by W. R. Benton
“Not yet, but I will if anyone comes looking for us.”
“Good, because I think if someone shot into the cave, the ricochets would tear a man up. We definitely do not want to be caught and trapped in that hole.”
“If you help, we can stand guard all day and night. Nothing can move down there and not be seen by us. Wow, I just picked up a small herd of deer heading to the river to drink.”
The rest of the evening was uneventful as the partisans rested and ate. Most were eating out of habit and not because they were starving. Food was no longer the center of most peoples lives and they were forced to eat what they had, or like in this case, they ate the rations they had. People were seen trading side dishes from their ration packages, so everyone got pretty much what they wanted.
It was 0200 when Smith, using the binoculars, spotted lights moving in the valley below. He woke Fillmore and had him take a look.
“I'm not sure where they're headed, so we'll keep a close watch on them. If they get within a half a mile, I'll wake the Colonel.” Fillmore said.
Twenty minutes later, the Sergeant said, “Wake the Colonel, I'm sure they're heading here or damned close.”
Smith went to wake the Colonel and just a few minutes later he returned with John. John looking into the valley, spotted some lights moving toward them and said, “Wake everyone and have them ready to leave in a moments notice.”
“How would they know we're here?”
“I have no idea, but someone may have seen us go in the cave. It was still daylight when we entered.”
Suddenly a number of attack helicopters were heard and one lowered to the mouth of the cave and the door gunner began shooting into it. Screams were heard as John flattened himself against the dirt and aimed at the pilot’s head, which was slightly below him to his right. He took a deep breathe and as he released it, he squeezed the trigger.
His bullet struck the side window on the pilot's door, entered the cabin and stuck the metal headrest mounting. It then bounced off with a loud zing and struck the co-pilot in his left wrist. The man screamed and grabbed his injury. Smith and Fillmore were shooting as well, but they were aiming at the aircraft engine. Holes were seen in the aluminum that covered the engine. Then a light gray smoke was seen and the chopper moved away from the cave. Now flames in front of the intake cowling were seen.
The light from the burning engine was still seen from the hill after the chopper had moved miles away. Fillmore wondered if the aircraft would make it safely to his base, but then put the concern out of his mind. They'd just killed many of his friends and if they crashed and burned it would have filled his soul full of joy. The other three helicopters were circling the cave high overhead now. They must have gained altitude after the first aircraft was shot at.
John stood in the cave and his mind was not prepared for what he saw. Some of his people were blown apart by the machine-gun and blood dripped down the walls. He yelled for all of the survivors to help him separate the dead from the wounded. They were about half done when John realized he'd lost close to half of his troops to that one single chopper. He finally found Major Barnes and she'd taken a round to her head, but the bullet had burned a path on her skull. It didn't kill her, but it had knocked her out. Looking her over closely, John was surprised to find her head was her only wound.
“Colonel, get everyone out of here and now! The attack helicopters are lining up on the cave. Hurry!” Smith yelled from outside the cavern.
Picking up Joy, he carried her to the entrance and helped four more troops leave the cave. They then moved to the left, on the cliff, and made their weapons ready. The three helicopters that had been circling, were close now, flying in an attack formation toward the cave.
There came a puff of smoke from under the armament rails on the lead chopper and two missiles were coming for the cave. One hit to the left of the hole in the ground, but the other flew into the opening of the cave, where it exploded, throwing huge boulders out the front. John knew anyone inside was dead.
“Not good.” John said as the second chopper sent a missile to the side of the cave and the last one entered the cave, mimicking the last helicopter's shots. Big rocks and boulders were blown out of the mouth of the cavern again.
All the partisans fired at the choppers, but they seemed to have no impact on the big birds. John had no missiles or RPGs, so small arms fire was all they had. Finally as a chopper banked in a turn, the engine must have been struck, because gray smoke began to pour out of the engine housing. The helicopters left the area quickly, with two escorting the damaged aircraft. Again, John hoped the damaged chopper would crash on the way home.
“Cease fire! Cease fire! They are leaving!” John yelled and the firing slowly came to a stop.
“How many wounded were left in there or do you know?” John asked once it was quiet again.
“I have no real count, sir. We were busy treating the injured, but from the looks of things, we have about half of the company left.”
“I wonder how they knew we were here?”
“I suspect our night fire gave our position away. If we can see down into the valley, it only makes sense they can see up here. They knew we're on the run, so it was simple to conclude we were here if the fire was seen.” Major Woo said and then gasped.
“You okay?” John asked.
“No, I'm not okay. I have an injury to my back and I don't think it's a bullet, or it would have gone all the way through me.”
“Private Toms, look Major Woo over when you finish with the more seriously wounded.”
“Yes sir.” she replied.
“Smith, run to Fillmore and tell him to keep watch as we treat the wounded. Also tell him to be ready to move with a minutes notice. I want us gone before the Russian army comes to look this place over, and they will come.”
“Will do, sir. Then I'll come back and help with the wounded.”
“Scat, and now.”
Twenty minutes later, when they attempted to get the walking wounded on their feet, Smith walked to the Colonel and said, “Sir, the Russians have landed in the valley below by helicopter and they're forming up now to come here.”
