Like Cynthia said, “You're not the only man in this organization who can carry out a mission.”
He knew, beyond any doubt, if they asked him to do any mission he'd most likely say yes. He'd always felt someone had to do the missions and it might as well be him. He also felt it was an honor to be asked to do certain missions, but with some he paid the cost of a little sanity. He'd never forget that he had helped nuke Jackson and had killed hundreds of thousands. Some were still dying from radiation poisoning in the capital city of Mississippi. Having the deaths of so many on his conscious made sleeping difficult at times.
It was over coffee this morning that Andy said, “Sir, you and your folks, including Cynthia, will be picked up in a field near here at 1300 hours today by helicopter. From here you'll go to Partisan Headquarters in Texas, and from there you'll be further assigned. Personally, I think they may have a star coming to you. I can see it now, General John Williamson.”
“Andy, star or not, I'll miss most of you people here. All I ever wanted to do was to be a company commander and I have no career dreams, other than forcing the Russians to leave.”
“You deserve it, even if it doesn't happen. Just don't take on some crazy suicide mission like you did with the suitcase bomb in Jackson. Rambo you ain't, or James Bond either.”
John laughed and said, “I realize that, First Sergeant, but you let this Colonel decide what missions he'll take and those he won't. I think I'm better qualified than you to decide what to do.”
Grinning, Andy said, “I'll miss you, John. You and I go back a lot of years.”
“Well, Andy, I'll miss you too, by God, but this is how this man's partisan army works. You just keep your ass down low and don't do anything stupid while we're apart.”
They spent some time talking and then John and Cynthia took a long walk around the base, saying goodbye to friends or those they'd grown close to over the time spent with the unit. They were surprised by the number of people they knew.
Right at 1300 on the dot a chopper arrived, sat down on the edge of a field and the group was quickly uploaded. As they took a seat the medic helped them fasten their seat-belts. Seconds after touching down, the Chinese aircraft was back in the air. They did three more fake landings before they finally rose in the air and started for home.
Chapter 5
John sat in the briefing room and listened to a General explain the importance of the mission they had planned. The idea was basically sound, but the issue as John saw it was with the evacuation of hundreds of people from a gulag. The partisans would attack a base and once it was heavily engaged, the special operations folks would attack a gulag with help from Chinese aircraft. Then the idea was to open holes in the fences and let the prisoners leave on their own.
“The only flaw I see,” John said, “is the prisoners will either end up dead or recaptured within 24 hours. They have no place to run, and many will be lost after the first mile anyway. Also, the sick and weak will not even leave the prison, because they'll lack the ability to make a run for safety. The idea is noble, but I see those as serious issues. You're gambling a lot of lives by attacking the main base when you'll be lucky to really save a dozen folks from the gulag. We'll need to enter the concentration camp and pack out the folks who are not mobile.”
“How many we save is not the issue here, Colonel, but the ability to show the Russian bear we can and will attack any part of them we wish.”
“At what cost in lives, sir? Is it worth telling them something they already know?”
“I think it's worth almost any number of lives to show them we are not weak.”
“I agree, to a point, sir. Think of the impact you'd have if the Russians were unable to find or recapture most of the prisoners. What if you had C-130s parked with engines running near the base, and the prisoners were loaded on them? You could also use trucks of all types and sizes. What if your troops herded the folks out of the gulag and away, before the Russians could react? Can you imagine the anger the Russian brass would have? I think Moscow would make some heads roll.”
The General grinned and said, “I like that idea. Colonel Williamson, I want you to head this mission, and I want you actively involved from the start. Then, once planned, brief me and whatever you need, and I'll ensure you get what you want. I want the Russians to be embarrassed by this mission and I want to improve the morale of my POWs. I want every prisoner, in all gulags, to know they could be rescued any day. Of Course, I want to do this with the minimum loss of lives.” the General said and then stood, pushing his chair in.
“I'll get back to you, sir.”
