by W. R. Benton
Once with the men, Hanish said, “Come with me and I'll take you to where you will be safe.”
“I am Tam and I speak English. My co-pilot is understandably as frightened, as am I. Go, we will follow.”
As the three began running, the unnamed Chinese man fell only to be scooped up by the somewhat larger man by the name of Tam. From what Hanish could see, the man had taken a bullet to the right calf. A few long minutes later, they were in among the Americans.
The injured man, introduced as Jong Wang, was bleeding and one of the medics, Private Marriann Toms, was all over him working. Ten minutes later, his wound dressed and him given morphine for pain, he drifted off to sleep.
“Snow Leopard One, this is Cobra Two and we have your two pilots with us.”
“Copy. We must attack again and again. Busy now.”
The last remaining tank, a T-14 fired a round and the lead chopper suddenly exploded with absolutely no chance for the crew to get out. Small pieces, along with a half dozen larger pieces began to rain down on the battlefield. The tank took a rocket to the turret and then exploded, sending the turret a good twenty feet into the air, where it fell back to earth to land beside the burning chassis. The one surviving attack helicopter said, “I have notified my base you hab Tam and Wang. I go now.”
“Copy, you have notified Chinese Headquarters that we have your pilots. Good luck and have a good flight home.” John said into the handset and then to his troops he said, “Prepare to fight, the Russians will come for these Chinese men.”
His people began to lay magazines, grenades, bayonets and even shovels with the edges sharpened within reach. The Russians were still fighting fires and rescuing people, so John thought maybe they still thought the two Chinese were in their destroyed chopper, but once the fire was out, they'd find no bodies.
“Disregard the fight. They seem confused by the battle and to lose that many tanks, even if two of the three attacking helicopters were downed, it was a small prize. Millions if not billions of dollars in heavy armor and the small personnel carriers, the BMP-3, were totally destroyed, not to mention the loss of life as well. Someone in this group is in serious trouble when Moscow calls next time.”
“Gather up your gear,” MSgt Mary Dias said as she began placing magazines filled with bullets, back into her pack. She even retrieved a Claymore mine she'd set out earlier.
Minutes later, John said, “Green, give the radio to Carrier. I want you and Smith to carry the injured pilot. Come, we need to get the hell out of here. Every minute the fire is burning is time better used getting away from here. Someone give Tam a gun, pistol or rifle, it matters little. Let's move, people and now.”
“I will stay near the injured man.” Marriann Toms said.
“No, Smith is carrying the man and I need you to be prepared to give medical care to our troops. Since the two of you are both medics, Smith can care for the patient and you're needed for us. Stay near the middle of the group, so you can respond to either end quickly.”
“Yes, sir.” Toms replied and moved down the line a little.
“Lee, you're on point, with Hanish bringing up the rear on drag. Let's move, and now.”
An hour later, during a break, Tam pointed out, “Do any of you hear the dogs barking? I count two dogs by the sound.”
John listened and then said, “I hear them too. We will soon be coming to one of our minefields; we'll go through it and if they attempt to follow, we'll ambush them.”
A few short minutes later, a small field between two groves of trees was seen.
“There's the minefield.” Toms said and then added, “and they're closer now. Hurry.”
Pulling a map from his shirt pocket, John moved to the front and they were soon across the field but they'd lost valuable time. He had his people hide and prepare to fire on the Russians when they were half way across the minefield.
Minutes later about fifty Russians appeared and they were totally unaware they were about to enter a minefield. About half the group moved quickly into the field with dogs leading, and the animals seemed to be unable to smell the explosives because not a one went off, then off on the right side there came an explosion, followed by a horrible scream of deep pain.
John lined up on the closest dog team and yelled, “Fire!”
Hanish was on the M-60 machine gun and Brown was his loader. The big gun swept the path clean of any standing Russians and mine after mine began to explode as people and bullets struck the detonators. The air filled with screams, prayers in Russian, and yells for help. The M-60 then moved to the very rear of the Russians and began its killing and maiming.
Now grenades were exploding with the mines and the Russians, many of them, were in hell before they knew they were dead. Ables stood and gave three long squirts with his flamethrower and men and women engulfed with flames walked aimlessly as they fought to extinguish the flames eating at their flesh. Some stepped on mines and were killed in the explosions that followed but what the mines didn't kill, the big M-60 did.
“Cease fire! Ables, no more flames, the Russians are all down for the count. I want everyone to gather their gear and let's get the hell out of here before Russian aircraft arrive. Lee, you're on point and Irving, you're on drag. Let's move, people, and I mean now!” John began moving at a fast walk. Soon the rest were behind him and each was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction knowing they killed the half of a company size group that was after them. They'd killed as a part of a huge killing machine and each knew in the war it was them or the Russians and when given a choice, like today, the Russians would die.
“Colonel, the wounded Chinese man has died. During the battle he must have taken a round to his chest. I just moved back to check him and he was gone. That is when I saw the injury to his back.”
“Take the body to the small river ahead and find a ridge of soil and collapse the dirt on him. We cannot not carry dead weight, just so he can be buried Chinese style or any style. We need speed and we'll have it now.”
