He gave me a forced smile and said, “Airborne, sir! I'll do my best, Colonel.”

  “If we can just survive the next twelve hours, we have a good chance of getting back home alive.”

  He nodded, but by the dim light I could see the doubt on his face. Like me, he thought our odds of surviving were slim to none. I carried a metal flask full of whiskey on me during every mission. I only opened it when I had someone injured that needed a pain killer when we didn't want to use morphine. My usual medic, now dead, had all sorts of painkillers, but they were out of reach at the moment. I carried some meds for pain, but they were what we once called over-the-counter medications and they were almost useless with the injuries we had.

  I pulled a curved needle and thread from my pack and placed both in about a ½ inch of whiskey to clean them before use. Then I cleaned Andy's shoulder with alcohol and started sewing the entrance and exit hole. I know it had to hurt him, but other than a grunt when the needle first pierced his skin, I heard nothing out of him. Once done with the sewing, I placed two large bandages on his wounds and wrapped him. I then placed two knife blades in the fire so he could cauterize my wounds. I took a long pull from the whiskey bottle, because burning would hurt me.

  “Take the morphine now.” he said.

  “I might not need it. Burn me first and we'll see how badly the task hurts me.”

  I pulled my shirt off, and it was cold. I moved closer to the fire and waited, dreading the red-hot knife touching my flesh. A few short minutes later, Andy picked up the first blade and touched my skin. I gave a short scream and then passed out.

  I awoke to the smell of burnt flesh and an aching arm. He handed me the whiskey bottle and said, “Sleep a bit more. I have been and it helps me feel stronger. I see no need for a guard, but we do need to keep the fire burning.”

  “Why no guard?” I asked, with my mind confused.

  “It must be 40 below zero out there and anything that walks or flies is holed up waiting for warmer weather.”

  I nodded, not wanting to speak. I was suddenly tired and achy. I saw it was dark, and nighttime would be much colder.

  “Well? Do you think we need a guard?”

  “I . . . I'll leave that decision and any others up to you. I can't think straight right now, so I'm going to take morphine and get some sleep.”

  “I'll give it to you, because I can reach your arm easier than you can.” he said as he reached for the syringe.

  Within seconds of getting the shot, my pain lessened and I began to get sleepy. I had my sleeping bag tied to the top of my backpack, so I untied it and crawled inside. I was asleep within a few short minutes.

  Early the next morning two snipers, along with Porter, showed. The three of them were made welcome in our shelter and we discovered the Russians were not out in force looking for us. The snipers had seen no one since they left the base. They found my dead squad and they'd been stripped of anything useful by the Russians. One had been bandaged, so they remembered how I treat their wounded, but he was dead, likely from the cold.

  Porter must have seen me open my eyes, because he said, “Mornin', Colonel.”

  “Mornin', Sergeant.”

  Just the body heat of three more people warmed our shelter a great deal. Now, both Andy and I could sleep and rest. Over the next four days we did a lot of both, and by the fifth day we were ready to move. We still had some pain, but not as much as before. When we returned, I needed to speak with my supply and medical folks and see about putting some pain pills of some sort into the first aid kits. Not being able to kill our pain made our stay rough and morphine would have been like killing an ant with a hand grenade, just too much. I wanted something less than morphine but more than an over the counter pain killer.

  We saddled up, and for the first time I noticed the bullet holes in our gear. Both our packs were blood stained too, with bullet holes in each. I soon discovered to my dismay they were still heavy and uncomfortable. Every pack I ever wore dug into my shoulders and eventually I grew sore there, and this one was no exception. Mile after mile we covered, and at a pretty good speed. Then, aircraft were heard and we went into hiding for about an hour. I heard helicopters and jet aircraft looking for us or inserting troops.

  We walked until darkness found us in a dense forest surrounded by blackberry bushes, and yep, with thorns too. We bedded down there with two small fires. After eating a ration, everyone except the guards hit their sleeping bags. We were all bone aching tired and were asleep in seconds.

  Shortly after midnight, someone touched my heel and I opened my eyes and listened. I heard no night sounds and a few minutes later I heard Russian being spoken. It sounded like they'd selected almost the same spot as we had to rest overnight. I removed a grenade, pulled the pin and then tossed it toward the conversation. When it exploded, screams were heard, and some of the Russians started firing in all directions. I took cover and returned fire.

  My snipers were all using day/night capability scopes, so one by one the Russians were seen and then killed. Technology was making it harder and harder for an infantryman to stay alive. We all wore NVGs and they worked well, but most of us had fallen asleep without putting them on. I realized then we needed them around our necks or readily available while we slept. I'd see to that from now on.

  It grew quiet and the gunfire stopped.

  I could smell the blood, cordite, and human waste, so I knew someone was dead, and near me too.

  “Porter, take another man with NVGs and check them out. Take anything we can use and that means military weapons, ammunition, gear, and clothing, along with personal jewelry or money.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Cook, you cover me as I look them over.”

