"Good."
Once in the limo, Desmond said, "There is a phone back there with you, Joy, so call the General and let him know we're head his way."
She picked the phone up, dialed the number and then said, "John? This is Joy and we're about half the way to you."
"I just got off the phone with the Russian General and they are preparing him for transfer right now. He estimates we have maybe five minutes left. They'll be moving for the aircraft shortly."
"What's his room number?"
"Two Oh Seven, and you remember what he looks like?"
"We just pulled into the parking lot. I'm headed to his room and I know what he looks like. Love you." she said and closed the phone.
As they waited for the elevator, the door opened, and out came General Yanovich, on a stretcher, and three armed guards, with two medical personnel.
"Stop!" the General said. Then looking at Joy he asked, "Do you have a peace agreement for me to sign?"
"Yes, sir, I do." She handed the half a ream of paper to him and then continued, "Sign on the last page, sir, above your name."
Looking around, the General asked, "Anyone have a pen?"
One guard produced one and said, "I do, sir." He extended his arm to the General.
He took the pen, signed and said, "Now may peace come to both nations. Thank you, Joy. Okay, let us get on the aircraft."
"Let's go tell John the good news." Desmond said with a big smile.
"Yes, he'll be so happy. The war has been so hard on America and I think we only have about 30% of the population we had before the fall."
"Come on, let's go see him. Time to celebrate, and I brought something special too." He lifted the flap on his pocket to show off a pint of bourbon.
They found John eating his lunch and Joy said, "John, your peace treaty has been signed by General Yanovich, and you need to sign on the last page. At the moment you lift your pen, the truce prior to the withdrawal will go into effect."
"Give me that thing. As soon as I sign, I will notify our Headquarters and my General of the truce. Yanovich will have the pilot notify Moscow he said once they get airborne. Hopefully all fighting will stop soon. It may take a few days for the word to get out, but eventually every one will know peace, of a sort, has come to America."
As he was signing the agreement, Joy asked, "What do you mean 'peace of a sort' ?"
"Joy, there may be more fighting with the different political parties in the states. All will want to step up and run the country, from Communists to Constitutional Conservatives."
"Oh, we can't allow a Communist government to take over."
"Here, it's signed. Desmond, peace has come to America and I want you to make sure the world's Press knows this. The Russians will be gone from America within six months. Then, I need a place to make a classified phone call to my boss."
"I'll get back to you in a few hours. I'll see both are done."
"Good, now, Joy, fetch me a nurse and let me see about getting out of here. I can't work from a hospital bed."
Joy left and Desmond said, "She's a real catch, General."
"Yes, she is and with peace coming, we might be able to settle down together. I worry about the different political groups who want power, but of course I want freedom for everyone. Our differences may bring a Civil War."
"It could, and if not, it'll be close. The Communists and the members of the New World Order all know there will never be a better time than when our peace is the weakest to take control of America."
"Go and get the word out. Then find me a telephone. I need to get out of this bed and get some things done."
"How is your pain level?"
"Not bad. I have a little pain when I try to walk, but if the doctors won't give me any pain medication, I'll drink whiskey. Go now."
"Yes, sir. Just don't try to do too much. I'm gone." Desmond walked to the door as John pulled out his IV, and disconnected all the wires to his body. He then stood on wobbly legs and began getting dressed.
It was then an excited nurse, with Joy behind her, entered and said, "Monsieur, what are you doing?"
"I am a diplomat and I have things to do."
"You must stay in the bed."
"No, I am leaving the hospital and now."
"No, you cannot leave."
"Sorry, but I am leaving, and you can get me some pain pills for when I need them or I'll just drink whiskey. The choice is yours and I don't care which I do for the pain." John said and then grunted in pain as he slipped his trousers on.
"I will get the doctor!"
"Do that. I am here as a diplomat and some things I need to do are more important than my safety. Lives depend on how fast I can get the word out of peace in America." John slipped his shirt on.
