by W. R. Benton
About thirty minutes later, as I walked into the tent that I shared with Sgt Parsons as our offices, she said, “The supply Sergeant just left, and he's got more requests for stuff than he has on hand.”
“Okay, have him issue what he does have, even if it cleans him out, and then he can radio Headquarters and speak with his supply counterpart there. Most are gearing up for tonight's mission, which is priority number one. If he or anyone else from supply comes in bitchin', tell 'em I said to give the troops what they need or they can see me. If they see me, they'll end up issuing what they have and, plus, he'll get a free ass chewing.”
“Okay, I'll do that. Carol was by, but asked me to tell you she's busy in the Intel section doing photo intelligence, photos from a Chinese satellite, and it has something to do with tonight's mission.”
“I need to go over there then, and see what they've come up with. I have no idea what changes the Russians have made.”
“Yes, sir.”
I'd not taken my hat off, so I turned and walked from the tent, moving for the Intel section.
Carol was working on a stack of 8X10 black and white images. I saw circles drawn on some building and other areas, but didn't ask any questions.
“This is the last one, Major.” she said, noticed me and smiled.
“Why don't you tell the Colonel and me what you found?”
“Sure. Many of these images show little or nothing of importance, but there are four that I think both of you need to see. In this first one, the Russians have two chemical decontamination buildings newly constructed, and both are close to the brig. I suggest you blow them up while you're there; not that it will stop them, but it will take them a few days to replace them. In this other image, you can clearly see an anti-aircraft gun placed on the roof of your target. I suspect the Chinese will try to take it out with machine-gun fire, which would not be hard to do, but there are about twenty troops on the roof at all times too.”
“Make sure the Chinese know I want both the gun and soldiers on the roof taken out. I don't expect all the soldiers to be killed, but if they can knock out most of them, it will make it much easier for us to enter and leave the building.” I said.
Picking up another image, Eller asked, “What is this you have circled in red near the fence?”
“Like other sections of the fence line, there are pillboxes constructed at different intervals. Most are armed with heavy machine-guns, but some may have anti-tank missiles or rockets. I suspect, from the thin shadows on the ground from the barrels, most are machine-guns. Your best weapon against them will be your flamethrowers. I'd suggest you place them behind the turrets of your tanks.”
“Anything else?” I asked, and just didn't see much until I looked at a circled object, and then it stood out clearly.
“There are trenches that connect to all the pillboxes, most likely dug by a backhoe, and that is so if attacked, survivors can retreat to another pillbox, or it will allow more ammunition to be safely brought to the fighting positions. The Japanese did the same thing on many of the islands we invaded during World War Two.”
Eller looked the images over in his hands and then said, “I think you'll have one hell of a fight just to reach the brig, so I'm very uncertain if you can remove those two men safely. If the Russians suspect any rescue attempt, they could rig the facility with explosives. The explosive could be either a time delay and explode if you don't punch in the proper code, command detonated, or maybe both.”
“It goes down tonight, so I don't have time to play the “what if “game. If it blows, it may just keep us from having to kill them.”
“I see. Best of luck to all of you then, because there must be 10,000 Russians on the Fort, and only a company of us. One hundred to one is not good odds.”
I laughed and replied, “It's what we in the infantry call a target rich environment.”
Carol gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “Don't try to be brave and pull a John Wayne stunt tonight. Do what needs done then get the hell out of there.”
“I feel it's sort of like the Alamo, but in reverse.” I said, and then laughed.
Sergeant Parsons entered, glared at Carol standing close to me, and I know she saw her arm around my waist. I didn't care, honestly. I loved the woman standing beside me.
“Sir, Headquarters called on the radio, and will fake two other attacks on the fort while you will be the only serious attempt. They will attack at 0001 on the dot.”
“I'm glad to hear that, because it'll take some pressure off me and my people.”
“Good, let me walk you back to the office.” Carol said to me.
