The Fall of America | Book 3 | Enemy Within

by Benton, W. R.

  John knew he was hinting that the Colonel slowed them down, and the man did, but there was no safe place to leave him. Just because the former prisoner was weak and malnourished wasn't his fault. I suspect it'll take him months to gain most of his strength back, John thought as he saw Tom wave from the door of the building. “Okay, people, let's move to the building.”

  Inside, a fire burned in the old wood stove and cans of Russian rations were being heated on top. Men and women were laying in all positions on the filthy floor, fatigue obvious in some faces. Willy raised his head, gave a weak grin and said, “You're likely the last ones that will return. We suffered fifty dead and twenty wounded, but we've shown the Russian Bear we can hit them when we have the urge.”

  “Damn, Willy,” Esom said, “I knew it'd cost us in blood to take the place.” The black sniper shook his head at the number of fatalities.

  “Esom, it cost us more than I thought, only right now dead partisans matter little. John, bring your group to me and let me explain the total cost of our attack.”

  Once everyone was close to him and seated on the floor, Willy said, “The Russians were so pissed that we killed a hundred of them, they killed over five hundred prisoners from the Edwards gulag.”

  “Oh, my God.” the Colonel said as his eyes met Willy's.

  “How do you know this?” John asked and pulled Dolly near. As he waited for a response, he scratched her ears.

  “One of our spies in Edwards reports one hundred were crucified, two hundred shot to death, and another two hundred burned up in an old warehouse. It looks as if we need to turn ugly again and start doing the same to prisoners of war we catch.”

  “Hell,” Tom said, “we kill 'em anyway.”

  “We shoot them, Tom. However, from now on, all prisoners are to die in the same manner as our counterparts in gulags.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Sandra asked and then quickly met John's eyes.

  “It means, for the next 100 prisoners we catch, we'll crucify them as well.”

  “I don't like it, because it puts us on the same level as them, and by God, we're different.” John said, his voice filled with anger.

  “Well, I'm sorry you dislike it so much, John, because your cell will start our revenge tonight. I want the nightly convoy to Jackson hit, and hit hard. Every effort will be made to get prisoners. Once the Russians are captured, we'll take them to a spot along the freeway and then crucify them.”

  “Damn it, Willy.” John said, “I don't think I can crucify a man, because it's not right.”

  Giving a dry laugh, Tom said, “If I remember correctly, a couple of years back you had no problems torturing a member of the Patton family almost to death in your barn. John, as much as I hate to say it, I agree with Willy. We must show them, no matter how bad a taste it leaves in our mouths, that we can and will do the same to their people. Only then, maybe, will they respect us enough to stop the inhumane killings of innocent prisoners.”

  Sandra asked, “Any children killed?”

  “Over twenty-five of those discovered burned to death were kids, most under the age of ten.” Then, pulling out a poster written in Russian, Willy read, “All resistance is to cease immediately. From this day forward five prisoners will be killed for every Russian. You cannot win your war against us, so lay down your arms and we will welcome you as brothers. Come to us and let us stop this fighting. We have food, warm beds and clothing for all. Signed, Boris Dubow, Colonel, Commander of Russian Forces Mississippi.”

  “Bullshit,” the Colonel said, “I got half a cup of watered down soup a day and they liked to killed me during each interrogation. They have a butcher named Sokol, a Colonel, that is one bloodthirsty sonofabitch! He burned me, cut on me, blew an eardrum out, and put my old ass through the most horrible pain in my life. If I ever catch the bastard, I will skin him alive! Do you hear me, Willy?”

  “I hear you, Colonel, and I'll give you the man if we ever get our hands on him and that's a promise.”

  The Colonel didn't reply, but did smile.