“Plant some booby-traps! Private Nelson, since you’re my sniper, find you a good place to ply your trade. I want Smith to stay behind to be your spotter and extra eyes. Once they reach the cave, if you can, I want the two of you to meet up with us. We're taking the fastest way home. God bless and good luck. Lieutenant Jones, you will be my point and come to a heading of 146 degrees.”
“Yes, sir.” the Lieutenant said and started walking.
“We're very lucky we have enough people unhurt that they can carry the liters of the injured, or we'd be leaving them behind.” Major. Woo said.
“Yes, and I'll be able to save the bulk of my people. I've had to make some serious choices like that over the years. In the first year or two, I'd kill any wounded we couldn't take with us, and that still haunts me. I had no choice because the Russians are nasty when they do an interrogation. They turn sadistic and I was not about to let my men or women be put through torture. Everyone ended up telling them what they wanted to know in the end, just before they killed them or threw them in a Gulag. I killed out of compassion, not anger or hatred.” John said, his voice just above a whisper as he spoke. The tone of his voice was filled with pain.
Joy raised up on a stretcher and asked, “Colonel, are you okay?”
He moved to her side, took her hand in his and said, “I'm fine, but for a while there I thought my executive officer wasn't going to live. Never scare me like that.”
“My head hurts. It feels like my head is sewed together.” She laid back down and her right hand went to her bandage.
“Your scalp was cut by the bullet, and if it had hit your skull we'd not be having this conversation right now. The medic had to sew your scalp back together, so that is part of what you're feeling. Let me get the medic to get rid of your pain.”
“Thank you. My head is p
ounding.”
Toms neared, looked at her watch, and said, “Okay, I can give you morphine. Does the medication work on you? Some patients break out sweating or they itch like crazy when given the drug.”
“I handle it very well, but it makes me sleepy.”
Opening her medical supplies she began working on giving Joy a shot of the pain killer. “I can't give you anymore of this until 6 hours pass. If you wake up in pain later, I'll have to give you codeine pills.”
“Please give me something that works because my head feels horrible.”
“Feels like you have a hangover, doesn't it?”
“Maybe a hangover on steroids. My head has never felt this bad before, never.”
When Toms administered the shot, Joy could have sworn she felt the medication moving in her veins, because there was a slight burning sensation. Seconds later, she drifted off to sleep.
“I hope I have enough pain killer for my patients. I may end up having all of you give me the medication from your individual first aid kits just to make it home.”
“We can do that and if you must, just start asking and if they give you any lip, tell them I gave the order, okay?”
“Sure, Colonel, I can do that, and thanks.”
John gave her a smile and wink and said, “Not a problem. I want my folks taken good care of and I'll help you in anyway I can.”
Chapter 16
General-Select Yurievich was in his office, his bags at the airport and already on the aircraft, placed there by Americans working for the Russians. The American workers discovered the pay was good, the hours nice, and they had access to the flight-line and the surrounding buildings, except for a few that were classified. Unknown to anyone on the base, the partisans knew of the Colonel’s leaving and they had plans to blow the plane up in the sky. Their employees even knew his flight number and they worked on the individual plane that was to permanently remove him from America.
A bomb had been smuggled inside the base, with great risk to the carriers. An American had crawled through the sewer drains under the base to hand the explosive device to a fellow partisan. That partisan placed the explosives in his tool box and then headed for the aircraft. He moved into the cargo area and began working on some hydraulic lines. When left alone, he found the General’s bag and opened it. He activated the timer and stuck the bomb deep inside the man’s clothing. It was timed to go off when the aircraft would be over the Atlantic ocean and hopefully kill all the crew and passengers.
This bomb has the newest in powerful explosives, so it should blow this airplane to hell and back, he thought as he pulled the aircraft records and indicated he'd worked on the hydraulic lines and all was okay now. The bomb, about the size of a soft drink can, was armed now, so he needed to leave the aircraft.
As he moved, a security guard asked, “Why were you on that airplane? Everyone else is finished and has been for hours. What is your name?”
“My name is Sam Burns and I had to check the hydraulic lines and pressure. The crew wrote a red X on the system, meaning it cannot fly until the hydraulic lines are checked and working well. They're fine now.”
“Come with me.” The guard motioned to another guard who walked to him.
When they were a couple of feet away, the guard holding the maintenance man said in Russian, “This one claims he was ordered to fix the hydraulic lines on the General's airplane. You and I will check the records, Posvich.”
“I will hold him here, while you check. He will go no place until you return.”
“Good, keep him here as I look at the aircraft records.”
The partisan maintenance man was getting spooked and knew if they brought an explosive sniffing dog, he would be taken in to interrogate. The longer the security guard was gone, the more nervous he became. I don't think he'll find anything, but damn me if they bring a dog. I need to kill this man and make a run for it. Perhaps I can hit the point of his nose and drive the cartilage and bone into his brain. I don't want to attract attention, but I can't take much more of this, he thought.
