The Fall of America | Book 3 | Enemy Within

by Benton, W. R.

  “Sergeant, please be seated and we need to talk.”

  Shit, it is about all the troops that were killed, he thought and then said, “Yes sir. What can I do for you?”

  “I need you for a mission, but I see you are on our injured list for wounds sustained in battle against the Americans.”

  “It is a flesh wound only, sir.”

  “Can you carry a pack and lead men in your current condition?”

  “Sir, I am using vodka to kill the pain, so I'm a little drunk, but I can lead men when I am falling down drunk. I am nowhere close to that condition right now.”

  “I cannot order you to take this mission, but if you take it and it is successful, I will see you get a case of vodka, a week's leave to enjoy it, immediate reassignment to Moscow, and a medal. A medal can do a lot for you, if it is for bravery.”

  “Sir, I have been in the army a long time. I know if you are offering me all of these things, it is either dangerous as hell or illegal, or maybe both.”

  Colonel Dubow laughed and said, “It is not illegal, but I am really not sure if it is dangerous or not. See, we had some spies with the partisans and they carried tracking devices. Now, suddenly, both have stopped transmitting. We have two spies with the Americans, Alex and Mollie. One of our patrols found Alex's body yesterday and he was very dead, along with an ace of Spades card in his mouth. The bug was still in his pocket and working fine. It was left on and when our troops rolled Alex over—”

  “Let me guess, sir, he was booby-trapped?”

  “Yes, and the resulting explosion killed four men. Moscow is wanting scalps, Master Sergeant, because a squad of expensive Spetsnaz were killed last week. I need a man with your experience to find the Americans, communicate their location, and I will call in an airstrike on them.”

  “Sir, what of your other spy?”

  “We have had no contact with her in over a week. Her beeper suddenly stopped working and we lost contact. Intelligence thinks she has been eliminated, but so far we have found no body. It may be the battery in her beeper has died.”

  “May I choose my own men, sir?”

  “Anything you want, from men to gear, is available. What are you thinking?”

  “Immediately reduce all flights where you think the Americans are, sir. Five mornings from now I will take five men and we will fly over the area at high altitude and we will make a high altitude low opening parachute jump. It will still be dark and they will have no reason to suspect we are in the area. I will need the latest in intelligence to even get close to the partisans. One of my men will be an aircraft combat controller and he will communicate directly with any overhead aircraft. It is important the aircraft stay high enough that they are not seen by anyone on the ground, until we need them.”

  “This sounds like it will work and it is the best idea I have heard yet.”

  “For recovery, we will need a single Ka-60, with a couple of Black Sharks to provide cover fire, if needed, sir.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself, so it is a go, and not a word of this is to be spoken to anyone.”

  “Yes, sir, I hear you well and as the Americans say, 'This ain't my first rodeo.'”

  Colonel Dubow said, “I do not really understand what that means, but good luck, Master Sergeant.”

  Five mornings later, the men stood on the flight-line loaded for bear and packing a good one hundred pounds of gear, most of which would be discarded once on the ground. The rear ramp of an Ilyushin Il-76 was down and the five paratroopers walked up the ramp and took a seat in the cargo cabin. The load-master came by and said, “The Pilot said you will be leaving the aircraft at 10668 meters and once the ramp is down, you need to be on oxygen. He will blink the red light for you to get ready and you are to jump the second the green light comes on. If you do not, he will not make another pass. His orders come from Colonel Dubow.”

  “We will leave the aircraft at the proper time. You just get us there.”

  The ramp began to close and more engine power was being applied. Each of the men with the Master Sergeant wore a camouflage crash helmet with earphones, an oxygen mask with a microphone, and a transmitter receiver so they could communicate as they fell to 304.80 meters, where they'd open their parachutes. They wanted a low opening so they'd not be hanging in a parachute and presenting a nice target to the partisans on the ground. If all worked well, they'd land and be on their way and the Americans would be no wiser.

