The Fall of America | Book 7 | Airborne

by Benton, W. R.

  I walked into my quarters, gave what I'd just seen some thought and then called out, “Radio!”

  “Yo!”

  “Get your ass in here, Thomas, and get Headquarters on the phone.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I smiled when the Sergeant entered my living space and began his phone chatter.

  “And the nature of our call, sir?”

  “I have a shopping list. Tell them we'll send it in code within a few minutes. It is essential I get everything on this list. Tell them things are heating up and quickly.”

  Smiling, the young man said, “Yes, sir.”

  A few minutes later he said, “Let me pull out my code book, sir, and we can start.”

  The next night, three pallets of gear arrived, along with some Russian shoulder launched missiles and enough NVGs and batteries for all of us, along with 5,000 spare batteries. More anti-personnel mines and C-4 was sent too. Soon, within this week, I'd start to send my squads out hunting Russians. I'd soon have Mother Russia crimson with rage, but I was unaware of this. Seems I came along and spoiled the perfect war zone assignment in America for the Russian troops. Now, they knew they had a war going on.

  Four nights later, I saddled up and moved into a line led by newly promoted Major Carla Simmons. She was short, with red hair, green eyes and even white teeth. Just by looking at her smile, I knew someone had paid thousands for dental work, because it was perfect. She was even tempered, unless angered, and untested in combat. I found her intelligent and motivated to be a good leader. This mission would change her, one way or the other.

  About four miles from us was a roadblock with a huge Russian tank, T-90, at 46 tons, and it was armed for bear. I wanted to see if my people could take it out of action. The entire mission was hers, from the planning through the execution. As we moved, we left booby traps behind us and used every trick in the book.

  We planted pressure mines on the dirt trail, toe poppers, fulcrum booby traps with sharpened spikes that would hit a person at chest level, trip mines with all kinds of surprises, and even a line across the trail that would pull a grenade from a can. The pin on the grenade was pulled, the grenade was slid into a can but the sides of the can kept the handle down, and then a line was attached to the grenade. A line was stretched across the trail and secured. It was about 4 inches above the walkway. An unsuspecting Russian would hit the line, pull the grenade from the can, the spoon would fly off, and the explosive was then armed. A timer allowed the explosive a zero to five second delay before exploding.

  When we were about 150 yards from the tank, Simmons had her team stop and then sent a single man forward to scout.

  When he returned the man said, “There's a Russian T-90 tank and a machine gun nest in the middle of the road, but I saw only three men moving around. No one was near the machine gun and all three men were sitting on the tank. I suspect they're the tank crew. I saw men sleeping under a tarp that made a crude lean-to. The canvas was attached to the side of the tank and angled downward with rocks holding it in place. I'm guessing maybe four men in the shelter. I know some were sleeping, because I heard them snoring.”

  “We'll launch a three sided attack against the tank. I want you, Sergeant, to attack toward the rear, I'll attack the front and Corporal Jones will attack the left side. Crawl forward as close as you can and then wait. At some point, my flamethrower will open for business. At that point, try to kill the three men on the tank, they probably are the crew, and get a couple of grenades down a hatch. Everyone needs to lower their night vision goggles and let's move.” Morgan said.

  It sounded too easy to me. Something would go wrong because it usually does, and I'd watch how she handled the stress.

  “Pike, since you're my sniper, hang back and kill any that seem to see us or that move for the machine gun.”

  “Will do.”

  Pike was short, five feet and three inches, and maybe twenty pounds overweight, or he may have been big boned. Due to our poor rations, we rarely had anyone overweight and no obesity at all. His hair was brown, his face cleanly shaven, and his teeth in poor shape. He had eyes like a wolf and they were constantly moving and scanning. Now, he moved off to get a good position.

  “We crawl to the tank.” Morgan said and then began to move.

  About twenty feet from the big beast, I heard a long burst of gunfire, followed almost immediately by a loud swoosh. The first burst of flame from the flamethrower hit the canvas the Russians were sleeping under and the second hit the top of the tank.