“Sure.” I said, and then kissed her cheek.
When I gave Carol the kiss, Parsons turned red and the glare returned. I knew she was jealous, but I loved the woman I was kissing.
At 2350, my group was as close to the wire as we could get. The tanks were still a half a mile back, motors running, and ready to strike the fences. They'd move for the fences at 2356 and just drive right over them. They'd knock out any pillboxes we encountered and we'd follow the tanks to the brig.
Minutes later the big brutes came out of the trees, moving at the fences at about thirty miles an hour. The fences didn't even slow the big tanks down.
At that point, Chinese bombers, unseen by us, began bombing the fort. I suspect thousands of bombs were falling and most were 500 pound bombs too, from the explosions I saw. Suddenly, a fast moving jet, at less than 500 feet up, zoomed over us with his machine-gun bullets striking the roof of the brig. As he pulled up, a missile fired from the ground, taking the aircraft in a wing. The jet wobbled a bit, but was able to move to a higher altitude where he began smoking. I knew the pilot needed to eject, but I also knew he didn't want to come down in the Fort. He'd have a better chance of survival for every minute he moved away from his target. The last I saw of the airplane, he was in flames moving fast at about 2,000 feet.
We moved in behind the tanks, walking in the treads to avoid mines. The tank destroyed a pillbox, but when cannon fire failed to take the next bunker out, my flamethrower man, squatting behind the turret, squeezed a long stream of oily flames at the structure. I saw the burning jell pass into the gun slit and seconds later two men, both burning, jumped from the trench behind the pillbox and ran for safety. The machine-gun on the tank cut them both down. Now the smell of burning bodies joined the hundreds of other battlefield smells.
Bullets flew over our heads, knocked clumps of dirt ten or more feet into the air and my people began to die. Tracers laced the air, with all colors seen. If they'd not been so deadly, they would have been beautiful. I was impressed with the tanks as they stood their ground and knocked out problem area after problem area. Suddenly, there was a loud ka-klang and I saw the tank commander’s vehicle take a missile or rocket.
The hatches opened, the commander jumped out and when the driver was half out, the tank exploded. The driver joined the turret as they both flew into the air. I knew the gunner and loader were both dead as hell. Then I saw a man with a flamethrower on his back laying behind the tank in the grasses. I assumed the blast of the explosion had knocked him off the vehicle.
A squad of Russians, obviously sent to fight us, rounded the corner of the brig and one of our tanks took most of them out with a single cannon shot. Then the machine-gun on the lower front of the tank opened fire. The Russians died in a river of blood. Dolly suddenly leaped at a figure on the ground and when I glanced at her, she had a Russian female soldier by the throat. The woman fought back hard, finally remembered her pistol and as she pulled it from her holster, I shot her in the chest. She fell back limply.
Now Chinese jets were all over the base and I heard explosions off in the distance, so Headquarters did have other assaults taking place. The main buildings on the post, at least on this side, were bombed to hell and back and many were burning. I heard a bullet miss me, strike the side of a big tank, and then zing off into space. I was getting concerned because bullets were flyi
ng in all directions. We finally reached the brig only to have a tank go up in flames, and I have no idea what happened. I could still see my man with a flamethrower behind the turret, but the whole tank, including him, was on fire. I never saw him move an inch, so maybe he'd been killed when the tank was hit.
Ledford and I shot and killed two guards near the door, blew it open with a grenade, then entered shooting. There were only two Russians inside, but one was an officer and he pulled a pistol. My Bison stitched the whole wall from left to right and the Colonel fell, two bullets taking him in the middle of the chest. Ledford shot the other man with a Russian pistol. I searched the Russian quickly, taking his pistol and ammo, as well as his brig identification card. He had no other papers.
We moved in to where the prisoners were kept and half way down the hall, I spotted two prisoners that looked Asian to me, so I shot the lock off the first door.
Entering, I asked, “Xinya? Shui?”