As the General left the room, Master Sergeant Cook yelled, “Teeennn Hut!” The order came from the very pit of his stomach and almost sounded like a war cry. Everyone stood at attention. As the General stepped out the door, Cook said, “As you were.”
“John, I'm glad you volunteered to lead this mission. We have few commanders here with the combat experience that you have.” Full Colonel John Michael Parker, or JM, as he was known, said with a grin.
Snickering, John replied, “I didn't mean to volunteer, but only brought out what I thought was the obvious. It does no good to rescue folks if we just allow them to be captured again, get killed, or wander around in the woods lost. The impact of our saving those same people will hurt the Russians, and badly.”
“I agree. I want you and Major Xue to get on top of this gulag mission and make things happen. Use Xue to coordinate all the assistance we'll need from the Chinese.”
“Yes, sir, and I'll brief you in the morning.” John replied and knew he was being dismissed, so he stood and saluted. He then did an about face and marched from the room.
Hundreds of miles from the Dallas, Texas Partisan Headquarters, a Russian Colonel was having a meeting of his own. There were twenty men in the room, all Captains and above, with most being in charge of various units on base. The base was a large one, a prior United States Army base, until the country fell and no one paid the military. After a couple of months, the military just drifted away and deserted the fort. Fort Leonard Wood was a big military facility in the Missouri Ozark mountains.
“We have unconfirmed word that the partisans plan to hit us with all they have, but as I said, it is not confirmed yet. In a nutshell, that means we only have the word from one source, but we currently have others looking into the rumor. If it is true and can be confirmed, we will need to increase security and, of course, place all troops on alert.” Major Filya Vadik said.
“How long do you think it will take for conformation?” Colonel Josef Ippolit the Base Commander asked.
“I am guessing, but by the end of this week, or so I think. We have a mole, but he is not able to contact us very often. Each time he contacts us he risks being discovered, so he only contacts us when a serious issue comes up. So far, we have heard nothing from him.”
“Major, I want you to take a long look at the base and increase security where you feel it is needed. If anyone gives you a difficult time, tell them you are working directly for me. And that means an order from you is an order from me.”
“I understand, sir.” the young Major replied.
“Gentlemen, I will leave here with a promotion, one way or the other. So far the partisans have not impacted my career in a negative manner and they had better not start, either. I was groomed from a young Junior Lieutenant to be a general officer.”
Everyone in the room had heard the Colonel's promotion pitch so many times, that most just tuned him out as he spoke. Many in the room just wanted to return home alive, and few cared about promotions, but all of them knew a decorated man was promoted faster than others. They attempted to do all they could to earn medals without risking their lives. They weren't really cowards, but they'd not put their lives on the line for a medal unless given no choice. There were many awards and decorations they could earn from using their men properly or leading them to victory over the partisans.
“I want all units broken down i
nto squad sized groups, and I mean cooks, bakers, and mechanics and every man and woman put in the field. I want just enough left here to guard the base. I want them in the field for 30 days at a time. Maybe we can disrupt them before they have a chance to gather for an attack.”
“What about our food and munitions, sir?” Junior Lieutenant Demian asked; his real concern was many of the men were unqualified for field duty. He felt putting cooks and bakers in the field was just asking for them to be killed.
“Helicopters will keep all supplied well and if that cannot happen, we will LAPES supplies to them. I want the partisans hounded day and night. We are the best of Mother Russia and I will not have a bunch of cowboys and rednecks making us look bad. I have a squadron of medical evacuation helicopters being assigned to us and two Squadrons of Black Sharks. I want this resistance crushed and I mean this week too, if possible.”
Most of the men in the room knew the partisans would not be crushed in five years, much less a week.
Major Filya Vadik spoke, “I will need at least 2,000 troops to guard the base, sir, and I can go no lower. This facility is huge and if I release more than that, I will endanger our facilities and personnel who remain here.”
