The ride to base was sober and quiet as each man and woman gave thought to how they still remained alive, while others were dead. Even the badly wounded, if conscious, gave the subject thought. Some wondered if taking the bonus money to serve in the infantry was worth the amount now that killing had actually started.
Senior Sergeant Victorovich thought, I spent all of my last tour here and was never fired upon the whole year, and now they have started fighting half-way through with my second tour. I am lucky though, I could be in New York City or some other large place and have a fight every damned night. Ivan said in his last letter that the partisans in the city ambush Russian soldiers using attractive women offering free sex as bait. That would lure most of my boys, and even some of my girls, too.
“Sergeant, when we return, get the troops cleaned up, hot food and double ration of vodka for each man and woman. If you have any problems, let me know. The dining facility might not want to cook so take leftovers as long as the food is served hot.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want me to go with you to see the Colonel?”
“No, he and I go way back and he knows I hit something hard out there this evening, but he has no idea of the fire power we encountered. He may think I have grown soft and think the partisans popped a few bullets at us and I wasted the money of the people in unnecessary artillery.”
“It was needed and if he wants to talk to me, I will speak with him. I served with him twice before when we both had less rank than we do now. I have been here 18 months, this is my fourth tour and never have they stood and fought like tonight, sir.”
“It may be a peek of what is to come.”
“Maybe, or they may have needed what was on the pallets too. I noticed they kept unloading them as we fought. With the two machine guns they had us in a murderous crossfire.”
The trucks rolled through the front gate without even slowing down, which meant they were expected and the Colonel would be waiting.
“I will handle Colonel Slava, so take good care of our men and women. I want them cared for and once that is done, I suggest you go to your quarters and get some rest. We will do nothing tomorrow, but we may be out tomorrow night, I have no idea.”
When the trucks stopped and unloaded, a Junior Sergeant neared and said, “Colonel, I am to take you to the Commander's quarters now, sir.”
“Very well, Sergeant, lead the way to your car.”
“I am telling you, Slava, the partisans were ready to dance this evening, but what has caused this change? They showed they are smart by establishing the crossfire too. If they had not fired so early I would have had half my troops slaughtered. I say from this point on, things have changed and those units out in the brush need to keep their eyes open. Hell, I lost my first man to a mine and I have never seen one in this country.”
“'Senkin, perhaps their headquarters have given them more aggressive and direct orders. Have you considered that?” He pulled a bottle from his desk drawer, “Drink?”
“No, no drink in case I go on a mission tomorrow. Look, this situation, well, it surprised me is all. When do we go back out?”
“Tonight, and you are to hit a farm house that we think has partisans using it as a safe house. No prisoners, military or civilian, are to be taken. Check with intelligence, because the house is not used all the time. If they want to play rough, they will find we can do that. I know you may think it is too early for your troops to go back out, but like being bucked off a horse, the best thing to do is to climb back on.”
“We will be ready. Is there any way of getting air support up here?”
“I do not think so, not with the few contacts we have had with the resistance. The aircraft will stay where the heavy fighting is, and right now, that is not here.”
“Okay, then keep the guns ready. Where do you want us to be this evening, other than the house?”
“Check with Intel and see where the resistance has been moving the most.”
“Okay, and what time do you want us in place?”
“I do not care. Look, get with Intel, find out what you need to know and then go kill some partisans. Moscow has been on my ass lately for not getting results.” the Colonel said and then picked up some papers; the conversation was over.
“I will do what I can, Slava.”
“Good, and I know you will, Senkin. Good hunting.”
It was dark as the trucks, which had their lights off, pulled off the side of the road and parked. The drivers had been driving using NVGs and they loved it and considered it fun. No, they didn't park on the highway, but drove a short distance into the forest. The Russian troops dismounted and tonight the Colonel only had fifty troops and he was to try to ambush supplies moving up and down a road. It was suspected old trucks or bicycles were being used. Satellite photos, taken on three different nights, all showed both. The house was suspected of being empty and was no longer a target.
“Men, the partisans usually come through near 0300 and we will hit them as soon as their point man passes by us. Now, once in place, 50% alert until 0300, then 100%. If for some reason you get separated, just move south and you will come to the highway. Continue south until you see the tracks where the trucks left the road. I will leave one hour after sunup, with or without you. Any questions?”
Silence, except for a cough.
“Private Igorievna, you are my point man and Junior Sergeant Plavovna, you are my drag. Both of you stay where you can see me at all times.” the Colonel ordered.
They began to move.
After about a half a kilometer the Colonel said, “They are bunching up and too close. Get them spread out more, Senior Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.” He stopped and as the troops neared him, he had them spread out more.
Once at the ambush location, they placed an L shaped ambush, and each line of the letter had command detonating mines pointed toward the gravel road. The most experienced troops held the clackers. Then, they settled in and attempted to get comfortable and relax.
Yakovna, the medic, wondered how some men could sleep on ambush, knowing killing could start any second. I can never sleep out here. I feel the enemy moving around and I worry about his sneaking into our site and cutting my throat. No, sir, I will stay awake and keep my eyes open, thank you.