  “Tonight, I want most of the convoy to pass before you blow up the tanker of gasoline that is always toward the end. The tanker truck is usually the fourth or fifth truck from the end of the convoy, for safety reasons. At that point, we rush in, kill a few and try to snatch some prisoners. I'll take my cell and yours. Now, I realize some of you may dislike what we'll be doing to the prisoners, but I've given this a great deal of thought. I'm in charge and I've made up my mind. When you're in charge, feel free to do things differently. We leave at 1900 hours. I suggest we all get some rest before then.”

  As they broke up to catch some sleep, Willy said, “Colonel, you'll remain here until I get back. I don't see a valid reason to risk both Colonels on the same mission.”

  “Smart thinking and I will keep things running smoothly until you return.”

  Catching John looking at him, Willy winked.

  At 2100 hours, both cells lined the south-side of the east and west highway to Jackson, Mississippi. Claymore mines were in place, partisans positioned, and all were ready for the 2200 convoy.

  At exactly 2200 hours a lone motorcycle rider passed, then two more motorcycles, and finally an old American car used as a staff car, usually occupied by a Captain or Major. One thing about the Russians, they always start the dance right on time, John thought as he petted Dolly.

  Tonight's convoy was larger than usual, with twenty-five trucks counted. Usually the trucks were empty on the way to Jackson, because the city had a large airport. More supplies were flown to the capital city than sent up the Mississippi to Vicksburg or other areas.

  “Smith says the end of the convoy is coming up and the tanker will be here in no time.” Tom said.

  “Everyone, get down, now!” Willy yelled and picked up both clackers to the Claymore mines.

  John pointed at the approaching tanker and said, “Here it comes!”

  As the front bumper passed in front of him, Willy set off the first Claymore and the vehicle continued to move forward by momentum. When the tank was in front of him, he squeezed the second clacker, creating a ball of yellowish-red flames, as the tank was ripped to shreds by the powerful mine. No screams were heard, but John knew the driver of the truck and his security man were burnt toast. Nothing could survive the intense heat and flames of the gasoline truck. The tanker continued to move forward, rocked a few times and then fell on it's side, burning brightly.

  The convoy was stunned, those in front doing as they were supposed to do and gunning their engines. Those behind the tanker stopped, mainly because when the big tanker had been blown on it's side, it was blocking the roadway. Partisans ran forward and a firefight quickly started.

  Willy stood and yelled “To the trucks!” Suddenly his head snapped back quickly and his skull flew apart and Colonel William “Willy” Williams fell to the ground—dead.

  John, seeing Willy fall and realizing he was dead, called out, “Take the trucks, now!”

  Grenades were thrown by the partisans and the stunned Russians tried to establish a defense, but they were simply overwhelmed. Rifle fire filled the night for a little less than ten minutes. Finally, four Russians raised their hands in surrender.

  “Margie and Tom, move forward and secure those men. Take no chances, and I mean none. If one so much as passes gas, kill his ass.”

  “Come on, Margie.” Tom said as he stood and slowly walked to the men, his finger on his trigger.

  No resistance was offered and all four were soon hog tied and lying on the highway. Sandra neared and said, “We have two dead, one of which is Colonel Williams. The other is a man from Willy's cell named Benson. Both were killed instantly. We have two flesh wounds and neither are serious.”

  “Tom, take care of the prisoners and we'll take them to the spot Willy had prepared.”

  “I hear you.” Tom replied.

  “Margie on point and Esom, you bring up our rear.”

  At the arranged spot for the crucif
ixions of the Russians, all was prepared, except they had two more crosses than needed. More than once John had thought of stopping and shooting the men in the back of their heads, but he felt he owed this final act to Willy and his memory. After all, Willy had ordered this done.

  “Who will nail these men to the crosses?” Sandra asked, detesting the whole idea.

  “I'm in charge,” John said, “so I'll do the nailing. However, Tom, I want you to tie each man securely to his cross before I lift a hammer. I want you to tie their wrists, forearms, chest, knees and ankles securely around the cross. I suspect the screams from the nails entering a hand will make the others hard to control.”

  “Hell, I'd guess so. I know you'd have a hard time with my ass if you had me as a prisoner. Esom, bring the Russians to me one at a time. Let me gag each of them before you start or they'll raise holy hell screaming.”

