The Fall of America [Book 7]

by W. R. Benton

  I sent all but Andy and I ahead as we mined the place. I mined each open and closed door to the storage bunkers. Some of the bunkers we didn't enter, because I wanted to be in and out in less than an hour. Andy had discovered the security cameras were not connected and the only security they had was a 60 watt light over the main gate. From a log book we found it looked like someone visited once a month and logged in and out. I moved back about five miles and hid the supplies I had. While dangerous, tomorrow we'd return and see what the unopened bunkers held. This place was there for the taking, and who knows what we'd find tomorrow. According to the log book, it'd just been visited three days ago.

  The evening was quiet and I left Andy and another partisan at the supply dump to keep an eye on the place. They'd know if any troops or vehicles visited the place. I didn't think the Russians would know we were there for almost another three weeks. The log book showed a monthly visit, all of them made during the last week of the month. Over-night the supplies we already had were taken to camp by the ATVs and the horse. I'd use them to transport again in the morning.

  By dawn we were in the supply depot with the mines removed from the doors. The first bunker was filled with winter camouflage uniforms and other cold weather gear. The snow patterns weren't much good to us right this minute, but they soon would be. I found mittens, gloves, boots, snow boots, skis, and all kinds of cold weather stuff. I took it all. The last bunker held rations, canned water, and some medical supplies. I took all the medical gear and left the big machines, along with the water. It started snowing just as I locked the gate and booby trapped it. I'm like a kid around snow and it fascinates me and always has, plus in the country it's so beautiful.

  I was one happy man when we got home and avoided walking in the blizzard I suspected was approaching. Just a few hours later the wind picked up and snow began to fall hard and fast. I knew by morning we might have 12 inches or more on the ground. We could have survived on the trail, easily, but we'd have been colder. One of the items I took from the supply bunkers were heaters the Russians had for tents. We already had some, but eventually I wanted one for each shelter.

  As I ate breakfast, my weather man briefed me on conditions, and I felt neither side was going far for the next week as storm after storm would hit us. It looked like there would be 40 inches of snow on the ground by the end of the week. I relaxed and made myself comfortable. Intelligence briefed me that the reward for me was still valid, but as far as they could tell, no one was interested in the money. I felt they were wrong and I told them so. A million dollars would buy a very comfortable life in another country, especially Mexico, because of it's poor economy. I kept the guard posted just outside my door.

  Since the weather was bad, I had the doctors who'd flown in to help us with the smallpox administer physical exams for all members, check their dental health, and if needed evaluate them psychologically. Any unfit would be returned to Texas or released to work here, but only in headquarters. I didn't want unfit folks on the line and maybe causing the death of others.

  It was during the blood and urine tests that Cynthia was definitely confirmed to be pregnant. Her doctor broke it to me, thinking I'd already been told by her. He apologized when he realized I knew nothing at all about the pregnancy being official. I was filled with joy, but scared for her and my baby. That night she told me she was pregnant and I acted surprised and happy, which I was. Before I slept that night, I had a long talk with God pleading for the safety of my child and Cynthia. I'd loved my other two wives, I really had, but I know in my heart, I loved neither of them like Cynthia. Ours is a special love, and to just be with her makes me happy. I worried about raising a child in the middle of a war, but we don't always get to pick when things happen in our lives. I knew in a war whole families could be here one minute, then gone in the blink of an eye.

  I was deep in thought when Andy neared, stuck his head in my door, and said, “We've got a problem. We have two people who were riding ATVs gathering wood and water. Neither are from this area and both have some bad frostbite.”

  “What did the doctors say? Coffee’s on the fire out there if you want a cup.”

  He had a tin cup clipped to his belt. He left the tent, filled his cup, returned, and said, “They left yesterday, ahead of this front, so they just barely got out in time. We have two medics and neither knows much about cold weather injuries. I know some about treatment, so maybe I can help. We need to gradually thaw the frozen tissue out using warm water. Then, in a couple of days, any part that turns black has to be removed with a knife.”