“Colonel, I appreciate what you did for my co-pilot and weapons system operator. He was a good man with a family.” Tam said as he neared John after the impromptu burial.
“And, your rank?” he asked the young officer.
“I am a Captain, sir. Captain Tam.”
“Tam, I did for your man exactly what I'd do for an American. I'd like to recover his body and take it with us, but our stretcher carriers don't need that. There are only twelve of us, so we have to make every effort to survive. Two men away from a stretcher are two more guns and four eyes helping to make us safe.”
“Thank you anyway. I have marked where his body is and one day my country may return and recover his body or bones.” Tam nodded seriously and then moved up the line.
“What was that all about, sir?” Msgt Dias asked, her voice revealing her interest in the conversation.
“Not much. He just thanked me for sort of burying his flying buddy. I wouldn't call collapsing an overhang of dirt on a body a burial, but he did.”
Dias nodded but said nothing. She found the little Chinese men interesting, but knowing they were communists she avoided them. She had no political beliefs but they would not include that form of government anyway. She believed in democracy and a republic, not socialism.
“Uh, Cobra Two, Copperhead.”
John took the handset from Green who had gotten it back when Wang died, “Cobra Two Actual, go.”
“The Chinese government wants the live man brought out if possible, but if things turn rough, he is to be killed, understand?”
“No, Copperhead, I do not understand. Are you asking me to murder him?”
“No, not murder, but he must be silenced if he is about to be captured. At all costs they do not want the Russians to get their hands on him or any Chinese. He must be terminated immediately if it appears you are about to be captured, understand?”
John then acted as if he had radio trouble, “I cannot hear you, Copperhead. Cobra One to Copperh
ead do you read me?”
“Roger that, Cobra. How do you read, over?”
“Come in, Copperhead. Copperhead do you read me, over.”
“Cobra Two, this is Copperhead. Do you hear me?”
“Copperhead, this is Cobra, you are coming in broken up, so I'll try to contact you in an hour. Maybe by then I will be in an area with better reception, over.”
“Copy, over, Copperhead out.”
Tossing the handset to Green, John chuckled and said, “I hate radio trouble.”
Tam laughed and said, “We were warned we'd be killed if at all possible before we would be allowed to be taken prisoner. My government has been fighting this war for years and they still deny they are here.”
“Let's move, and quickly. Toms, you're my point and try to find us a place to RON.”
“Will do, sir.” She replied, stood and began walking toward base.
“I thank you for saving my life.” Tam said as they moved over the rough ground about twenty feet from a well traveled trail.
“It was God that saved you, not me. I was just his tool.”
“Perhaps, but I was raised with no religion. Most of us in Communist China have no religion because it is forbidden. Some of the very poor attend church or a temple of some sort, but those of us in society have been trained not to call on a man who is a fairy tale.”
“Well, my new friend, that fairy tale just saved your ass.”
Silence as they continued to walk.
Finally, John said, “We can talk later, because it is not smart to travel over lands our enemy may be in as we chatter like magpies.”
Tam nodded and continued walking. He looked as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind and kept quiet. They could talk later.
Chapter 7
Senior Sergeant Vova woke up earlier that day pissed because Headquarters had him out looking for members of the resistance, and all they cared about was partisan body counts. His people were well trained and they were airborne troops, but they cost more per man than regular infantry. It was his opinion that the “mud walkers” should be out searching, and not his people. Rumor had it that even Spetsnaz was out looking for their enemies.
“We will stop in those trees and bivouac. I want mines out, guards posted, and meals eaten before dark because we will have no fires after sundown. Sgt. Katenka, see my orders are followed.”
“Yes, Sergeant.” She replied and then moved to where the troops were and repeated his orders.
“Private Makarovich, bring me the radio so I can call in our night position and see if our orders have changed. I figure the tank farm is just a few more miles. Tomorrow night we will be surrounded by the armor and we will not have to pull guard. Their food is flown out, too, so our meals will be better.”
Once on the radio, Vova said, “Copy, Hotel. Any change in our mission?”
Olga Makarovich watched the Sergeant, and when his eyes closed and he shook his head, she knew he had bad news for all of them.
“Roger, Hotel. Monsoon out.” he handed the handset to Olga.
“Everyone listen up. Headquarters, in their great wisdom, has changed our mission. We are now looking for an escaped Chinese pilot. Apparently this Chinese man escaped after his attack helicopter crashed and burned. He was seen being rescued by an unknown partisan unit. We are to try and find him.”
“I do not see, with all the land out here, how they can expect us to find the unit much less the man. It is a very difficult mission.” Sergeant Vera Katenka said, and then shook her head.
“Nonetheless, we will do our best to find the man.”
“We cannot look for campfires at night because our attack helicopters will kill us. While the night belongs to the resistance, our helicopters even things up for a few hours.”
“There will be no aircraft out tonight, mainly because the crews need rest, but partially to allow us to search and not worry about getting our arses shot off.”
“So, what now, Sergeant?” Olga asked.
“We rest until about 20 hundred, then we go looking for campfires.” Vova said and then he added, “From now on, we sleep in the day and work at night.”