  Each man was tied to a cross and then John picked up the hammer and moved to the first man. Turning his head he said, “Esom hold his arm tightly as I drive a nail through his palm. We'll do this hand first and then the other.”

  The Russians eyes were huge when he realized what John had in mind and he kept trying to speak as he shook his head violently. Ignoring the man, the first blow of the hammer drove the nail through the man's hand and into the wood. It only took one more hard strike to make the nail head flush with his victims palm. The other hand was more work, because the Russian kept balling his hand into a fist, but a quick blow with the hammer stopped all hand movement. A muffled scream was heard as the second hand was nailed in place. His feet were crossed and a single long nail, driven through both feet, secured him.

  “A crucifixion will take days to kill, so how do we speed up the process?” Tom asked. “I mean, if the Russians rescue them in a day or so, all our work is wasted.”

  “We'll open their bellies. Just slice through the skin and leave the inner organs alone. I think drying out and the resulting septic poisoning will kill these men.” John said.

  “Damn, John, that's cold!” Sandra said from his side.

  “As much as I dislike doing this, I'm following orders.”

  “Bullshit, because you're in charge now, and you decide what is done.” She almost yelled at him, obviously pissed.

  “Okay, I'm in charge, so Esom do as I ordered. This is being done in Willy's honor, like it or not, Sandra.”

  She turned and walked away.

  The four Russians were soon opened up like Christmas turkeys, with rolls of intestines hanging loosely from their bellies, as John squatted at the ground beneath them, praying for forgiveness. What he'd told Sandra was true, but with the death of Colonel Williams, John discovered a deep hatred for his enemy. He would no longer treat any Russian as human, but as vermin that deserved the most horrific deaths. When Willy died, John lost more than a leader, he'd lost a good friend.

  They walked to the hanging Russians and placed a sign on the man on the end. Willy had written in Russian, “For every way an American dies, Russians will die the exact same way. For every American that dies, ten Russians will die. God Bless America!”

  Standing, John said, “Okay, Tom take point and get us back to the garage. It looks like the Colonel back at camp is now in charge. Margie, bring up our rear.”

  Back at the garage, the Colonel listened closely as John explained what had happened, and the old man didn't speak or interrupt. When John finished, the Colonel said, “While I disagree with torture, I think it has a place in our current battle against the Russians. They are a vicious enemy and we must meet force with force and torture with torture. It may be the only way to stop them from torturing more of our people, until we can break them free.”

  Sandra, who'd been quiet on the walk back, now spoke, “Colonel, I disagree with you and John, about the torture, even though I can understand your thinking. In the future, Russian soldiers will fight to the death, rather than be taken prisoner. If they know they'll be tortured to death and not shot, what have they got to lose?”

  “That may be true, my dear, and personally, I don't give a damn what the soldiers do.” the Colonel said and then looked at his top Sergeant.

  Top shook his head and said, “I dislike torture too, but it has it's place at times, like when you need information to save lives, when you may be facing a serious threat, or in a case like this, where the enemy started it.”

  “Top,” Sandra said, “you sound like a little boy. He started it is a childish response.”

  “Sandra,” Top said, “I'll let your comment go for right now, except to say we must meet our enemy head to head no matter what the Russian bear does next. As Willy said often enough, 'Russians are animals in war. They are brutal and sadistic,' and I agree with him.”

  “To win this war, we must be more vicious than our enemy.” the Colonel added.

  “I left Esom positioned in the woods with a Russian sniper rifle to watch who comes for the Russians we crucified. Since the spot is clearly seen from the highway, the next convoy that passes will see the men. He's to kill the senior man that responds and then melt into the trees.”

  The Colonel laughed and said, “Well, someone is about to have a really bad day. Gentlemen and ladies, I have been looking at the map of the Edwards airfield and I have an idea that might ruin the day for many Russians.”

