by W. R. Benton
“All are here, except Wamsley and I suspect that's his leg roasting on the spit, because he was killed earlier.”
My people moved from the shelters and Sandra ran into my arms, her relief clearly seen on her face.
“Oh, am I happy to see you, baby.” she said and then kissed me.
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine, but they raped Joyce a few times. I suspect they left me alone because I've been mutilated.”
“Look her over and let me know if she's okay to move. I have no idea who heard all of this noise.” I ignored her comment about the mutilation, and just because she was no longer beautiful didn't mean I didn't love her. I would talk to her about it later this night.
Silverwolf called out, “It looks like all of our gear and weapons are over here, covered by canvas. I also discovered a pit where bones and skulls were thrown after being eaten. Must be twenty folks in this pit.”
“Everyone, look around and see if there is anything we need. I doubt there is, but you can never tell.”
A few minutes later, Sandra neared and said, “She's pissed, but no serious physical damage was done to her.”
“Alright, everyone, find your gear on the ground in front of the canvas, saddle up and let's move. I expect to have visitors any minute now. Hurry!”
Minutes later, Kelly called out, “I have headlights of three or four vehicles near the school.”
“Let's go, and now!” I called out and moved for the woods.
We'd gone perhaps a half a mile when I heard the barking of a dog. I moved to Joyce, who had a night vision scope she could mount on her sniper rifle and said, “I want you and Arwood to remain behind to take that dog out. Take out as many Russians as you can too, but don't stay long. Remove the dog, raise some hell and then leave. Understood?”
She gave me a weak smile and said, “I'll do it. Arwood, you're to come with me.”
As soon as she moved away with the Sergeant, I said, “Slow our pace down some and let her do her job.”
We moved at a slower pace and few minutes later I heard the sharp crack of her rifle, followed by 5 more shots, all within about 15 seconds. Then silence.
CHAPTER 8
Ivanov paced in his large office, and was livid that a small group of armed peasants had forced him to remove some of his men away from the staging area for the pending chemical attack. Trains had been attacked, warehouses broken into; supplies stolen, Russian soldiers murdered and three small convoys were completely wiped out, with the soldiers all dead and all supplies taken. His frustration level was high, but knew the mass killing of Americans he'd ordered was probably what caused this mess to start with. It all started the day after the mass murder of the prisoners from the gulag.
Private Popolov stuck his head in the door and said, “Colonel, a Senior Sergeant on Colonel Vasiliev's staff just phoned and they found the remains of about a dozen civilians, man eaters is what he called them, in a small village called Pearl.”
“Tell them to track the killers, if they can. I am sure no Russian troops attacked the man eaters. The more they eat the less we will have to fight and kill later.”
“Uh, sir, they did track the attackers, but lost a dog, and five men, one of which was a Captain. The only survivor of the dog team reported they were all killed by sniper fire.”
“You mean to tell me, a single person with a rifle, killed five of our men? Killed five highly trained Russian soldiers? What in the hell is going on? Call Vasiliev and tell him I want his arse in my office in ten minutes!” Then realizing he was asking a Private to give an order to a Lieutenant Colonel, he said, “Never mind, Private Popolov, I will handle this. Continue with your duties.”
“Yes, sir.” the Private replied, and then closed the door.
Opening his top right drawer on his desk, the Colonel pulled out a bottle of good vodka and poured a water glass half full. Then placing the opened bottle on his desk, he picked up the phone and said, “Give me Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev's office.”
Sitting in his overstuffed chair, he placed his feet up on the desk, held the phone to his left ear, and his vodka glass in his other hand.
“This is Colonel Vasiliev's office, Senior Sergeant Blankov speaking. How may I assist you?”
“This is Colonel Ivanov and I want to speak with your boss. Tell him it is urgent that we speak.”
“Yes sir, please hold for a moment as I get him, sir.”
A minute or so later, “This is Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev, sir.”
“Pasha, we have a problem. I consider it a big problem and I want answers.”
“Ask, sir, and I will tell you what I know. However, keep in mind my information comes from my chief of intelligence, Major Sambor Borisovich, and I feel he is on top of things.”
“I will judge how well your Major is doing, Colonel, by the answers you provide me.”
“Yes, sir. What are your questions?”
“How in the hell did we lose five men and an expensive tracking dog to only one American?”
“This one American was a highly trained sniper and the shots were all made from a tree, and at a distance well over a thousand meters.”
“Have our men not been trained to kill snipers? I can understand a sniper killing one man, but not five and a dog! I want you to get with Major Sokolov, the troop commander and find out what in the hell went wrong! Have the bodies been recovered?”
“Oh, yes, sir and each of the dead had an ace of spades in his mouth. Borisovich told me the partisan unit has been active since we first arrived here, sir.”
“I have been briefed on them and I want all of them dead. Now, I want you and your staff to get off your lazy asses and start earning your pay, or so help me, Pasha, you will either end up missing or be placed in a gulag with the rest of the prisoners. I am sure, in a gulag, the prisoners will tear you apart in a matter of just a few short minutes. Do you fully comprehend what I want?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then see it and do the job now.”
