by W. R. Benton
Looking at the radio man, Major Taras said, “You heard the commander, so give the order.”
Warrant Officer Paley was flying one of the Russian choppers, a Ka-60, that was modified to carry machine-guns and rockets. His infrared sensor operator sat in the back, monitoring a computer screen that showed targets as a glowing red image. Paley was an excellent pilot, having been in the business a long time, but he was better known as “The Trader,” because he'd wheel and deal anything for the good of his unit and troops. He drank too much, loved to play poker, and was a brave man.
“Mister Paley, I have a large number of glowing targets to our west, maybe a thousand meters.”
“Sergeant Titov, I hope this is not like the last time, when we killed a herd of deer.”
“Sorry about the last time, but this reading is different. There are so many giving off heat I cannot see the individuals clearly.”
“Are you sure of this? I mean absolutely sure? Colonel Dubow was so pissed the last time, he threatened to shoot me.”
“One hundred percent sure.”
“Okay, let me radio the base and see what they want us to do.”
“Copy.”
Long minutes passed and Titov knew his last error had caused all of them to get a good ass chewing, from him on up, and he'd been required to attend additional training. They'd wiped out a herd of deer, and the ribbing they'd taken was rough.
“Hold onto your seat, Titov,” Paley replied a few minutes later, “We are rolling in to attack now.”
“Copy and understand, we are attacking.”
The aircraft dipped nose down and the Sergeant heard two rockets release from the chopper. Paley then nosed up and banked sharply to come back around. Glancing at his screen, Titov saw the glowing spot separate and then scatter in different directions. He quickly began counting the individuals. “Mister Paley, I counted fifty-four individuals on the ground and about ten are unmoving.”
“Copy ten unmoving. Rolling in for a second pass, using the machine-guns this time.”
The firing of the guns was loud and the chopper shook violently as they hurled death to those on the ground. Paley fired short bursts and a few seconds later, he pulled up again and banked to the right this time.
“Any fast movers near?” Titov heard the co-pilot ask.
“No, they are off to our west and working on targets there.” Paley replied.
Glancing at his screen, the glowing people began to go out, as if someone switched a light off in a number of different rooms. However, a good dozen were clearly spotted running over an open field.
“Check the field at your twelve o'clock position, maybe 500 meters in front of us.”
Paley flew low over the area and went into a hover to allow Titov to pinpoint targets. He then felt some small arms fire strike the chopper, followed by a loud explosion. Red lights began to come on almost instantly.
“Base, this is Bear 19 and I am heading back to base. My control panel lights are lit up like a Christmas tree and I am declaring an inflight emergency.”
“Bear 19, this is Badger 26, I have you visual and your engine is showing some flames.”
“Copy, I understand you see flames coming from my engine.”
“I suspect you were struck by a LAW or RPG, copy?”
The controls of the big chopper were still responding, but Paley wondered for how much longer. “Uh, copy, Badger 26.”
“Badger 26, abort your mission and escort Bear 19 to base.” Colonel Dubow said over the radio.
“Understand, Colonel, and will do, over.”
Flying close, Badger 26, a Black Shark attack chopper, looked the Ka-60 over closely. The pilot then said, “Bear 19, it looks as if some panels are missing on and near your engine. I suspect a fuel line was cut or ruptured.”
Glancing at his fuel gauge, Paley saw he was losing fuel. However, he'd seen what partisans do to captured Russians, so he kept flying toward safety, and would only put it down if all hope to keep moving in the air was lost.
Five minutes later the aircraft began to shake and rattle as it moved and he saw he had just enough fuel to reach Edwards.
“Tower, I am coming straight in when I reach the base.”
“All other traffic is currently on hold, Bear 19, and you are expected.”
“Fire warning lights are on now, Mister Paley.” the co-pilot said.
Glancing at the console, he saw the lights were on, so he made a decision, “Tower this is Bear 19 and I have to put my aircraft on the ground. My fire warning lights are on and I am in danger of blowing up, or so I think.”
