by W. R. Benton
We were huddled behind a burning truck as a machine-gun crew tried hard to keep us at bay.
“Get a flamethrower up and lets get this gun out of our way!” one of my Sergeants yelled.
A chopper flew overhead, the door gunner lining up on us, when a surface-to-air missile was fired and the left side of the aircraft exploded into flames. The pilot, fighting hard to regain control of his helicopter, began a horizontal spin and soon crashed on a taxiway about 100 meters from our position. The aircraft instantly exploded, sending flames and smoke high into the air.
The flamethrower arrived; it was operated by a Corporal, and she knew her business. I watched her aim high into the air, squeeze the trigger, and watched the sticky jell-like flames spurt from the nozzle. The flames landed just in front of the Russians and I saw a handful of men turn and run, not wanting to fight the nasty weapon. The Corporal adjusted a little, squeezed the trigger, and I saw the flames land on the gunner and his assistant. Dolly had moved behind me when the flamethrower was used, not liking the weapon at all.
“Move forward, and now!” the Sergeant yelled as he stood and ran toward the flaming sandbags.
Two Russians moved toward us, both in flames, but in seconds our gunfire killed them. The smell of burning flesh joined the smells of human waste, blood, burning oil, and gore. One Russian rushed me, his left arm in flames. I fired twice, saw the bullets strike his chest and down he went. When I neared, he looked as if he was twelve years old to me. His eyes were open but unseeing, and his body jerked as it shut down.
I watched something strike a fuel truck, probably an RPG, and it exploded into flames instantly. The noise was loud and my folks fell to the ground, not sure what was happening. I saw the driver jump from the cab, but he was immediately shot down. The truck, still moving, struck a huge transport aircraft dead center and I knew in just a few minutes the fuel on the aircraft would explode. I was right, and about five minutes later another explosion rocked the flight line. I heard a loud plop and looking to my right, I saw a glob of burning fuel land beside me. I moved forward quickly.
Some of my troops, sappers, were seen placing explosives on different aircraft and as I watched, my radio came alive. “Bacon One, be advised, our friends have stated an unknown number of aircraft are nearing the Fort. It is advised that you pull out now.”
I knew our friends were the Chinese so I blew my whistle to indicate to withdraw. As my troops broke contact, I replied on my radio, “Roger that, base. We are disengaging the enemy at this time. What is the estimated time of arrival (ETA) of the aircraft?”
“Wait one.”
“Roger.”
“Fifteen minutes is the estimation. They are inbound from Saint Louis. Radar indicates most are choppers, but some fast movers have been noted.”
“Copy and out.” I said on the radio and then yelled, “Pull back and return to base!”
Most of us were gone by the time the aircraft arrived, but we soon lost over 100 people to helicopters with infrared radar. I'm sure their screens were jumping with red images because most of my folks had been running and fighting for almost an hour. Their body heat was high and we surely provided the Russians with plenty of clear targets. As usual, following an attack, we broke into our small squad-like units and tried to disappear. There was no way we were all going to return to our base camp, because the flow of personnel would have been like a pointer to our exact location. We scattered into the winds.
When my squad exited the Fort, we'd moved south by east and then, near the Big Piney River, we moved north. Just a few miles south of Interstate 44 we ran into the old Route 66 signs and we then moved due east. It was still dark, so we crossed the river using the bridge on the old Route 66 highway. The road overall was in sad shape, with buckled concrete, potholes, and just falling apart. In some areas it suddenly ended and there was grass for a few yards, then it started again. It was hard to believe that a few years ago Route 66 was a famous highway, and movies had even been made about it. Now, it was dead and disjointed in some spots.
Once across the bridge, I said, “Move off to our right and into those oak trees. Take ten minutes of rest and then we move again.” We were all wearing stolen Russian NVGs so we saw everything in a light pea soup green.
“Choppers.” someone whispered, but the tone indicated fear to me.