  The three Russians on the tank were engulfed in flames and each of the men in the tent had some of the jellied gas on them. As the three staggered on the tank, the screams were hideous and made the hairs on my neck stand out.

  “Shoot the men on the tank!” Morgan screamed.

  I heard three shots and all of the men dancing in the flames dropped. I saw one of our troops approach the tank and toss two grenades into both open hatches. One grenade was thrown right back out of the hatch and exploded just as it left the hatch. I saw the driver try to leave by his hatch, only he waited too long.

  The blast inside the tank was loud, and it knocked one of the burning bodies to the grasses. Guns were blasting away at the Russians who'd been in the tent. I suspected most were severely burned. Grenades exploded and men fell. The woman carrying our flamethrower ran forward and climbed up on the tank and sent two longs squirts of flames into the driver’s open hatch. Surprisingly, even as she jumped down and ran for cover, a loud scream was heard, followed by an explosion.

  Suddenly the tank blew and the turret was thrown a good one hundred feet into the air when the fuel went up. Now secondary explosions were heard. We stayed back and under cover as the compressed air tanks and ammunition cooked off, and black oily smoke joined the greasy flames as they rolled inside of each other as they rose.

  Once the flames died down a little we rushed forward, and rifle shots followed by screams were heard as more Russians died. We reached the machine gun, found it in perfect shape and so was the ammo, so we took the gun, making three of the guns for us on this trip. One of the burnt men was still burning from the waist down, and his face was a black melted mess as I slipped an Aces card into his mouth and then pushed it closed. Now they'd know they were up against professionals once again.

  We even found a mortar and cases of ammo, which explained why we'd killed over a dozen men. You can figure 2 or 3 men for the machine gun, 3 for the tank and about 4 for the mortar. I'm sure a few were assigned there because they were infantry and the roadblock needed guards.

  “Don't forget to booby trap about half the bodies and remember to replace some of the ammo with our super-duper ammo filled with C-4.” We'd taken about 40 cartridges back in camp and replaced the powder with C-4 plastic explosive. I knew from experience it'd ruin someone's day if fired.

  “Rogers, see the Russian wounded cared for. Wrap them up and give each of the seriously wounded a shot of morphine. Alright, I want everyone ready to leave in five minutes, so take what gear we need and let's get ready to move.”

  Ten minutes later, as we moved down the trail, we heard a chopper. I prayed they had no infrared on board or we were dead meat. I knew sooner or later we'd run into some that did and when that happened, we'd have folks die.

  “Looking in grids, so they're looking for us.” I noticed a front with gray clouds moving in and suspected rain.

  “The second one flew by us, so it must be headed to the tank.” Morgan said.

  “Stop and crawl up close to a tree.” I ordered and moved toward a giant pine. I watched the others move to trees as well.

  A spotlight came on, but they were in front of us and not close. As they worked a grid, I removed a Chinese Ground-to-Air missile and waited. I was the only one on the team that had ever downed an aircraft with a missile and I'd hit jet planes and choppers. It's fairly easy if you can remain somewhat in the open long enough to sight them in, but that is difficult to do at times.

  The a
ircraft moved closer and I locked onto the target, unsure if my lock on caused any alarm systems to respond on the aircraft or not. I saw no evasive action taken. I then squeezed the trigger and saw my missile strike the aircraft in the engine and explode.

  There was no huge fireball, but the aircraft immediately sounded different and after an instant, it began to spin horizontally as the pilot attempted to put the bird on the ground. He was on fire and, when he was about twenty feet from the ground, the blades struck the trees and down he went to land almost dead center on our trail. When he struck the ground, rear first, the fuel tanks must have ruptured because a huge fireball made for the sky. There came a loud explosion and oily black smoke rose for the low gray clouds. Two men ran from the aircraft in flames and the co-pilot opened his door and stepped out. The flames from burning fuel had not reached him yet.

  Seeing one of us, the co-pilot raised his pistol to aim, but it was his last act on earth. We opened up on him and the burning men, dropping all in seconds in a hailstorm of lead.

