by W. R. Benton
Master Sergeant Makar had heard a swishing sound, then a grunt, followed by low whimpers. He moved to the point man and saw he'd tripped a booby-trap with spikes. The spikes were secured to a tree limb and held back ready to spring forward by a trigger lock. The trigger had been a thin length of fishing line across the trail and secured. Once the line was pulled too far, the trigger released the limb and it swung forward. Simple, low cost, and effective.
The designated medic, Private Yakim moved forward, glanced at the injuries and shook his head. Makar didn't hesitate as he whispered, “Morphine.”
The medic knew there was no hope for Yuliy, because three fire hardened barbed spear-like points had gone completely through his chest, so he prepared the medication. Besides, there was no way they could continue their mission and pack an injured man on a litter. Each member of the team knew if they lost their mobility, they were dead weight. The team dumped dead weight.
Glancing at Yuliy, the Captain said, “Move closer to the farm house, then hide deep in the brush, because it will soon be daylight. We will watch the building today and maybe learn something.”
As they moved away, Yuliy was whispering, begging them to stay and help him, but then the morphine entered his system, his pain lessened, and his head fell to this chest. A minute later his heart stopped. He was left on his knees, his body weight pulling the limb down, and blood pooling under his legs. His eyes were open, but dull and unseeing.
Soon, Private Savely, the new point man, stopped and motioned for the Captain to come to him. When Boris arrived, he was shown the house. The Captain tapped Savely on the shoulder and then the two of them moved to his men. Using hand sign, he indicated where each man was to go and he had them pair up, with him being the loner. Once in position, he camouflaged his spot well and then ate a cold Russian ration. He saw a false dawn was starting so he pulled his binoculars and scanned the house, making sure there was no reflection from his glass. He saw no one, nor anything, moving. He waited, knowing eventually they would probably step outside to pee, or head to the woods to do more serious business.
Two hours later, he'd still not seen a single person. Maybe they are using a room in the house for bodily functions, he thought, but that will make the place smell.
Finally the door opened and out stepped a man dressed in a Russian uniform except for a wide arm band on his left arm. In his hand he had some old paper, so Boris suspected the man was moving to the woods. Tossing a pebble to the Master Sergeant and Private Nika, he nodded toward the partisan. Both men melted into the brush and disappeared.
When the two Russians neared the American he was buttoning up his trousers and totally unaware he was being stalked. From out of what seemed to be nowhere, he was suddenly grabbed, gagged, and his hands handcuffed behind his back. A rope was placed around his neck and he was lead toward the Captain. The man had not had the time to offer any resistance.
Once close to Boris, Makar moved to the man and then all but Corporal Renat moved deeper into the woods. They then met with Nika and the captive.
“Move south about two kilometers and we will speak with our captive. Let us hope, for his sake, he talks and doesn't make me use torture. The Afghans taught me well how to torture a man to bring much pain and yet keep him alive.” The Captain spoke in excellent English, which all members of the team were required to learn.
The captive's eyes grew large as Marka led him further away from the farm house.
Once the distance was covered, Boris sat on a log, pulled his sheath knife out and stuck it in the wood beside his leg. Meeting the eyes of his prisoner, he said, “We can do this the easy way or the painful way, and it does not matter to me.”
The captive didn't speak, but his eyes narrowed.
“Bring him to me and place him on his knees in front of me.” the Captain said.
“Yes, sir.” Marka said and moved the man forward. He then forced him to his knees.
“Let us start with something simple, shall we? What is your name?”
“My name is Ellis Perry and that's all you're getting out of me. I'm a prisoner of war and the Ge—.”
“Now, we both know that's not true, Mister Perry. See, this not a war and besides, your country no longer exists. You will be a nice man and answer all my questions, right?” He picked the knife up and let the sun glance off the sharp edge.
“Kiss my as—” Perry screamed as his left ear fell to the grass.
“There is more pain to come, sir, if you do not answer my questions.”