  Under a clear visor and mask, each man wore camouflage makeup and their uniforms as well as tight gloves, were camouflage as well. All of the men, including Rusak had a minimum of fifty High Altitude Low Opening (HALO) jumps behind them. Each had a bag on their right side filled with ammo, explosives, and other gear they'd need. This bag was attached to a lanyard they would release once the parachute opened. The bag would then hang from the man as he dropped and would be attached to the individual by the lanyard. It would remove much of the weight on him when he landed, thus in theory make his landing easier and softer.

  Fifteen minutes into the flight, the load-master walked by and was wearing a mask and had an oxygen bottle attached to his waist. He pointed to his mask, so the five soldiers, pulled a small green knob hanging on their parachute harnesses and began to breath pure oxygen. The ramp began to lower.

  When the jump indicator light flickered on and off in red, the load-master helped each man stand by offering him a hand to grasp. They then waddled like pregnant ducks toward the ramp. All five stood lined up ready for the green light. When the light turned solid green, they moved forward and stepped out into space.

  Each man spread his legs and arms out to stabilize him as he fell and to keep from tumbling. All five were in one tight circle. An altimeter was mounted on the reserve parachute carried on their chests. A quick glance would be all that was needed to see how high they were as they fell toward earth at terminal velocity.

  Rusak's gear was working fine and he had no oxygen or breathing problems. When he passed what he thought was 304.80 meters the parachutes automatically opened, or at least four of them did. The Aircraft Combat Controller continued to fall. After his parachute deployed and he released his equipment bag hanging on the lanyard, the Master Sergeant could only count four parachutes. Looks like the Corporal rode his to the ground and most likely from fixation with the ground, but it should have automatically opened, he thought.

  Sometimes during the free-fall, the jumper would almost be hypnotized by the drop, with his eyes fixated on the ground. If the chute failed to open properly at 304.80 meters the jumper only had seconds to deploy his reserve or he was dead.

  A few short minutes later, the four men landed on the ground close together. They quickly gathered up their parachutes and carried them to the a stream, where they collapsed dirt off a bank onto the nylon. Using short handled shovels, they covered it completely.

  “Now, let us find the Corporal's body and hide his chute and remains.”

  Thirty minutes later they found the dead man and no effort had been made on his part to open his reserve parachute. Most of his gear was destroyed on impact, but they salvaged what they could and then buried the man in some bushes. They even went so far as to place pulled up bushes on the grave to help mask the final resting spot of the Corporal from the eyes of others.

  Pulling his compass, Rusak said, “Take a heading due north and remember there is zero magnetic deviation on the heading. I will walk point until we find the partisans. If something happens to me, then Sergeant Bluska, you take charge. At all costs, we must radio the location of the Americans to the Colonel. After doing that, our mission is half over, because we must coordinate the air attack too.”

  “Who is on drag?” Bluska asked.

  “We do not have enough men for a drag man; now, let us move, and no noise.”

  They walked for hours and saw no sign of the partisans. They broke for a ten minute rest and after a few minutes, Bluska said, “I smell shit.”

  “No cleaner than you
are, I'm not surprised.” Rusak said, grinned, and then asked, “From what direction?”

  “Up wind.”

  “Spread out and let's look.”

  A few minutes later, one of the Privates raised his hand and when the Master Sergeant moved to the man he spotted a slit-trench that had been used as a latrine. A group of people had used it and someone screwed up by not burying the waste. Rusak said, “Spread out and look for tracks. Look for ration cans, dropped paper, anything that will give us a hint of who was here.”

  Ten minutes later, they'd found nothing, but boot prints and most of them were Russian, which meant little. The partisans often struck trains, convoys, and even base warehouses to take what they needed to stay in the fight.

  Pulling his men in close, Rusak said, “None of our troops are in this area, so the tracks belong to Americans. In about three hours, we will pull into some woods and sleep back to back, with one man on guard at all times. Be sure to call in our night position.” He looked at the radio man and then continued, “or we might end up getting shot up by our own helicopters. I know the Colonel will have all helicopters with infrared sensing devices in the air tonight.”