  “Move, move! Go around the aircraft!” I screamed before the second bird arrived. As we moved, I heard the aircraft nearing. I saw it fly overhead, but it didn't even slow down. It banked and returned. Two spotlights came on, most likely mounted on machine guns and they quickly located the trail.

  “Off the trail and now!” Morgan screamed.

  Shit, she's seen something, I thought and a second later, one of the big guns began to fire. By the light of the spotlight, I saw clumps of soil thrown six feet in the air as a Type 67 machine gun fired. I watched in shock as it continued to hit off the trail and then blood, gore and bones replaced the clumps of dirt. One of us had just been killed. The aircraft hovered a few minutes and then I heard Morgan yell, “Fire!”

  Everyone but me fired, and I was trying to remember who had the other Chinese surface to air missile, but I gave up. It would take time for me to remember names and faces in a new group. The aircraft rocked and began to smoke. When the firing stopped, I heard two lone shots by us and figured the sniper was trying his luck. The bird suddenly nosed down and began to move forward as it gained speed. I knew then it was going to gain altitude, but I had no idea if anyone on the thing was dead or wounded. Slowly it got higher than the trees and then limped south, still smoking.

  “Check our people, Sergeant.” Morgan said as she walked toward me.

  “I screwed that up, huh?”

  “Not really, but an experienced crew working with jets would have pulled up with the first shots fired at him and called in the fast movers to kill us. I think he was new to combat, so running into us was as much of a surprise to him as to us. He reacted slowly, and poorly too. We both made mistakes. Now, lets move and return to base camp. Be sure to booby trap the trail as we travel.”

  Of the three troops hit by the Type 67 machine gun, the 7.62 rounds tore them to pieces, and all were dead. Even with three dead I considered it a very good night, and the price paid for destroying a heavy piece of armor and chopper as light. I didn't realize how cold I was getting to be and I now thought of the price we paid for everything; human life was slowly losing it's value to me. Three of us were now dead and I didn't even ask for their names.

  Chapter 6

  Colonel Yakovich paced in front of the table during his morning staff meeting. He was livid. He'd lost a valuable chopper, four crew members, and then a T-90 along with two squads of infantry and a machine gun nest. He'd messaged Moscow, as directives said he should, and now he waited for the ass chewing he'd get via message or phone call. The returning chopper, which was badly damaged, had reported three or four dead partisans but he had yet to confirm anything. He had a company of infantry inbound on helicopters now and would soon have a radio report.

  The hospital commander stepped in and took his empty chair.

  “Well?” the Commander asked.

  “Of the two wounded from the damaged helicopter, the aircraft commander just died from a single round to the head. The door gunner will live, but his dancing days are over unless he learns to dance with only one leg. I took it off at the knee. We were able to save his left eye, but the right one he will never see out of again. I've booked him on the next flight to Moscow.”

  “Intelligence, you are sure the terrorists were only at a squad level?”

  “It was no larger, sir. I got a report just before this meeting that showed less than 12 troops. Something has stirred them up, and I think it is Williamson.”

  “I dread a call from Moscow because the General ate me alive over the damned train we lost, and here it is just days later and I have lost a tank, chopper, machine gun nest, and no idea how many troops. He may have me shot.”

  “No, trust me, your losses are small compared to the rest of America. They may not even call you or mention it. However, we need to turn aggressive and go on the attack. Now, we found two of these cards in the mouths of dead men.” He tossed two bloody Aces of Spades onto the table and said, “Your biggest nightmare is indeed here, Colonel, and in the flesh. It seems to me, Aces as a partisan unit has relocated here, or Williamson is starting a new group. In any case, we will soon be up to our asses in partisans. I suggest we get all available troops out in the bush and let the hunt begin. I think that is what Moscow will want too, so beat them to the punch and do it on your own.”

  “Yes, of course, and see it is done immediately. I want all aircraft ready to respond in a moments notice and I want some jet aircraft assigned to us. Base operations, you make the assignment of jets happen. I want our ground troops to work with our aircraft and let us make things come about.”

