The Fall of America: Winter Ops

by W. R. Benton

  I made my way slowly to the man and squatted beside him. At first I didn't see anything, but finally I spotted a thin nylon line stretched between some brush. I waved him back, moved forward, and discovered a Russian hand grenade in a ration can, pin pulled and spoon held in place by the can. The line was secured to the neck of the grenade and the other end to a bush. The line was about six inches above the ground and all it would take is for someone to walk into the line, pull the grenade out of the can, and depending on the timing on the explosive, it would detonate. I marked the line with a stick and motioned Kerr forward.

  A few short minutes later we were moving once again. It was hard to say who placed the booby-trap and while we placed most of them, the Russians did as well. With the Russians, it was usually a pressure mine or they'd spray an area with cluster bombs. While we had mine detecting gear, most units didn't carry it due to weight. If given a choice, most would carry more bullets instead and it made sense in my mind. We rarely ran across a lot of mines, which would justify the gear, and since we were usually in Russian “controlled” areas they planted fewer mines than us, to avoid injury to their own people.

  About a mile later, I heard a loud noise off in the distance that I couldn't identify and at first thought it was a bulldozer. I gave Dolly to Joyce and moved forward with a pair of Russian binoculars in my hands. I quickly located the source of the noise and it was a Russian T-90A tank. The big beasts were heavy and almost impossible to knock out because of the three level composite armor that protected the three man crew. Behind the tank I counted a company of men, so they were looking for us or others like us. I instructed Kerr to lead us at right angles away from the tank.

  We moved slowly in the beginning, so we'd be less likely to be seen, and I felt my apprehension mounting. Usually when hunting others, movement is what is spotted first. Then, we entered a grove of big pine and oak trees and our rate slowed down even more. We'd no sooner entered the trees than I heard the sound of choppers moving quickly overhead. It looked to me as if the chopper and tank were working together and hoping to bag some partisans. If they did, I prayed it wouldn't be us.

  The underbrush was thick where we were walking and suddenly, I heard Arwood say, “Shit, I think I am on a mine! Good God, no!”

  “Everyone back up slowly, but step in footprints or you may step on one, too.” I said, because we were on an old game trail, which was mostly dirt. Then, turning to Arwood, I asked, “How do you know you're on a mine?”

  “I felt something snap when I placed my weight on my foot. I'm scared, man.”

  “Hold on and let me move to you. Let me see what we have first, then you can be scared later.”

  I spoke and pulled my bayonet as I approached. He was just ahead of me, so I squatted beside him and gently ran the knife into the soil under his foot. I felt something hard, so I checked all the way around and felt the same thing. Slowly, using the blade of my knife, I pulled just enough soil away that I saw the Olive drab color of a mine.

  “It's a mine. Kerr, do you know much about mines?” I asked.

  “A little. Do you have any idea what kind it is?”

  “No, I've never seen this type before.”

  “Let me come and take a look.” he said. It was then I heard dogs barking and Dolly jerked on her leash that Joyce held.

  “Damn me, now they have dogs after us.”

  “Go, no need to worry about me, I'm a dead man.” Arwood said, but his eyes begged us to stay.

  “Silverwolf, back track a ways and see what we have. Here,” I tossed him the binoculars, “so you don't have to get too close. Joyce, go with him and see if you can put the fear of God into those Russians. Try to buy us a little time, if you can. Hand Dolly to Scott.”

  Kerr placed his head on the ground, blew some dust away and said, “I see what looks to be an Italian P-25 mine and the fuse is sticking from the top. From what I remember, if the fuse is not broken the mine will not detonate. There is no timer and detonation is instant. So, if I'm correct, the mine is not armed.”

  “What in the hell would an Italian mine be doing here?” I asked.

  “Who knows, but that's what we have.”

  I said, “Now, we're going to move back about a hundred feet, Arwood, and then I want you to remove your foot from the mine and back up. Then mark it by sticking your bayonet in the ground near it.”