  “That's about all I know too.”

  “Both have frozen toes, fingers and ears. I have the ears covered with bandages, and they almost had hypothermia too. I've got them warming up now.”

  I stood and said, “Let's go look at them, and I'll help to warm up their feet and hands but they'll not like it much. I've seen grown men cry when their cold hands touch the warm water. I won't use painkillers or whiskey until we see if body parts have to be removed or not.” I stood and we made our way toward the hospital tent. Unlike in the movies, this one did not have a huge red symbol on top. The Russians would bomb the medical logo just for fun.

  “Be rough to lose a body part without a painkiller of some sort, don't ya know?” He asked as we entered the tent.

  “I have morphine, but I won't use it unless the part being removed is major. For fingers and toes I think we can use a local and some codeine pills. A major body part to me would be a whole hand or foot.”

  “I agree, because we need to save it for more serious wounds. They're in the back left corner of the tent.” he said as he moved toward them.

  Both were in cots, wrapped up well with heavy wool blankets and sedated. I grabbed a passing medic and asked about their condition.

  “Sir, all we really know right now is their hands and feet were frozen. We thawed them out using warm water and they took that poorly, too. We'll keep them warm and with us for about three days and see if the frostbitten areas turn colors on us. If they do, we'll use surgery to remove the dead flesh from them.”

  “If you need anything, let me know.” I said in closing, and meant it too. There were many ways to die or become maimed in this war.

  “I'll remember that, sir. Now I have to make my rounds, so please excuse me.”

  “Take care of these people, they are this nation’s true heroes.” I said, and then walked to Andy by the first cot.

  “They're both asleep. I think the medics are keeping them that way so they get stronger.”

  “I have no idea. Let's let them rest.” They both looked pale and peaceful, but I imagine just the warm bed felt good to them.

  Off in the distance I could smell someone burning human waste, and it was a weekly task for some random Private assigned the detail. Our outhouses had 55 gal. steel drums cut in quarters and placed under the seats of our outhouses. Each week they were removed, a fresh drum placed under the seat, and the old one pulled into a clearing. Gas, diesel, or even aircraft fuel was added to the human feces and then ignited. As it burned, a man using a long steel rod worked the waste and fire. Over time, the drum was burned clean. The problem was, the man doing the burning smelled like crap for a day or two and taking a shower didn't help much at all. It was affectionately called the shit detail.

  As we walked back to my tent, a man right beside me suddenly fell with a bullet wound to his lower back and there'd been no sound of a gunshot. He screamed, fell and then thrashed around like a fish out of water.

  “Sniper!” someone yelled.

  “I'll flush him out!” Andy yelled as he took off running to get his cell.

  It could have been an attempt to kill me, but I wore no rank and I didn't think anyone who knew me would attempt to kill me, but a million dollars was a lot of money. That the Russians knew where we were I had no doubts, but would they make another costly effort to attack our base camp? Questionable. Just a few weeks back they'd done just that and our intelligence sus
pected they'd lost over 200 dead, wounded or missing. No unit could afford that many losses at one time. I did expect them to start hitting us with aircraft. I expected bombings and strafing to become common.

  The sniper fired again and I heard a woman scream and from listening to her, she'd taken a round in the left leg as she lay behind a huge wooden box. Twice more the sniper shot and while all I could hear was a low thud, which meant he or she was close, two more times men screamed. So far, the sniper was batting a thousand.

  Ten minutes later, I heard the explosion of a hand grenade, a good dozen weapons on automatic firing, and screams. I suspected Andy had just put an end to our sniper problem. A few minutes later he returned to camp holding a Russian sniper rifle.

  “She was up in a pine not 100 yards from here. It was one of the few women snipers I've encountered.” he said with a dry smile. I saw the rifle was covered with blood and it had a day/night scope. He continued, “Eighty-three notches on the stock, so we put down a good woman.”