I heard the whop-whop-whop of the blades and suddenly a bright spotlight lit up the bridge. It was a Black Shark and for some reason, perhaps maintenance problems, his thermal gear on board wasn't working or not turned on, thank God. Everyone with me fell to the grasses or moved into the woods to hide behind the trunks of the big trees. The chopper scanned the bridge and then backed up and began using the flood light in the grasses and trees. I realized we were fairly safe from the naked eye unless we moved. My folks had been trained to lay still and not move at all, but that's hard to do. Especially when you've seen the damage these big choppers can do to a human body.
I watched Sergeant Parsons remove a 9K32 Strela-2 hand held and shoulder-fired surface-to-air missile from her backpack. The model she carried was much improved over the older Strela-1, with much better range, improved sighting, smaller size, and lighter in weight. While an old weapon, it did its job very well, and was hard on aircraft who flew into its limited range.
The chopper threw the light in all directions and I think the goal of the pilot was to scare someone, if anyone was below him, into running. I spotted two Gatling guns mounted on the external pods of the aircraft and knew they'd grind a man or woman into hamburger and in just seconds, too. Only a fool would attempt to run from this beast.
Parsons gave me a questioning look and for right now, I shook my head. She removed the missile from the ready to fire position on her shoulder and lowered it to her lap. I suspected if we fired other choppers would come to this spot, and we'd have a difficult time moving and avoiding detection. My primary goal now was to escape and return to base. Dolly was laying over the tops of my boots, her tongue out, panting, and wearing a grin. I rubbed her head slowly.
The helicopter suddenly moved his light into the trees and his Gatling guns began to throw bullets at an astonishing rate. I heard screams, looked into the trees and saw three troops being turned into ground meat. I glanced at Sergeant Parsons and noticed she was ready to fire the SAM.
As soon as the guns on the aircraft grew quiet, I yelled, “Now Sergeant, fire!”
The missile left the tube and struck the helicopter right in the hottest part of the engine. There was a loud explosion and the aircraft began to wobble. The nose came down, the speed was increased and then the helicopter nosed over and the rotor blades struck the last span on the bridge. The blades disintegrated, and quickly too. There was a huge fireball, lighting the area for hundreds of yards.
“Move, and east!” I yelled as I gained my feet and tried to lead the way.
Of our downed troops, Sergeant Parsons told me later they were dead and torn to pieces by the meat grinders on that chopper. I hate napalm and Gatling guns, both of which are, in my opinion, nasty and vicious.
After about a quarter mile, I gathered everyone around me and said, “I know of a cave near here, and we can spend the night or a day or two there. We'll be safe there, unless Russians are in the place.”
“How far, and do you have a compass heading?” Parsons asked.
“No, but if you'll look to your right above the river, you'll see a dark hole in the side of the bluff. That is it and it has running water, too. Let's move. I want Private Davis on point, and Smith, you bring up the rear. Let's go, and near the river we'll find a small wooden foot bridge over the water. We'll cross there.”
When we neared the bridge, I sent Davis over to check the area alone, and then we went over as a group. I had Smith booby trap the ground around both sides of the bridge and then in the middle. If anyone tried to cross, unless they were really good we'd hear them coming.
The cave took some time to reach because the slope in front of
it was steep and high. Footing was mainly shale and sandstone, so it was dangerous at times. Finally, about two hours after I'd first pointed it out to Parsons, we were at the cave. I kept everyone at the mouth until I, Dolly, and Corporal Ledford checked for booby traps. We found none.
“This is home for a day or two. Sergeant Parsons, set up a guard detail and include me in it as well. We'll guard 24 hours a day until we leave here.”
“Will do, sir.” she said, and I noticed her hands twitching and trembling, and realized the battle with the helicopter might have been rough for her. I made a mental note to discuss it with her later.