  “W . . . what if it explodes?”

  “Then, don't worry about marking it for us.” I said and saw instantly my attempt at humor was not appreciated.

  “You'll be fine and safe. Now, let us move back.”

  “If I'm safe, why are you two moving?”

  “Do you want the truth?” Kerr asked.

  “Of course, you know I do.”

  “Because I just may be wrong. Nonetheless, you can't spend the rest of your life standing here, and I suspect that'd not be long with Russians on our asses.”

  “Damn me, okay. Move back then.” Arwood said, and he was sweating hard now.

  I heard two shots, within three seconds and knew something had just died and then it dawned on me, no more barking. Three more shots were heard, all from her sniper rifle and then I heard two explosions that sounded like grenades and a long burst of automatic fire.

  “Move, Arwood or I'll leave you. I cannot risk the lives of the whole group for a single person.”

  I watched the man cross himself and then step backward —nothing happened. He pulled his bayonet and stuck it in the ground in front of the mine. It was then Silverwolf and Joyce returned.

  “Had a Russian squad with two dogs. Now there are about five seriously injured Russians and no dogs left alive. I figured the five injured will require ten to twenty men to pack them out.” Joyce said then added, “But, Silverwolf saw the tank swing this way, so we'd better move.”

  “How far off was the tank?” I asked.

  “A good mile, maybe.” the man replied.

  “Alright, when we move forward, I want my man on drag, Silverwolf, to pull the bayonet from the ground and sprinkle some dirt on the mine. Maybe we'll get lucky and the Russian tank will roll on it. Let's move, folks.” I said and then continued, “Kerr, you're my point man.”

  We hustled through the woods, and stuck close to the trees as much as possible, because I could still hear choppers at times. I suspected this was a Russian Killer team out looking for any partisans they could round up. Between the tank, choppers, and ground troops, they'd be hard to fight if you were boxed in tight or cornered.

  We'd covered about a mile, when the grove of trees suddenly stopped. I could see the clearing was a fire lane, intentionally cut by foresters years ago, and we had to cross it. I had an eerie feeling as if I was being watched or something bad was going to happen. I thought for a moment, glassed the area with my binoculars and even sent Kerr up and down the lane, on our side, looking for ambushers, but saw nothing out of place. I then sent recently promoted Walsh over and he had no difficulties at all, so, it must be my mind is working overtime. I then had Kelly over and about half way to the next wood-line, he disappeared in a quick flash of flame and smoke, and glassing the man, I saw he was severely injured. Both legs were off, one near the knee and other up about a foot higher, and his arms were both mangled up pretty badly.

  “Damn,” whispered Kerr, “he's our medic, too. I can get him and pull him to the other side, if you want.”

  “Give it a try, but I don't think that's a mine field, but rather an isolated mine placement.”

  Kerr ran to Kelly, looked around and then yelled, “Looks like a motion detector mounted at an angle from the far line of trees to yours. We need to all get over and now, because I think either fast movers or choppers will visit us.”

  “What about the mines?” Scott asked.

  “Don't worry about mines. If a jet shows up, there is a good chance he'll drop napalm on this place and I'd like to be long gone when that happens. All of you, move across the clearing, and do it now!”

  Ke
rr had placed Kelly over his shoulder and was running to the trees.

  We all made it across the clearing and one glance at Kelly told me all I needed to know about his medical condition; it was fatal.

  “All of you move forward about a half a mile and wait for me. Silverwolf, you cover me as I treat Kelly. Once back with the others, you take drag.” I watched as they began to move.

  “I have you covered, but hell, he's a mess. I'd overdose him on painkiller and let the medication kill him without pain.”

  Kelly was on his back screaming as blood spurted from this legs and arms. His chest and head had a number of areas oozing bright ruby-red blood and his bodily fluids smelled of copper and human waste. I reached into his medical bag, pulled out two vials of morphine and injected him in the neck, twice. As he died, I stripped his body of any gear we could use, which was little because his equipment was as riddled from the mine as his body. A few minutes later, he gave a loud sigh, quivered violently and died.