  I nodded and then said, “Have the body pulled away a good mile and left. She deserves a military funeral with that many kills, but I just can't do that here. While I may respect her ability, she was an enemy.”

  “It's being done now, sir.”

  “If you need me, I'll be in my quarters.” I said and made my way back to the tent. As I walked, I thought, Eighty-three victims of her shooting ability and eighty-three dead Americans. It's a good thing we've done here today, killing this sniper. As soon as this nasty weather clears, I need to move this camp too, especially now that the Russians know where we are. All it would take is one fully loaded jet aircraft to put us out of business.

  A month later, in a new camp, I sat in my office planning another attack against the Russians when Birdie walked in and said, “Grab your gear and catch a Chinese chopper in an hour, sir. Headquarters wants you back in Texas for a bit. A new Colonel is coming to take your place, but only for as long as you are needed.”

  “Can I take the two out with me that lost their feet and hands to frostbite? They're not much help here with us and I think they'll do better where they can be assigned admin duties.”

  “Let me ask them on the radio, sir.”

  “Find out quickly so we'll know when they come for me.”

  “Any idea what is going on?” I asked, suddenly feeling butterflies in my stomach. The last time they 'needed' me, I detonated a suitcase sized nuke bomb. That I would refuse to do again, even though I knew we had a second bomb. I was part of the group that stole the two bombs from a Russian train shipment.

  “They said no, because another chopper will come for the frostbite victims in a few days. This chopper inbound is for you only.”

  “Why just me? It's unusual as hell.” I said.

  “I have no idea, none at all, sir.” Andy replied, because I know I gave him questioning look.

  “Well, I'll let you know if I can later. If it's classified, you'll be out of luck.” I extended my hand and as we shook, I said, “Good luck, Birdie, and tell Andy the same thing.”

  “I hear you just fine, boss, and you stay safe.” Andy said from his side of the tent. He then laughed hard and long.

  Chapter 18

  So, grabbing my gear, I ran to the pickup point, where a Chinese chopper picked me an hour later.

  We flew low, mainly to avoid Russian radar, and I didn't like it at all. I'm no coward when it comes to flying, having been a military passenger in three wars and a number of state side training missions, but these Chinese pilots were fools. At some points we flew lower than the trees. Small arms fire from Russians guns reached out for us and some even struck the aircraft. I was worried; if we flew over just one person with a shoulder-fired missile we were toast.

  I guess we were at 500 feet when I heard a loud beeping sound and one of the Chinese said in English, “Shit, dey hab lada lock on us.” I noticed he could not pronounce r's well and they came out sounding like l's, thus lada for radar, with a long first a.

  I cringed and waited for the explosion. My wait was a short one, less than 15 seconds I suspect, when a loud noise caught my attention, along with a fireball in the sky just slightly overhead. Pieces of aluminum began to fall, smoke filled the cabin, and the co-pilot was laying limp in his seat, with the top half of his body covered in blood. I noticed part of the windshield was gone, likely blown out. The crimson blood of the co-pilot was now caught in the slip stream and spattered on the walls of the cargo area where I was sitting.

  The door gunners were sending out short spurts of fire and obviously only at targets they could see clearly. Then the one on the left fell back into the helicopter with top of his head missing. He jerked and twisted madly on the floor.

  “Mayday, mayday, mayday . . .” the pilot said in English and then in Chinese.

  He tried to gain altitude, but it was not to be. The bird began to shudder and shake as the engine seemed to experience it's death throes mid-flight. Fluids were leaking now and I figured most were flammable, so I tightened my seat belt.

  “Captain to passenger, I must sit helicopter on ground. No can fly now.” the Captain said casually and when I looked at the door gunners, one was dead and unmoving and the other moved to where I was and sat beside me. When he met my eye and smiled, I figure him insane.