Turning to Lieutenant Colonel Vitya Barisovich, the Colonel asked, “How many people are assigned here, Vitya? A good guess would work for right now.”
Shrugging, the base commander said, “Oh, off the top of my head, sir, I would say 20,000 men and women. Of those, 10,000 are infantrymen and the rest work in support of the various missions. I am not counting tank crews, Air Force personnel, or medical personnel, sir.”
“Why so many in support?”
“Most folks are unaware that for every man in the field, there are a good ten or more who directly support his mission. Most of those are in base supply, fuels, aircraft maintenance, hospital, and so on. A man in the field needs a great deal of support, sir.”
“Leave Major Vadik with 2500 men and I want the rest in the bush. I want this to start today and continue until we have over 10,000 in the field. After that, we will see what others can safely be placed in the woods too. I want dead partisans, gentlemen, and I want them right now. This meeting is adjourned, and I want your people deployed. It might be a good idea to establish some Forward Operating Bases (FOB) so the troops do not need to contact us for every little thing they need. Let us establish, oh, say five FOBs and take it from there.”
“What will be used for transportation, sir?”
“Trucks, planes, helicopters and feet. If you are an airborne unit, I expect you to secure the northernmost part of the state and to jump into the areas. Let us move, ladies and gentlemen, I want results.”
As the Colonel as leaving the room, Master Sergeant Lev Ruslanovich bellowed, “Teeen-huuut!” Everyone stood at attention.
“As you were, please.” the Commander said leaving the room.
Lieutenant Dima Demian walked from the room with Senior Sergeant Gena Slavavich at his side. As they walked, the officer said, “Gena, get our troops ready to jump today, maybe three hours before dark. I want them all carrying 200 rounds of ammunition for their long guns, twenty for pistols and two dozen Green Frog rations. Let them know I want no alcohol, except for Sergeants and above. Then, mostly ammo and munitions of all kinds. We will take the northernmost country and near the Iowa border.”
“Yes, sir. I will have the medic take two medical bags, too.”
“Good idea, and I want all of us in face paint when we jump. Things might turn hot before we are even on the ground. We will jump at 500 feet, so no reserve chutes will be worn. That low, if there is a problem, a person would not have time to deploy a reserved parachute.”
“I hear you, sir, and I will line up our flight with base operations now.”
“Good, then see to our troops. I feel this whole mess is one big goat screwing.”
“Lord Ippolit wants to make General, sir.”
“I want no rank bought with a price in blood.”
“I need just one more stripe and I will be content. I am a low cost and thrifty man. I bank most of my money now and have for years. I will get out, buy me a cottage in the country and then sit in a rocking chair and sip vodka.”
The Lieutenant laughed and said, “I will be in my quarters packing for the field if you need me.”
“Yes, sir.” the Sergeant said, and then left the building.
The aircraft engines were humming and loud in the cargo compartment. Each man and woman was connected, cordless, to the other so they could communicate. The Lieutenant and Senior Sergeant could also communicate with the pilot and crew.
“Raven 16, this is the navigator and we are about ten minutes out right now. I suggest you get your folks ready to jump and leave the aircraft on the green light. We are only making one pass, so everyone needs to leave the aircraft or they will return to the base with us. We have reports of Chinese fighters in the area, and we are a cargo carrier, not made for combat. We get a fast mover on our asses and down we will go.”
“Roger that, and we will all get off. We will jump on the green light. Senior Sergeant, get the men and women ready to jump.”
Slavavich, who was also a jumpmaster, stood and moved to the rear of the aircraft.
Turning to face his men he yelled, “Get Ready!”
A few seconds later he commanded, “Outboard Personnel, Stand Up!” He motioned for them to stand with his hands.