The nurse stormed out as John said, "Let's go. Desmond is running my errands so we'll have to take a cab."
As they were leaving a doctor rushed in and asked, "Where are you going, Monsieur?"
"I am here as the head of a peace meeting with the Russians. They have signed an agreement, so I must get the word out to the world. Getting that word out is more important than me staying in bed or even being alive for that matter. Soldiers on both sides may still be dying."
"I see. How many have died in America?"
"Millions, and no more should have to die now, we have peace."
Handing John a small piece of paper he said, "Stop at the pharmacy on the first floor and pick up this pain killer. Watch for bleeding and make sure you do not break any stitches. If so, return to the hospital."
"I will do that." John said, grabbed the prescription and moved from the room. Soon he had his medication and was in the cab. He knew right at this minute, some men on either side were about to kill their enemies. His goal was to stop all the fighting and right now, if possible.
Chapter 10
Senior Sergeant Filippovna moved through the woods as quietly as a mouse. His mission was important, and one that had to be completed as soon as possible. He was on point and he'd move forward a little, then stop and listen. Just as he moved his right leg as he stepped forward, he heard a click.
Shit, I am standing on a mine. The minute I step off, I will be blown to hell and back, he thought as his mind flooded with fear. He turned slightly and motioned for the Captain to come to him.
"What do you have?" the Captain asked when he neared.
"I am standing on a mine. I heard it click as my right food settled on top of it. If I move, I am a dead man." the Senior Sergeant was sweating now, but the temperature was not hot or even warm.
"I will try to get a rock and place it on your foot. While I look for a large enough rock, you unlace that boot. Once the rock is in place, you can slide your foot slowly from the boot."
"Do you think it will work?"
"I have done it before with no problems for me."
"Okay, but hurry, I am not real comfortable like I am."
"I would guess you’re not comfortable and that is normal, comrade. Just relax and let me look for a rock big enough."
Minutes later, Captain Vitaliy returned with a rock that must have weighed forty pounds or more.
"Is your boot unlaced?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Let me place this rock on the toe of your boot and lean it toward your leg. When I tell you to move, move very slowly and allow the weight of the rock to transfer to your boot. Ready."
"No, but I do not have a better idea. Here I go." Very slowly a half inch at a time, Filippovna worked his foot from the boot, which was difficult because of the weight from the rock on his leg. Suddenly, his foot popped out and he fell to the ground, expecting an explosion, but he heard nothing.
"The rock is wobbling so quickly move down the trail." the Captain ordered.
They’d just met up with the rest of the squad when there was an explosion, followed by a cloud of brown dust and gray smoke rising to the sky from where they'd left the rock.
The Senior Sergeant quivered now, knowing he came so c
lose to dying.
"Did the mine you used the rock on before blow up too?"
"Yes, and while it killed the man I was trying to help, I walked away with no injuries."
The Senior Sergeant just stared at the Captain.
Then, smiling, Captain said, "Filippovna, you have point again."
The Sergeant expected it because it was the best way to get him back to normal. In Spetsnaz there were no easy days, except an occasional day off. He stepped out and started doing as he'd been trained. He made his mind think of other things, such as booby traps, other mines, and trip wires.
The Sergeant's day was exceptionally long, so when the Captain called it a day, he relaxed and when he neared the group, people were falling where they stood. Most were tired and a couple were asleep but the Sergeant was more hungry than tired. He opened a Green Frog and began eating the food cold. He'd just taken his second bite when one of the guards ran to the group and said, "Americans, it looks like two companies at least, and they are heading right for this place."
"Hide, and do it now!" the Captain yelled.
People scurried in all directions, but still tried to hide and form a loose defensive position. While they may have been surprised, they were still professionals.
Five minutes later they heard the Americans coming. The Senior Sergeant felt his heart pounding in his chest. He began to sweat from the fear building up inside of him and a small animal felt like it was chewing on his stomach. He knew he was the best trained man in the world, but his thinking did little good. He understood that even an idiot could discover and kill him, so he pulled his knife and made ready.