  “We hit ground soon. After we hit, go into trees fast.” the Pilot informed me as I said a silent prayer. I then closed my eyes and waited to hit.

  The aircraft struck hard, rolled on it's side and then rolled back upright again. The door gunner and I jumped from the helicopter, his hands had something in each, and made our way into the woods. I'd jerked the first aid kit from the now burning aircraft when I left along with my backpack, because I figured I'd need them. When I turned and looked behind me, I saw maybe fifty Russians making for our crash site. The pilot jumped from his seat and, using a semi-automatic rifle, began shooting. Russians dropped left and right. Then the Russians returned fire with devastating results. I saw the pilot struck at least five times in the torso, so I wrote him off as brave, but dead. I increased my running speed.

  The aircraft was on fire and small explosions were heard. Then a larger boom was heard and an oily black fireball rose high in the sky, and rolled into itself as it tried to meet the clouds. The large explosion was followed by more lesser booms. I figured the smaller explosions were the ammunition and oxygen bottles blowing up.

  The Russians were pleased to have downed the Chinese chopper. Unknown to us, they stopped by the wreckage to take photographs instead of chasing the two men who'd ran from the aircraft. Then they propped the dead pilot up and took photos sitting beside him with their individual guns. Finally they called headquarters about an hour later and reported the aircraft was down and while blown up, the Chinese star was clearly seen on some of the metal. If they'd not stopped, things might have been different for us. I noticed the little man had his door gun, a Chinese machine gun, and a can of ammunition.

  About an hour later, we stopped in a thick grove of pines, because I knew the gun must be hard for him to carry.

  I was out of breath as I told him, “My . . . name is John, John . . . Williamson.” I pointed at myself. I then put both hands on my knees and bent over slightly trying to breathe.

  “Wan . . . Tu” he said looking at me. He was gasping for breath too.

  I noticed he also had a pistol and a rifle of some sort, a container of canvas, and a canteen. He was short, maybe five feet tall, black hair, brown eyes, white even teeth and about 105 pounds. He was smiling and I didn't see why, only some folks react differently to life and death situations. He handed the pistol to me, and two more full 9 MM magazines.

  “Do you speak English?” I asked.

  “I speak some English.” he replied. I noticed, he pronounced it as Engrish.

  “We must move quickly because they will look for us. I will carry the machine gun for a while.”

  He handed the gun to me and then opened the canvas bag, pulled out some
camouflage face paint in what looked like a water colors set with a brush. He used his fingers to smear it on the high points of his face. He used a blotched pattern and I just smeared it on my face, neck and hands. I also removed my stainless steel watch, so the sun would not flash on it as we moved. He tossed me two Chinese rations, but I had others in my pack. I figured we were lucky to have gotten out of there alive.

  “Are you injured?” I asked.

  “Hu't back, and you?”

  “I'm fine. Can you still run?”

  “I can lun.”

  I took off at a slow jog, because you can't run too fast with a 60 pound pack on your back. I couldn't figure out what our next step was, so I continued trying to cover some distance from the crash site.

  We ran for a good two hours but it was really just a fast jog.

  “Stop, no can lun no mo'. Mines here, see line?” He pointed in front of me.

  Not six feet away a thin clear plastic fishing line extended across the trail. I guessed it to be about two pound tensile strength. I moved forward to look it over, spotted another mine, near where the line was tied to a small sapling. I checked the other end and it was tied to a Chinese grenade. The use of a Chinese grenade meant it was a booby trap of our making. The grenade was armed and in a can, with the can holding the lever against the body of the explosive. If the line had not been pointed out to me, I might have pulled the line, the grenade would have been pulled from the can and then exploded. The delay could have been set from 0 to 5 seconds. The problem was, Chinese grenades were undependable at best. I know it would have come out of the can, but would it have exploded? Even in the best of times they only worked about 70% of the time. I stepped over it and now scanned the ground for mines much better than before.