by W. R. Benton
CHAPTER 5
“The mines were command detonated at the perfect time, and I lost all but two people right then. I only heard one scream following the explosions and it didn't last long. Then Brown opened up with his rifle, only he didn't last but a minute or so. I heard him grunt, at least I think it was him, and a piercing scream followed. I moved into the brush, concealed myself and waited. I had two Russians walk right by me and both were wearing NVG's.”
John suspected the unit would have night vision goggles and that opened his eyes to the fact they weren't as safe at night as he'd thought. He thought for a few minutes and then asked, “So when did you get wounded?”
“I gave the Russians enough time to start laying mines and such, then broke through the brush like a bull was on my ass. I heard all kinds of fire directed toward me, but it was a pistol round that put me on my ass. I got up, changed directions, and ran again. After I grew winded, I slowed and eventually stopped. I sat under the tree, and you know the rest of the story.”
A light rain began to fall and everyone started removing ponchos and rain gear from their packs. While it wasn't cold, being wet would bring a chill, and even with moderate temperatures, hypothermia was a consideration. While removing his poncho, John pulled a ration and tossed it to Holland.
Catching it easily, he said, “Thanks. I lost my pack and most of my gear at the ambush site. When I thought about running, I dumped anything with any weight.”
Tom, who'd remained silent asked, “What now? You're the leader of a cell, but no troops.”
“Stay with you, I guess. There is no way to contact Willy Williams, so it's up to us to make a decision.”
“Okay, I would be proud to add you to the team, but you'll be number four in the pecking order around here. Me, Tom, and Kate outrank you, but if you don't have a problem with that, welcome.” John said.
Lowering his head, Holland replied, “I don't think I'm good enough to be a leader.”
“That's bullshit, Joshua, and deep down inside you know it.” John said and then added, “Ain't a leader alive today that hasn't lost people. I'd follow you and I know things happened out here we have no control over. The Russians are good soldiers and they have a technological advantage on us. Learn from it and move forward.”
Tom added, “John's right, you know?”
Raising his head, Josh said, “Maybe, but I need to think on this a spell.”
John said, “Tom, establish guards for the night, and I want us up and moving an hour before daylight.”
The night passed uneventfully and John was well rested when he awoke. While the rain had stopped, drops still fell from the limbs of trees and the area was covered in a dense fog.
“A warm front must have collided with a cooler one.” Tom said as he sharpened his knife.
“I want Kate on point this morning, because her eyes are the sharpest of the bunch. Have Margie bring up our rear.”
“What about Joshua?”
“He's useless for a week, most likely. I think he'll be preoccupied most of the time, reliving the ambush.”
Tom nodded.
Near noon, Kate returned, met John's eyes and whispered, “I have two Russian supply trucks and a smaller maintenance truck on a narrow macadam road, oh, maybe two hundred yards from here.”
“How many men did you see?”
“I counted an even half-dozen, which means a driver and guard per truck and two mechanics.”
“That's it?”
“Because of the road, I didn't circle them, but that's all I saw on this side and near the trucks. I didn't want them to see me if I crossed the road. I got a good look inside both trucks and they're carrying supplies.”
“Tom?”
“Yo?”
“Take Sandra and check it out. If there are only six of them, rig a claymore to blow into the largest number of men. If they're like most soldiers, they'll be gathered near the mechanics as they work, shooting the shit. Then, once you're ready, send Sandra back and we'll move forward.”
“Got it. Sandra, come with me.” Tom said then started moving.
While they were gone, John pulled out a map and looked the area over closely. The road eventually met another, and continued into Jackson. It was a county road, isolated, and from the marks on my map, not near any known Russian base or outpost.
A little later, Sandra returned, smiled and said, “Tom said for you to move forward. The mine is in position and he's ready.”
Turning to his folks, who were all near, he said, “Spread out and slowly move forward. Once in position, I'll give us a few minutes to get ready. If you have to toss a grenade, try like hell to avoid the trucks. We have no idea what's inside and we might need the gear. Once we shoot, run forward and overwhelm them. Any questions?” Most shook there heads, but he saw anger in Joshua's eyes. I hope he doesn't do something stupid, John thought, and then moved toward Tom.
When he neared Tom, he could see four of the Russians sitting on an open tailgate of a camouflaged Russian wrecker. They were drinking something from a bottle and he suspected it was vodka or alcohol of some sort. The remaining two men were standing on the front bumper of what an American soldier would call a deuce and a half truck. The hood was up and they had tools in their hands, obviously working on some part of the engine.
John gave everyone about three or four minutes to get ready. He knew some would pull extra magazines and others would remove tape holding the spoons down on their grenades. He grinned when he saw Margie attach a bayonet to her M-16. Rarely was the knife used, but if she felt a need for it, it didn't matter to him. He glanced up at the sky, saw no threat of bad weather, and meeting Tom's eyes, nodded.
Tom picked up a clacker, squeezed, and then heard a loud explosion as the Claymore fired. The Russians on the tailgate were suddenly surrounded by a red mist —their blood. Screams were heard and the men on the tailgate fell to the ground, with two jerking and twisting. The remaining two were unmoving. Screams filled the air.