  “Damn, I hated to lose him. Not only was he a good medic, but a good man to boot.” Silverwolf said and shook his head.

  “Good people die, my friend.” I replied and immediately thought of Sandra.

  “We'd better get moving.”

  “Slow trot, and I know any mines will be marked. If we find any, after we pass, we'll clear them of warnings and maybe bag us a Russian or two.”

  Less than a mile later, we caught up with the group, hadn't seen any mines and it was then I heard a chopper nearing. Choppers are strange aircraft and the noise of their blades can echo which makes them difficult to place at times. This was one of those times.

  “Everyone on the ground now.” I ordered as I heard the aircraft more clearly now and it seemed to be right overhead. We all fell to the ground and most of us crawled to a bush or in the brushes to make a smaller target.

  Glancing up, I saw the chopper come lower and the gunner was searching the ground carefully. I considered using a Strela-2M missile on his ass, but worried about overhead limbs and branches. I finally just lowered my head and waited. A few minutes later, the aircraft moved on.

  “Stay where you are, because sometimes they'll back up and try to catch partisans moving.” I warned.

  Finally the engine and blade noises of the chopper moved on, so I stood and said, “Let's move. I want Scott on point and Kerr bringing up the rear.”

  We'd covered about a half mile, when Scott dropped back and reported, “I have a couple of squads of Russians moving right for us. I'd estimate we have five minutes or less before they get here.”

  “Everyone under cover and we'll try to let them pass us. If you hear me shoot, then join the dance.” I said and then prayed, Please Lord, let them walk by us without seeing us and don't let them have a dog. I pulled Dolly into some blackberry bushes and had her lay down with me.

  CHAPTER 14

  Cigarette smoke filled the small conference room as Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev stood in front of the group and said, “With the deaths of both Colonels Ivanov and Kuznetsov, I am both the commander of the gulag and the base commander, by orders from Moscow. Major Sokolov, as the troop commander, you are to also run terrorist operations, temporarily, until replacements are sent. My position is also temporary until replacements can be found. As of this day, a soup kitchen will be provided to all civilians who live in the town of Edwards and three good meals will be fed to all. I also want any stored civilian clothing taken to the same spot and issued to those who need garments. We will try to win their hearts now, if we have not already ruined any chances to do so. Any questions?”

  “What of the civilians in the gulag? We have many people who were breaking no laws, but were simply collected as bodies for executions or reprisals. Do we keep them or let them go?” Major Sokolov asked.

  “Screen each closely and if they are not a registered gun owner and have broken no laws, then let them go. Do the same with those collected that we know are family members of partisans.”

  Master Sergeant Fedorovo asked, “Have you coordinated the prisoner release with Moscow, sir? They may have ordered the prisoners rounded up and if you release them, well, you know what will happen.” He'd finally walked out of the hospital, but did little except drink vodka for his pain, and paperwork.

  “I appreciate your concern, Sergeant, but I have given my orders, and I wish to see them carried out. Major, you will also see the civilians are fed and present them with good food. I want the prisoners in the gulag fed as well as our own men are. Any other questions?” Vasiliev said.

  Silence, but many thought the Lieutenant Colonel was committing professional suicide and it was only a matter of time before he disappeared or was recalled to Moscow to answer for his actions.

  “Now, this meeting is over and I want my orders carried out immediately.” The man turned and walked into his office.

  Master Sergeant Fedorovo stood beside the Junior Sergeant in the serving line at the old market place in Edwards. So far, only a handful of Americans had come to eat, but the old Sergeant suspected most distrusted the Russians. It is too soon, he thought. Hell, just last week we were executing them and now we offer them free food. They probably think it is poisoned.

