The Fall of America | Book 1 | Premonition of Death

by Benton, W. R.

  "How are you going to do this? I mean, do you have the equipment to give her my blood?"

  "We have the necessary needles and surgical tubing, but you're the only one we know of with the right blood type."

  I stood, gave her a goofy grin and replied, "You know I'll do it and be glad to help, if it'll make a difference. But, why is my blood so rare?"

  "Less than 7% of Americans have 0 negative, so it's pretty damned rare, so you're likely the only one here besides her that has this blood type. Worldwide, the percentage depends on the ethnic group or race, but it's still damned hard to find. Now, if you'll come with me, we'll try our best to save this young woman's life."

  I could remember giving blood before the fall of our nation, and the civilians would be working up a sweat as they waited for the needle. Most military folks, active duty or veterans, never seemed to fear the needle much. I guess after a hitch in the service, you've had so many shots and other needles in you, it no longer scares you. I hope my giving blood helps, I thought as I followed Sandra.

  A little later, as Sandra taped a piece of gauze pad over my 'wound,' I said, "What are her chances now that you have the blood?"

  Her face grew serious and she lowered her eyes before she replied. "Not real good. If we have to remove the leg, she'll die on us. We just don't have enough blood for surgery and I'm sure she'd die of blood loss and shock."

  "Take some more of mine, then."

  "I already took a pint and that's all you can safely give. If we had a way to give your plasma back to you, then you could give more. We don't have the equipment to return your plasma, so we can't do more than what we just did for her." She replied, and then leaned over and kissed me. I felt my desire start to flame, but she pulled away from me and smiled.

  "I need to get you alone," I whispered with a big grin.

  She grinned right back and said, "Won't happen G.I., not with all these folks around and we can't leave the cave, especially with all the unfriendly people out there."

  "I love you."

  "I love you too, but there is a time and place for everything. Now, go drink some water and eat a bite. Then, get your tired ass to bed, because you're about to fall over."

  I slowly stood, felt a little weak, more than likely from being tired than giving blood, and made my way to where Tom lay. In a few minutes I entered the deep void of sleep.

  *****

  I awoke feeling sore and irritated, with a slight headache. I stood and made my way to a partitioned area we used as a toilet. Top had some of the Air Force Prime Beef civil engineers rig up some toilets that worked pretty good. They were constructed from 55 gallon drums cut in half with a sheet of plywood on top. A circle had been cut from the wood if a person had some serious business to attend to, but for a pee, we had a funnel made from aluminum that was mounted on a metal tube that carried the urine into the drum. Once a day, someone emptied the drum using a two wheeled dolly.

  I finished my morning toilet and walked toward Top, who I noted was bent over a topographical map, and Willy Williams stood beside him. As I neared, I noticed blood all over the left leg of the jeans Willy wore.

  "...and right about there is where they ambushed us, Top."

  "That's right where John and Tom ran the bullet gauntlet in the Stryker, right?" Top met my eyes.

  I looked the map over and saw Willy's index finger at the turn off from the main road to county road 380, so I said, "Yep, right where the dirt county road meets the main macadam road. I didn't see shit driving, but Tom told me he'd seen at least 20 vehicles parked in the woods as we sped through the place."

  "We didn't see any vehicles at all, so I suspect they've moved on, but they had us in a perfect L shaped ambush, or would have, until one of their men fired early."

  "Did you charge their positions like you're suppose to do?" Top asked.

  "No, because there were only ten of us to start with, and I lost half my men right off the bat. Four died instantly and the other died later, but we pulled back and then moved deeper into the woods. That was the day after we left y'all, John."

  Top scratched his chin and then asked, "How are the other four men?"

  "Ralph the radio operator and Butler had no injuries at all, while Mike took a grenade fragment in the left arm, but it was more of a graze than a real wound. In Iraq we'd say he got an easy purple heart. Our medic, Wilcox, is the one who bled to death."

  "And you?" I asked looking at his leg.

