by W. R. Benton
Once seated in the grasses, they pulled their rations and began to eat as Private Vasilievna pulled guard. She'd pull it for two hours and then the next person would take it for two hours. The task of guarding would be pulled more than once overnight by each of them.
“Damn me, Sergeant, but— I have a long and fat snake on my legs.” Private Yakovic said, his voice quivering, just as the last sliver of light was on the western horizon. He gave a hard shiver, because he was scared to death of snakes.
“What is the color of your snake?”
“Looks like two shades or brown, almost copper in color. Do something, please.”
“First, do not move, and quit talking. It is a copperhead, and a most dangerous snake. I will try to kill it.” Master Sergeant Romanovich said as he drew a small caliber pistol that had a silencer.
Two minutes later, the pistol in hand, the Sergeant leaned over Yakovic and fired twice, poot, poot, and the snake began to curl and wiggle. When the Private looked down, the head of the snake was missing. He quickly brushed the dead body from his legs.
“You watch where you put your hands, because that snake's head can still inject venom in you, even without a body. If you can find it, push it away with your boots.”
“I see it, Master Sergeant, and I am moving it now.”
“It is dark, so time for all of us to don our NVGs for the night. Keep them on, even when you sleep. If we are attacked, you will be glad they are on and ready to use. It is good the rain has stopped.”
Once his Night Vision Goggles were on, Master Sergeant Romanovich saw the world in various shades of green. He'd get the least sleep overnight, because he didn't trust his young and tired troops to stay awake. While he knew the thought had never entered their minds, he was concerned about Russian helicopters with Infrared (IR) monitoring systems on-board. He knew without a radio or way to contact the aircraft, they'd be attacked. He whispered to all his Privates to have their ponchos beside them. Covering with a poncho would hide the IR image on the screen for a minute or so.
The night passed slowly, and a little after midnight he saw a group of Americans moving near them on the same trail they'd been using. They were close enough he saw they were wearing NVGs, but he didn't worry much about being discovered. All four Russians were dressed in camouflage uniforms, wearing camouflage face paint, and not a one dared to move. After about five minutes, the Americans had moved down the trail and were out of sight followed minutes later by their drag person, who was extremely alert.
Near 0300, according to the Sergeant's watch, a flight of helicopters were heard passing overhead and he suspected they may have been looking for him and other survivors of the fight. He had no way to signal them, so he remained in place.
An hour before dawn, he had each of them eat a ration and prepare to leave. He walked off to do his morning toilet and hadn't been gone three minutes when he heard weapons fired on automatic. He heard yells in both English and Russian. There were three loud explosions and then silence. The Sergeant made his way very slowly on his hands and knees to where he'd left his troops. Two were clearly seen moving and the last one looked injured. He moved toward them, only to have two guns pointed at him.
“Oh, it is you, Sergeant.”
“W . . . what happened?”
“We were eating when I looked up right into the eyes of an American. He was on the trail scanning the area. The main body of men was there, so we fired our weapons and threw three grenades. I think we killed all of them, but Private Yakovic has taken a wound to his shoulder.”
“All of you remain here, but watch for their point or drag man to near. If you see one of them, kill them, but try not to shoot me. I have enough scars as it is.”
He moved slowly to the trail, saw a good ten men down and he began to check for wounded with his pistol in hand, the same one he'd killed the snake with. All were dead, so he checked their pockets and took their gear. He found nothing of interest for intelligence, so he stripped the weapons and threw the parts all over the forest into the high weeds and grasses.
“Yakovic, you lean on me as we move. Vasilievna, you take the point and Private Igorevich, you pull drag. Now, keep our pace slow, because we have a wounded man walking with us. Remember to always keep your pace as fast as the slowest man with you.”
The injury slowed them down a great deal, and finally the Sergeant cut two limbs and taking a poncho, made a litter. He took the point and had the two Privates carry the injured man. Since Private Yakovic was no longer able to walk, he was given an injection of morphine to kill his pain. They were just a few miles shy of the base when dusk found them still moving. Not wanting to be caught out in the open by a Russian helicopter, they moved into some thick brush and sat back to back.
It was quiet most of the night and while they'd seen no Americans since their fight, they were nervous now. All expected something to go wrong at the last minute and injure or kill them.
Whispering, Private Vasilievna asked, “How will we gain access to the base?”
“We will walk to the main gate. They will make some calls and verify who we are.”
“I see.”
“Our biggest concern tonight is hoping no IR capable helicopter flies over us. We have no way to signal them.”
“I understand. All we can do is cover with a poncho and hope they move on before long.”
“You are correct; now no more talking.”
Just as dawn was breaking the two privates were in the woods doing their morning toilet when a Russian Ka-60 Helicopter flew overhead, circled and then made another pass and the guns mounted on wing pods began spitting bullets. As the lead struck the ground, clods of dirt and rock were thrown six feet into the air. The bullets began to walk toward the two Privates.
There came screams from both Privates, especially Private Igorevich, who was stitched down the middle by the Russian machine-gun. He fell to the ground where he jerked and twitched as his central nervous system shut down.
