by W. R. Benton
I need to get out of here and the sooner the better. If they start the torture and discover I am the commander at Edwards, they will likely kill me, he thought.
He spent the remainder of the day reliving his childhood years in his mind and tried to remember the smallest detail. It was after he relieved himself in the metal bucket he heard a voice whisper in Russian, “Who are you?”
Unsure if it was a Yankee trick or not, the Colonel replied, “I am the admin officer assigned at Edwards, and you?”
“I am Major General Unetsov and I have been a prisoner for over three years.”
“Who is the ranking officer, sir?”
“That is Lieutenant General Stepan Sokoloff, and he is a good man.”
“Inform him I am going to try and escape, if I can.”
“It will only get you killed, but if you must try, do it before the first interrogation or they will cripple you. None of us have the use of our legs or hands as we once did.”
“I am sorry, sir.” Vasiliev said.
“It is war and these things happen. It would be better to have died in battle than to be a prisoner and Moscow will be hard on us when we return.”
“I am only a Lieutenant Colonel, sir, so I know little of Moscow or its workings.”
“Mark my words, escape and you will be a hero; be released as a prisoner when this all ends and you will end up in a gulag.”
“I hear you, sir.”
Silence for a good five minutes.
“Sir?” Vasiliev asked.
“Yes, Colonel?”
“If I can get away, what should I tell Moscow?”
“Give them our names. We have two Colonels, Petya Mihaylov and Artem Kozlov. There are three Generals; myself, Colonel General Ivan Popov and Lieutenant General Stepan Sokoloff. Tell Moscow we have told the Americans nothing. I fear for our families if Moscow does not think we are resisting and we are. But, every man has his breaking point and all of us have experienced ours.”
“I will tell them, sir.”
“Oh, and Colonel?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Good luck, because you will need it. If you get away from this camp, head due north and you will run into the Jackson Air Base. There lies safety.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Enough, someone comes.”
He heard keys jingling and voices speaking low, but he knew no English. He'd seen a few old American movies on television, but he understood none of it and the movies had subtitles. A key was inserted into his cell's lock and he waited for the door to open. He suspected two men, but what if there were three or more?
Two bored looking and young partisans entered his cell, and he pretended to be asleep or passed out, so one would come near him. His eyelids were barely open.
“Hey, get up!” one yelled and neared him.
His pistol is on his right hip, the Colonel thought.
When he didn't respond the man bent over to shake him. When he touched Vasiliev, he threw the chain over the mans neck and pulled it tight. As soon as he felt something snap, he clawed for the pistol. Since most of the weapons were Russian, he knew how to use the gun. He fired one shot, dropped the other guard, and then taking the man in his arms by his head, a quick snap broke his neck. He raced against time as he pulled the keys from the dead man's pocket and attempted to find the proper one to unlock his chains. Soon he was free, but knew he'd have to fight his way out; he'd been too slow. He moved to the downed guard and stripped him of his Bison sub-machine gun, ammo and two grenades. He'd already taken a knife and ammo from the man with the broken neck.
He then stepped into the hallway and heard General Unetsov say, “Good Luck! Remember us! Return for us! Return!”
When he stepped outside, he was surprised to find it dark, with the moon showing that half the night was gone. He stayed in the shadows and at one point saw a squad of men running toward the cells. He watched for search lights, but saw none. Damn me, I am sure they have night vision gear they have stolen from us. I need to use more caution. I must return.
He had no idea when he was away from the camp, because there was no fence or guards. I must keep my calm about me or I will perish, he thought. Keep my eyes open for mines and booby-traps, too.
He moved slowly, fighting the urge to run, to run as fast as he could. He knew he had to maintain control or he'd end up dead or captured again and one equaled the other, in his mind. What the General said was true about Russians who became prisoners of war going to gulags, because most had in the past. If I go to a gulag, most of my family will disappear, he thought, as he moved slowly through some thick brush, keeping his noise to a minimum.
The night passed slowly for him and near sunup, he grew hungry and tired, but he kept moving. Knowing his survival depended on him either reaching safety or being found, he started to hunt a hole for the day, and then realized, Russians ruled the land during the day. So, he continued to move.
The land was rough, swampy and marshy areas all around, and at night the temperature was cold enough he felt the need for a fire but didn't want to stop, and he had no way to start one anyway. Each bad section of land he had to walk around, which was difficult, made his progress north much slower. He knew the partisans would be after him; after all, he'd killed two and they'd want revenge. His fear suddenly grew larger, but he forced it down and continued to move.
As he walked he looked for food, but the plant life he saw was unfamiliar, and he'd not risk a shot at any animal. He'd been hungry before and knew he'd not starve to death. He did drink water from a fast moving stream, but wasn't sure if it was smart or not. He knew he should purify it, but the only way he knew to do it properly was to use chemical pills, bleach, or by boiling. He had no pills, was fresh out of bleach, and he suspected if he got a fire burning the smoke or smell would get him caught. When I return, I will have the hospital give me a physical and see if I have picked up any parasites. They will know how to treat me, he thought.