I will not be taken alive, he thought. I will never return to a POW cage.
Most of the men on his team were fluent in at least one language and for most that language was English. But, for some it was Spanish, French, or in the case of Junior Sergeant Abdul Lateef el-Murad-Nyusha, the language was Arabic. The Sergeant listened to a couple of men talking as they neared.
"What makes the Captain think there are Russians near here? I've been fighting them for six months and I've yet to see even a dead one."
"Someone monitoring the Russian radio frequencies last night picked up a Spetsnaz squad near here. It was when they made their nightly position call in. The Captain kept them on the route they were heading and added 15 miles."
"It's an hour before dusk, did he ever figure they'd be in a RON position by now?"
"I have no idea how the man thinks, but I agree, they're probably long gone. You need to drop back now and pull drag, because if he sees you here with me, we'll both get in trouble."
The man dropped back, as the other men moved forward. Any minute, the Sergeant expected to hear shots, but it remained quiet. Minutes later he heard a noise and when he glanced in that direction he spotted a man tracking his footprints in the dirt. He held his knife ready and when the man was almost on top of him, he pulled the American's feet out from under him. When he struck the hard packed earth, the Sergeant stabbed him to the hilt of the knife three times. The man attempted to scream, but the noise wouldn't come out, because his body would not obey his mind. He began making moaning and groaning sounds because of the deep soul cutting pain he felt. His eyes were pleading for the Sergeant to not hurt him again. As Filippovna met his eyes, the light in them dimmed until it went out, and while open, his eyes were unseeing.
"Move off to the East and now. Keep low and move at a jog." the Captain ordered.
Then moving to the Sergeant, the Captain asked, "Dead?"
"Yes, sir. I had no choice. I am just glad he was the last man in the group."
"They will probably not miss him until hours from now or until tonight. Let us move, and Putinov, you are on point. Come to a heading of 260 and keep it, until I change it, understood?"
"Yes, sir." Then the young private stepped off and pulled his compass.
About an hour later, they came to a well used trail, so the point man froze and sent for the Captain.
"Roll across it. That way there will be no prints to find later. Keep moving."
Most were across the trail, when Corporal Ivanovna rolled slightly higher on the trail than the others, and in the middle of the trail there was a loud gunshot. A shotgun shell resting on a nail fired and took the young man in the middle of his back. Junior Sergeant Artur Yurienvna, who was the units medic, moved to the man's side and, meeting the eyes of the Captain, he shook his head.
"Kill his pain." the officer said.
"Yes, sir, I will take good care of him." Yurienvna said, and slowly shook his head. He knew the injury was fatal and he had just been told to overdose the wounded Ivanovna. He filled the syringe and stuck the wounded man in the left arm. Blood was pooling under his back now, but a hole the size of a man's fist was in Ivanovna's chest and not even a hospital could save him with this injury. He slowly administered the medication and then waited for it to put the man to sleep. Morphine made most folks sleepy but in this case the patient would never wake up, and it was a painless way to go.
Once Ivanovna closed his eyes, quivered twice, and the medic said, "We can move now, sir. He will never open his eyes again in our lifetime.”
"Is he dead?"
"Not yet, but he will be within five minutes."
"We will wait. I will not leave him until he is gone. He deserves at least this much. We are Spetsnaz and care for our people."
"Yes, sir."
"Captain, Headquarters for you." The radioman said and handed the handset to him.
"Go Cougar."
"Is this Python One?"
"Uh, roger that. What can I do for you?"
"How close are you to your target?"
"Should be at target tonight, near where we will rest overnight (RON).”
"Copy tonight. Wait one. Cougar One wants to talk."
"Roger."
"Python, this is Cougar One. This mission you are on never happened, understood? I will have a paper trail established for you that shows you and your men were in South Africa or someplace when your mission was carried out."