  “When do you want the infantry out into the field, sir?”

  “Within two hours. In the meantime, Base Ops, get me a helicopter so I can go see our downed aircraft and destroyed tank.”

  “Yes sir, and when do you want to leave?”

  “Ten minutes, so I can arrive while my troops are still on the ground. This meeting is dismissed, and Base Ops, use the phone in here to get me some aircraft.”

  “Uh, yes sir.”

  An hour later, the Commander stood by the shell of a tank, met the eyes of a doctor who'd flown out earlier and asked, “Are you sure the resistance bandaged our wounded and administered morphine to those in pain?”

  “Positive, sir. I think our enemy is suggesting we fight a humane fight, sir. I tend to agree with him.”

  “I am not sure what to think, except my enemy is an exceptionally intelligent man or else he has been around a great deal. War here can turn savage, or so I have heard, like it did in Mississippi, with no quarter given or expected.”

  The doctor watched the Colonel's face closely and prayed the man was not vicious and bloodthirsty like some commanders or more Russian boys and girls would go home in an aluminum box.

  “It is savage enough on its best days, sir.” the Chaplain said.

  Yakovich wore no rank, no one saluted and, as a result, anyone watching wouldn't know him from a private soldier.

  Pike, the sniper, was high in a pine tree a thousand yards out, looking for someone to slip up and show him the ranking man or woman. He'd been there all morning and most of the afternoon, waiting to take that one important shot. So far, he had no idea who was in charge.

  What's this? he thought. This young man snapped to attention while speaking to that older man. He lined his cross hairs up on the older man's back, took a deep breath, and as he released the air from his lungs, the rifle fired. The shot was loud and everyone went to ground.

  Master Sergeant Rykov Adam Yegorovich took the 30.06 bullet high, just above his breast. It hit his shoulder and he felt a burning poker go through his body. He was knocked on his ass in the mud and lay still, knowing any movement would bring a killing shot.

  “Medic!” Someone screamed, and no sooner had the man knelt beside the Sergeant than a bullet struck him in the middle of the chest. He dropped without a shudder or movement, dead. Two more men tried for the Master Sergeant and both died. Finally, seeing men
searching for him, Pike left the tree and moved silently deeper into the woods.

  Movement was seen, shots were fired, but the sniper got away.

  The Master Sergeant finally stood on his own power and began shouting orders.

  “Sergeant, that is enough, I have a helicopter coming for you now. Doctor, see our Master Sergeant gets morphine for his pain and I want you to return with him. I will spend the night out here with our troops.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Near dark, the Russians dug in and began to eat their supper. The Colonel had stew, liver pate, cheese, crackers and two additional meat and vegetable dishes from his Green Frog ration. For dessert he had a chocolate spread, walnut spread, and a cup of lukewarm tea. He could have had his meal hot, but with a sniper around a fire wasn't a good idea. He knew it would give him indigestion, because the old rations always did. He could have had his meal flown out, but he wanted his troops to see he could eat and do what they did in the field.

  “Fifty percent alert. Half sleep while the other half guard.” a Captain yelled out. “If I catch both of you asleep, I will kill you. Now, buddy up, and goodnight.”

  The Colonel went to sleep near the radioman.

  It was near 0300 hours when the radio operator woke him and said, “Someone is getting their asses creamed, sir, listen.”

  Using the headset, Yakovich heard a fierce battle taking place.

  “Hello any aircraft, hello any aircraft, this is Oscar One and I am under attack by a good two companies of partisans,” It would later show less than a full company of partisans had attacked, “and they are attempting to blow the dam.”

  “Oscar One, this is Base One, and you are to hold at all costs. If the dam goes, you had better hope the resistance kills you, because if they do not, I will. Protect that dam!” Then he turned to the radioman and said, “Get me base operations on this thing, and now.”

  A minute later, the soldier handed the handset to the Colonel who said, “Igor, Senkin here, and I want everything that can get in the air north and over the dam. It is currently under attack and if it goes, so does the base and any number of towns and villages down stream.”