The injured man grabbed his ear and shuddered as pain shot through him. He suddenly realized, these aren't regular Russian troops and he thought, I don't know much and by now, they know about the farm house, because they must have seen me leave it this morning.
“Well? Will you talk with me or do I need to get bloody?”
Ten minutes later, Captain Boris had all the information he needed, except about the two boxes. Finally he asked, “Do they have any boxes that are made of high impact plastic?”
“Two; I have no idea what is in them, but they're guarded all the time. They look like large suitcases to me.”
“Where in the house are they kept?”
“Second floor, in the top left bedroom.”
“Stand.”
Marka pulled Perry to his feet.
“Are you going to free me now?” Perry asked.
“Oh, yes, my new American friend, and in a way you will never again feel pain or worry ever again.” Captain Boris said and brought the knife blade up and under Perry's rib cage, sinking the blade in to the hilt. He then jerked the knife from side to side, viciously.
Perry shuddered and shook, gave a heinous shriek as blood spurted from his body and mouth. He fell to his knees, where Boris grabbed his hair, pulled his head back and cut his throat. The Captain then kicked the dying man to the dirt and grass. Blood spurted into the air with each beat of Perry's heart, but his body was shutting down. The fatally wounded man kicked madly at the grass, as his hands clawed at the dirt. Finally, he lay still, his eyes reflecting his fear of death.
Bending over, Captain Boris said, “Let us get back to the farm house and prepare to assault the place. We must recover the nuclear weapons.”
As they moved, snow began to fall, and hard. The winds picked up, the temperature dropped, and each man pulled out his winter gear. Each wore a white fur cap, winter camouflage gloves, and white scarfs around their necks. When they neared the house, it was the same as before, no one was spotted. Boris decided to wait ten minutes and watch, but if nothing happened by then, he'd attack.
CHAPTER 21
I peeked out the hole in the window and saw the Russians, squatting in the brush. Mary, my sniper had reported them as moving into position, before dawn and saw them leading Perry away. Everyone knew Perry had gone out to do his business and when he didn't return, we knew something had happened. Until now, only Mary and I knew the man was probably dead.
“Silverwolf, pass the word there is a squad of Russians outside in front of the house, and there is a good chance they are Spetsnaz. Perry was taken prisoner and assumed dead. He is not with them now. I want everyone in position right away. Mary, when they move toward us, take out as many as you can, as quickly as you can. Don't worry about killing shots.”
As Silverwolf made his way around, men and women moved to their assigned positions quietly. I heard safety’s click off and then the charging handle on a machine-gun moving. My folks were ready. I expected a grenade first, then they'd come in through the widows. I moved from person to person, telling them this. I moved down stairs and waited; the minutes were long and hard on my mind. I had a squad of men upstairs with the nukes.
Then, I heard three shots from Mary in the span of three seconds and I knew a man fell with each shot. The old shutters were flung open and our guns began to speak. I saw bullets strike the men, but they quickly stood and came at us again.
“They're wearing protective armor, aim for the heads or legs!�
� I screamed to be heard over the gunshots.
I saw one Russian struck in the head by the old .50 caliber machine-gun and his head simply disappeared as a fountain of blood shot from his throat. He fell to the ground thrashing around. Two men were lost from view due to smoke grenades the Russians used. Since a target could not be seen, we stopped firing, but every finger was on a trigger, ready. When the smoke cleared, seven Russian bodies were laying in unnatural ways on the freshly fallen snow. Blood gathered under each.
“Cease fire, but stand ready. Mary, put a shot into the head of each Russian!” I yelled. Seven times her rifle barked and with each shot, I knew a Russian was dead, beyond any doubt.
“Now we wait.” I said, “But remain in your positions.”
“John, I mean Colonel,” Silverwolf said, “why didn't they split up and hit us from all four positions of the house at the same time?”
I smiled, put my hand on his shoulder and said, “You can call me John in private, but Colonel around the troops. That is a damned good question and one I can't answer. Maybe Perry told them there were only a few of us here. I have no idea, but they paid for their mistake.”