“Copy, and we have you on radar. Expect ground troops to your location within thirty minutes.”
“I will bake them a cake. This is Bear 19, out.”
Paley was a bear of a man, well over six feet and about two hundred and twenty pounds, solid muscle. He'd grown up on a farm, attended a local university, but after discovering strong drink and women, he'd washed out of college. He was a better than average looking man, and kept his blond hair cut short.
“Pilot to crew, I am setting us down in the field ahead. Titov, when we exit the aircraft, I want you to grab our survival kit. We should have ground troops with us within thirty minutes.”
“I will bring the kit, Mister Paley.” Titov replied and glanced at the survival kit.
The lower the aircraft went, the more shaking Paley felt in the control stick and the more dangerous it became. Finally, he placed the chopper in a shallow dive and then pulled the stick back, with help from his co-pilot, when within twenty feet of the ground. He began to lower the aircraft and, when within five feet of the grasses, the engine stopped, and the chopper dropped like a stone to the earth.
As they fell, Paley, switched his agent discharge button to flood the engine with a fire extinguisher foam. His co-pilot turned the main electrical power off, to avoid the danger of electrical sparks upon impact with the ground. They'd practice this thousands of times, but now that he had to do the job, Paley had problems finding the button.
They landed hard and if it'd been daylight, they would have seen a dense cloud of dust surround the chopper. The co-pilot gave a loud scream on impact and Paley was surprised they'd remained on the wheels, which he'd extended, hoping the rubber would absorb some of the impact forces. He'd honestly thought they'd flip over on their side when they struck. They'd tilted hard enough the main rotorblade had flown apart when they struck the ground. All were trained to wait for the aircraft to come to a complete stop before exiting. Looking overhead, he saw about half of the still moving rotorblade was missing.
Titov stuck his head in the crew compartment and asked, “Are you two okay?”
“Lieutenant Koslov has injuries, and I suspect it is his back.”
“What is the risk of fire?”
“Little. I managed to flood the engines with extinguisher at the last second, so any flames are out, but I have no idea how hot the engine area is. Heat alone could cause a fire with leaking fuel.”
“Can you get out on your own? If so, let me take the survival and first aid kits to safety, then I will return to help get Koslov out of his seat.”
“Good, I am fine, but hurry. I do not like being in a freshly crashed helicopter.”
The Sergeant laughed, patted Paley on the right shoulder and exited the aircraft. He took the survival and first aid kits to about fifty meters from the left side door, placed them on the ground and then returned to the co-pilot's door.
Opening the door, he said, “Undo his harness and I will take him on my back. Off the left is where the gear is and where I will bring Koslov.”
With a quick twist of his hand, Paley released his harness and did the same for his co-pilot. Koslov moaned when the harness released and screamed when Titov pulled him from his seat. All three moved in the direction of the survival gear. The aircraft was smoking, but not a man on the ground saw any fire.
When Titov placed the injured co-pilot on the ground in some trees, the
man screamed once more. The Sergeant met Paley's gaze and said, “Either his back is broken or he has hurt it in some way. Do you want me to inject him with morphine to kill his pain?”
“Yes and you have the first aid kit, right?”
“I have it.”
“Kill his pain then. If we have to move him, I do not want him screaming all the time.”
After giving Koslov morphine, Sergeant Titov returned to the downed aircraft for their individual weapons and ammunition. When he returned, Warrant Officer Paley was on the small survival radio talking to someone.
“One man, my co-pilot, was injured in the crash. We suspect serious back injury and have given him morphine for the pain. How far out are you now? Okay, out.” He quickly pushed the telescoping antenna into the radio. He smiled and then said, “Less than ten minutes now. Be sure to have the flares ready, in the event we need them. Once you left, I began having pain in my lower back and legs.”
