The Fall of America [Book 7]

by W. R. Benton

  After noon we heard choppers flying near, only they didn't seem to be searching for anyone. But, each time they got close, we had to hide in the underbrush. By dark, I figured we'd covered almost fifteen miles. While I know that doesn't sound like much, it was on foot. My gunner’s back was hurting him and I was just plain tired.

  I selected a bushy area that looked like it was nice spot for a den of snakes and one at a time we crawled into the brush. We saw no snakes, but a stick did poke the gunner on the arm and he said some things I didn't understand. I suspect he was talking bad about the stick, maybe thinking it was a snake. Once in the brush, he pulled out the survival kit and we looked it over. We'd been moving fairly steady and we were both more tired than we realized.

  The kit had basic survival gear; signaling mirror, whistle, flares, compass, matches, radio, spare radio battery, first aid kit, survival sheath knife, survival pocket knife, morphine, small tins of food, vitamins, and a survival book written in Chinese, which I handed to him. I also discovered a sleeping bag and casualty blanket. We divided the gear up, so we shared the weight of the items and each had something to signal with.

  “Here, you use the sleeping bag. I've used a blanket many times. Now, we need to gather wood because it will be a cold night.”

  “Yes, cold.” he said, and began to gather wood for a fire.

  An hour after dark and before we had a fire, I heard movement down the trail. I prayed there was no dog team along if it was a cell looking for us. Usually I have a fire when the sun goes down, but didn't because we were late eating supper, which we ate cold. We sat perfectly still as the troops neared and I could hear the Russians talking to each other. I wondered if they could hear my heart beating.

  The little Chinese warrior was ready to fight, I'll give him that much credit, but 40 people walked past us, so as soon as they were gone, I moved us further back into the trees and started a small fire. By now it was below zero and a fire was needed, especially if they were done for the day and in a night camp. I honestly didn't think the Russians went far either, not as cold as it was. A person can actually stay pretty warm walking in cold weather but the moment they stop, they start losing body heat and a fire is needed. If the sweat on them freezes, they'll die, usually.

  I wore my NVGs, but the Chinese had nothing. Hopefully we'd not need them. Speaking in a low tones, I said, “You are a Sergeant?”

  “Sergeant, yes. Me Army ten years.”

  “I am a Colonel.”

  He shrugged and said, “Okay. I no know what that be.”

  “Officer.”

  “I see. Okay, sir.”

  I laughed as quietly as I could and thought, I'm not telling you that for any reason other than to let you know. It means little to me. When they pick us up, it will help, I think.

  “Call me John in the woods.”“I understand. Some Chinese officer the same you. First name alone, but all name and lank when alound others.”

  “Yes. We will take turns using the goggles at night. We do not want to fight, not anyone, because there are just two of us. If it looks like a fight, wake me.”

  “I see, and understand.”

  I hope he really does and isn't just saying that because it's all the English he knows, I thought but said, “Now, I sleep then you wake me later.”

  “Okay.”

  I slept, but it was a restless sleep with me seeing both my first two wives and trying to explain to them how my life had turned out like it had. I tried to explain that I didn't want to lose either of them and how much it hurt me when they died —and it had. My first one accused me of leaving her all the time and not protecting her, which was partly true. Only, I had no idea at the time how lawless we'd become as a society and I was always working, trying to make a living. Then, after the fall, trading and stealing was the only ways to get what a family needed to survive. I had four 500 gallon gas tanks I used to refuel my security trucks each week. I kept big dogs chained to each tank. I had a Rottweiler, two German Shepherds, and a Doberman I kept near the tanks and all lived in dog houses better than some of the places people live in in town. I treated those dogs like my babies. During the day they ran free and had free access to my house. I'm getting off track, but gas had greater value than gold, so when I needed something, I'd fill up four five gallon gas cans and head to town, five miles away.