At the truck, both men looked around confused, and then the sounds of rifle fire were heard. The head of the man on the left exploded, sending blood and gore in all directions. The other man dropped to the ground, went prone, and fired one round before his body suddenly went limp.
“Cease fire and move forward, now!” John yelled.
Margie moved to a Russian near the wrecker and all heard him scream as her bayonet entered his stomach. Removing the blade, she stabbed again, again, and again. Finally, she ran toward the prone man, near the trucks, her bayonet dripping crimson. John heard a shot, and Tom had fired into the other injured man near the wrecker. The Russian jerked once and then lay still.
“Tom, check the cargo in the first truck!” John yelled, as he moved for the second vehicle. He then added, “Kate, I want you about a hundred yards in front of these trucks and Sandra, you move about the same distance behind us. If you see or hear anything, let me know.”
John then moved to the supplies, climbing up and into the truck. He found a case of AK-47's, rations, some winter clothing, gasoline and fresh produce. He pulled the weapons, rations, winter clothing, and produce. Once the supplies were on the side of the road, he poked holes in the cans of gas and left it leaking on the gear they didn't take.
“Joshua, crawl under each truck and poke holes in the gas tanks, slash the tires, and fill the carburetors with dirt. Margie, gather up all the weapons and gear we can use from the dead and check the inside of each truck.”
Tom neared and said, “Other than Russian packs and some ponchos, with liners, most of the load in the first truck was plywood and gasoline.”
“We need both the packs and ponchos. Make sure we take two extra ponchos for each person and a pack each, if our folks need a new one. Get two liners a piece for us, because when the weather turns nasty, and it will in a month, we'll be happy to have them.”
John walked to the senior man, who was a sergeant, and placed an ace of spades card in his mouth. He noticed Margie had t
urned the pockets of each of the dead inside-out, looking for anything of use for intelligence, but it was a wasted effort. They no longer had an intelligence branch, but it was good to know she was thinking.
When Tom neared he said, “I want you to gather up our folks and these supplies. Start moving west, but I'll remain behind. Once you've been gone for about thirty minutes, I'll set these trucks on fire. Expect choppers shortly after you see the smoke. I want you to keep moving, and I'll catch up as soon as possible. Tell the drag not to shoot my ass, too.”
He grinned and asked, “Are you doing this job alone?”
“I'd thought I would, why?”
Turning serious, he said, “Keep a person with you. I don't like the idea of leaving you by yourself.” Then turning, he said, “Margie, get Kate and Sandra.”
“Leave Joshua then. I think he did a good job during the attack, and we need to get him back in the saddle as soon as we can.”
“Josh!” Tom called out.
“Here!” He replied from near the supplies.
“Stay behind with John and cover him as he torches the trucks.”
“Sure.” He said, and then stuffed a half dozen camouflaged Russian rations in his pack.
“Let's pick up the supplies and move, people.” Tom ordered. “Margie, you take point and Kate cover our rear. Be aware that John and Joshua will join us at some point today.”
Kate gave a thumb up and moved across the road, with the rest following her after a minute or so. John turned to Joshua and said, “Go across the road and try to cover all sign of their passing for fifty yards or so. It won't throw off a dog, but it might some lazy troopers.”
As he left, John glanced at his watch, scanned the countryside, and then the sky. He knew eventually the dead Russians would be missed, but seriously suspected once the trucks were in flames, they'd respond. He took two grenades, pulled the pins, and held the spoons as he positioned one under the dead men by the wrecker and the other under one of the men near the trucks bumper.
When Joshua returned, he glanced at his watch again and saw it was time to start the fires. Gas covered the road and he double checked the grenades, so any explosions from the vehicles wouldn't trigger his surprises.
Turning to Joshua, he said, “Move across the road with me, in a minute. Once the flames are burning, let's move opposite of our group's heading fast. After we cover a mile or so, we'll swing north and then finally west. I know it won't throw a good tracker off for long, but it's the best we can do.”
He then pulled a lighter from his pocket, ignited a Russian map he'd found in the wrecker, and then asked, “Are you ready to move?”
“Uh-huh, so have at it.”
The burning map struck the pavement and a second later they heard a swoosh. Already moving, John glanced over his shoulder to see the whole road engulfed in flames. Joshua was in front of him and moving at a fast jog. They heard a loud explosion, quickly followed by two more, and glancing back, he saw a fireball rolling toward the sky. John knew once the tires and oils were burning well, thick black smoke would pinpoint the location.
For over a mile they kept the jog up, but after turning west at a small stream, John said, “Stay in the water as long as the stream is moving west. Once we leave the water, I'll stay in the rear and try to cover our trail.”
Right then, they heard a jet flying low, almost right over their heads, and he'd appeared out of nowhere. John suspected at his speed they'd be almost impossible to see, unless in an open field, and they'd cross no open spaces this day. A few minutes later, they left the stream.