Near 0300, closer to 90% of his troops were asleep, not fifty percent. It got so bad he could hear snores, so he sent the Sergeant around to wake all the men and women. It was then he heard an old engine moving toward him.
He soon identified it visually as tractors, and each was pulling two flatbed trailers loaded down with supplies and gear. He spotted a man on each tractor, the driver, and a man on each trailer. Behind them walked a good 200 partisans loaded down with boxes and supplies. They even had bicycles loaded down, and packing a load that would be hard to believe if he wasn't looking at them. The ambush was on a gently sloping hillside and the road he was watching was in the narrow valley below. The resistance was coming through the valley and moving for the hill. He had a clear view of most of the partisans. They, and the rest of the world, looked pea soup green to him through his goggles.
The Colonel elbowed his radioman, who handed the handset to him.
“Base, Tolstoy 1.” he whispered.
“Go.”
“I have a target and will spring my ambush shortly. I will call you once the fight is finished.”
“Copy, and good luck.”
When the partisans neared, he saw only the lead troops had NVGs so he knew the others would be lost once combat started. All they'd see once the fight started is the light from muzzle blasts as the weapons fired.
The point man for the partisans walked right past them and never knew he was being watched by almost 50 Russians. Yakovich felt his stomach tighten as the main group entered the kill zone and then smiled just before he squeezed two mine clackers. He knew he was setting Russian military history in the three state area by most resistance fighters killed in one battle.
The explosions were loud, as w
ere the screams that followed, and bodies fell. Maimed and dying men and women rolled in the dirt and on the grasses as they tried to stop the flow of blood or find detached limbs. Then the Russian machine guns opened up and stitched the road up and down a good half dozen times. Clods of dirt were thrown high in the air as the big bullets struck the dirt roadway. Explosions were heard as additional mines were detonated and then the small arms fire started.
A small squad sized unit attempted to attack the Russians which is what the military teaches in case of ambush, but they were blown away in seconds. The sniper beside the First Sergeant was sending bullet after bullet into the folks at the rear of the group, creating pure chaos for the Americans. Then suddenly, all was quiet.
Low moans were heard, prayers, and even one man calling for his mother. The Russians remained in place. They were to move only when the Colonel ordered them to move. He'd wait a while and let the injured bleed a bit. Those seriously injured would die and the others would grow weak from blood loss.
An hour after the last shot, Colonel Senkin Yakovich of the Russian Army stood and said, “Let us see what we caught in our trap. Junior Sergeant, you and your people check the trail for wounded. Just a reminder, we are to take no prisoners, so any survivors are to be executed. Be sure to destroy or take any undamaged gear or supplies. Let us hurry, because I want to be back at the trucks in less than an hour.”
Junior Sergeant Plavovna and his troops moved for the trail.
Chapter 3
The air was cold as I stepped from the ramp of the C-130 and the slip stream of the aircraft was almost freezing. I ran through a mental checklist as I fell. My oxygen was working fine, so I tried my communications. “Cobra 1 to Eagle 1, over.”
“Go, Eagle 1.” the C-130 answered.
“Radio check.”
“Read you five by five, over.”
“Copy, Cobra 1 out.” I closed communications and checked my altimeter, and found I still had a long fall in front of me.
I was spread eagle, with my back slightly arched and falling stable. The ground below was nothing but a black pit, but I could see a new sun wanting to peak over the eastern horizon, only it would still be a good hour. Stars were twinkling overhead, and a predawn grayness was covering the land like a veil. Before long, the sun would appear.
The closer to the earth I got, the warmer it became. I was watching my altimeter as I passed through a thousand feet and I felt my parachute deploy. I'd been watching so I could pull my reserve chute if I had problems. I felt the pilot chute tap me on the helmet a couple of times and then I heard a loud grunt as it filled with air, pulling the rest of my chute out behind me. A second later, I was hanging in my harness.
I quickly checked that I wasn't spinning or coming down too rapidly, and I glanced upward to find my chute fully inflated with air. I reached down with my right hand and released my gear bag, allowing the almost hundred pound bag on a lanyard to fall a good twenty feet below me. Ideally it would hit first and then I'd land, but it didn't always happen that way.
I relaxed, saw I was to land in an open field, and then slightly bent my knees and waited for landing impact. I was moving forward at a slow rate of speed so I wasn't worried about hitting hard or being dragged once on the ground. I'd do a parachute landing fall (PLF) and then disconnect from the harness to continue my mission. I'd have the olive drab nylon parachute brought back to camp with me to be used in a number of different ways. It always made a great lightweight shelter and at 28 feet in diameter, it was a big shelter too.
I hit softly, let my body relax, and rolled with the flow. I stopped on my back, disconnected the two J-1 canopy releases, and saw the chute collapse behind me. I stood, removed my oxygen mask, unbuckled my harness, and tossed it on the canopy. I flipped my Bison off safety and looked the area over closely, but saw no one.
I heard a male voice say, “Chuck!”
I replied, “Wagon!”
A dark form moved toward me from the trees.
“How was your jump, sir?” I heard a woman ask as she neared.
