by W. R. Benton
“I may have, he looks familiar, but I cannot think when or where. Why?”
“He is the man we think planted the bomb in your suitcase.”
“I opened one bag to change so I could go for a walk. I never saw a bomb.”
“How many bags did you have?”
“Two.”
“I think the bomb must have been in the bag you did not open, then. Which bag held the bomb is not important. Can you think of anything that might help us?”
“Only as the Wing and Base Commander, the partisans must have put me on their hit list and that is not unusual at all. I was their enemy.”
“Yes, we see that, but we have to also weed out that no one in baggage receiving here placed the bomb too. The fact a maintenance worker is missing in America may or may not be tied to your case. I know we found the fingerprints of someone on part of the bomb and the prints have been sent to America to match the prints on file of the missing man. If they match, then we know we have the right man.”
“Complicated, is it not?”
“Not really, General, it is just a slow process is all.”
“Anything else I can do for you?”
“Uh, no sir. If I have other questions can I contact you?”
“Yes by all means. I do not like being a target of a crazy man.”
Quickly glancing at his watch, the Major said, “I must leave now, sir. I appreciate your help. I am sure you are safe here, and the partisans took a gamble but lost. Oh, they killed 58 Russians, but the man they wanted is still very much alive. Good day, sir.”
The General walked to his door and opened it wide for the agent. After the man walked from his room, Yurievich shut and locked the door, and stood shaking his head. He'd come so close to being killed but wasn't, all because of a cheap watch.
He walked to his bar, poured a triple vodka and then moved to the sofa, where he sat and closed his eyes. I hate the damned secret police because even a priest or nun feels guilty around them when they have done nothing wrong, he thought.
He dozed off minutes later.
Meanwhile, back in America and on the Russian base, Colonel Stena was in a staff meeting in the middle of the night as he had his units searching for the partisans. He'd kept the manning at the base at a minimum as he tried hard to locate the source of his problems, but he was having no luck. He finally, out of frustration, sent his two teams of Spetsnaz out looking. He knew it was an abuse of the highly trained soldiers, but he felt if anyone could find their base camps it would be them. So far all of his available man power in the field had found nothing, except booby-traps.
“I am giving our troops two more days and if nothing is found, I am bringing them back to the base. I feel very uncomfortable having the bulk of our troops in the woods. We are vulnerable this way, or so I think. But, since General Yurievich had them out in the field already, he must have had faith that something would be found.”
“Maybe, sir, he just hoped they would find something.”
“He took a big risk sending that many into the field. I think a company of Americans could take this base over as lightly manned as we are. Who is my operations officer?”
“I am, sir. I am Lieutenant Colonel Golov Petr Borisovich,” the man said as he stood.
“Arrange a pick up of all assets in the field over the next three days. I want almost half pulled out this evening and the rest by Friday. Do you understand your orders?”
“Uh, yes, sir. I fully understand. When I contact the units, they are sure to ask me why they are coming in early. What am I to tell them, sir?”
“Hell, that is easy. Tell them their commander wants them to return. They are Russian soldiers and I will not justify my orders when I want them to go someplace. Remind them, if needed, they are to follow orders and ask very few questions. By God, they are my subordinates.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tomorrow at Stand Up, I want to know which units were returned to the base and your plan to remove the rest. Make it a point paper that I can read when I get the time. Now, I want my other commanders to have your people up and working to support the men coming in from the field. They will need new uniforms, showers, hot water to shave, some good hot food, and some rest. I expect all of you to support their needs. I want each man or woman given a double shot of vodka when they return. Thank them for a job well done.”
“Sir,” a young Lieutenant from supply said, “We are not open after 1700, sir.”
“Lieutenant, you will be open 24 hours for the rest of this week as will all others, without exception.”
“Sir, I cannot work my civilians that long or they will get time and half, which needs approval from Moscow.”
“It is not real hard, Lieutenant; keep your civilians on duty during the day and use your military for the night shifts. You have at least two men on each shift and I am sure you have 4 men in an organization as large as supply, right?”
“Uh, yes sir. I will do what you suggested, sir.”
“Anyone else have any manning or shift problems?”
Not a sound was heard.
The Colonel then said, “That is it for Stand Up today. I want all of you to return to your sections and start planning your 24 hours shifts, which start immediately.” Stena then moved for the door.
As he walked pass a Master Sergeant, the big man stood and grunted, “Tinnnnn-huuut.”
Everyone in the room stood at attention until the Colonel was out of the room.
There was the normal moaning and groaning that folk who usually had an 8-5 job would now have to be open 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Senior Sergeant Vova laughed internally. The folks in the rear would work 12 hour shifts, and it still beat the 24 hours a day the men and women put in while in the field. Most of the returning troops would want a shower, hot food, and then a few drinks. He knew that the package store sold beer to the young troops and hard stuff to Sergeants and above. Each man had a ration card that he needed to hand to the cashier anytime they bought anything in the store. A sergeant was allowed two quarts of hard alcohol a month and two cases of beer, or 48 cans. He was allowed to buy cigarettes too, but only 3 cartons a month.