  "I'm fine, and the blood isn't mine. Our wounded man had a severe injury to his neck, and we couldn't get the bleeding to stop. He'd taken a bullet to his left carotid artery and there was simply nothing we could do for him in the field, so basically he bled out. I think he took the neck injury as we were un-assing the area of operations, haulin' ass actually, and the original wound to his arm was small."

  Top was quiet for a minute and then said, "John, I want you and Tom to join Willy's team. We have other Green Berets and SEALS, but they're busy right now and on the other side of where I need you guys. And, John, take your wife along too, as the medic."

  "Well, I don't know," I started in a serious voice and then continued, "if I like the idea. Does it mean I have to wear one of those silly girl scout beanies?" I broke out laughing.

  Everyone laughed and once we sobered up, Willy said, "I think you have what it takes to earn a green beret, but remember, we only take five out of a hundred."

  I laughed and replied, "Next you'll be singing the Ballad of the Green Berets, by Barry Sadler."

  Willy laughed and said, "I know the words!"

  Top cleared his throat and said, "Okay guys, let's get back to the work at hand. Willy, I want you to take your group and do a recon on the area. Sneak and peak is all, and avoid any enemy contact if you can. It'll give me some intelligence and allow your new members to break into the unit. John, take your German Shepherd with you, because I don't think she'll listen to any of us."

  "She'd listen to you, but I think she'd actually be an asset for our small group. My dad told me of dog handlers in Vietnam and I watched 'em in Iraq. They saved a lot of lives."

  Top grinned and said, "Yep, I know all of that, but the main reason I want her to go with you is because she doesn't eat when you're gone. She sits by the entrance like a dog waiting for a small kid to get off a school bus. Besides, I think she needs a walk in the sun."

  Willy laughed and said, "That's what my uncle called an easy mission in World War Two, a walk in the sun."

  "Did he experience a lot of those walks?" I asked.

  "Not a one, but he said he heard of 'em."

  "Get your men ready to move, Willy, and see if Sandra can leave with Alisa hurt like she is right now. If need be, leave without a medic, because all of you have had basic combat first aid training and you green beanies even kept a goat alive, or so I heard."

  "Yep," Willy said proudly, "I kept mine alive during training, but I ain't treated another goat since."

  We broke out laughing again and after a few minutes, Top slapped Willy on the back and said, "Saddle up, it's showtime."

  *****

  Hours later, near dusk a light rain began to fall and the temperature dropped dramatically in just a few minutes. Before we'd left, Willy explained some rules, and Tom and I found it a normal mission briefing. When we could talk, breaks to be taken and how often, food breaks and so on. It was old hat to us, but I could tell Sandra was confused. Now, with darkness closing in, she seemed a bit scared. She was a smart woman and not many would want to spend the night deep in Injun country with no help on standby. We were on our own and if the shit hit the stump, some, if not all, of us could very well die.

  We were sitting back-to-back, facing the four compass headings, with each of us keeping an eye on our surroundings. We'd been informed by Willy there would be no sleep tonight or tomorrow. Three Claymore mines were rigged in triangle position around us. We were to return to the cave late tomorrow, so I figured a little missed sleep wouldn't kill any of us.
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  The Night was long and I grew bored near 0300 and almost nodded off, but when I checked on Sandra and found her awake, I was determined to stay awake no matter what it took.

  A few seconds later, Dolly growled and looked to the west. I didn't say a word, but I heard all four safeties slip off.

  CHAPTER 14

  I heard movement moving from the north moving south and Dolly once again growled, so I whispered a low, "Hush, girl."

  From the movement I heard a voice say, "I heard a dog growl."

  "Jonas, you're full of shit. Why in the world world would a dog be out here? Hell, most cats and dogs have been eaten up by now."

  The moon was full, with a few fast moving clouds overhead, and the tree limbs overhead covered us from most of the faint light. I saw silhouettes of what looked to be a squad of men moving through the trees. Tom touched me and when I glanced at him he tapped his balled fist with his thumb. He's going to fire a Claymore when they get closer. Lawdy, I hope these men aren't the point for a much larger group, I thought.

  Then, when I glanced back at the men, they'd disappeared.