  A tank sat in the square, with a squad of infantry men, who were checking people by age and arresting anyone that might be old enough to be in the resistance, but they'd be released if nothing was found on the Russian computer systems. One man started to run and a quick burst from the tanks machine-gun brought him down. He now lay face down on the cobblestone street, a pool of blood under him, and his unseeing eyes open.

  The Master Sergeant saw few military or fighting age people present. He did see many slip food into their coat pockets, obviously to either eat later or to take home and feed someone else. He knew it was likely some partisans were being fed with the Russian food, but that was not his concern. He was here to provide security for the cooks and food servers, and he was doing his job well.

  Feeling the urge to pee, the old Sergeant walked behind the tank, unbuttoned his trousers and a few seconds later, moaned with relief. He was just about completed with his business, when he heard a loud yell to stop in Russian, followed by the tak-tak-tak of the machine-gun crew. He quickly stepped around the tank and was moving for the food serving vehicle, when there came a loud explosion, and he was knocked off his feet. Laying there for a bit, still in shock, he felt himself all over and other than his ears ringing, he felt nothing wrong or any blood. He stood, and then turning to the serving area, he watched as flames and smoke rose to the sky. It was then the screams of the injured were heard. Bodies were all over the street, along with body parts.

  About 20 meters away, a young blonde woman lay on her back, her eyes blinking, and blood pooling under her back. She suddenly screamed and when the Master Sergeant glanced in her direction, a young Warrant Officer was pointing his pistol at her. The man fired twice and each time a bullet hit home, her body jerked. Finally, she lay unmoving, as the light in her eyes went out slowly.

  “Medic!” someone yelled and two men ran for the flames.

  Fedorovo moved to a senior cook and asked, “What happened?”

  “The beautiful woman came for food and had a briefcase in her left hand. She placed it on the ground as I served her. I moved to the truck to get more beef, and it was then I heard the shooting. I am not a combat troop, so I stayed behind the van until the explosion. My wait was a short one, too.”

  One medic, a private said, “We have four, one is a civilian, that need a helicopter if they are to live. One man has lost both arms and legs. The others will die if they are not cared for by the hospital soon. We have ten dead, but only three are Russian. Those in line for food were blown to pieces.”

  “I will make the call, so relax.” Master Sergeant Fedorovo said and then yelled, “Radioman?”

  “We do not have one, Sergeant,” a young Lieutenant said, “but my tank crew has already contacted base, using our radio, and a helicopter is on the way.”
>
  “Thank you, and how long did they say?”

  “They said the aircraft was starting engines when my driver finished speaking with them.”

  “Medic!”

  “Master Sergeant?” the man asked as he neared.

  “Separate those who need to be airlifted out, from those who can be taken by truck to the hospital.”

  “Just the Russians, right?”

  Oh, that is a good question, he thought and then said, “If we are to win the hearts of the Americans, we need to take all to see a doctor.”

  “What of the dead?”

  “Leave the Americans here, because I am sure someone will come for their bodies. Place our dead in the truck. I do not think it matters much to the men who were killed how soon they get to a base. However, treat all the dead with dignity.”

  “I will see to it, Sergeant.”

  Hearing the chopper approaching, the Sergeant walked to the tank and the driver had his head out of his hatch. Seeing Fedorovo, he asked, “He wants smoke so he can see the wind, and where do you want him to land?”

  “I will have smoke for him and have him land in the center of the town square. It is big enough for two or three helicopters. How far out is he?”

  “Three minutes before he gets here, or that is his guess.”

  “Corporal!” he yelled at a young man, “Stand by to use a smoke grenade and get in the center of the square.”

  “Will do, Sergeant.”

  A few minutes later, the helicopter flew overhead, circled and then hovered above the square as the Corporal popped the smoke grenade. Using his hands, the man then slowly worked the aircraft to the ground. As the engines continued to run, the wounded were loaded through an open side door. As the pilot watched the Corporal, he began to slowly rise into the air.

  From a side street, behind the helicopter, a partisan stepped out, aimed his Strela missile and fired.