The Fall of America: Call Sign Copperhead (Book 6)

by W. R. Benton

  “Copy.” came an instant reply.

  I gave the Major a questioning look and he said, “Russian Black Sharks are around and will immediately respond to any attacks on their infantry troops. They work together well.”

  The gunfire died down as we broke contact, so I moved to the pallet and removed a Russian 9K32 Strela-2. It carried a high explosive warhead and infrared homing guidance system, and I'd used them before. I'd compare it in overall performance to the US Army FIM-43 Redeye or pretty damned close.

  Just then a Black Shark moved over the horizon and headed toward their squads. I aimed the iron sights on the aircraft and followed it until it hovered over the troops, and I saw the pilot obviously trying to find us visually. I squeezed the trigger slightly, and got a light buzzing sound. I then pulled the trigger harder and felt, as well as heard, the missile leave the launch tube.

  The missile struck the aircraft in the engine and while the explosion was less than I expected, it was enough to severely damage the aircraft. I saw panels fly from the engine housing and the chopper wobbled uncontrollably for a few minutes. Dense black smoke started coming from the engine exhaust and I knew then we'd hurt them. The aircraft nosed down, began to spin counter clockwise and then fell to the field—landing hard.

  There came no explosion, but by now the gear on the remaining pallet was gone and Major Eller yelled to be heard over the noise. “Let's move into the trees and now, sir! We need to get out of here before they bring in some fast movers with napalm.”

  We'd no sooner started running than I heard an explosion and, looking over my shoulder, I saw a huge dull red and black fire ball rolling into itself. I heard the screams of those still alive in the chopper, but it didn't bother me at all. I was fully aware they were burning to death. I'd grown hard during my years with the resistance and felt nothing. The Russians needed to leave my country, or I'd continue to kill all of them I could find.

  Once in the trees, I saw no one. My people and the Missouri partisans were long gone.

  “I sent my troops and yours ahead, sir. We need to make tracks, because I think these woods will soon turn hot.”

  As we moved, I heard a jet pass low over us, and knew the trees we'd just left were about to be worked over hard. There sounded two explosions and I heard the jet pull up and move around for another attack. Soon I heard the muffled explosion of napalm and knew the woods were now in flames. I felt no heat, but it was only due to the dense woods we were moving through. Dolly seemed to take it all in stride and stayed by my side.

  An hour later, we walked to a cave and a guard said, “Dog and Pony.”

  “Show.”

  “Pass.”

  The inside of the cave was filled with supplies and my administration troops. I turned to Major Eller and said, “I want all officers and NCO's in here tomorrow morning, if possible, so I can get a situation brief and meet my new people.”

  “Captain Hensley can give you the situation brief, but I'll put the word out about the morning meeting over the radio. It'll be sent in code, of course.”

  “Let's do the briefing, then. I need to know what's going on, and the sooner the better.”

  “Sir, if you'll move further back into the cave, I have a map I can show you.” Captain Hensley said.

  “Sure, but Major, I want you to attend as well. You may be able to expand on some issues.” I said.

  “No problem, sir.”

  An hour later, I could understand their demand for more troops. The Russians had taken over Fort Leonard Wood, but not before our partisans had struck it hard, removing most weapons and ammo from storage. They'd pretty much cleaned the place of chemical warfare suits, munitions, clothing, and anything that they felt might be needed. Thousands of cases of MREs were taken, along with canned foods for the mess hall. Of course, over the last three years the canned foods were used.

  The Russians were in control of Saint Louis, Jefferson City, Rolla, and the Fort. Most small towns between Rolla and Saint Louis were also under their thumb. The biggest concentration of Russians, besides Saint Louis, was Fort Leonard Wood.

  We were located about 10 miles south of Rolla, Missouri, and then maybe the same distance west. We were south and east of Fort Leonard Wood.

  I knew the Fort was about thirty miles from us, so I asked, “What sort of changes have the Russians made to Fort Leonard Wood?”