“Well, it could have ended differently if not for Mary, and I think she needs a promotion. She saved the bacon this time.”
“Later; right now, I want you to take Jones and make sure the Russians are dead and the other two gone. We'll cover you from here.”
“Sure. Jones!”
“Yo?”
“Come with me and let's check the bodies out there. Go through the pockets and take anything intelligence might want.”
They walked to the door, stepped out and with their weapons at the ready, moved toward the downed Russians. In a matter of minutes, all were confirmed dead, so they started going through the pockets.
“Sir, I've checked two and nothing. No wallets, rings, identification or anything.”
“See the blue and white striped tee shirts? These men are Spetsnaz and some real bad-asses. I suspect they're sterile for this mission. Now, come with me and let's see where the other two are headed.”
Twenty minutes later, Silverwolf walked back into the house, kicked the snow from his shoes and said, “Spetnaz for sure and the two that got away moved east, upwind of us.”
“So?” I asked.
“Why would they move upwind, unless there was to be a fire or gas used on us in some way? They were moving fast too, running their asses off.”
“Shit, I never thought of that; too tired, I guess.” I said and then suddenly realized our danger. “Everyone, out of the house and now! Top, make sure the two containers are brought with you! Move, I think we're due an air strike and any second now!”
As the last were leaving the build and running for the woods, someone screamed, “Jet!”
All of us ran like hell and as fast as possible. I saw one man with a nuke cast it aside and I picked it up without breaking my stride. I heard the high scream of a jet in a dive, saw it pull up and watched as two egg shaped containers rolled end over end toward the house.
There was a huge explosion, with an oily fireball that rolled inside itself, and the air around us instantly grew scarce. I knew the air was being sucked into the flames. The oily flames were tossed onto the house by impact and the farm house vanished in a few seconds, replaced by a wall of hot flames.
A second jet lined up, put his nose down and moved toward us.
“Trees, run for the trees!” I screamed.
It was then I heard a Gatling gun and people around me began to fall. Body parts flew through the air in different directions and blood seemed to hang in space, stationary. I knew then my mind was in shock. Clods of dirt flew ten feet in the air all around me as bullets zinged off rocks and metal guns we carried. In just a few seconds the Jet nosed up and pulled away. I glanced behind me and saw I'd just lost half of my people.
I kept running and when I reached the trees, Silverwolf said, “Slow down, sir, they made one pass each and then left. I'd estimate we lost half of our people.”
“I . . . I'm okay.”
“Where to now?” he asked as he met my eyes.
“We'll head east about ten miles then call it a day. I want you and Corporal Morgan to track the two bastards that got away and kill them.”
“Morgan is dead, sir. I do have Mary. Those that aren't dead are scatter all over these woods right now.”
I gave a loud yell, “Aces! I want you to form on my voice and now!”
Almost immediately people moved toward me and I looked at Silverwolf and said, “Take her, and good luck.”
“Don't wait for us, we'll find y'all tomorrow at some point, but if we're not with you by noon, we'll never be there. Good luck to you too, sir.” he said and then called out, “Mary, come with me!”
In less than twenty minutes, we were moving through the brush and trees, heading east. While the weather was cold, it beat being dead, so no one complained. The snow continued, and by night we had a good six inches on the ground. The winds were high, so I didn't expect any choppers out in this weather so fires were lit. After meals of Russians rations, most went to sleep. I sat by my small fire and stared into the dancing flames, wondering how Silverwolf and Mary were doing.
Mary was watching the Russians with her night vision scope and could have easily taken both men out, but the distance was great. She stood and made her way back to camp and Silverwolf.
When she neared camp, Silverwolf said, “That's close enough. Oh, it's you. I have a small fire under a large pine tree. It's not hot, but you'll not freeze to death sitting beside it. Eat if you want, because I ate shortly after you left.”
“I'll do that.” she replied.