As he moved, his aches and pains grew greater and by mid morning his head was pounding. He had to stop for a bit to allow his double vision to return to normal. It was then he decided to stop every hour for ten minutes, or longer if needed, in hopes his pain would lessen. His first break was for thirty minutes, so his pain level would drop.
He fought the urge to vomit, but wasn't sure if it was caused by bad water, his injuries or fear. He continued to move. He'd neither heard or seen any sign of pursuit, but suspected he was being tracked. Keep moving north until you can move no more, he told himself as he watched a sluggish snake slide toward the water of a nearby swamp. He knew little of this country, except there were poisonous snakes and alligators were wild, but other than that, he knew nothing.
It was mid-afternoon when he heard the sound of a helicopter. His head came up and he listened closely. It seemed to be nearing his position, so he moved toward a wide open field, hoping to get picked up. He was still dressed in a Russian Lieutenant Colonel's uniform so he suspected he'd be picked up quickly.
Five minutes later, the helicopter flew right over him, made a lazy circle and then flew over him again, but lower this time. He saw the gunners in the door watching him closely. He waved and screamed, unaware his voice would not be heard over the roar of the aircraft engines. Finally, the aircraft neared him from the front and when he moved slightly to the left to avoid flying debris, he saw the barrels of a Gatling gun move with him. They'd locked onto him and he knew a false move on his part would get him killed.
The helicopter started to lower and finally when the wheels touched ground, a man left the aircraft, and neared him. He was shoved to the ground, searched and then handcuffed. He offered no resistance and was then led to the helicopter.
Once on board, his injuries were checked, cleaned and wrapped. The medic looked at his eyes with a light, shook his head, and then reaching into his bag pulled out a white pill. He then handed a canteen to the Colonel.
The ride to the base was short, less than twenty minu
tes and when they landed, an ambulance was there to take him to a hospital. The pill made him sleepy, but he remained awake as he was taken to the medical facility, which confused him, because it was a tent and not a building.
Looking up at a Private carrying his stretcher, he asked, “Where am I? Why is the hospital not in a building?”
“Sir, two days ago partisans attacked us and most of the solid structures were destroyed. The hospital burned down, killing most of the patients, so this tent will have to do for now.”
We lost the hospital? What else did we lose? Most of the permanent buildings are gone? I wonder if that includes the aircraft hangers? I will wait, because a Private will know little, he thought.
He was removed from the ambulance by stretcher and placed on a table.
After a few minutes, a doctor neared and said, “Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev, we were told you were killed in the command post and your body was not recovered. Where have you been, sir?”
“I was a prisoner of war, but escaped.”
“Are you in much pain?”
“A little and my head has most of it right now.”
“I will fix your pain, but Colonel, you may wish you had stayed with the partisans. Headquarters sent a new acting commander, uh, a Colonel Igor Staslov, and after he arrived he spoke poorly of your defenses and action during the attack, sir.”
“Oh, and how could he have done better?”
As a medic started an IV, the doctor said, “Sir, I am not a soldier, but a doctor. I have no idea about things of war, because my goal is to stop the suffering of our wounded. I am a healer, not a killer, so you will need to ask the Colonel yourself.”
“Can you remove these handcuffs from me?”
“No, sir, I cannot. We have orders if you were found injured, that we were to secure you and take you prisoner.”
“Prisoner! I am the damned commander here! I demand you release me this moment, doctor, and that is an order.”
The doctor nodded and the medic inserted a needle into his left arm. As his world faded, he heard the doctor say, “Colonel, with all due respect, sir, you are no longer a commander. As a matter of fact, Moscow has ordered your immediate arrest. Now, rest and sleep, because you are safe with us for right now.”
CHAPTER 17
Colonel Lee was ashen as he leaned forward and asked, “What do you mean it looks as if a Russian Colonel has escaped, Sergeant? The man is either here or gone, so which is the case?” The Colonel was so angry, I thought he might climb on top of his desk if given any more bad news. I noticed his office was bare, with the exception of a large Mississippi map on one wall.
Sergeant O'Brien stood at attention and said, “He escaped, sir, after killing two guards.”
Lee's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak, not for many long minutes. Finally, he asked, “Are we at least out looking for him?”
“Oh, yes, sir. We have ten squads after him, but so far they've found little.”
“Sergeant O'Brien, you will investigate this issue and prepare a personal briefing for me to be conducted at 0700 in the morning. I want to know the who, what, when, and where of this entire escape. I can tell you right now, Sergeant, I am not a pleased man. Lieutenant Colonel Vasiliev was the overall acting commander of not only Edwards Air Base, but also the gulag, and chief of anti-terrorism operations for this area. And now you tell me the bastard is free to kill more Americans.”
“I'm just the senior enlisted guard of the Russians, sir. Lieutenant William Johnson is the officer in charge.”
“In the morning, have Lieutenant Johnson and you here. As the two senior men, I want answers and, by God, both of you better provide them, or heads will roll. Dismissed, Sergeant.”
As soon as the Sergeant walked away, I neared Colonel Lee and said, “So, our last fish got away, huh?”