“It may be from the g-forces you experienced when we struck the ground. I had my harness tight and it still rattled me pretty hard. I have to say, Mister Paley, that was one of your smoother landings.”
Both men laughed and then Paley said, “Get down. I just saw a man moving near the helicopter.”
“Shit,” the Sergeant said, “not good.”
“Well, I have some more bad news, he looked to be wearing NVG's, and if he is, we will not last long. The question is, do we fight or surrender?”
“Have you ever heard of a partisan group taking prisoners?”
“Well, that answers that question.”
A man with a dog moved toward them and Paley whispered, “Let me start the shooting if we need to fight, and then you join in quickly. I do not like that damned dog, so I will try to kill it first.”
“Okay,” Titov replied in a whisper.
Paley looked behind the man and the dog to see a group of people moving around the downed chopper. Not good; looks like momma Paley will be short a first born son come morning, he thought as he aimed at the dog.
John stopped when Dolly gave a loud warning growl and he quickly spotted the three men in the trees, but he was standing in an open field, in a full moon, and with his dog with him. He clearly saw a Russian pointing a pistol at him, so he turned to the right and walk away.
Too damned close, Paley thought as he lowered the pistol. He then placed the sidearm in his shoulder holster and picked up his Bison. He met Titov's eyes and grinned.
The sound of helicopters nearing sent the people at the crash site running for the trees and Paley watched as the man with the dog neared two other men and pointed in his direction. So, he saw me and moved away. I wonder why? the Warrant Officer thought.
“Bear 19, this is Rescue 1, over.”
“Roger, Rescue 1, I hear you and you are nearing my position. Be advised, there are unfriendly people in the area, about a 100 meters south of my position.”
“Get your heads down; I am sending two Black Sharks in to clear the area.”
There sounded something that reminded Paley of a big zipper being suddenly pulled opened and a steady light of green tracers flew through the air to strike the woods. Ricochets flew through the air and in the trees, the bullets tore into the wood like a chainsaw. Screams were heard, but then it grew quiet.
“Bear 19, I have some rockets coming into the trees, so get down lower this time.” the rescue chopper pilot said.
No sooner had Paley and Titov lowered their faces to the grass than two loud explosions were heard, followed by more screams. Spotting movement above him, Paley saw the rescue chopper starting to lower.
“Bear 19, I have two corpsmen and three others coming to get you. Do not move toward us on your own.”
“I understand.”
“Taking small arms fire.” the rescue pilot said as the aircraft touched the grass and the Black Sharks flew toward the trees again.
In just minutes, Koslov was on a liter, and Paley and Titov were being escorted to the rescue aircraft. About a foot from the door, Paley felt a blow to his back and collapsed to the ground. He was picked up, rolled into the aircraft and the other men boarded behind him. One of the medical men began looking Paley over, but the medic's head suddenly snapped back and his helmet exploded into a thousand pieces, sending plastic, fiberglass, brains, bone and blood in all directions. To Paley, the whole thing took place in slow motion, including the look of surprise seen on the medic's face.
“Hang on!” the pilot yelled and applied full throttle and lowered the nose to gather speed.
Bullets started slapping the aircraft with a loud bang and men ducked out of instinct. In the matter of a few minutes, it grew quiet and the only sounds were of the engine. Paley was surprised the engines were running smoothly with no sign of quitting. The dead medic had fallen over him, so he pushed the man away and the other medic neared.
Twenty minutes later they landed at Edwards Air Base, the dead medic was removed and the injured Lieutenant and Paley were taken by ambulance to the base hospital. Sergeant Titov was brought along too, so he'd receive a physical examination to ensure he wasn't injured in the crash and resulting firefight.
Hours later, as he lay in his bed, Paley heard a voice, “Mister Paley, are you okay?”
Opening his eyes, he saw the young Sergeant stood by his bed with a quart of vodka in his hand. Handing it to the pilot, he said, “You are not to have drink in the hospital, but I know you enjoy a snort at times. Hide it after you have your drinks or they will take it away from you.”