  “What now?”

  “I will follow in their tracks, but we will move slowly, because the trail is sure to be mined or have booby-traps. We are in no hurry and they have no idea we are behind them, but they always mine or booby-trap their back trails. If I find anything, I will mark the trip line, mine, or trap with a stick so step over it and all will be fine. Any questions? Okay, let's move.”

  For two miles all went well and then Rusak abruptly stopped. The soil on the trail was slightly different in color in one small spot and he suspected a mine. Pulling his sheath knife, he reached up and pulled a limb down. He cut a section from the limb, inserted the stick in the dirt near the spot, and moved forward.

  At dusk, he walked from the trail and moved into some dense oak trees. He pulled the men in close and whispered, “Back to back, no talking and if you eat, you eat cold food. We have already discussed guard duty, but I will be on guard last. Now, get comfortable.”

  The troops sat, back to back, and each removed a ration. It was dusk, with full darkness just minutes away when Bluska whispered, “I smell smoke.”

  Rusak sniffed the air like a dog and said, “I smell it too. We will wait until half past midnight, and then move up wind. They must feel safe if a fire is burning.”

  An hour later, all meals finished, three tried to sleep as Bluska pulled guard duty. He could still smell the smoke and thought, They must feel very secure if they have a fire burning, but tonight we will bring hell from the skies to visit them. Many will die and it is a good thing. If we can kill enough of them, this war will end and I can return home. Maybe I will get lucky and be promoted to Senior Sergeant before I return. A promotion will make my parents proud of me.

  The Sergeant allowed his mind to wander and he spent his two hours of guard duty doing a whole lot of thinking about nonsense or women. Finally, he elbowed a Private and said, “Your shift now. Are you awake?”

  “Yes and you may sleep.”

  Rusak was awaken by the Private an hour before midnight. He quickly checked his gear, not needing light to see. All were trained well enough that they could easily check their gear in full darkness and not miss a thing.

  Whispering, the Master Sergeant said, “We are not here to fight, but to be Colonel Dubow's eyes. We will call in the location of the partisans and then moved back out of the way. We will coordinate the attack and communicate corrections during the battle. Shoot only if necessary to save our lives, and ideally we will never be seen.”

  The men all nodded in understanding.

  “I will take point and let us go see who has a fire this time of the night in the woods.” He stood, adjusted his pack and then walked toward the smoke.

  A quarter of a mile later, as he moved around the edge of a large field, he saw the flames of a burning fire. Using his hand, he motioned for the men to remain in position. He then moved forward, hoping he didn't trip a mine or booby-trap.

  My God, he thought ten minutes later, there must be two hundred Americans here. Why so many? Then he realized, They must be gathering for a mass attack against us. I will call this in about an hour before dawn.

  Rusak moved slowly back to his men and slowly moved toward a hill he'd spotted off his left side. Once in place he took the handset and said, “Base, Badger 1.”

  “Go, Badger 1.”

  “Give me the Colonel.”

  “Have you located your target?” Colonel Dubow asked after a few seconds.

  “Yes, sir. The target is a large one.”

  After reading off the coordinates, Rusak asked for a confirmation of the location, and added, “We are located on the hill, approximately 200 meters from the target. We will remain in place and correct the attack as needed. The Americans are sleeping, so make your attack an hour before dawn. Yes, I will do that. Out.” He handed the radio back to his radio man.

  “Well?” Bluska asked.

  “Fast movers will hit the place with napalm in about two hours.”

  The Sergeant nodded and then broke into a grin.

  An hour before dawn, the loud whine of a diving jet aircraft was heard, it's black shape seen against the clouds, and something tumbled from it.

  “Lower your heads, now!” Rusak said.