Choppers were in the air all night long, but I felt safe in the cave. At one point, a chopper neared the entrance to our cave, turned on spotlights and scanned the inside. Most of us had run back past a bend in the cave, so we were unseen. Two people remained in front, but they were laying behind stalagmites and stalactites. I’d kept an eye on the side door gunner, barely seen behind the bright lights, and I was ready to kill, if needed. The helicopter looked for a couple of minutes and then flew off.
I now sent people around the bend in the cave at the back if they wanted to sleep. That would keep them from prying eyes and they’d not have to get up again, hopefully. While half slept the other half pulled guard duty. I sent one woman, Private Dobins, to the very top of the cliff to watch over all of us. I had to point out a trail that led to the top before she’d attempt the move.
Just after dawn, Dobins returned, pointed west and said, “Troops moving, and they look to be Russian.”
Looking from the hole, I spotted a good company size group following our tracks. I saw a dog team out front, so I sent Corporal Ledford, our sniper, to remove the threat. I knew it would take the Corporal time to get in position because I didn’t want him to fire from or around the cave. I sat in the mouth of the cave, Dolly at my side, and watched the Russians with binoculars. They were an efficient group, led by a Master Sergeant.
About thirty minutes after Ledford left, I heard a single shot and saw the dog collapse. A few second later, there was a second shot and the Master Sergeant fell. As the Russians moved for cover, the dog handler dropped as well. The shots echoed in the long valley.
I watched a young medic attempt to reach the Master Sergeant, and Ledford dropped the man with a shot to the head. Two more men rushed toward the Senior NCO, and both fell, fatally injured. I knew about now my sniper would move out of the area and then make his way back to me. I thought I could hear the screams and cries of the Russian wounded, but it was my imagination. They were too far away for me to hear anything, except gunshots.
I sat watching the group with Dolly’s head in my lap, and then heard Russian helicopters approaching. I moved deeper into the cave and kept my glasses on the Russian troops. One of the aircraft was obviously a medical aircraft and the other two were Black Sharks. I watched the attack helicopters work the woods over that Ledford had used. They hit the trees with everything they had and I wondered about the expense of what I was watching. After a couple of minutes, I realized they’d just spent thousands and thousands of dollars to try to kill a single man—who was long gone.
I watched the Russian dead and wounded placed on board the medical chopper. The Master Sergeant was the last man on the aircraft and he moved pretty much under his own power, with only a medic guiding him. I saw a pea green bandage wrapped around the man’s chest and knew he’d been hit hard. He was setting an example for his troops and I had to respect the man, even if he was my enemy.
Two nights after we arrived in the cave, we left in the middle of the night moving south by east. The weather was warmer than usual, no rain or precipitation at all. It was late morning before we arrived at the perimeter of my base camp. The last few miles were rough, with Russian aircraft heard overhead, and it made me wonder if they were looking for our headquarters.
As we sat in the grasses watching my camp, something was odd about the movements of the troops. Dolly growled and lunged forward, and that did it for me. I pulled everyone back about a mile and said, “I think our base camp is under new management.”
“I saw no one I knew.” Sergeant Parsons said.
“People were moving, but they didn’t have the tired eyes and slow gait of most partisans.” Ledford said.
“What now? I mean we have a lot of gear and supplies at our base camp.” Parsons asked, and met my eyes.
I smiled, pulled Dolly’s head to my lap and as I scratched her ears, I said, “We are going to hit the place hard and do all the damage we can, but only after we confirm it’s not us in control. So, Ledford, take Private Dobins with you and see what you can discover about who's in control of our base camp. Try not to be seen.”
“Sure, boss. I’ll nose around and see what I can find.”
“Once you start looking, see if where we stored the munitions is the same or if anything major has been changed since we left. Also, look for any partisans that may have been captured.”
“Come to think of it,” Parsons said, “I didn’t see a single person with a cloth tied around their left arm.”
“Neither did I, but it’s not like the Russians to miss that detail. Now, Ledford, take no chances but find out what we need to know. If any of our people are being kept there, we need to plan to rescue as many as we can when we hit the place.”