“I will, sir.” Vasiliev said and then the phone went dead. That sonofabitch kills a thousand people and doesn't expect the resistance to retaliate? he thought, and then called for a staff meeting.
An hour later, numerous squads were headed to the field, looking for the resistance group now called 'The Aces' by the Russian grunts. The weather was terrible, minus 12 degrees Celsius, snowing and with wind gust to 60 KPH. In the helicopter, Captain Vanya and his men were fighting to stay warm. Both doors were off the helicopter and the slipstream was cold. His group was to be the point for a much larger force searching for “The Aces,” and he did not look forward to meeting the Americans. Like many of the lower ranking Russians, he was tired of this war, and while a veteran of many battles, he saw the American War as not winnable. Except as a professional soldier, his job was to follow orders and not question politics.
One of the gunners turned to him and held his hand up, showing 3 fingers. That meant in three minutes they'd land in the old football field at the Pearl High School. The Captain nodded in understanding.
As the chopper started it's descent a couple of minutes later, Vanya yelled for his men to lock and load their weapons. As his troops prepared for the landing, the Captain pulled his pistol and chambered a round. While he didn't expect any resistance when they landed, a smart soldier was always prepared for a fight.
When the wheels touched the long grasses of the field, the ground troops poured from the aircraft, and went into defensive positions once past the rotating blades overhead. As soon as all the men were unloaded, the helicopter pilot applied more power and the aircraft slowly rose into the air. Within a couple of minutes, it was quiet. Sergeant Ilyich and his dog, Anton, were waiting orders.
The radio man neared and handed the handset the Captain, who said, “That is correct, we took no ground fire and the landing zone is cold. I repeat, the landing zone is cold. Copy. Out.” He handed the radio back and said, “Private Iona, you are on point and P
rivate Melor, you bring up our rear. I want both of you a good 100 meters from the main group. Move to where the dog was killed first, Iona, and once we look around we will try to track the killers.”
Iona moved forward, his eyes scanning the ground for trip wires, vines and mines, as he also attempted to scan the surrounding area to prevent ambush. His stress level was high, but after a few hours, someone else would rotate to his position and he'd be able to semi-relax. For right now though, he stayed alert and moved slowly.
The move to the spot where the dog was killed was uneventful and Iona was glad to take a small break as the Captain looked the area over closely. After a few minutes, he said, “Let us move now, but I want Private Melor beside the point man. Melor, I understand you were a trapper before you joined the army, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you track well?”
“Yes, I can track anything that lives. Do you have need of my skills, sir?”
“Soon you will see the tracks of the murderers who killed our men. I want you to follow them.”
“If it can be done, I will do it, sir.”
“Do the job professionally and you will not only get a quart of vodka, but a promotion to Junior Sergeant too. Our mission is important, so you may even get a medal from this, if you do it well.”
Smiling, Melor moved forward with Iona, and together they moved down a little used trail. After a few hundred meters, Melor said, “There are nine of them all total, but here, one moved away from the group. I suspect this was the sniper. They are moving on this trail for a reason, so they must know the area well. We must use caution now, because they are at the point they will start to plant mines and booby-traps.”
The Private grinned a little later when he saw the tracks of the sniper return to the others. By the shoe size, he knew the killer was a woman or a very young man, because the foot prints were small.
Half a mile later, Iona pointed to a thin fishing line stretched across the trail. Like he'd been trained, he stuck a stick in the middle of the trail for others to see the line and kept moving. Five minutes later he heard what sounded like a shotgun blast, followed by a piercing scream. As the team medic, Iona, left Melor on point and returned to the main unit.
Junior Sergeant Pavel was on the ground and blood was spurting from his groin area. The man had both hands over the injury, but wasn't even slowing the flow of crimson. Moving to the man, Iona gave Pavel a shot of morphine, pulled his medical bag forward and removed some bandages. Taking his scissors in hand, he began cutting the man's trousers off from around the wound.
He applied a bandage, wrapped the injury tightly and said, “He needs a helicopter to transport him to the hospital or he will die. I cannot stop the bleeding. He has lost both his penis and balls, as well as taken some buckshot in his lower stomach.
“Radioman, contact base and let them know we have a seriously injured man and require a helicopter now.” Captain Vanya said.
“Yes, sir.”
“How was he injured?” Iona asked.
Melor said, “The partisans had a trip wire across the trail, remember?”
“I still see the wire.”
“The wire is connected to nothing except tied between two trees. Buried in the ground on the other side of the wire there were 12 gauge shotgun shells, resting on nails. Pavel stepped on one. Most of the time the shells have small pellets but this one had a buckshot. He took the blast in the groin area and you see the results.” Melor said and then shook his head.
The Captain said, “Primitive at best, but it damned sure works.”
The radioman said, “Base is diverting a helicopter to use and it should be here in about ten minutes. We have been requested to move to a clearing.”
“Tell base we will be in a clearing off our left side.”
“Yes, sir.”
As they moved for the clearing, the dog alerted and Ilyich said, “Anton smells or senses danger this way. We need to move away and then approach the clearing from a different point.”
“Move down about 30 meters and lets try there.”