Then the man was seen walking from the aircraft and he looked relaxed. He smiled and said, “The pilot put a red x in the box on the hydraulic lines and he requested they be checked before the aircraft's next takeoff. This man, named Burns, did the check. I am sorry to have detained you, my friend, but we live in troubled times. You may go now and enjoy your evening.”
He picked up his tool box and moved away from the two guards at a normal walk. He knew if he walked too fast, they'd wonder why. He wanted to run because his fear was almost overwhelming, but forced himself to move like a tired man nearing the end of his shift. He made his way out the gate and then moved for his home. He would gather all his belongings and leave to join the partisans. He knew after the plane exploded, he'd be a suspect right off because the guards had checked him out.
Once at home, he quickly packed a backpack, moved to his barn where he dug up an old AK47 and a Smith and Wesson .38 snub-nose pistol. Pulling a complete Russian field uniform he dressed and tied a yellow towel around his left arm. He was upstairs in the house when he heard a large truck pull into his driveway. He looked out the window and saw a squad of Russian troops forming up to take his house. He knew his front door was booby-trapped with a grenade that had a zero wait timer, so that was protected. He had two large German Shepherds he let run loose in the house and he could hear them barking already.
He raised his AK and fired a short burst at the Russians and smiled when three of them dropped. The return fire was awesome and the entire window and frame was torn to pieces with machine-gun fire. He ran downstairs and heard them pounding on the door with something, so he opened the door to the kitchen and let his dogs out.
Suddenly the front door dropped inward and fell to the floor. As the Russians moved to the entrance, the grenade exploded with a big blast. Screams were heard and men dropped, then rifle fire began to hit the house. The loud noise of the rounds striking the house was frightening because the simple wooden framed house didn't even slow the bullets down. Dropping to the floor, Burns crawled to the fireplace, removed the third brick on the second row and pushed a button.
I need to get out of here, and soon too. The house will blow in five minutes. He moved to the throw rug in the middle of his living room, moved the rug, and taking his pack and weapons, he dropped down into a tunnel. He flipped a switch and lights came on the length of the hole and he began to crawl as he pulled his pack and guns, toward the ending. The tunnel ended beside a slow moving stream. He crawled from the tunnel, stood and then wiped as much dirt off his clothing as possible. Looking back at his home, he watched the soldiers entering through the front door.
He was looking at his watch when the house went up in bright crimson flames and black oily smoke. The six sticks of dynamite did the job well, and he could hear one Russian shouting orders. Obviously an officer, but Burns didn't bother the man. He'd just killed about 15 Russians and that was good enough on this day. He knew if he shot anyone from where he was it would compromise his position, so he began moving south toward the closest group of partisans. He took his time and stopped frequently to check for booby-traps.
The big jet was paused at the end of the runway, waiting for permission from the tower to take off. The airplane was number two in a line of five waiting for clearance to get into the air. The pilot watched the aircraft in front of him get airborne.
“Uh, Whiskey One, this is the tower, you now have permission to take off. Have a great flight and be sure to come back and visit us another day.” a male voice said in English.
“Roger that, Tower, this is aircraft Whiskey One, Niner, Niner, Zero, Three, Zero starting our take off roll now. Uh, be advised Tower, we will be doing a maximum climb once in the air to avoid any ground fire. Do you copy?” the pilot said as he stood on the brakes and increased the four throttles of his engines.
“Copy Whiskey One, you will be doing a maximum take off. Have a safe flight.”
With
the power almost to the max, the pilot suddenly released the brakes and the heavy aircraft lunged forward and down the runway. On and on it moved, until it struck takeoff speed and then the pilots pulled the yoke back gently.
“Uh, Tower, Whiskey One. I am in the air.”
“Copy Whiskey. Contact flight control in Saint Louis in approximately one hour, over.”
“Copy, Tower. Will contact Saint Louis in about an hour.”
The trip was soon going well as the passengers and crew settled into their flight routine as they leveled off at 22 thousand feet. Most of the passengers tried to sleep, but some, like General-Select Ludomir Yurievich, started drinking.
A beautiful stewardess moved to the Colonel and asked, “Would you like a drink, sir?”
He glanced up into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Her lips were full with just a touch of lip gloss which accented their shape, and her eyes were an endless pool of blue. She had a perfect body and her narrow waist just made her large top and shapely bottom that much more attractive.
“Yes, I do. Bring me a double Kentucky whiskey with no ice, please.”
“Any particular brand, sir?”
“It matters little, because Kentucky and Tennessee don't make a bad whiskey. Some of their drink is better than others, but they sell only excellent drink.”
“I have to admit I like it, and keep a few bottles in my home. I can buy it in the tax free shops and the price is lower than a quart of vodka. I will be right back with your drink, sir.” she said and then moved to the galley to prepare his drink.
When she returned, he asked, “Are you based in Russia or America?”
“Russia for right now.” she said, “The airlines is concerned the war will soon end, so they sent all of us girls back home. I do not see any hint that the war will end myself, but I do not get the same news as the company does. I think we should leave, because it has cost us thousands and thousands of men and women and we are still where we were when the war started. No, we all need to come home for good.”