As they rested, Vova gave thought to where the Chinese man was and knew the Americans would try to get the man to the closest military base, which was at Dallas/Fort Worth. While we damaged the place, we killed very few Americans, especially when compared to the number of dead sons of Mother Russia. We lost thousands of men and women. They will make a beeline to base, that much I am sure. We need to get in a straight line from the crash site to the base, he thought.
He pulled out his compass and drew a straight line from approximately where the helicopter had gone down and the main gate on the north side of the base. He chose a spot about 100 meters from the gate, near a stream and a grove of trees. He marked it on his map and then pulled out a Green Frog for supper. As he ate, he unknowingly smiled.
Olga was watching him and she wondered what made him smile. She hoped it was the memory of her “sponge bath,” from her helmet, but suspected it was something else. He never thinks of women, I do not believe, but give me 30 minutes alone with him and I will have him hotter than a firecracker, she thought as she ate her bland rations.
Right at 2000 hours, he had his troops moving through the forest, with all looking for lights of a campfire or the scent of burning wood. They made great time using the night vision goggles (NVG) and the whole world had a nice eerie green glow. For over two hours, they didn't see, smell or notice anything out of the ordinary.
Near 2200 hours, the point person, in this case it was Junior Sergeant Pavovich, neared Vova and whispered, “I see a light ahead.”
“You are about the best of us in the woods, so you come with me and we will check out what we see. If they are Americans, we will attack them. If nothing else, we will be able to send Headquarters a body count. Let us go now. The rest of you remain here.” Vova said and then walked off into the darkness.
They approached the Americans downwind because both knew at times people could be smelled way before they really turned gamy. They were still fairly clean, but sweat and dirt marked them after only 24 hours in the bush. They crawled the last fifteen meters so they would not be seen. They then saw a group of partisans sitting around a small fire, talking in low tones. One man had a map and was pointing to this and that, but neither could hear the man. Seeing motion to the left, they quickly saw a guard and then looking right, they spotted another.
This group is well trained and security conscious. They will be hard to kill or overrun, but we can do the job, Vova thought as he watched the Americans.
After about thirty minutes, he tapped Pavovich on the shoulder and began to slide away from the brush. Once about fifty meters from the camp, Senior Sergeant Vova said in a whisper, “Let us go get the others. We will return and kill this group.”
An hour later, everyone hidden around the group of Americans, Vova checked camp security and discovered the guards were half asleep. Only two men were still up and they were talking in low tones as they ate a Russian ration.
The Sergeant pointed to the man on the left, beside the fire, and when Olga looked at him, he mouthed “When I shoot, you kill that man.”
She nodded in understanding. Two others had been designated to kill any other guards, and after that they'd rush the camp.
The Senior Sergeant lined his sights up on the man he was to kill and took a deep breath and then started to slowly release it. As the air was released from his lungs, he gently began to squeeze the trigger. His shot surprised him, but he knew he'd hit his target hard. The man screamed loudly and then fell from his log. Glancing to his left and right, he saw both guards were down and losing blood. A loud shot was heard from beside him and the man on the left dropped without a sound, due to a red hot lead slug that punched a hole completely though his heart. Others in the American camp were coming alive now and a firefight started.
Every single one of the Russians tosse
d hand-grenades at the camp and the explosions brought screams of fear or injury, and it mattered little to the Sergeant which brought the noise. Seconds later the firing on the American side stopped.
“No one move, not until they have time to bleed out and stiffen up a lot. Anyone of you hurt?”
“I lost my little finger on my left hand, right at the second joint. I have a rag on it now, stopping the bleeding.” Zinon Ikovle said.
“Stay in place until you see me moving for the camp.” Vova ordered. He then dropped a magazine, pushed a fresh one into his weapon and gave Olga a smile. The empty magazine went into his pack, so he could fill it later once he returned to base.
Forty five minutes later, the Sergeant stood and made his way into the camp. One of the guards tried to sit up with a gun in her hand, so the Sergeant fired one shot and struck her in the center of the chest, right between her breasts. She fell back as she kicked and moaned. Seconds later, she was dead.
“Use some caution, people, because some of them are not dead. If they threaten you, kill them, but otherwise take them prisoner.”
“I have a prisoner over here. He is alive, took a bullet to his shoulder, and he is knocked out.”
“Secure him with the plastic ties you have and leave him in place. Nititovich, as the medic, I need you to treat the injured man. His hands are behind him, so you will be safe enough.”
“I will do it, Sergeant.”
There was one more gun shot and Ikovle said, “He had a rifle he was raising. If he had kept the gun out of his hands, he would be alive right now.”
“How many dead, wounded and captive Americans do we have, Pavovich?”
“I see one wounded American captive and 10 killed, Sergeant.”
“Olga, give me the handset.” the Sergeant took the handset and said, “Hotel, Hotel, Monsoon here.”
“Uh, go Monsoon.”
“We ambushed eleven and have one wounded American as a POW. Poppa Oscar Whiskey, over.”
“How many dead?”
“No injuries on my side, ten dead Americans, and three wear the rank of officers.”