He left the headquarters building and made his way back to his room where Olga was sleeping when he left. He opened the door quietly and when he looked, she was still sleeping in the bedroom. He then switched on the TV and watched a documentary in Russian about Custer's Last Stand, which interested him greatly.
He put a pot of coffee on to boil. He liked tea better, but they were running low on green tea, so he would try coffee this morning. He had about an hour, then he needed to be at work. He'd just poured a cup when Olga entered the room and asked, “Any new missions coming down?”
“No, nothing this week. I think the new commander is worried because about 80% of our manpower is in the bushes looking for partisans. If the base is hit again, well, we could very well lose the whole place and not get it back anytime soon. An attack by the partisans would ruin his career.”
“Who sent so many people to the bush country?”
“General Yurievich did, and he had them all looking for partisans. They have found nothing so far. I think they would be smarter to let recognizance aircraft look for the partisans and call the troops back in for now.”
“Well, if their calling folks to come back, we will not go on any missions anytime soon.”
“That is really not true. A mission could come up and we could be tasked to do the job, only it would have to be a special mission. Of course, they are all special missions to me,” Petr said, “because I can get my ass shot off on an easy mission too.”
Olga laughed and said, “Relax some. I do not think we will go anywhere, not with them expecting an attack on the base. I cannot help but wonder if they are not getting paranoid. I mean the partisans held this base for 24 hours and yet, when the counterattack came, all of them except for maybe a dozen snipers were gone. All of us went out looking for them and they were gone, and there were what,
two firefights? Thousands of them attacked here and we found less than thirty later. They do not hold on to country, they attack to kill and run up our death and injury rates. They know the people back home are angery getting their young men and women back in boxes.”
“All guerrillas fight the same way. They hit and run, to wear an opponent down and drain his resources.”
“We are not even close to being worn out.”
“No, the army is not worn out, but our people are. When we leave America, it will be because of our citizens back home, not an army decision.”
“Do you really think that?” She asked, surprised he would say that.
“It happened before, years ago in Afghanistan. My father was there when we left the country and he said it was a war they could not win.” Petr said and then remembered his father as a kind but firm man who loved his family.
“I think this is another war we cannot win.”
There was a knock on his door. Getting up, he pulled his pistol, cocked the hammer back and asked, “Who is at my door?”
“Private Pushkin, Senior Sergeant Vova. I have a message for you from the Base Commander.”
Petr unlocked the door, opened it partially and seeing a frightened young man, he slipped his pistol into the shoulder holster he was wearing.
Opening the door wide, he said, “Come in and tell me what I can do for the Commander.”
The young man entered, looked at Olga and said, “I am only to tell you the orders. Can we speak in another room, Sergeant?”
“I have things to do in the bedroom.” Olga said, stood and moved into the bedroom, where she made the bed and began cleaning things up.
“Now, what are my orders?”
“You are to report to the Wing Commander for a classified mission against the Americans. You will take your squad, no one else, and you will sneak on their main bases and add something to their water supply. I know this war is going poorly when they openly have bases in places we have no control over. Three years ago those partisan bases would have been destroyed, but with Moscow cutting manpower here and the public raising hell, we have to make due with what they send us. I would do it on their field locations too, but I have no idea where the forward operating bases (FOB) are. Other than that, I can tell you no more, Sergeant. I have no idea what they want you to put in the water.”
Poison most likely, Vova thought and then said, “It does not matter what it is, an order is an order. When and where am I to meet with the commander?”
“Today, 1700 hours, in his office. Only you alone are to come to the meeting.”
“That is all he instructed you to tell me?”
“Yes, sir. He said he did not want the meat of the mission out for people to hear. He said it was a very important mission. That is all I was told, Sergeant.”
At 1700 hours, Wing Commanders Office, Senior Sergeant Vova was surprised to see a large group of officers enter the room as he waited. Finally he and the officers were called in and Colonel Stena had everyone seated. He then called Vova to the front and, in a surprise move, promoted him on the spot to Master Sergeant a good three days early.
When he finished, the Colonel said, “Let us have a big warm congratulations to our newest Master Sergeant, and it is very well deserved. Now, I want all of you to line up and shake this man's hand. It is rare for a man to make Master Sergeant, with only 2% of the enlisted force reaching his new rank.”
After the normal base stuff and a report on the number of troops returned to base, the officers were released and the Colonel invited Vova into his office for a drink and discussion.
Entering the office, the Colonel had Vova sit as he moved behind his desk and pulled out a bottle of American whiskey. “Care for a drink as I discuss your mission?”
“Uh, yes, sir. Give me about three fingers worth.”
Drink in hand a minute later, Colonel Stena said, “Master Sergeant, I am about to send you on a very dangerous but necessary mission. We have orders from Moscow to take drastic steps to kill Americans.”
“Oh, and what kind of steps, sir?”
“Chemical Biological warfare.”