  “They immediately doubled the length of the runway on the Fort so they could take deliveries from large aircraft. The main gate is very strong now, with concrete bunkers and thousands of sandbags. Some of our people work inside the Fort doing jobs the Russians don't like or want to do.” The Captain handed me a photo of the gate taken, so he said, by a partisan.

  “Gulags there?”

  “There are three gulags, but two are very large with oh, maybe 5,000 people in each. The smaller one has maybe a thousand people. We've never attacked the Fort before.”

  “That will soon change. I want you to draw up an attack plan on one of the larger gulags. We need to show our people, the prisoners there, that we know they are captive and we'll try to free them when we can.”

  “Colonel, our loss rate will be high.” the Captain said.

  “It's worth the cost. I realize our losses could be as high as 70% and I'm willing to pay that, so we can show the Russians we can attack what we wish. It will not only scare the enemy, but show our folks we'll make an effort to save them, thus improving their morale. I believe the morale alone will aid in saving some lives of those held captive.”

  “Sir, no disrespect intended, but with 70% losses, most of our people will say you're playing with their lives. After all, you will be safely out of the way while they do the dying.”

  “I don't work like that, Captain. I will be part of the first wave to hit the gulag and so will you. I'll leave the Major here in case I'm killed or seriously injured. I lead by example, Captain, and so will all our leaders in the resistance. Now, I suggest you go work on the attack plan, because I want to hit the Fort by the end of the week. It's Wednesday, so you have a few days to prepare a night attack on the place. Now, at the same time we strike the gulag, I want the Fort airfield hit by teams of sappers, teams sent in only prepared to destroy aircraft, so they'll need plenty of explosives.”

  “I understand, sir.” The Captain snapped to attention.

  “Can I speak with you privately, sir?” Major Eller asked.

  “Captain you’re dismissed. Step outside with me a minute, Major, and unload your mind.”

  As we left the cave, the troops were opening boxes and removing all sort of things the Chinese had given us. I saw a case of their grenades and winced. Sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn't. The damned fuses were set for five seconds but due to manufacturing errors, they often exploded much earlier than that. I always pulled the pin and tossed 'em, not counting on any delay.

  Once outside, the Major said, “Our previous commander was relieved of duty for two reasons. The first reason is he came down with prostate cancer, but the primary reason was he'd not get off his ass and attack the Russians. Now, Colonel Haynes was a good man, in many ways, but I feel he'd been promoted beyond his abilities. He'd strike an outpost or an isolated tank, but never any big targets. We have Russian convoys moving all the time from Saint Louis to Rolla and he'd not attack them.”

  “Why?”

  “He was worried about the loss of American lives, which I can sort of understand, but this is a war and people are expected to die. I feel the only way the Russians will ever leave is by making them pay the price of invading us in blood and bodies. The cost must get so high the folks back home will force the war to end.”

  “I can spend lives if it serves a worthwhile purpose, even yours and mine. However, we will be part of any major attack because the troops must know that you and I will go into harms way, too. Now, since there is a supply convoy route, I want you to line up an attack for us and do the job quickly. We need to show our troops that we'll no longer sit
on our asses and do nothing. I want the railroads attacked as well. There are many places between here and Saint Louis that are ideal for us to ambush a train.”

  “I have a lot of respect for you, sir. I felt like my hands were tied with Colonel Haynes, and he just would not take any risks. You'll discover in the morning some of the lower ranking leaders lack the guts to do much, as well. They want to wait and kill a lone Russian here and there.”

  “No need to give me their names, because I'll spot them quickly enough. And if they won't do the jobs assigned to them, we'll replace them. However, if they are fired they'll be demoted and added back to the rank and file as privates or corporals. We are all here to do just one thing—kill Russians.”

  “I totally agree, sir.”

  “Now, Major, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do with my Administrative NCO. We are going to start fingerprinting our people so we can reclaim bodies after a battle or this war. In many cases, we'll not be able to recover the dead, so they'll have to wait until we can do DNA on them. In all cases, we need a list of their next of kin. Some may not be identified until years after the war.”