“Will do, sir. Come on, Dobins, we have a date with the Russians.” The two left and I prayed they were successful.
Two hours later, my two partisans returned and Ledford was smiling. He moved to me and said, “The munitions and other storage areas have not changed. I did see about forty of our people being held in a weak half-ass corral of some sort, using barbed wire. They had four guards, and it’d not take much to rescue them. I suspect the guards can be taken out with knives and then we can arm our people.”
“How many Russians there?” I asked.
“Maybe, oh, 50 troops that we saw total. It’s hard to tell because they're milling around all over the place. They still don’t have the armbands on their left arms, either. I’m positive they're in control, besides the prisoners they have, because I watched a Russian senior NCO in uniform chew some ass. He was a Senior Sergeant. While I don’t speak a word of the language, an ass chewing is an ass chewing in any man’s army.” Ledford said, and then chuckled.
“Where are the prisoners being kept?”
“Just outside the old headquarters tent, maybe fifty feet to the north.”
“Paxton, you and I will silence the guards.”
“Colonel, I have a crossbow.” Private Taylor said.
“Can you put a man down quietly with one? And, don’t bullshit me, because lives depend on your answer.” I asked.
“I can take ‘em out without a sound.”
“Okay, then you do the job. Once the guards are down, we hit them, rescue as many of our folks as we can, and destroy all we see. I want to hurt the Russians during this attack.”
“We’ll need someone to lead the prisoners away from the camp.”
“I want you, Brown, and Paxton to do that job. Now, saddle up, folks, and let’s move.”
Chapter 5
Newly promoted Master Sergeant Georgiy was hurting as the chopper left the ground and made it’s way back to Fort Leonard Wood. He’d taken the sniper’s bullet to his left shoulder, and right now the medic was treating the other troops first. He knew the flat bone in his back was struck too, because he'd seen fragments of bone when the medic on the ground worked him over. He’d refused morphine when first hit so he’d be able to still give orders as they waited for their ride home. The medic moved to him now, slipped a needle into his arm, and started an IV. He knew instantly it was morphine.
As his pain began to leave, he asked, “How many did we lose?”
“We do not have a clear number yet, Master Sergeant. I will let you know when I have the figures. I do know all your troops are being taken out by helicopter, so once back at base we will know for sure. How is your pain
level now?”
“I feel no pain, but I am sleepy. I am starting to wish my orders to Moscow were not canceled.”
Working on the Master Sergeant's bandage, the medic said, “Then sleep, because you have done all for your troops that a man can be expected to do alone, and then some.”
The Master Sergeant’s world faded into darkness.
Sergeant Georgiy awoke in a huge hospital in Fort Leonard Wood, and it took him a few minutes to remember the sniper and his injury. He was hurting now, his shoulder throbbing in pain, but he saw no one near.
“Nurse!” he called out in a loud voice.
Minutes later a young female Lieutenant entered and asked, “Do you need something, Master Sergeant? There is a call button beside your pillow, so the next time do not wake the whole ward.”
“My pain is getting bad and I need something.” he said, and he was sitting up now which seemed to lessen the throbbing. “As for my yelling, Lieutenant, I suggest you be a little faster at your job. I had better not discover any of my troops are laying in the beds in pain or I will come and talk to you about it—ma'am.”
“I can give you morphine, so lay back, and I will end your pain for now.”
“How many of my troops were killed, or do you know?” His tone softened.
“I do not have that information, but the doctor is due in to visit in maybe two hours, so I am sure he can help you.”
“If you can, since I may be asleep, see if you can get the answer for me.”
“I will try to find out for you. Now, lay back, relax, and get some additional sleep. Oh, a Master Sergeant came to visit you and said your gift was under your pillow. I suspect it is vodka, knowing you senior Sergeants.”
Reaching under his pillow, Georgiy pulled out a pint of top shelf vodka and smiled.