He continued motioning with his hands for his troops to stand until all were in an upright position. They had two squads of what the United States would consider Rangers made up of both men and women. Since all were carrying large equipment bags attached to them by hooks and a lanyard, the first couple needed help from the load master to gain their feet. Then in turn they helped each other stand. The bags weighed about 27.21 kilograms and that didn't include their backpacks, which weighed almost as much, and were on the other side of them. Just like the equipment bag, the backpacks would fall below them on a lanyard to hit the ground first.
“Inboard Personnel, Stand up!” The sergeant yelled to be heard, but suspected all heard him fine with the communication system working. He also used hand and arm movements to indicate what he wanted done.
“Hook Up|!” He curled his index finger and raised it to indicate hooking on the cable that ran down the middle of two sides of the aircraft overhead. He was playing the role of a jumpmaster now, so he had more authority than anyone on the aircraft, except the aircraft commander.
“Check Static Lines|!” his index finger was now touching his thumb in the form of a circle as the static lines were checked. If they jumped unconnected today, they'd be dead after a short fall.
“Check Equipment!” the jumpmaster yelled, and as they checked their gear, the ramp on the aircraft was lowered. Then they gave the Sergeant a thumbs up.
“Sound off for Equipment Check!”
“Number one, okay, jumpmaster!” the first man yelled, and he was the Lieutenant. He then felt his stomach churn from fear. Unlike the old Sergeant, he didn't have 50 or more jumps. He had exactly nine jumps and today would make ten.
“Number two, okay, jumpmaster!” and on down the line they went until finished.
“Stand by.” The jumpmaster waited for the green light.
“One minute out.” the navigator said to the jumpmaster.
The red light suddenly switched to green and jumpmaster Slavavich Yelled, “Go,” and then the first man out the door was the Lieutenant. As the jumpmaster, the old Sergeant would be the last man, and only after all his troops were gone from the aircraft. A couple he assisted, with a hard kick in the ass, but out they all went. He then waved goodbye to the load master and jumped into space.
The Senior Sergeant felt opening shock almost immediately and heard a distance loud ooofff, but knew it was him. He quickly glanced up, checked his chute and static lines. There were no blown panels and he could hear the material of the chute flapping in the wind. He heard a scream from someone,
but had no idea who. He'd check on the ground, because he was busy now.
All looked good above him, so he pulled lanyards on both sides of his harness and dropped his equipment bag and pack. He bent his knees slightly, kept his eyes on the horizon and swung twice, then hit the ground. He did a 'by the book' parachute landing fall and then pulled the releases, releasing his harness from the parachute. He quickly stood, gathered his parachute, and released both empty equipment bags from the lanyards on the chute. He pulled his weapon, a Bison sub-machine gun, and slipped the safety off.
Twenty minutes later, all twenty men and women were accounted for. One man, the one who had screamed, had a chute that failed to open and he was as dead as a man can get.
“Castle One, this is Raven 16 and we are on the ground, over.” Demian said on the radio.
“Copy Raven, any problems?” the aircraft commander asked.
“One chute did not deploy, so we have one man dead.”
“Copy, Raven.”
“Uh, we are starting our mission, over.”
“Copy.”
“Raven 16, out.” The Lieutenant handed the headset to his radioman. He then said, “Senior Sergeant, get a man on point and another on drag and move almost dead south. I want some distance from both the other airborne units and our main group.”
“Yes, sir. Private Olegovna, you are my drag woman and Private Petrovna, you are my point man. Let us move, and cover a few miles before dusk. Keep your eyes open for mines and booby traps.”
Donning their packs, they began to move.
The old experienced Sergeant didn't expect any troubles yet because as far as he knew, the Russian army had never been this far north. Few Russians were in Iowa and most of them were in the western part of the state, closer to Nebraska. He also knew that didn't mean they'd not run into mines and booby traps, but he doubted any partisan patrols were out looking for trouble when most of the Russians were much further down south. All of that might change when the Russians began to hit the partisans hard. If the partisans were forced north, the Russians here now would have their hands full.
The Fall of America | Book 8 | Operation Hurricane Page 7