As she started removing items from her pack, he asked, “Did they move or still there?”
“Still there, so do we kill them in the morning?”
“No, I want to move in close and when they're being picked up, return a Strela-2M missile to them. If we can down a chopper and kill both of them, this mission will have been successful.”
“It's a big risk, but a chopper is worth the gamble.” She opened the tins and placed them on the hot coals.
“We need to be in place an hour before dawn because this weather might clear, and if it does, they'll come for them.”
Stirring her food to keep it from burning, she said, “I'll be ready.”
They took turns guarding, not trusting the two Russians to not come looking for them, and while vigilant, the night was uneventful. Two hours before dawn, Mary woke him to make water and eat. It was lung hurting cold, with the temperature in single digits and snow was still falling. As he was peeing, Silverwolf noticed the winds were calm. He'd just started to turn, when he felt a hand go over his mouth, so he jerked his head violently and screamed. He felt a knife blade move over this throat and panicked as blood began to spurt. He was shoved to the ground and wanted to move to help Mary, but could not. He felt so weak and his eyes blinked rapidly as he wondered where all the blood he saw on the snow was coming from. Slowly, with his eyes still wide open, he entered a dark void and the world disappeared.
Mary heard the scream and knew something terrible had happened to Silverwolf. She moved away from the tree and then ran for a good mile. Finally stopping, she pulled herself up into a tree and climbed even higher. Then, once in position, she glassed the area, seeing no movement at all. An hour passed and she waited. After two hours, she climbed from the tree and made her way back to camp.
She circled the camp and saw where the two men had walked into the camp and then left later. She then looked for Silverwolf, hoping he was just wounded. A few minutes later, she found his body, gasped at the terrible condition of his throat and shuddered. He'd been a good man and an excellent soldier in the resistance. She thought, Should I return now, or continue the mission? I think if I'd been killed, Silverwolf would have continued on, so I'll do the same.
Mary stripped Silverwolf of all weapons, ammo, and knives he had, and then moved back to camp
. Her pack she wore, but his was gone, along with the missile, so she decided instead of shooting the chopper down, she'd kill the two Russians and be done with it. She knew she could sit back a thousand yards, shoot both men, and each would be a head shot. She knew she was good.
Due to the snow, tracking the two was easy and she wondered why they hadn't chased her farther. Must be close to time for a chopper to pick them up, she thought as she moved over a slight hill. Every hundred yards or so, she'd stop, pull out her binoculars and glass the area in front of her. From what she remembered of their camp yesterday, it should be over the next hill.
I'll stop on the crest of this hill, camouflage my position well and wait for them, she thought. Once the rescue starts, I'll start shooting. Who knows, I may even be able to injure or kill some of the aircraft crew.
Nearing the crest, she crawled to the top, glassed the area and instantly spotted the two men. They are deep in a forest, so how can a chopper pick them up? Maybe they'll use a hoist or rope to lift them through the trees, because they'll not be able to land here.
She sighted in one man, adjusted her cross-hairs, then felt for wind, but noticed none. She estimated the distance to be close to eight hundred yards, so she clicked the cross-hairs a bit more to allow for the drop of the bullet once fired.
Right then she heard the wop-wop-wop of an approaching helicopter, so she flipped the safety off her rifle. Looking at the two men through her scope, they were preparing to leave, and she watched them placing objects in pockets, while casting other things to the snow.
The chopper was loud now and she saw it maneuvering over the two men as one Russian on the ground spoke in a small hand-held radio. A man leaned from an open door on the aircraft and using a winch, lowered a strange looking contraption on a cable to the ground. She watched as the two men extended what looked to her to be seats and then sat on the device and routed a strap under their arms. She saw one man give a thumb up and then both lowered their heads. A second later, the cable began to rise. She estimated the chopper was about 100 feet above the ground and maybe forty feet above the trees. She wanted her victims above the trees, because even a small limb, if struck, could deflect a bullet from her rifle.