Vasilievna raised both hands over her head as a sign of surrender and the helicopter began to lower to the ground. Romanovich thought the pilot a fool, but maybe he'd noticed the Russian uniforms. The Master Sergeant stood and raised both hands over his head, then slowly moved to the Private. As he stood beside her, he noticed the door gunner had them covered well.
A crew member ran from the chopper and asked, “Who are you?”
“I am Master Sergeant Romanovich, returning from a mission. My radio was damaged and failed to work properly. I have a wounded man behind me, maybe 40 feet, and one dead that was just killed by your aircraft, you stupid sons of bitches.”
“I am just a gunner, so do not blame me. I must ask the two of you to place your hands in front of you so I can handcuff you. This is only until we get to the base and confirm who you are.”
Ten minutes later, they were airborne with all but Igorevich handcuffed. His body was thrown on the floor, and he was torn to hell and back by the big guns.
As they flew, the door gunners checked them for injuries and discovered all had some sort of damage done to them. The Senior Sergeant had a long shallow cut on his left hand he did not remember receiving. The Private had a deep scrape on her right shin, to the bone, that she knew she had, but at the time she was injured she had just let it go. Others were dead or seriously injured and her scrape seemed minor.
Suddenly, there were two loud thunk-ping sounds, and two holes instantly appeared in the floor. One of the door gunners fell with blood spurting from his thigh and, since his hands were in front of him, the Senior Sergeant removed his belt and then tried to use it as a tourniquet on the man.
The other door gunner was using duct tape to keep a fluid from leaking from overhead pipes into the compartment. He finished his task, which did not work well, and moved to the injured man. He pulled the tourniquet as tightly as he could and then slipped the leather tip under the belt. He gave the man a shot of morphine and could be seen talking to someone with his microphone.
Dark gray smoke began to fly past the doors, but both had been removed for the gunners. Glancing forward once more, he saw all the console lights looked to be in the red. Then looking out the doors again, he saw they were near 2,000 meters in the air. There sounded a loud bang, and a large piece of sheet metal flew pass the right door.
The aircraft made a straight in approach, landing hard on the closest empty spot on the flight line, and the engines were quickly cut along with all electrical power. A couple of minutes later the aircraft was surrounded by the Main Directorate of the Military Police. As they left the aircraft, two ambulances arrived and all were taken to the hospital. The Master Sergeant noticed a Military Police officer rode in each ambulance, his pistol loaded, safety off , cocked, and in his hand.
As each person was looked over closely, the identifications of the recovered Russian Army members were verified. As a doctor was looking him over, a Private entered and removed the handcuffs from the Sergeant.
“Sorry, Master Sergeant, but the handcuffs were required.”
“I understand, Private, now get to where you are to be.”
The doctor grinned as the young woman left and asked, “Any pain or injuries, other than your hand, that you feel right now?”
“Uh, no sir. I feel well, except the hand hurts.”
“I will have a nurse sew it closed in a few minutes, and I suggest you have some vodka in your room later today. Or, if you wish, I can give you pain pills.”
“Vodka; painkillers mess my head up too much. Doctor, how are my troops?”
“Well, as you know, Igorevich is dead, Vasilievna will be released today and Yakovic will be our guest for about a week. Once he is released he will be on light duty for at least a month.”
“I see. Did the gunner from the helicopter survive his injuries?”
“Yes, he will live, thanks to your quick thinking. Your belt saved his life. The bone was shattered and the femoral artery cut. Without the tourniquet, he would have bled to death in a few short minutes. Now, I am going to give you some antibiotics to help your hand heal. It is hard to say where the hand has been the last few days. It will be cleaned well here, but I will give you the pills just to be safe. Any other questions?”
“No, sir.”
His prefab quarters had not changed at all while he was gone. Master Sergeant Romanovich entered, walked to his table and took a snort of vodka right from the bottle. The local painkiller they'd used to clean, stitch, and wrap his hand was wearing off. He was suddenly very tired and knew the adrenaline from the mission was wearing off. He placed the bottle back on the table.
There was a knock on the door.
“Just a minute.” he called out.
He opened the door to find Senior Sergeant Georgiy standing at the entrance, so he said, “Come on in, Ilik, and have a drink or two.”
Smiling, the Senior Sergeant said, “I can do that.”
“So, what brings you to my humble quarters?”
“Mainly checking on you to see if you have everything you need.”
“I am fine, and have four more quarts of vodka in this place, so I will feel little pain.”
“Rough mission, eh?”
“Rough enough, and have a seat, if you have the time. I just walked in the door.” he said as he poured a drink in a water glass for Ilik and then handed it to the man. He poured a drink for himself and joined his friend on the sofa. The bottle went on the coffee table.
Romanovich said, “Your promotion to Master Sergeant came in this morning, and you are scheduled to put the promotion on in four months. I spoke with our commander at the hospital for a minute giving him my restricted to quarters letter from the doctor. Along with your promotion was a reassignment to Moscow, to work with Spetsnaz. You are to leave this base two days before your promotion and return to Russia.”
“By God, that is good news; so what is the bad news?”