  The canister hit just before the wooded area the Americans were camped in, but a wave of flames a hundred yards long shot from the impact point. Screams were heard before the fire landed on anyone, because the enemy knew they were under attack. A second aircraft dropped another canister and the whole wooded area was now burning brightly. Figures in flames ran from the woods, but only to fall just outside the fireball, still burning. Dozens of men were seen inside the fire, their deaths assured.

  Rusak took the handset and said, “Use guns on your next pass, on the outside edges of the fire.”

  “Copy.” a pilot replied.

  The two aircraft lined up in wingtip to wingtip formation, with a straight approach and machine-gun and cannon fire was heard. At the bottom of their dive they broke off, with one going left and the other going right.

  “Badger 1, we will circle above you while you assess the damage.”

  “Copy.”

  “Did any large groups of Americans escape that you saw?” Rusak asked.

  “None.” Sergeant Bluska said, “God, what a horrible way to die.”

  “All ways to die are bad.” a Private said.

  “Look at those flames and tell me some ways are not more painful than others. What a terrible smell, too. Most of those that escaped the flames will suffocate, because the immense fire removes the air around it while burning.”

  “I cannot do a body count, due to the flames, but my conservative estimate is 200 dead Yankees. I repeat, my body count estimate is 200 souls.” Rusak said into the handset.

  “Copy, 200 dead, and the Colonel will be pleased. Base wants you to move to your pick up point. You will be brought out at first light, copy?”

  “Copy, we are moving to our pick up point now. Out.”

  “Let us move.” Rusak said as he stood and it was then he spotted movement coming toward them.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Colonel first smelled smoke and walking toward it, he saw a small fire burning. It was about an hour before dawn and the weather was chilly, with few clouds overhead. He knew better than to just move toward the camp and called out, “I'm looking for American patriots!”

  “Who are you?” a voice asked.

  “I am a Colonel, a prior partisan, who was captured about a year ago by the Russians.”

  “Move toward me, until I tell you to stop.”

  The Colonel moved and then stopped when told to do so.

  Two partisans neared and one moved behind him. The Colonel knew the man behind him had a gun pointed at him.

  “Move to the fire. Once there, stop and we'll check you for arms.�
�

  “Son, you can check me, but I'm clean. I just escaped from the gulag at Edwards.”

  “So you say.”

  The Colonel smiled, enjoying the conversation and knowing the men he'd encountered were security smart. He found himself smiling because he was back among friends, only they didn't know it yet. He was frisked and the man said, “Sandra, come over here and check this guy out. He has a bullet wound and he's lost a lot of blood. He's clean.”

  Sandra moved to the Colonel's side and a man with a big dog joined her.

  “Can you remove your shirt?”

  “I don't think so, because I can hardly move my left arm.”

  She looked at the man with the dog and said, “Get a spare shirt of yours for this man. I'm going to have to cut the shirt off.” She then pulled a knife.

  Slicing the shirt up the back and unbuttoning the front, she pulled the two pieces of material down each arm. Seeing his upper torso, Sandra said, “My God, he's malnourished! Didn't they feed you at the gulag?”

  “Two cups of watered down soup a day and that was it.”

  “That's hardly enough to keep a person alive. They must know that's a starvation diet.”

  The Colonel met her eyes, shook his head and said, “Like they give a shit. They don't care and we were only there as bodies to shoot for reprisals. Listen a few days back, I sent three people out by tunnel. There was a Mark, Lewis, and a woman named May. Have you ran into them, by chance?”

  Mark stepped from the shadows and said, “How are you doing, sir?”

  “Oh, Mark, I'm so glad to see you, son; did the other two make it as well?”

  “Yes, all three of us are safe and with this bunch. I think George was killed coming out of the tunnel.” Then looking at the others near the fire, Mark said, “The Colonel was the senior man at the gulag and the brains behind our escape. He's a good man and I vouch for him.”

  “George was killed and the damned Russians hung him up by his heels as a warning to all of us who might want to escape. He was shot to ribbons.”