  “Oh?” Tom asked with arched eyebrows.

  “The Russians have their main fuel tanks on a slight hill. If we can get a man or two to the tanks, open the petcocks, the fuel will flow downhill. Downhill from the tanks is the main camp at Edwards, the flight line, hospital, and all repair hangers.”

  “Kind of stupid to put the tank of a hill, right?” Sandra asked.

  “I know little of petroleum, oils and liquid storage, or POL for short, but suspect they use gravity to speed up the refueling process. Now, the tanks are puncture proof, but they can be punctured, except what it really means is they have a low chance of fire. The term is used meaning if the tanks take a tracer round, they'll not explode. However, if our men cannot access the petcocks for one reason or the other, they're to blow the tanks with some C-4 explosive.”

  “They're likely to keep the petcocks padlocked, Colonel.” Tom said, and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “We have one pair of bolt cutters and that's it. They'll make short work of the padlocks, if there are any, so don't worry about them. My biggest concern is guards and if they have any security positions near the fuel tanks.”

  John said, “By God, I'd not want to be placed as a guard anywhere near a damned fuel tank. During an attack you know they'd blow.”

  The Colonel laughed and after he sobered said, “I don't think the guards have much say about where they guard. However, we may have to take the guards out before we can do anything to the tanks. I want the petcocks opened and left open, then the C-4 placed with a ten minute timer. Within ten minutes the whole camp will have fuel covering it.”

  Margie said, “The resulting explosion will be something to see, don't you think?”

  “It will,” John said, but quickly added, “but the important thing is we'll be teaching the Russians that no place is safe for them.”

  “Exactly,” the Colonel said and then quickly added, “and our goal is mainly a psychological one. Make them feel unsafe, even when they are in fact very safe. However, if we can take out an aircraft or two, they'll be an added bonus.”

  “The only problem with this idea, and I like it, is the simple fact the Russians have doubled the number of guards around the base.”

  The Colonel grinned and then said, “We'll fake an attack in three areas before we hit the base. Tonight we'll hit their main supply depot, which is located about a half a mile from the base. After that, in a day or two, we'll strike their trains again. Then, a week from now, we'll hit the gulag and we'll hit it hard. My intentions during the prison strike is to actually free some of the prisoners, if we can. I want them thinking we're really after more supplies and wanting
to free Americans. They'll, or so I hope, move some men from the gulag to provide additional security to all three areas.”

  “The key question is, do they have enough men to guard all locations securely?” John asked.

  “That's an interesting question and right now, well, I have no answer.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Colonel Popoff was notified by a helicopter that four crucified naked people were on a slight hill near the highway to Jackson. He'd quickly called Sokol and confirmed that no Americans had been killed near the roadway.

  Strange, he thought as he placed a call to Colonel Dubow.

  “Just a moment, Colonel, and I will let him know you wish to speak with him, sir.” a female Sergeant said.

  A few moments later, “Good morning, Popoff. What can I do for you?”

  “Boris, we have a problem. One of my Ka-60's reported four crosses with bodies hanging from them a mile or so from where our convoy was ambushed. We suffered six missing and two of those were in the fuel tanker, so we know what happened to them.”

  “Did you check with Sokol to see if he had done the job?”

  “He has killed plenty of them, but none near the main highway. He concerns me, because with his heavy drinking, I am not sure he is able to remember much.”

  “Take a couple of squads with you and check the area out. Keep a Black Shark near and use it if you run into any trouble. Let me know what you find.”

  “Yes, sir, goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, and call me if you need my help.”

  Calling Major Falin, Popoff said, “Meet me at my staff car in ten minutes. I have a strange hunch that four of the six men missing from the partisan attack on our convoy have been found.”

  Within thirty minutes, two deuce and a half trucks, holding two squads of men and their gear were nearing the site of the crosses. Popoff and Falin were riding in a staff car, between the much larger trucks. Two motorcycles, one in front of the larger vehicles and one at the rear, were providing extra security.