  “Is it true that you're to receive the Medal of Honor for a classified mission done recently?”

  I know I blushed and then said, “I have no idea and this is the first I've heard of it, so you know more than I do. I don't see how they can award me the medal when we're not in a declared war. Besides, all I did was complete my assigned mission.”

  “Rumor has it you were wounded a number of times and still completed your task, whatever that may have been, deep behind enemy lines.”

  I gave a loud chuckle and once sober said, “I think more is being made out of the mission than what really happened. It was far less exciting than what you just stated. I suffered a serious knife wound to my neck and suffered two gunshot wounds. Write it all off as wishful thinking from someone’s active mind. I don't rate the medal.”

  Our field rations didn't improve by moving to Missouri, except as a full bird I could have had a better menu, but I meant what I said before about my officers setting the example. We would eat, drink and sleep the same as our troops did. I did raise some eyebrows at the morning meeting when I said, “All of us in this room will actively engage the enemy where you find them. If you can only kill one or two Russians, do the job. However, I fully expect each Officer in Charge (OIC) to be aggressive and take the fight to our enemies or I'll replace you. Armor is to be taken out when at all possible. I expect you to eat the same food, and amount, as your troops do. In the field, all of us will pull guard, even officers.

  Following your engagements with the enemy I expect an after engagement intelligence report filed with my office. You can see Sergeant Warren on the way out if you have no idea how to do one. I want the report within 24 hours of your fight or sooner, if at all possible.”

  “What about prisoners?” someone in the back of the room asked.

  “I want all enemy personnel who are injured to be cared for by our medics and left in place, as long as they are permanently disabled. I have no POW camp, so we have no place to keep them. If you capture a Russian that is not injured, you will make him disabled by an injury to his or her knee or arm. Our days of killing all prisoners is over, but I don't want them to recover and then be assigned back here to fight us again. Permanently disable them, by shots to the arms or legs. Any other questions?”

  “What is your role in this whole mess, Colonel?” a smart ass asked from the back.

  “My job is to see you all do your jobs with the least number of casualties we can have and yet hurt the Russians. I will be going out with my own team at times and at other times, I will join one of you. Once in the woods, you will be in charge, not me, and as far as you're concerned, I'm just an additional man.”

  The man grinned and then nodded.

  “We have three targets that will soon be hit, and hard. We have an attack plan being drawn up for these attacks and you'll learn much more about them once you have the need to know. Right now, none of you have any reason to know anymore than what I just told you. If any of you have the urge to hit a train or the highway as a convoy passes, I'll support you in all ways I can.

  Any more questions?”

  Silence.

  As I turned to walk from the cave, Staff Sergeant Warren yelled, “Teeennn – huuuttt!”

  I made my way outside and moved toward a creek at the bottom of the hill. I wanted to do some thinking. Some of the platoon leaders and OICs seemed shocked, well, at least by their faces, that I wanted to take the fight to the Russians. I could tell some of them liked the idea and some didn't. I needed to find those who dislike leading their men and get rid of them. I only had room for aggressive combat leaders and those who could think as the bullets were fired at them. Those that didn't measure up to my expectations I'd remove and move on.

  I'd just sat on a big rock as the released officers began to walk back to their units. I was deep in thought about Carol when Sergeant Warren stuck his head from the cave and said, “Sir, one of our units is in heavy contact with a Russian Platoon.”

  I jumped to my feet and made my way to the radio. I didn’t notice Dolly following in my foot steps.

  Chapter 3

  Master Sergeant Romanovich had the Americans right where he wanted them, and they were dying as his men laid down a heavy field of fire. He had two Black Sharks above, ready to take the battle to the enemy if they disengaged and pulled back. So far, they'd stood toe to toe with the Russians and were trading bloody punches. The helicopters couldn't be used now because the enemy was too close. There came a noise above the sounds of battle and when he turned his head to look, a missile was moving toward a Black Shark, which immediately threw chaff and hot flares in all directions.