  They either smelled us or caught Tom's thumb movement, because they've gone to ground, I thought as I got ready mentally and physically for the shooting to start. I brought my shotgun into position as I thought over and over, Start the dance, start the dance, start the dance.

  Tom tapped me and when I looked at him, along with Tom, Sandra, and Ralph, he placed his index fingers in his ears. I knew the Claymore was about to blow.

  Seconds later the cool and quiet night air erupted with an earth-shattering explosion, followed instantly by loud piercing screams. I heard shotgun and rifle shots, and actually saw a small branch fall from the tree overhead. It fluttered to the ground uninterrupted. From the muzzle blasts in the darkness, I counted ten men still shooting, which meant more had survived than I'd thought. Obviously, the angle of the Claymore when we placed it caused us to miss most of them. Hell, how did we know where they'd show anyway? I thought and felt fear gnawing on my stomach like a small animal. I knew from experience once the firing started I'd be okay. I always grew scared when any battle first started and usually ill following a fight. Puking was not uncommon.

  Two loud explosion followed, one after the other, and then it grew quiet. I'd heard a fizz and then felt Tom's arms move twice just before the explosions, so I'd known he'd tossed grenades. Long minutes passed with only the occasional scream or wobbling cry of the wounded. Still, we remained in position and waited. We waited for the wounded to bleed more and for the seriously wounded to die. I'd learned on my first tour in Iraq that an injured man often knew he was dying and would try to take a few enemies with him. The minutes ticked off as slowly as hours in my mind.

  I scanned 360 degrees around us and spotted movement to our north. I picked up a Claymore clacker and waited for them to get nearer my wait was a short one. When I could make out the shapes of men moving toward us, I squeezed my clacker, heard the resulting explosion and grinned.

  Once again, men screamed and cried out in pain. I heard one voice screaming for his mother over and over, until the victim gradually grew weaker, and the voice grew too faint to be heard. I felt nothing for my enemy, no emotions at all. They'd come to kill me and I knew it, so the most they could expect from my ass was a quick death. If that makes me a cold and hard man, so be it. War, and we are at war, is not the place to be filled with progressive ideas of deep loving compassion and soul touching tenderness. It is a time to kill or be killed so I'm deadly in battle. However, with that said, I'm usually compassionate with injured prisoners in a rear area, but only to a certain point. I'll never risk the lives or safety of anyone with me for a prisoner, and you already know what I'll do to a prisoner if I need information. Most of the time I'm up front in battles and prisoners just slow a unit down, so I take no prisoners.

  "Two hours until daylight, so we wait." Willy whispered, and then leaned his back against mine.

  Sandra whispered, "Ralph is down."

  "Hard?" Willy asked.

  "Breathing, but I can't tell in the darkness."

  Pulling a poncho from my pack, I handed it to her along with a small light doctors use to check patients. I'd picked up the light from a man I'd killed a few weeks back and right now it'd come in handy.

  Still whispering, Sandra asked, "What am I to do with this poncho?"

  Before I could answer, Tom replied, "Drape it over your head and when you check Ralph, make sure the sides are covering his body. Don't let any of the light out of the poncho."

  Many drawn-out minutes passed before I heard Sandra whisper, "He took a rifle slug to the upper left shoulder and it's clean through his body, while a single pellet struck his head. I pulled the pellet out and it didn't go in far, maybe a quarter of an inch. The bleeding from the shoulder will stop shortly."

  "Gonna live?" Willy asked.

  "Yep, but he'll be a hurtin' sonofabitch when he comes around. I'll give him some morphine when that happens."

  "Good. He's the only member of my old team still alive. It'll be light in a few minutes, so let's get ready to check the damage done."

  I scratched Dolly's head and fed her part of an energy bar I had in my shirt pocket. She gobbled it down in seconds. "Dolly's a good girl," I whispered and felt my love for her touch my soul. Suddenly my mind flashed to Newt and Skillet and my happiness instantly vanished, replaced with grief.

  As we waited, over time the moans, groans and cries of the wounded grew fainter and weaker until all was quiet.