Keep your wits and cover your trail, John thought as he straightened bent grasses and small sticks, from where they'd stepped from the water. He could do nothing about the water dripping from their boots, and hoped if anyone got on their trail they were far enough behind the water would dry before discovery of their tracks.
After about three miles, they moved slightly south and soon came to a blacktop road.
“Jog about a mile or so down this road, crossover, and then enter the woods. Keep moving straight west. Stay under the trees and in the shadows as much as possible.”
They'd covered about half the distance, when John heard a vehicle approaching from the rear. They were in a slight valley, so anyone coming from either direction would have to top a rise to see them below.
“Off the road and into the brush, now!”
Less than two minutes later a motorcycle passed, and when he glanced at Joshua, he knew not to move. Rarely is a bike out alone and my partner knows this, too. I suspect a convoy will be right behind him, he thought and then glanced the way the motorcycle had come.
Two motorcycles approached and behind them the two men saw a long line of big trucks. Supplies, John thought, or men. As the vehicles passed, he started counting and when he was at ten, an empty bottle flew from the rear of one truck and landed six feet away. He saw it was an empty vodka bottle. At twenty, John ran out of trucks, and saw another motorcycle riding the bumper of the last truck.
Joshua started to move when John whispered, “Wait, I'm sure they have a bike guarding their rear.”
Five minutes later a couple of bikes passed and as soon as they went over a slight hill, they ran across the road. Covering their tracks was fairly easy, since it was mainly long grasses, so once the job was done John said, “Follow me. Dead west.”
The convoy got John thinking about mining roads, snipers, and all kinds of things they could do to piss the Russians off. Once we reach our location, that's what we'll start doing. If we can find small camps of the bastards, we can use Kate to take out a few of the officers. Maybe stretch some wire across the roads to knock some bikers on their asses or decapitate one or two. Lay some mines on dirt roads and some Claymores beside the macadam ones. We can stir the pot well, with just a few of us, he thought.
An hour before dark they'd seen no sign of the others and John was growing concerned. He'd checked the map over and over again, but was on the right path. By his guess, they should have met the others two hours back. Leaning close to Joshua, he said, “Move into the deep brush and we'll spend the night back-to-back, in the trees, for safety. Once in place, place a Claymore toward our trail, another in the opposite direction and lay out two grenades. We'll eat one-at-a-time after that and then sleep. One of us will be awake at all times.”
“Understood.”
It was about fifteen minutes before the two men were situated and moving into the trees. Finding a small clearing, well camouflaged by trees and brush, the two men sat back-to-back. Joshua was eating when John heard a noise. He flipped the safety on his weapon to off.
Joshua dropped his meal and whispered, “Sound like jeans rubbing jeans.”
Both men could hear brush being moved and the sound of feet moving over the forest floor.
“Clear your target.” John whispered, unsure if Joshua heard him or not.
Sobs were heard and then someone asked, “Why? Why did they do that to us?”
Sounds like a kid, John thought, but he waited to call out. He could hear someone sniffling and crying. Finally, hoping it was a child, John asked, “We are near, and friends. Are you alone?”
“W . . . who are you?” The voice was thick with fear.
“Americans, and you?”
“The Russians killed my family.”
“What is your name? I'm John, and the man with me is Joshua.”
“I'm Aaron Hart.”
“Are you hungry, Aaron?”
“No; my family is dead. I heard them shoot them after I ran.”
“Aaron, can you be brave for me? I need you to move straight ahead for about twenty feet. Once there stop and I'll come to you.”
“Y . . . you won't hurt me, will you?”
“No, son, we're your friends. I think you need friends right now, don't you?”
“I'm walkin' toward you mister, but I don't trust you.”
“That's good, it means you're a smart lad. I see you now, so I'm g
oing to stand.”
John stood, moved to the boy and squatted. He asked, “How old are you Aaron?”
“I'm fourteen. Why is your face green and black?”
“I'm an American soldier, I guess.”
“What am I goin' to do now? I don't have a home or family.”
“John, look to the South.” Joshua said from the darkness.
A flickering light that grew in size was seen, and pulsed and moved like a living thing. All knew it was Aaron's home and his family was dead.
“What now, John? Do we check the house in the morning?”
John gave the idea some thought, but said, “No, we have to meet the others. Aaron, are you hungry?”
“Not really, but I was before the Russians came to visit us.”
Placing his hand on the young boy's shoulder, John said, “Come with me and you can sit with us. I have some food, so if you get hungry later let me know, okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Aaron replied as he followed John.
After a few minutes, John said, “To hell with it, we'll check the house out tomorrow. I doubt we'll find any survivors, but it's possible and Aaron here, he needs to know what happened to his family.”
CHAPTER 6
Major Abdulov used the radio to contact the Russian base camp and reported the death of four resistance members, without the loss of a single man. As far as he was concerned, his mission was complete, or close enough in his view. Moscow and Vetrov only lived for body counts, so numbers he could deliver. He knew no one in the unit he commanded would say a word, because like him, they wanted to return to the safety of camp. He cursed, handed the radio headset back, and said, “We have to spend the night here. So, we will sleep in the barn.”