  The day she was murdered, I remembered trading for what we needed and then going straight home. I felt a sudden urge to get there quickly because something bad had happened. Something horrible had happened; I entered my house to find my wife raped and murdered along with my kids. I almost lost my mind seeing them butchered and used. I can still see the blood splattered walls and the horror on the faces of my loved ones. I stayed drunk the first week, then slowly tried to put my life back together and while I came close with my second wife, it didn't happen. I lost her in combat, as well as my soon to be wife just last year. Last year I lost both the woman I loved and my unborn child. Three good women and God took them all away from me. That's why I'm leery of a relationship with Cynthia, because every woman that gets close to me dies a violent death. It's a bit late with her now, because I love her, and do want my baby. I want to be happy, but the past always raises its ugly head and reminds me of bygones.

  I felt someone shaking me and when I opened my eyes, Wan was looking at me. He held his finger to his lips and then cupped his hands behind his ears. He was right, why no night sounds? I got up, pulled the pistol he'd given me and slipped the safety off. We saw or heard nothing and after a bit the night sounds returned.

  Sergeant Wan Tu said, “You no sleep good. Talk in sleep and jump all over the place.”

  “Nightmare.”

  When he looked puzzled, I said, “Bad dream.”

  He nodded in understanding then.

  “I t'ink I sleep now and you watch us.”

  I agreed and wondered what had been near us earlier. If not a man that left grizzly bears or cougars, and either one was bad news for just two men. Just the thought of either kept me awake my shift. When I went to bed again later, I slept better, but it was raining when I woke. It wasn't a hard rain, but a steady one that folks who lived here knew could last a week or more.

  A quick look on the trail at dawn indicated a large number of troops had moved down the trail last night and they had to be miserable in this weather. I know it was well below zero when the movement took place and that's a terrible temperature to be moving. I woke Sergeant Tu and after a cold ration, we saddled up and started walking.

  Near mid-morning a chopper flew over, but it was too high to see which side it was on, so we didn't signal it at all. We stopped for lunch at near noon and despite the rain and mud, we were making good time. Surprisingly, I was so hungry even a green frog tasted good. We moved slowly, but at a steady rate, so the miles soon disappeared behind us.

  Escape and evasion is always a very slow process. Most folks don't realize the first thing most folks see when looking for someone is movement, and when trying to avoid capture you want to blend in and not be seen, yet still be able to move. The most you can hope for is to see them first and in some cases that is hard to do, especially if they're sitting still looking for you and you're trying to move. It was lung hurting cold at night, so moving during periods of darkness was out.

  We stopped near dusk and moved away from the trail to rest overnight. I'd just placed some water on to boil, using the aluminum canteen cup that fit over the bottom of my canteen, when I heard English being spoken. I glanced at Sergeant Wan Tu, and he was smiling.

  I knew it was risky, but so was just two men moving north, so I called out, “Hello, we're Americans and need help. There are only two of us.”

  I heard a bunch of safety switches on weapons snap to the off position.

  “Both of you move forward, and keep your weapons in your left hand and over your head. Do not lower the weapons until told to do so. Any quick movements will get you killed. Come forward, now.”

  I moved
forward until a man appeared out of the brush to take the pistol from my left hand and Tu's rifle from him. We were moved to what looked like two squads of people on the trail. A tall middle aged man moved to me and asked, “Who are you?”

  “Colonel John Williamson.”

  “And him?”

  “Sergeant Wan Tu, Chinese Army. Our chopper was shot down.”

  “What's your dog’s name?”

  “Dolly.”

  “What is your current girlfriend’s first name?” the man asked.

  “Cynthia, why?”

  He smiled and said, “We've been looking for you. While we've seen plenty Russians, you're the first Americans we've seen. Any others from your chopper survive?”

  “No, all the others were KIA.”

  “I'll report we've found you to Headquarters later. Right now, we need to cover some distance because we're being followed.”