The man gave me a weak smile and said, “Shui!” and then pointed to himself.
I heard another shot and knew the other man had been found too. Shui had two broken limbs, his face had been beaten to hell and back, and his nails had been ripped out. Something had taken his left eye because all that remained was an ugly empty socket. I dropped my pack to the floor of the cell, picked the small man up and carried him outside, where Ledford stood packing Xinya. The attack helicopters were raising hell with the Russians and missiles filled the air.
I looked around and saw three of my tanks in flames, and I guessed I'd lost about ¾ of my men and women. This rescue had been costly to me and the resistance.
I saw one chopper hit, burst into flames, and the remains falling on Russians below. When it struck the ground it exploded, and a burning fuel splattered on people and buildings, bringing fire to a nice neat row of Russian buildings. People were screaming on both sides, so I blew my whistle four times, indicating we needed to leave, and now!
Both injured POWs were placed on stretchers; two men per stretcher could easily pack them, because I don't think either weighed over 90 pounds. We were soon pulling back, withdrawing to the woods outside the fort as I called the tanks. “This is Copperhead One to Iron Mike, we are pulling out of here. I repeat, retreat, and we'll see you back at camp.”
Now the aircraft on the flight-line were being worked over by Chinese aircraft. By mistake, someone must have bombed or sent a missile into the fuel storage area, because a huge explosion was heard and a rolling ball of fire resembling a nuclear shaped blast developed over where fuel tanks used to stand. Most of Fort Leonard Wood was lit up as if it were full daylight.
“Copperhead, this is Base, do you read me, over.”
“Go, base.”
“Did you get your new car?”
“I couldn't make up my mind, base, so I bought both of them. The outsides of both are in very poor condition, but the bodies can be fixed, and one has lost a headlight.”
“They can be repaired.”
“Yep, and they run well.”
“Let us know when you are ready to use the garage.”
“Will do. Heading home now.” I replied and knew, being coded, it was safe enough. If the code was broken, it was still unlikely the Russians would understand the double talk.
I hung around the downed fence long enough to see the seven surviving tanks move toward the trees and Chinese aircraft leave. As one tank backed up, it was struck by a missile and impact was low, near the treads. I watched the long treads roll from the wheels and lay on the ground behind and in front of the big beast. Hatches flew open and three of the four men made it to safety. The last man had just dropped a grenade down the hatch of his tank when the heavy vehicle was struck once again by a missile, but this time it struck the turret.
The explosion was loud, and the man on the tank disappeared in a blinding flash of light and fire. The turret lifted about three feet as flames shot out from the carriage of the tank and then the top fell back in place. It looked slightly lop-sided from before, but the tank was destroyed. Everyone ran from the fire knowing the fuel and munitions would soon blow too.
Then, out of nowhere a Russian Black Shark appeared and most of the remaining tanks fired turret mounted missiles. The ECM on the chopper was working just fine, and I was awed when the fiery chaff dispensed, spurting in all directions. The missiles all exploded and some close enough that the helicopter took some damage, but not to the weapon systems. A missile mounted on an external pod fired and another tank went up in flames. As the bird lined up to attack another tank, a Russian Rocket Propelled Grenade struck the Black Shark in the engine housing.
The aluminum cover on the engine was blown off, and the main rotor blades began to give a high pitched sound. I watched the pilot struggling with his control stick. Smoke began to come from the exhaust system, light gray at first, but then almost black. Abruptly the chopper leaned hard to the left, and the main overhead rotating blades stuck the ground. The aircraft threw pieces of the blades in all directions and every man or woman near ducked for cover. The pilot was seen still fighting the stick as the aircraft struck the ground hard, not fifty feet from the last tank destroyed. I saw the pilot reach overhead just before the crash and I suspected he was turning the power switch off to prevent a fire.