“Are . . . are you okay?” Paley asked, the painkiller dulling his thoughts.
“I am fine and ready to go flying with you again, but looks like we are grounded as a crew for a long while.”
“How is, uh, Lieutenant Koslov?”
“Not good. His back was severely injured when we hit and they think he will never walk again. The last time I spoke with a doctor, he said they were sending him out to the Jackson airport. From there he will return home for treatment.”
Paley pulled the cork from the vodka, took a long drink, and then replied, “He is in bad shape if they fly him home, because you have to be almost dead to get out of here.”
“Speaking of dead, the recon force that landed the next morning discovered over twenty bodies in the woods.”
“Any dogs?”
Sergeant Titov laughed and said, “I asked that question too and the answer was no. While they did find dog tracks and dog shit, no dog. The Senior Sergeant said it was a big dog, too.”
“It was a damned German Shepherd, and I know because I saw it.”
“Relax, Mister Paley, we are safe and it does not matter now. Hell, have another drink. Colonel Dubow has promoted me to Senior Sergeant and you to Captain, all because of the bodies they recovered.”
“No shit?”
“No shit, and he has put us in for one medal or the other. Medals and money will buy me a bottle of vodka, because all they are is metal and ribbon.”
“Not true, lad, because with the right medals, the government will see you are always employed and have a pension, so think of your future.”
“I had not given that any thought at all. Hell, it is hard to think of a future when you might be dead tomorrow.”
Handing the bottle to Senior Sergeant Titov he said, “Take this back with you and enjoy it. Mixing it with these painkillers is not good. I am sleepy now. Congratulations, Sergeant, you are a damn fine soldier.” Paley's head dropped to his pillow and the Sergeant saw his pilot was asleep.
Putting the bottle in his coat, he turned and left the room.
Colonel Bunin, his promotion confirmed, stood and said, “We now have more than 3,000 prisoners, sir. More than enough for any work or other projects you may need done.”
“Speaking of work, the word from Moscow is to screen the prisoners and put their skills to work for the good of our motherland.” Colonel Dubow said.
“Put them to work? But they sabotage everything they touch.”
/> “You will need a tough quality control center then, made up of soldiers. If one worker keeps messing up, shoot his ass and make the other workers watch the execution.”
“That might work. But, really, sir, what kind of skills do you think these people will have?”
“It may surprise you, Colonel. At any rate, discover their skills and develop a plan to put them to work. Workers are to have 1400 calories a day and non-workers, 900.”
“I will see to it immediately, sir.”
CHAPTER 18
John moved through the trees on point with Dolly at his side, scanning the countryside as he moved. He was pissed. When the chopper had gone down after he'd struck it with a LAW, the group had moved to the fallen bird. Skeeter had tried to control them, but nothing had worked. Now, they were missing about half of the original group, killed by the Black Shark helicopters when they attacked the trees. John had warned the people to move away at right angles, but most ran blindly.
Bill moved to him and asked, “Do you want me to take point a while? You've been out here since we left this morning, and a tired man does none of us any good.”
“Sure, take my place for a couple of hours, and thanks.” John stepped to the side of the trail and let the younger man take the lead; Dolly stood at his side, her tongue hanging loosely from her mouth. He fell in beside Skeeter.
“What's on your mind?” Skeeter asked.
“As I said earlier this morning, we need to get your people under control or we'll arrive with no escapees except three or four of you.”
“John, first these aren't my people and second, they know nothing of the military. I suspect of all the men, maybe ten have served. The rest have no idea what they're doing most of the time. I do know they rushed the chopper last night in hopes it carried food, not realizing it carried death instead.”
“Well, we'll feed all of them, once back at camp, but right now they need to follow orders. I want you to pass the word, anyone failing to follow our orders will be shot.”
Snapping his head toward John, Skeeter grinned and asked, “Surely you're not serious?”