"Uh, copy."
"This is probably my last chance to hurt the Americans on one of the last days of the war. Revenge is sweet."
"War? End? I am confused, sir."
"Never mind. I'll brief you when you return. I want the bodies of your dead recovered from the battlefield. If possible, remove them, understood?"
"Not really, sir, but I will follow orders. It is imperative if the mission is canceled or you change your mind, you must let me know by 2100. After that all will be in place and we will not be near a radio. Copy One?"
"Copy, Python. Good luck."
"Thank you, sir. Python One, out."
"Senior Sergeant, who do you think is the best on point of the squad?"
"All of us are well above average, sir, but I would say Golubov Lavr is the absolute best. This is my second tour with him and he is like an animal on point. He smells, sees, and hears things you and I would never notice."
"Sergeant Golubov Lavr!"
"Sir?"
"You are my point man. Move now, and come to a heading of 280. Maintain that heading until dark. Everyone else, let us move. We have a mission to complete."
The rest of the day was uneventful and an hour before dusk they moved into a thick grove of oak trees. They were released to eat and rest.
"Radioman, any message traffic or orders for us?" the Senior Sergeant asked.
"Not much. Three other Spetsnaz units were extracted by helicopter near 1500. I heard an operator ask if the war was really over."
"And, the response?"
"No one could confirm it on the radio. I know they were meeting this week in Paris, but the outcome was not in the news before we left. So, I do not know what happened."
"Then, why are we at a target and have a mission? I think they would call us back if we had peace." Sergeant Filippovna said.
"No, no treaty has been signed by either side, yet. They may be close, but it ha
s not been finalized. I am sure the Colonel would have said something when we spoke today." the Captain said.
"Maybe he would have." The Sergeant said under his breath.
"What is that, Sergeant? You do not think he would have told us and recalled us from the mission if a treaty had been signed?"
"Sir, I really do not know. He and I have not shared a bottle of vodka since I have been in the army, and that has been 12 years next month. I know some officers would let their men finish their missions because they are hungry for that last promotion or medal. The Americans know that some units will not get word the war is over for days after the word was put out. So, some attacks may still occur within a few days."
"Well, the only thing I know is we have been assigned a mission and I have not been called back, and know of no solid reason to not follow orders. Everyone back to back as we eat and sleep. I want us up and moving at 0100 hours. The guard will wake us at midnight. Radioman, listen for a recall message and after 2100 hours, turn your radio off. It will remain off until we see the results of our attack. If we are successful, let Cougar know by saying Touchdown, three times. At that time we will scatter in the winds, maybe, and meet back at the base. Questions?" The Captain asked.
Silence.
When there were no questions, he said, "Eat, pee, and get some sleep."
Midnight arrived early but all were awake now as the Captain said, "Gentlemen, our target tonight is an American Nuclear Power Plant. It is not operational, but if we can blow it they will spend years cleaning this area once peace comes. We will attempt to blow it with a very small suitcase nuke and it will be big enough to totally destroy the facility and add fallout to the winds, which will kill even more Americans."
Then, thinking, Captain Vitaliy said, "Radioman, contact the base and let them know we are about to plant the bomb. Ask if the mission is still a go."
"Yes, sir." He immediately contacted base and everyone listened to his words closely, hoping their war was truly over.
"Copy Cougar." Then turning to the Captain he said, "The mission is still on. No mention of peace or standing down. Officially we do not know if there is peace or not."
"I am on point. Once in place, most of you will provide security for us. Sergeant Filippovna, Yurienvna, and I will set the bomb. Once the timer is set, we cannot stop it without a set of keys, which were not given to me. Our biggest concern will be distance as we rush into the wind. In all cases we will only survive if we move into the wind. By doing that, the fallout will not touch us. We need to keep aware of the winds as we make our way to the extraction location."
The Fall of America | Book 10 | No Winners Page 11