  We were pulled into the line, handed our guns back and I was also given a Bison sub-machine gun, since all I had was a pistol. My weapon of choice is a Bison. I noticed Tu moved in close to me and I suspect it was because he knew me. I'm sure being around all the big, tall American strangers intimidated him a little. We walked another thirty minutes or so and then moved back into a grove of pine trees. I counted 24 people, not counting me or Tu. Claymores were placed near the trail and anti-personnel mines circled us. One small fire was soon burning, as we all ate our meals cold.

  The leader, who I discovered was named Steve Pitts, was a Major with the Partisans. His sole mission was to find me or my body and return.

  Over cups of hot tea he said, “You're a valuable man to the resistance, sir. They must have 20 groups of folks out beating the bushes for you. When I called Headquarters a few minute ago they were happy you'd been found alive. You are to stay with us until they decide what they want done with you.”

  Before I could answer, a guard neared and said, “Russians will be here in less than ten minutes so I suggest we put the fire out.” I noticed he was wearing his NVGs so I lowered mine too. Later today I'd either be home again or on my way to the Base in Texas, unless I was dead.

  Chapter 19

  The Colonel in charge of prisoners, civilian and military, was standing tall this morning as he explained how his prisoners were kept on a 900 calories a day diet, or less. This was done on purpose to keep them too weak to escape his gulag.

  “We mainly feed them scraps from our military dining facilities. They get the trimmed fat from all meats, fruit and vegetable peelings, served in a watery soup twice a day. Their bread is 50% bread and 50% sawdust, which adds fiber.”

  “Surely you jest. I mean, that is not enough to keep a person alive.” Lieutenant Colonel Ruslan Gennavich, the temporary acting Base Commander, said.

  “I am speaking the truth, sir. The average prisoner will die at slightly longer than six months.”

  The Colonel slammed the table hard with his right fist and replied, “By God, that will change today. Do you not realize the Americans will feed our captured men exactly what we feed theirs?”

  “It is to be expected by our men, because this is war, sir.”

  “I will not have our men half starved because you wish to demonstrate your power over our prisoners. Starting today, they will eat what we eat. I want all officers fed from our officers mess and the enlisted or civilians from the enlisted mess. Their serving sizes will be the same too.”

  “I . . . I do not understand, sir.” The Colonel's face was crimson and he was obviously confused.

  “The Americans have a few Russians as prisoners and they have promised to treat them as we treat our prisoners. Three of the men they have are Russian Generals and they are not used to starving, sir. So, from now on, treat them firmly, but fairly. I also want all torture to stop effective immediately because of repercussions. Not long ago one of our interrogators burned a captive to death, using petrol, attempting to make another prisoner talk only it did not work. Somehow the word got out and ten Russian captives were found burned to death beside a main highway earlier this week. They all smelled of petrol and there was a note warning us. They promised to kill ten of ours for every prisoner of theirs to die, and by the same manner. So, your gulags will need to be cleaned up a little, comrade.”

  “The Americans will do nothing. They are weak and like children.” the Chief of the gulags said. “How do we know our men were alive when burned?”

  “The eleventh man was not burned, but shot in both knees. He told us what happened and even explained why he was left alive. He was to speak for the resistance and to warn us to change some of of our standard procedures, like the menu at your gulags. Moscow has issued the orders for you to change, not me, but I do agree with them. I trust that is sufficient authority for you, sir.”

  “What makes Moscow so sure the Americans will really continue to do this?”

  “Mainly because they have done it for years in Mississippi and Alabama. This retaliation was started years ago by a now deceased partisan named Williams, and his partner Williamson, both members of the famous partisan group 'The Aces.' As a matter of fact, Colonel Williamson is now the commander of this three state area, so we are sure the message was no idle threat. By God, this is no joke, Colonel, and besides, you have your orders. Make them happen.”

  “Sir, I must —”

  “Sit down, sir, damn you! You are making a fool of yourself.” When the Colonel didn't move quickly enough, he added, “Or I will have your ass shot!”