  “Got you, so move.”

  A few minutes later I heard automatic fire and Porter said, “He was playing 'possum on me.”

  I was surprised we had no one killed or injured, so we'd gotten off easy this time. We quickly donned our packs and moved into the trees, moving overland.

  Near dawn, when we took a break to eat, Roper asked, “Do you think they were searching for us?”

  “I don't think they were specifically looking for us or they knew about us all joining together, but they were looking for partisans. If they'd been a little bit quieter, it's hard to say how that battle might have ended. I just tossed the grenade where I guessed the voices were.”

  We were less than a mile from camp when I noticed aircraft overhead and the sound of gunfire. I watched a jet line up his approach to camp and then he came down low and fast, dropping napalm as he pulled the nose up, so he sort of flipped the two containers on my friends.

  I heard screams and cries for assistance, but we were too far away to be of much help. We moved away from camp and waited for the fight to stop. I thought once the Russians broke off the attack, people would return to salvage what they could before they moved to a new location. I prayed Cynthia was a survivor. If not, I'd have lost another woman I loved, and it was growing old. It seemed like every old friend and new lover I had was gone these days. I'd learned over the years that a man cannot survive easily without a mate he can pull to him late at night and just talk. I think God made women to keep men from being lonely.

  “There go the last of the choppers.” Porter said.

  Andy shook his head and said, “Be a high casualty rate from this attack. I'd suggest sir, we ga
ther our troops and move closer to the Russians. The closer we are the more we can hurt them.”

  “While we gather our troops and see to our wounded, I'll give that some thought.”

  Over the last few days, the weather had turned warm again and most of the snow was gone, except for some that remained in shadowed areas. That meant there was also mud in some spots too. I worried about how many people I'd lost in this Russian attack. They were getting smarter here now, and I'd have to do the same.

  I neared the camp and all I could see was fire, smoke, and people running around madly. We needed to get organized and out of here before the Russians sent in ground troops to finish the job. I soon had senior men trying to gather people up. We needed to break into small cells and disappear for a week or so.

  Finally after three hours I sent the troops out, all of those left alive, into cells of ten people each. Out of maybe 200 folks, 140 were still alive and uninjured. I ordered the hospital staff and injured to stay with me. My injured numbered 23, with 4 fatally so, so I had them put down. Soon, we were deep in the forest and I prayed the Russians would allow us some time to rest.

  But, that was not to be.

  Russian aircraft were constantly looking for us, day and night. I knew they were hounding us to keep us off guard and deny us any rest and all the sleep they could. It was working, but only to a point, and I'd requested additional missiles to deal with the aircraft overhead. Once I had arms, we'd turn the momentum back into our favor. We'd encountered more ground troops, too, but I could deal with them. I finally decided we'd attack the main Russian base in Seattle and do just enough damage that it would shock them. That meant I needed information. I needed to know all I could about the base and the buildings there.

  I went out with Andy's cell, and his mission was to look at the Russian side of the big airport because at one time it'd been a large commercial airport. We had no information on the place and I mean nothing, really. We'd take photos, mark aircraft parking on our crude map, and check out security. Since Roper had been a sniper there, he went along, too, to help us locate various hot spots, meaning those areas of importance to any air post.

  When we left, I'd leave Roper and his spotter to kill a few of the air traffic controllers in the tower, as well as any high ranking officers. He thought he might get lucky and get a couple of landing jet or chopper pilots. I'd leave the targets up to him, but to take no risks on poor or low priority targets.

  The night before we left, Cynthia and I were together and I enjoyed myself.

  She suddenly asked, “How much longer do you have to go into harms way in this damned war?” Her tone hinted of anger.

  “I imagine until the Russians leave, but I'm not the only person risking their lives here, baby.” I glanced at her and could see she was angry.

  “You are the Commander here and you go because you want to be on these damned missions, not because you have to go. One day you'll be killed. I know you don't have to go, but yet you do, why?”

  I'd opened a bottle of bourbon earlier in the evening, so I poured us both a drink and replied, “I have to go because I want my troops to respect me as their leader. A big part of leadership is showing your people you can and will do what they do, and share in the dangers of it all. I'm sorry if you dislike that trait in me, but I lead by example.”

  “But, as a Commander, you could stay back here where it's safer, only you never will.”

  I knocked my drink back, wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand, and replied, “No, I never will, unless I one day make General Officer, and that's not likely.”

  “I don't understand why you take the unnecessary risks, is all.” I could see the tears in her eyes and really understood for the first time she loved me. Oh, she'd told me before, but this was different.

  “Sweetheart, when the Russians invaded this country, they came into my very home, wanting to turn me into a slave and rape my nation. Like most Americans I am damned proud to be an American and I'll fight until death to deny them ownership of this land I love. I didn't even realize how much I loved the United States until she was seriously threatened.” I filled my shot-glass once more with the strong amber drink. Dolly moved to my side and placed her head in my lap, wanting her ears scratched.