“Yes, but it will do him little good. The word our spies have is he's facing legal charges for his poor defense of the base and, I think, being made a scapegoat. The odds are he'll either commit suicide, be shot, or return home to a gulag.”
“How can our spies know this when the man hadn't escaped yet? Colonel, I don't care what they do to the man, because he killed two of our troops. While I respect the Russian as a soldier, his welfare is not my concern. I came to you to see if you have other missions or plans I need to be aware of, sir.”
The Colonel gave a dry chuckle and said, “The Russians marked him dead, body not recovered, but there were thoughts of him being taken prisoner. I don't care personally what they do to him either. I was letting you know his status. Now, we are still licking our wounds from the attack on Edwards, which overall was a victory for us, so there are no other big operations planned at this time. However, if you're itching to get at the Russians, you can always hit a train for us. I'll allow you a company of men and women to complete the task. Give me a few hours and I'll have the time and place for the train I want you to hit.”
“Time?”
“Yes, I don't want you to hit just any train. We need you to take out a supply train, because we always need supplies, guns and ammunition. We have spies in most places and if I can discover the usual time for a supply train, I'll let you know. How'd your squad do during the attack?”
“No problems with them, not that I could see. Mary had four confirmed kills as my sniper and I'd like to recommend Private Gunn for promotion to Corporal. He's a damned one man army.”
“Promotion granted and instantly, because we need good people. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get someone to finding a train for you and I've some paperwork to do. But, John?”
“Sir?”
“Just between us, my health is declining quickly and you may have to step into my position faster then either of us thought.”
“I'm truly sorry to hear this, sir. Are you in a lot of pain?”
“No, I have medication, just stating facts. Will you be ready to assume command?”
“Oh, yes sir, but I dislike the circumstances.”
“As do I, son. Now get out so I can get some work done.”
“Yes, sir.” I saluted and left his office.
Tonight it's cold, well below zero and a light snow. I hate cold weather, which was the reason after I got out of the army, I'd moved to Mississippi. Occasionally the weather would get cold, but it never lasted over a couple of weeks until this year. I glanced at my watch, saw it was 2000 and knew the train would be along soon. Mary neared and then lay down beside me.
“What's on your mind?” I asked, knowing she came to me for a reason.
“Do you think the explosives on the track will cause the train engine to go off the track?”
“Uh-huh, I do. I've been blowing up Russian trains for years. Oh, the explosives might not do the job, but it'll sure as hell blow the tracks up and that means the engine will continue to move forward off the track. Eventually, beyond any doubt, it'll stop moving, and most roll on their side. Why?”
“Do you want me to take the engineer out?”
“No, not really, and it's not because I'm soft. Most of the engineers work for us, providing departure and arrival times. They're civilians, forced to work for the Russians.”
“Oh, I didn't know that.”
“They know we'll attack their trains, so at the first sign of trouble, they usually jump from the engines and lay on the ground. I try not to hurt them, but some have been killed. It's a deadly thing we do.”
Silverwolf said, “The train's coming, see?” He pointed by I saw nothing.
“I don't see it.” I replied.
“Do you hear it?” he asked.
I gave a dry chuckle and then said, “No, I don't hear it either.”
“Trust me, boss,” he smiled, “it'll soon be here.”
We were about fifty meters from the tracks and I had Gunn with the Claymore, just about where the second car would be on the train, but he was up closer. The second car was a flatcar, with a number of soldiers, maybe ten to fifteen. Usually, a senior NCO was in
charge of the men on trains, unless they were carrying a valuable load; then an officer would be present.
Finally, I saw the single glaring eye of the train as it moved through the darkness toward me. I glanced at Silverwolf and he smiled. I could never figure out how I couldn't see or hear what he did, while my eyesight and hearing were excellent.
“Down, and wait for the blast.” I said as I prepared to blow the rails. I had about half my folks down about a hundred meters, to hit the rear of the train at the same time we hit the front.
When the train was close I blew the charge, smiled, and saw the train continue on. Close to ten feet later, the engine teetered and then fell to it's side, just as the Claymore went off.
Shouts and screams of pain filled the air as soon as the sound of the blast cleared. My people opened up with a line of lead death the length of the train. Bodies fell from the train with screams and then I yelled, “Charge!”
We came out of the brush and trees screaming as we each picked a target. I moved to the train engine, saw the engineer out walking around, dazed. I struck him hard to the head, which knocked him to the ground. This way, he'd have a goose egg on his head to show the Russians when they came.
One car of Russians was putting out a lot of fire, mostly automatic. I moved slowly along the sides of the cars, pulled the pin from a grenade and tossed it inside. I heard screams in Russian, followed by a loud explosion. Two men either jumped or were blown out the door and landed in bloody heaps on the gravel, dead. Corporal Hale ran forward and tossed another grenade. After it went off the cries of the wounded ceased.
“Gunn!” I yelled.
“Yo!”
“Get me a count of all dead, both sides, and injured. Any Russians caught alive or with minor wounds will return with us. Kill their seriously injured. I'll not have them get patched up so they can fight me another day. Let me know the overall status of our wounded as well.”
I started hearing pistol shots and knew Gunn was on the job.