This time, the dog didn't alert and a few minutes later, the morphine now working, a sleepy Pavel was placed in the grass. It was then the whop-whop-whop of the helicopter blades were heard.
The radio man said, “They have us in sight and are coming in for the Sergeant.”
When the helicopter was about 10 meters from the ground, a tree on the edge of the clearing seemed to explode and the chopper wobbled a bit and then continued down.
The radioman said, “The blast was caused by a mine with fishing line strung across the clearing. When the helicopter pulled the line as it came down to land, it exploded. Minor damage to the aircraft but they want Pavel loaded now.”
The injured man was quickly loaded and off the helicopter flew.
“Melor on point and Ilyich, you are to be second. I want Private Varlam bringing up our rear. Let us move, we have spent too much time here.” Senior Sergeant Yefrem said.
Senior Sergeant Yakovich Yefrem was a bear of a man, near 240 pounds, standing six foot six inches, and solid muscle. He mostly controlled his men through intimidation, because of his huge size. While always wearing a mean expression, he was a mild man on the inside and always took excellent care of his men. More than once in this war he'd prayed or talked with a much younger man, as he held his head in his lap, waiting for death. He'd lost a little of his heart as each man died. On the other side, he was a typical Senior NCO and allowed little nonsense in his unit. He was tough on his men, but always fair. His fairness had earned him deep respect from his subordinates.
“Move as the Senior Sergeant ordered.” the Captain said as he realized he should have thought to give the order first.
The next few hours were uneventful but stress was hard on the man in front as they found a number of booby-traps. An hour before dusk, just as the Captain was about to stop for the night, Private Dima, who was on point returned and said in a whisper, “House about 30 meters from the woods; I see smoke coming from the metal stove pipe in the roof. Someone is in there.”
“How many levels is this house?” Yefrem asked.
“Up and down. Two floors, Senior Sergeant, but a small house.”
“You,” the Senior Sergeant said to Melor, “take Private Varlam and circle the place. Take your time and look for any sign of ambushes. Once you return, if all is clear, we will check the house out. Now, move.”
“What do you think?” the Captain asked as he met the Senior NCO's eyes.
“The place is likely occupied or booby-trapped. Either way, we must check it out.”
“Do we just kick the door off the hinges and barge in?”
“Sir, no disrespect intended, but you were not going to knock were you?”
The Captain laughed and replied, “No, of course not, but I have little combat experience in this country.”
“Have one of the men lob in a grenade and once it explodes, kick the door open and start killing. It is bloody sick work, but it kills well enough.”
Ten minutes later, Melor returned and said, “Saw some tracks leading from the house to the woods, but it was not possible to tell how many people made them.”
“Okay, when we get to the front door of the house, I will toss in a grenade. Once it explodes, then I want Private Yakim to kick the door in. Once the door is open, I want Ilyich, Iona, and Melor to check the second floor, while the rest of us will clear the bottom floor. Questions?”
Silence.
“Okay let us move and watch your distance between men. Hurry, it will be dark in about thirty minutes.” the Captain said and then moved forward.
All went well going to the house, with no sign they'd been sighted. Yakim moved to the door, gave it a hard kick and a wall of fire erupted, with an explosion that knocked all of the men to their backs. Yakim lay on the porch screaming in pain as his blood spurted high into he air. Some men moaned, another screamed with the Private, and as the dust started t
o settle the Senior Sergeant stood. He moved toward Yakim and yelled, “Medic!”
He squatted beside the mangled man and knew at first glance the boy would soon be dead. Iona moved to the downed man, met the Senior Sergeant's eye's and shook his head. Damn me, the Senior Sergeant thought, why did he not wait for me to throw a grenade in first? Why was he in such a hurry?
“Give him enough morphine, so he feels no pain.” Yefrem said and then moved to another downed man.
Iona gave Yakim a double dose of morphine and knew he was killing the man. His arms were blown off, one leg was gone and his intestines were loose ropes on the ground around him. He was whimpering like a wounded animal and calling for his mother. This is another man Mother Russia will soon get home in a metal box, Iona thought as he moved to the next man.
“Private Varnava!” The Captain screamed, “Take Private Varlam and check this house out and do the job properly. I suspect you will find no one, but for God's sake, watch what you touch and where you step. I am sure there are other traps.”
“Y . . . yes, sir.” Varnava said and then tapped Varlam on the shoulder.
The radioman neared and asked, “Should I contact base?”
“Wait until the hou—”
A loud explosion was heard on the second floor, followed a minute later by a pitiful warbling scream. The Captain and Senior Sergeant exchanges glances and then the officer said, “See what we have in there, Sergeant.”
“Yes sir.”
“How many men do you want?”
“None,” The Senior Sergeant replied, “I only want to watch out for me and I do not need a beginner along.”
Five long minutes passed after the Sergeant entered the building, but finally he called out to be heard over the screaming man, “Varlam is on the walls upstairs and not enough left of him to bury in a matchbox. Varnava is impaled in the chest with four vicious and long prongs. The ends are barbed, so I cannot just pull them out of him. He will bleed out shortly, sir.”
The Captain said, “Iona, see that Varnava dies with no pain.”