“Sir, that can be sent with artillery shells, bombs or other ways to disperse the agent or chemical.” Vova gulped about half his drink down.
“In order not to attract attention, we want to deliver it to their drinking water.”
“So, I am to place something in the drinking water of the Americans?”
Taking a sip of his whiskey, Stena said, “Exactly. So it will appear the poison was natural and to catch the enemy off guard. They must not catch you or discover you during your mission.”
“Okay, I can understand that, but this sounds like something Spetsnaz is better suited for than my people.”
“Spetsnaz is not available right now. They are in the field looking for partisans. I need my people to do this, and I think my airborne troops can complete this mission.”
“I thank you for the confidence in us, sir, but the mission will be difficult if we are to add it to their water supply and never be seen. What poison am I to place in their water?”
“You will have the poison Botulinum. It is one of the, if not the most poisonous toxins in the world. Your nervous system fails and you die in extreme pain. You need to add very little to the water to kill the whole base. Our experts tell us as little as a tablespoon will be enough to kill everyone twice, but we are giving you two tablespoons of the poison to add to each drinking tank. The chemical will be in a water soluble container inside a water proof container, which means you have to keep it dry or you will die packing it. It will be given to you in a hard steel container with a screw on lid. The steel container is waterproof and you will have to intentionally open the container to add the chemical pouch to the water supply. The water will eat through the clear pouch in seconds, allowing the poison to mix with the water. Do not get the poison on your hands or clothing.”
“If the UN hears of this, there will be hell to pay.” Vova said.
“That is why you must not be caught. If it looks like you are about to be captured or overran, get rid of the poison. If you are caught with it, things will turn rough because the Americans will torture you to learn more about our deadly plans. Each of the stainless steel containers is equipped with a destruct button that will ignite a thermite lining around the toxin. It is destroyed within a minute. During the destruction process the container will become too hot to hold. So, push the button and then toss the container to the ground.”
“How many bases will we attack?” Vova asked, not liking the mission at all.
“Two, but only one first, until we hear of how world opinion goes after we kill thousands of them. If you are not caught, then they cannot prove we had anything to do with the deaths.”
“I understand, sir.” Vova said and then thought, I do not like this, because we are not trained to do jobs like this. I cannot refuse, because it is a legal order. Now, using the poison is against the UN but we did not sign any UN agreements on armed conflicts, only on the treatment of civilians in war zones. So, as a Russian soldier, the order is perfectly legal.
“I want your people to land by parachute near the partisan base in Dallas/Fort Worth and poison their water first. If you can get in and out, we will know then the system is a go. This mission must be completed at all costs, all costs. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, I understand, and the classification of this mission?”
“Top Secret, Eyes Only.” That meant only two or three people in the world knew of the mission. He suspected a General in Moscow knew, the Colonel knew, and then him. His people would not be told of the mission other than they needed to gain access to the bases water supply. He'd have to tell his second in charge, in case he was killed, but no one else would know.
“When do we leave on this mission, sir?”
“Tonight, at 2300 hundred you will be inserted by parachute, and it will be a HALO jump (High Altitude Low Opening) with your parachutes
set to open at 500 feet. Your jump altitude will be at 23,000 feet. It will be too late for you to move onto the base, but tomorrow you can look the place over and plan your attack on the water supply.”
“Your mission needs to be done within 48 hours because at some time following that, a very important individual will be visiting the base. A man named Bo Turner is due there to speak with them about establishing a nation again, once we are gone. This Bo man is wanting to be their first President after we leave, if we leave. I think he is a bit premature, but it is not my call. If we can kill him with the water, then that is another feather in our cap. We do not have his itinerary or we would have a sniper take him out. Hell, we are not even sure of the date he will arrive.”
“Sounds like this is well thought out, but I will give it more thought, sir.”
“Your mission is called, 'Operation Instant Fury'.”
Chapter 20
At the power station, a shot was heard and then a much deeper boom followed. Then Brown yelled, “All clear, now.”
The two men entered as the last of the explosives were being placed.
“You two take this man and the guard in the hall to the main fence and handcuff this one to it. The other man will go no place, so lay him close to this one. Once you're done we'll scatter. Hurry, because we don't have much time.”
Ten minutes later, as they waited in the truck, the main building went up in a ball of red flames with black edges. As the fireball rolled inside of itself, the explosives on four tall towers went up as well. Immediately the lights around the facility went off, but emergency generators kicked on a minute or so later, lighting the place once more.
“Let's go, now! Head home by the shortest route too.” John ordered as his men clapped and cheered at their success. John looked at the body of Private Irving on the floor, wrapped in a poncho, and knew the cost was too high.
The other group ran into resistance and it cost them three lives to blow the power plant. The group with John had seen the explosion as they rode back to base. There was a huge rolling ball of flames on the horizon to the southwest and the skies lit up in white. They knew it was the power plant going up and they wondered about casualties, because all of them had friends in the group. There was nothing they could do; deaths and maiming happened in their line of work.