  CHAPTER 15

  With the coming of full light, Willy whispered, "Okay, John, you and I will check those people. Sandra stay with Ralph and Tom, but all of you keep your weapons ready at all times. We'll take no chances."

  I took Dolly by her leash and moved toward the site of our ambush.

  The first three men I saw had been torn apart by the mine, and they'd died instantly. The next two had serious head injuries and I could see a small fragment from a grenade stuck in one man's forehead.

  I moved to where Willy was squatted over a man and heard him say, "You've taken shrapnel in your gut and you know what that means, right?"

  Dolly growled a loud warning and I knew she wanted a piece of the downed man's ass. I kept her leash tight and commanded, "Sit, Dolly. Stay." I smile with satisfaction as she sat.

  "I . . . I'll die."

  "Yep, and there isn't a thing I can do to help you."

  "Kill . . . me. I . . . hurt . . . too much." The injured man pleaded and I could see deep pain in his eyes. His forehead was covered in sweat and he was pale.

  Willy looked at me, crossed himself, and then pulled his knife. Turning to the man, he asked, "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

  "Yes, I . . . can't take this . . .pa. . . pain." The man then arched his back and gave a loud moan. I saw his fingers clawing the dirt, leaving miniature ruts in the soil.

  For God's sake, kill the man! I screamed in my mind.

  Willy's knife flashed quickly and entered under the man's left ribs, and once the blade was buried to the handle, he jerked the knife hard from side to side, twisting it as he did so. The injured man screamed, jerked a few times and then quivered violently. A minute later his eyes lost focus and I heard a loud sigh he was dead.

  Pulling his knife from the man's chest, Willy cleaned the blade on the dead man's shirt. He looked up at me and said, "I hated doing that, but he'd have died anyway. I just hope God forgives me the mercy killings I've done over the years."

  "I see you're Catholic, so confess the act to a priest."

  "I haven't seen a priest in years, not since the fall. I've been praying, but not sure if that works or not."

  I gave a low chuckle and replied quickly, "I'm not Catholic, so I have no idea if it works or not, but we Southern Baptists been praying straight to God for years. And, by the way, I'm not laughing or making light of your religion, mostly I'm laughing at the differences. I think God knows all of our hearts and he
'll judge us accordingly."

  Willy cleared his throat, so I felt he was uncomfortable discussing religion, and then he said, "Let's check that batch you smoked on the north side."

  We found ten more bodies and all were as dead as a bottle of Christmas whiskey. It was as we were about to turn and return to Sandra that Dolly moved forward in a leap. She barked twice and I knew immediately someone was in the area. I reached down and released her leash from the collar. She shot into the woods.

  I heard two loud gunshots, followed instantly by a loud scream. Tom and I hurried forward, but not too quickly because we had no idea what Dolly had treed. After moving into the woods about twenty yards, I saw Dolly hanging from the arm of a man in a Russian uniform.

  Willy screamed a command in Russian, and the man glanced at us and shouted a reply.

  "Call the dog off." Willy ordered, and then brought his shotgun up to cover the Russian.

  "Dolly, come!"

  As soon as she was by my side, Willy spoke slowly and it sounded to me as if he were telling the man to do something, step-by-step. The Russian dropped the pistol from his right hand, unbuckled his belt and tossed it to the side, and then fell to his knees. He placed his hands on top of his head, lacing his fingers together.

  Pulling a roll of duct tape from his pack, Willy said, "Watch this joker closely as I secure him. Any fast moves, blow his ass away."

  He then moved toward the man, holding his shotgun at the ready. As he secured the man's hands behind his back, I heard them talking in Russian. Then, Willy helped the man stand and made his way toward me. The prisoner was limping and I saw blood dripping from his arm where Dolly had been holding him and from between his legs. Dolly's tongue was hanging out and she was panting hard as I praised her, "Good girl. You're a good girl, Dolly."

  Beside me now, Willy said, "This sumbitch says he doesn't speak English, but he's a liar. He's a senior sergeant and if he was with these others, you can bet your ass he speaks some of our language."

  "What now?" I asked.