“Intelligence thinks more partisans have moved into our area of operations (AO). They suspect the men and women are from Mississippi, where two nuclear bombs have exploded. I have no idea what the Russian Army may have found so frightening that they needed to use A-Bombs, but they did. Now the whole state glows at night.”
“Fools are what they are. I think both were accidents, or so say the rumors I heard.”
“I have no idea, but if not heads rolled, and you can be sure of it. No force of that strength was needed, well, unless there is more to it than we know.” Senior Sergeant Georgiy said.
The Fort's sirens went off with a warbling tone, letting everyone on base know they were under attack and it was not a drill. Explosions were heard in different areas of the huge base. Opening the door, they saw men and women running in all directions.
“I need to get to my troops!” Senior Sergeant Georgiy yelled to be heard.
“Go! I will move to the perimeter here and help out where I can.”
“Good luck!” Ilik said as he took off running.
There was a huge explosion and fireball from the direction of the aircraft hangers, so the Master Sergeant suspected a plane or helicopter just exploded.
Tracers, green and red, filled the air over his head, and at times one would hit the concrete or a rock and zing off at a different angle. If not so deadly, the tracer bullets would be pretty, he thought and then chuckled.
He neared a deep ditch, jumped in, and spotted a good dozen soldiers with him. Glancing over the edge, he said, “Here they come and, my God, there must be a thousand of them!”
Chapter 4
I was leading the attack on Fort Leonard Wood and fell after I tripped over something; then I saw a line of tracers pass low over my head. Dolly, angered by the closeness of the tracers, tried to bite others in flight. I had to pull her down beside me. If I hadn't just fallen, I would have been killed by the bullets. I shivered, climbed to my feet, and noticed we had men and women in the wire. Explosives were being placed in the wire and I watched an injured man stay behind to set off the explosion. He'd just given his life to clear that stretch of wire. The opening was about 20 meters wide, but onto the base we ran, all one thousand of us. While we were greatly outnumbered, we had surprise and determination on our side.
I was unable to keep up with the younger men and women because a middle-aged man with a heavy pack can't compete with an eighteen or nineteen year old soldier. I slowed and moved to Top, who I was surprised to see in the attack. He gave me a big smile once he recognized me.
“Top, come with me! You and I need to try and find their command post.” I screamed to be heard.
He nodded and ran after me.
The whole base vibrated under foot from explosions. Looking to the west, a huge fireball was moving skyward, rolling inside itself as it moved.
“POL storage!” Top yelled.
I nodded and began to run again.
“Look for a flagpole, Colonel!” Top said.
That made sense. They'd for sure have a flagpole outside their headquarters, and usually the command post was in a Russian Headquarters. I finally saw it on my left.
As I moved toward the building, two machine-guns opened fire on us and down went Top, screaming. An unknown number of troops had followed him or me, and now I started giving orders.
“Try to flank those guns and take them out with grenades, Sergeant!”
A squad sized group moved away from us.
“Fire at the sandbags so they have to keep their heads down. If they know they're being flanked, they'll murder our squad.”
Our rifles began to cough and I made my way to Top. I grabbed his left ankle and pulled him behind a concrete wall. He'd taken the rifle bullet to the side of his chest and after liste
ning to him labor to breathe, I used the plastic in his first aid kit to seal both holes and then wrapped him tightly. Dolly was alert, scanning the countryside as I doctored my Top Sergeant.
“W . . . Willy would . . . be proud . . . of you.” he said, and then smiled faintly.
“Save your strength, Top, I'm sending you out of here, now. You, soldier, bring the man beside you to me, and now!”
Two young men neared, both ducking and dodging the flying bullets.
“Return to base with this man and remain there. See he gets medical treatment as soon as you can. He has a sucking chest wound. Understand my orders?”
“Yes sir.” the oldest looking one said.
They picked Top up and quickly disappeared into the hazy fog of battle.
There came three explosions and the machine-guns quit firing. I got to my feet and screamed, “Follow me!”
Some of my troops were in front of me, and I saw them make fast work of the Russian soldiers cowering behind the sandbags. One of my Sergeants kicked the door to the building open and was met with automatic rifle fire. He dropped dead. We tossed three grenades in and once they exploded, we entered with guns firing. A huge Russian officer ran toward us, his Bison sub-machine gun throwing bullets. Men fell around me, so I aimed at his chest and pulled the trigger.
My Bison took the man down almost the center of his body, after the first rounds struck him in the chest. The big man fell unnaturally, and I watched one of my women lean over and cut his throat. Blood spurted into the air and the man kicked and jerked violently.
That was as far as we got into the command post, and the fighting soon grew so intense I pulled my troops back and moved toward the flight-line, wondering what kind of damage we could do there. I wasn’t willing to pay the price in blood and lives to take the command post.
Tracers were flying all over the place and I couldn't depend on the colors to indicate the enemy from friends. We used any weapons and ammo we could find, so we were likely to be shooting red or green. I watched tracers hit the concrete of the flight line and then bounce into the air, to zing off and finally strike a huge transport aircraft in the tail.