  “I love this country too, but the risks you take and to think of the chances for you to be killed when you could be safely running the show from here.”

  “I'm sorry you dislike the risks I take, but I will do what my people do or resign. I must see, hear, feel, and smell what they do, or I'll soon lose the knowledge of the cold harsh acts needed in combat to win against a cruel and determined enemy. I cannot allow that to happen, or I'm useless as a commander.” I threw that drink back too, but it would be my last of the evening.

  “I don't know if I want a man with a wish to die. I love you, John, but I don't want to end up loving a dead man.”

  “So be it then. You knew the kind of man I am when you and I started this relationship. I'm truly sorry you feel this way. Only, my country comes before myself and even you. I love you, Cynthia, but I'll not change what I am for you or anyone else in the world. I am a Colonel in the Partisans that leads from the front and I will always lead by example.”

  “I think it would be best if I left then.” She picked up her hat and walked to the door. She stopped with her back to me for a few long seconds, then turned and met my eyes as she said, “Goodnight and goodbye, Colonel.”

  “Goodnight, Major.”

  I knew she was crying when she left and I knew I'd just lost a good woman, who would or could not accept me for what I was, a warrior. I could no more change than a duck could become a goose. I am what I am, and always will be. The long cut on my left arm began to ache.

  Having second thoughts about the drink, I picked up the whiskey and took a long pull straight from the bottle. I sat on my bunk holding the bottle in my hand, my injured arm throbbing, wondering why my behavior was that hard to understand. Near midnight I fell asleep sitting on my bed, the bourbon bottle half gone and Dolly laying beside me, her big brown eyes concerned, but not overly so.

  Morning arrived earlier than usual and I had a hangover. I rarely have more than two drinks, and last night I'd had a good pint of bourbon. Now I faced a long day of walking in some rough country as I fought the urge to throw up. I gagged a few times brushing my teeth so when I returned to my quarters, I picked up the whiskey bottle and took me a long pull of the hair of the dog. Within a few minutes, I felt normal again.

  “Feeling better, sir?” I heard Sergeant Major Birdie ask from his side of the tent.

  “I'm fine.”

  “And the lass will come around, sir, because she loves you.”

  “Uh, enough about my personal affairs.” I wasn't comfortable discussing my 'woman' problems with someone else.

  “Yes, sir. I was just offering my experience with women, is all. I'll not mention another word about it.” His apology sounded genuine to me.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I'll deal with her and on my own.” I said, and slipped my pack on my back. I glanced at my watch and added, “You and the Major take good care of this place while I'm gone. I suspect we'll be in radio contact.”

  “Yes, sir. The Russians are mad and looking for blood, so be careful.”

  I grunted in reply and left my tent.

  Chapter 16

  Colonel Slava's temporary replacement, Major Ruslan 'Rusya' Gennadiyevich, stood at the head of his table and shook his head as he said, “When our troops entered the camp, they found no one living and there was no resistance. Bodies were scattered all around and we counted right at one hundred and forty-two dead. We lost four men in the main camp from booby traps and land mines. Of their wounded left behind, we took eight prisoners and put three mortally wounded down. The prisoners are being interrogated as I speak.”

  “Moscow must be very pleased with us right now.” the chief of supply said, a man who'd never been in combat or seen a shot fired in anger.r />
  “Gentlemen, we now have more pressing news and it is not good. This is doctor and surgeon Colonel Boris Danovich, the hospital Commander, and he wants to discuss two problems we have, and they're both serious too.”

  The surgeon stood and said, “Gentlemen if you look at the slide I have on the wall, you will see two in every ten soldiers we have is infected with a sexually transmitted disease. It is our belief the resistance is encouraging infected women to have sex with our troops as a way to damage our morale. We think they are intentionally sending infected women here to help the spread of Gonorrhea and Syphilis, but we have no proof. The best protection would be for our troops to keep their trousers zipped up, only that will not happen.”

  “How are you handling it, then?”

  “Through base wide lectures and placing free condoms all around the base. The first time a soldier get an STD he is warned and made to attend a briefing on the illnesses. The second time he gets it, he is fined and loses money based on his/her rank. Current percentage of Russian female soldiers with the problem is around twelve percent, which is much less than our men and they, we think, are contracting the sickness through our men.”

  “I think this STD problem is common in most combat zones. The enemy has used STDs as a way to fight an enemy for years. But, you can treat it with a handful of antibiotics.” the Base Operations Lieutenant Colonel said.

  “I realize that, colonel, but they have also sent another disease to us and it is harder to control and cure— smallpox, or as it is known in the medical field, Variola major or Variola minor. As you know, in Russia the disease was eradicated but it is alive and well here, and many of our troops are infected with the illness. We never thought to give inoculations for the illness prior to deployment here. I currently have 60 men and women in the hospital ill with the disease and we have started an American theater effort to give the preventative shot to every Russian stationed here. Since the shots take time to give, plus we do not have any serum in the country, we will soon have many more than 60 in the hospital with the pox.”