  The colored aluminum and burning flares falling from the helicopter are almost pretty, he thought.

  The chopper took the missile dead center of the engine; panels flew off and it began to smoke.

  “Bear One, this is Bear Two. I have taken a missile and have most of my console lights lit up, so I am returning home.” the stricken aircraft pilot radioed.

  “Roger, and I will follow you home. Badger One, you are on your own. Looks to me like you have a good handle on your ambush. Good luck. I am returning to base escorting Bear Two. There are two fast burners that will be here in about ten minutes so hold on, and they will clear the partisans for you.”

  “Copy, Bear One. Out.”

  Knowing he needed to end this battle and now, Romanovich yelled, “Fix bayonets.”

  The long knives were heard clicking into position on all rifles.

  “Prepare to charge the Americans!”

  A few men were heard to pray, a couple cursed, but most tried to work up enough guts to move forward when the order was given.

  Rising to his feet, Master Sergeant Romanovich screamed, “Charge!”

  A purloined Russian machine-gun began it's rat-tat-tat as the men jumped to their feet, and some fell right back down with massive holes pushed through their bodies by the heavy gun. There was an explosion followed by screams, and the men moved forward once more. The Americans rose from the long stem grasses and yelled as they rushed the Russians.

  Rifles banged and pistols barked as men on both sides died. Some screamed when a long knife blade entered their stomachs or when they were knocked back by the hard swing of a weapon butt. The fight was brutal but as fast as it started, it was over. Three Russians, besides the Master Sergeant, were still alive or uninjured and all the Americans were down.

  Pulling his pistol, the Sergeant moved to every American and placed a bullet in each head. One man was still praying, his hands together, so he bypassed him temporarily and killed him after the others were shot. Picking up his radio handset, he discovered it was useless, having taken hits from the machine-gun.

  “What now, Master Sergeant?” Private Yakovic, the radioman asked.

  “We move toward base on foot. If we see a helicopter
we may be able to signal it, but expect them to handcuff us and take us prisoner first. They have no idea who we are.”

  “I understand.”

  “Private Igorevich, take a compass heading of 0120 degrees and lead the way. It is time you three earn some medals to show off at home. All those farm girls will make big heroes out of each of you. Private Vasilievna, you are my drag, but stay maybe 20 meters from me. Let us move, but keep an eye out for mines.”

  They moved quickly the first hour, until the Sergeant said, “Igorevich, slow down some. This is not a race. If we enter an area with mines, we will send what is left of you home in an aluminum shoe box.”

  “Yes sir, but I have seen nothing to indicate the Americans are near.”

  “They have been through this area and you can bet your ass on it, so slow down.”

  The gray clouds overhead began a light sprinkling of rain that was more of a fine mist than rain drops. They donned their ponchos and continued moving.

  Less than an hour after the warning, Private Igorevich suddenly screamed and stopped walking.

  Everyone waited for the noise of an explosion, but nothing was heard.

  Cautiously moving forward, all his senses on edge, the Sergeant asked, “Why did you scream?”

  “I . . . I pulled a fishing line and . . . a grenade landed beside me. Do you see it, it's beside my right foot.”

  “I see it, and it is Chinese so I think this is your lucky day. If that was made in the United States, you would be dead right now. Move forward and wait for us near the huge oak tree dead ahead.” the Sergeant said, then motioned his folks around the explosive, and then he walked by it last.

  Once at the tree, he said, “Slow down and if you believe in God, he just warned you, son.”

  “I . . . I hear you.”

  Over the remainder of the day, the Private kept the speed slow and the Sergeant figured they'd walked a good fifteen miles. After looking at his map and triangulating his position, he saw they were just over half way back to Fort Leonard Wood. It was slightly before dusk so they moved into some thick brush where they'd sit back to back the whole night. Since there were four of them, they'd sit at the four main compass headings.