  The Colonel took his chair and lowered his head to his hands.

  “The next sonofabitch that questions me, I will shoot.” He pulled his pistol from the holster and chambered a round. While junior in rank to the Full Colonel, his position as the Base Commander gave him full responsibility and authority to do as needed.

  “Now, let us proceed with my morning briefings. I am sick of having Moscow on my ass, and need your support in making things happen. If you cannot make things happen, I will replace you or start shooting.”

  The rest of the meeting was uneventful, but he had their attention.

  The next morning at breakfast time, Colonel Gennavich showed at the gulag and when met by the camp commander, he asked to be shown the food being fed to the prisoners. He was taken to a cell, the door opened, and the food given to the prisoner was evaluated.

  “Is this what we had this morning at the open mess?”

  “Uh, no, sir. I can explain.”

  Without a word spoken, Colonel Gennavich pulled his pistol and fired one round, which narrowly missed the gulag Commander's head.

  He said, “There will be no second warning. Now, find these people some decent food! There will be no more of this watery soup with a few pieces of gristle for food. Improve on it by lunch or you will be eating it for your supper, sir!”

  Colonel Gennavich was under a tremendous amount of pressure since the partisan activities were up in his area. Moscow had just notified him this morning they'd made him the permanent Commander, so he had to make things happen and quickly, too. His name was on the Full Colonels promotion list coming out next month. His states, long since thought pacified, were finally active and the resistance activities were costing the Russians lives. Moscow was on the phone day and night now, wanting answers, answers to questions the Colonel didn't have. He was honestly close to shooting people.

  He'd been raised in a modest home in the country, but a far cry from a farm because his father had money and was in politics. He'd had a private tutor, went to the best universities for his degrees, and had moved up the promotions ladder ahead of his classmates. His father had connections, which meant Senkin had connections as well, and as a young man he'd used his fathers power and influence rarely, but when he did, things happened.

  His wife is the daughter of a powerful manufacturer of Russian tanks and arms, and the American equivalent of a CEO. Her father is a rich and omnipotent man, who knows few equals in Russia and is owed many favors by those he's helped. She is pretty, but not
beautiful, and was raised to behave like a sophisticated lady. She usually dresses simply, but neatly. Her education and bearing shines through all she does, and more than once she'd used her connections to advance Rusya's career. While he was unaware, there were times when she'd used more than simple connections to see him promoted or selected for a career advancing position. She considered nothing more important than his military advancement, so she did what was needed. Theirs was an arranged marriage, with the power of both fathers behind them and between the two, they could move mountains. If he was able to do a fair job in America, he'd been promised General when he left. Once in the General ranks, he'd advance rapidly, due to his connections.

  Now, with all the partisan activity in the northwest for the first time, he was being watched very closely by Moscow. There were those Generals who wondered what he was doing wrong all of a sudden, and then others were pleased to see the Russians finally weeding the partisans out of that region. No one, not even Yakovich, had a clear picture of what was really taking place, which was nothing more than the birth of the resistance in the three state area. I'd just assisted in organizing it and now allowed it to run on it's own momentum. Once up and running, I didn't think anything could stop it from doing what it was designed to do, kill Russians.

  He walked to his desk, sat in his leather chair, and took a sip of his cold tea. As he placed it back on the saucer he thought of having it replaced, and then changed his mind. It didn't matter if his hot tea was cold or if the world was round or flat. All that mattered was Moscow had to be convinced he was a great success, but how could he do that?

  He picked up some older reports and read about Sergeant Wan Tu's chopper being brought down. He picked up the phone and called the base Information and Media Affairs Office.

  “Hello, Captain, this is the Wing Commander and in the morning, I want a photographer and two writers to go with me into the field. We are going to visit the crash site of a Chinese helicopter we shot down. I want big news made out of the fact the Chinese are here and illegally, too. I want the Chinese bodies and the whole mess photographed. Do you see any problems doing this?”