“As smooth as silk. I'm the guest you're to pick up this evening.”
“Good, I'll have some troops gather the chute, harness and your equipment bag. We have to move and quickly, because the Russian bear is out this evening. Follow me.”
As I walked behind her, she was giving orders and people were moving quickly. She gave some hand signs and we moved out in single file to the other side of the field. We didn't cut across the field like some folks would be tempted to do, but walked along the edge, remaining in the trees.
Once in position, I heard her speak, “Eagle 1, Echo three over.”
“Go, Echo.”
“Ready for your eggs, over.”
“Roger, ready for the eggs. I am lining up now, so expect delivery in less than five minutes. Copy?”
“Uh, copy loud and clear.”
I heard the four engines of the C-130 and saw no lights in the air. Scanning the skies I finally picked the aircraft up in my night vision goggles. The sky and aircraft were a pale green.
The bird lowered until the wheels were just a foot off the ground and as it flew like this, I saw a parachute inflate behind the aircraft and then watched as the chute pulled three pallets of gear and equipment off the ramp. The pallets hit hard and the chute collapsed a second later. The aircraft gathered more speed, the ramp began to close, and the wheels rotated back into the wheel wells. I saw the nose go up and the bird began to climb for more altitude.
Tracers flew through the air as Russians shot at the C-130, but none came close. In a matter of a few minutes the aircraft was too high to be hit by ground fire and I lost it to view. The enemy ground fire alerted us to the Russians in the area and we had a good idea where they were too. Two machine guns were quickly positioned and the rest of the group began to unload the pallets.
Instead of taking the time to unbuckle the straps on the supplies, knife blades flashed and nylon straps were cut. As quickly as possible, boxes were handed out and we began to move the supplies into the trees, where others picked up the boxes and moved toward home base.
Minutes later the Russians hit us in what they might have called an attack, but it was poorly done, with half the troops not even firing their weapons at us. We returned fire and the machine guns began their tat-tat-tat.
The woman yelled orders and everyone left the pallets, and we all moved under the cover of the trees.
“Artillery in a few minutes. It happens every time.”
“No aircraft support?”
“No, not yet.”
I heard the loud crack and scream of the first round as it struck near the woods, way off target.
A minute later, after correcting the big guns, the next next few rounds were closer, but not actually on target and the pallets were not being destroyed, if that was the target. We calmly waited and were in little danger, unless a round fell short.
The battle might have seemed to have taken a long time for the Russians; being under fire from two machine guns is hard on the nerves, but it was all over in much less than 15 minutes. The enemy was seen moving toward the gravel road and we moved off to cut cross country to our base camp. As we moved, I saw no attempt to mine or booby trap our trail and I'd bring it up to the commander when I spoke with him. It was near noon before we entered a small clearing in a dense part of the forest.
I was asked to wait by the female leader, who I discovered was a Captain, and waited under a huge tree for the Commander to appear. As I waited, I looked the troops over and none had that hungry dog-assed tired look of Southern partisans. Maybe the war here had been less blood and contact rare, and if so, I'd soon change that.
“Colonel, I'm Major James Hall and I'm the overall commander here. We're not much, just a company of mixed partisans. I understand you've been assigned as the three state commander and we are directly under your control.”
I shook his hand and said, “I'm actually glad to be here. I'd like for you to
arrange a meeting with some of the commanders of other units in the three states, so I only have to cover my information once. I expect to make some changes, some of which may be liked and others that will not be liked. Today, in about an hour, call all of your line Sergeants and above together and I want to speak with them.”
“I can do that, sir. In the meantime, come with me and I'll show you where your quarters are, where we eat and where some of the more important parts of our organization are located.”
“Do you have showers?”
“Our showers are 55 gallon drums, sir, with one for males and the other females. Holes are punched in the bottom of the drums and as water enters, it sprays out overhead. No water is heated and our living facilities are tents, which is much better than some units. Our toilets are outhouses about 200 feet behind the tents. Again, some for males and others for females.”
My quarters were nice and I shouldn't have complained, but I did, “Too big. Cut my space in half and give someone who will work for me the other half. If I have a clerk typist, give the area to them.”
“Yes, sir.” Then, glancing at his watch, Hall said, “Time for your meeting with my NCOs and officers.”
The meeting room was a huge tent, and I wondered how they could live in tents if they were actively after the Russians. It seemed to me neither side was pressing a war home here.
I arrived in the tent right to the minute and made my way to the front as everyone stood at attention. I suspected a few were late, because I was starting to have some bad feelings about this whole region.
At the podium, I said, “Be seated.”
Two junior officers then entered the tent and I said, “Excuse me, but both of you officers are late. When I call a 1300 meeting, I expect you in your seats before that time, and not for you to arrive around that time. Now, please leave the briefing and be on time for the next one. If this gets to be a habit, I'll be speaking to each of you.”
I heard some mumbling, so I knew those in seats were listening to me closely. Over the next ten minutes I covered who I was, why I was there and then I start explaining what I expected out of the unit. I could see some were shocked and others happy with my words.
The Fall of America | Book 7 | Airborne Page 3