While I deeply respected this pilot and his weapons system operator (WSO), they were extremely dangerous to me and the resistance. I raised my Bison and placed the bullets from one magazine into both in the cockpits. Some would call what I did murder, but as far as I was concerned, I was killing two very skilled and dangerous enemies who'd invaded my home.
I shook my head as five out of my ten tanks disengaged the enemy and moved into the trees.
I hope these Chinese men live, because we got them at a great cost in men and material, I thought as I stood looking the battlefield over.
This attack had cost me five hard to replace tanks and the lives of twenty men that crewed them. However, the Fort was in flames as far as my eyes could see, and I knew they'd lost a much larger number of men and women. I hoped most of their aircraft were gone, along with their tanks, but had no real idea how much damage had been done to the Bear.
I quickly moved into the trees and soon passed our woman on drag. I moved to the main group and found a spot in the middle, beside Parsons.
Since I no longer had my pack or a POW to carry, my return to camp was an easy one. About halfway back I took over the end of one litter and helped carry Xinya to our camp. I was worried about both men because they'd been worked over hard, and I'd not be surprised to see one or both die on us before we made it home, or shortly after.
We were about an hour from home when I saw a bright flash of light move across the horizon, and it was followed a few seconds later by a loud crack of thunder. I felt a slight warm breeze and then the rain came, gentle at first, but slowly increasing in force. I realized the tanks were already home and I was sure the rain would soon wash most of their deep tracks away. Unlike scenes I'd seen in old war movies, I didn't load my troops onto the back of a tank to get a ride home. The main reason was if the Russians took out the tank, I'd lose both my people and a valuable piece of armor.
We were soon back at camp. The rains came hard, with so much force I began to worry about a tornado or damage to some of our gear and equipment due to high winds. My weather guesser told me the winds were in excess of 60 MPH. I was also worried about the two men we'd rescued, because they looked no better now than when removed from their cells. I'd had them taken to our medical section and turned over to them.
After a cold shower—we never had hot water—and a shave, I changed my clothes. I walked to a tent we called the hospital. The second I entered, a Doctor Peters stood and walked to me.
“Both will live and, while they look like hell, the only serious injuries they sustained are the open compound fractures. According to what Xue told me, he was doing the translating, the Russians beat them both with a steel pipe.”
“Are t
hey taking the pain okay?”
“You could say that, since both were given morphine. They are malnourished and dehydrated, which is normal for any prisoner of war.”
“Sir,” Sergeant Parsons stuck her head in the tent and said, “Headquarters on the radio for you. According to them, it's an emergency call.”
“We'll talk later, doc! Thanks.” I said, as I ran for the communications tent.
Chapter 19
Romanovich was in pain as he pushed the call button for a nurse. A thin and short Captain entered and asked, “What are your needs, sir?”
“Something for my pain.”
“It is too soon to give you morphine, so I can give you two pills.”
“Get me a bottle of vodka, by God, and pills I will not need.”
She laughed and said, “Sure, I will bring you a bottle after my lunch.”
“Really? Please do not be joking with me. If you give me the drink, you can keep your morphine too. I am hurting like a sonofabitch right now. I thought that whirlpool bath this morning would kill me as it washed away dead skin.”
“If I gave you alcohol, I could lose my job.”
“How many of us survived the crash?”
“I told you yesterday and the day before that, and the number is still seven.”
“It is a bad way to die, but one dies quickly. I do not think I will ever trust an airplane again in this lifetime.”
When the nurse left a few minutes later, Boris gave her some thought. She was a pretty woman, but not beautiful, with a well shaped and toned body. He liked the way she wore her blond hair, and the curve of her rump. He'd always had a weakness for blonde women with blue eyes, and he found all he'd ever met sexy. Maybe, just maybe, if he took the time he could get to know the Captain.
It was near noon when Georgiy showed up and was escorted into Romanovich's room by the nurse. As an officer, he was entitled to his privacy.
“Oh, Boris, you must be in bad pain. You have suffered some bad burns, my friend.”