by W. R. Benton
“Quiet, I just saw movement from the south.” Lea said, and then went to ground.
I moved back into the dark shadows of the trees and woke the squad, one at a time, by touching their ankles. We all moved into defensive positions and I heard safeties being switched to off.
I looked south and now saw three men and point man moving cautiously over the open field. I watched Mary pickup the clacker for a Claymore mine, preparing to detonate the big beast, and it was then I saw the men were dressed as Partisans. They wore a mix of Russian and civilian clothing.
When all were easily within rifle shot, and most within Claymore distance, Mary said, “Disney.”
The point man whispered, “Land.”
“Come.” Mary said.
The squad moved under the shelter of our trees and we quickly explained about running into the special Russian unit made of men fluent in English. They lowered their heavy packs and other gear, and then I saw an old friend.
“Top, how in the hell are ya?” I asked as I moved to shake his hand.
“I've been better and I've been worse. How is the world treating you, Colonel now, isn't it?”
“Yep, but that means little in a partisan unit.”
“Not true, sir, because this is a hard place to get promoted. I've been involved for years and I'm still an E-9.”
I laughed and said, “You'd just turn a promotion down. It'd be a lost of prestige for you to become an officer, unless they made you a full bull. I think you'll be the only E-9 in history to have 60 years of active duty under your belt when you finally retire.”
“I'm worried to hell and back about the use of nuclear weapons. I'm in disagreement with the General on the use of the suitcase nuke, but I was told to shut my mouth, by him. Look, the use of the nuke by the Russians has given them a lot of bad publicity, not that they give a damn, but the Chinese are now suddenly sending us gear and materials we can use. They've even offered to bring in Chinese troops to help us out, along with armor and aircraft.”
“What do they want in return?” I asked as I sat on a log.
“Nothing, they claim, but I think they just haven't spoken what they really want, yet. That, or else they truly hate the Russians, which I'm willing to believe. I don't think they care who's fighting the Russians as long as they beat them.”
“I know little of the Chinese.”
“I don't care about the Chinese, but as long as they can supply us with what we need to take this fight up a few levels, I'll work with them. Now, before I get busy talkin', we'll take you to where the suitcase is hidden over the next few days. Right now, that's all you need to know. Do you have all you need to complete your mission?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, get your leader, and why don't the three of us talk?” Top said, and his whole face beamed with a big smile.
I called Mary over and she sat on the log beside me. She knew Top, we all did, but I know neither of us were prepared to hear his words.
“I don't want to use the Nuke, but I will follow orders. The location for detonating the suitcase bomb has changed—to close to Jackson. Intelligence says if worked right, we will be able to pass it off as a Russian nuclear mishap. The Russians have not said a word to the press about us stealing the suitcase bombs and it's not likely they will either. So, right after the bomb detonates, we'll release a statement about the cruelty of the Russian Bear.”
“My God,” Mary said, “does the General know how many people, American people, that will be killed in Jackson?”
“Mary, those people in Jackson, most of them anyway, are doomed. The first bomb they exploded is dropping radioactive dust all over Jackson, because most of the time our winds come out of the west and blow east. During the last few weeks, well, there have already been some folks come down with radiation poisoning, and from all over the middle of the state. This fallout is a real killer and I'm sure, after this second bomb, we'll lose maybe a million people before it's over. Now, I really don't know what the losses will be, but you're to plant the suitcase in Pearl, and you both know where that is.”
“Why Pearl?” I asked, because Pearl was a small town.
“The damage done by the bomb will extend for approximately 8 miles, and the goal is to take out the International Airport, along with the runways, and most of the structures in Jackson. Since the main Russian Headquarters for the state is right on the edge of the Pearl River, it will be flattened too. We estimate around 20,000 Russian deaths, or more, and around 100,000 civilians. Now, that does not consider deaths from fallout, but the blast only. The additional benefit of using the bomb on Jackson is the initial blast will kill, maybe, three General officers, most of the department heads of the various services who are important Full Colonels, along with their intelligence experts and anti-partisan units. What the idiots at Edwards didn't figure was the wind shifts, which have already exposed most of their troops to the fallout.”
“How do we intend to keep our own people safe?” I asked, not liking the number of civilian folks I'd kill.
“Most partisan units will be relocated to the southeast and southwest corners of the state, away from prevailing winds. The Russians have bases down that way too, so when your bomb goes off, we'll hit those bases hard. We suspect when we hit them, the confusion caused by your bomb will put a big dent in Russian air support. The Jackson Airport and all the assigned aircraft will be flattened and destroyed. While there are other airports in the state, the runways are too short for all the big cargo planes to land.” Top said.
“Hell, Top,” Mary said, “they can use a low altitude parachute extraction system (LAPES) to drop anything from tanks to rations.”
“Oh, we seriously hope they try that, ma'am, because we'll shoot them down with Russian made Strela 2 missiles. Cargo planes are much slower than a fighter jet and we've downed them, as well as choppers, in large numbers. This has been thoroughly thought out, but I don't like killing all the innocent people in Jackson.”
“You just said a few minutes ago that most have been exposed to fallout, so this may end up a mercy killing for them. At least in a nuke detonation, they'll feel nothing. Here one minute and dead the next.” Carol said.
“I hear you, but it's not an easy call, only I didn't give the Order, General Bill Thomas did and he's a damn fine Christian man. I'm sure much praying went into his decision, but that aside, we need to show the Russians we will retaliate when we can.”
“My God, all those deaths, and caused by this unit. Killing Russians means nothing to me, that's why I'm here. I think I need to concentrate on the fact most of the population of Jackson will die anyway, from fallout. It's the only way I can complete this mission and remain sane.” Mary said.
“We'll complete our mission, regardless of the cost in lives, Top, but I want the General to know I disapprove of this on moral grounds and I'm not sure it's a legal order.” I said.
“It's no different than when Hiroshima or Nagasaki were bombed with nukes during the second world war.”
I ran my fingers through my filthy hair, met his eyes, and replied, “May God have mercy on all our souls. Now, do we leave now, or tomorrow for the bomb?”
“We'll leave here within the hour.”
Chapter 10
Colonel Matveev was alive, but disoriented and filthy as he was pulled from the rubble of his quarters. He had a nasty gash on his forehead, some bruises and his left earlobe was missing. Once his mind cleared of the fog of being rescued, he sat up and looked around his base. Senior Sergeant Pajari was sitting beside him, feeding him a few sips of vodka, because most of the morphine was used up treating the seriously injured.
“How . . . how many casualties do we have?”
“No clear figures yet, sir, but around 80 killed, wounded, or missing. That is out of 106 assigned to the base. If not for the air support we got, we would likely all be dead right now. We lost two of the T-90's, a Black Shark and a MiG-31.”
“Contact Base and tell them I want ano
ther company sent out here and I want them on station today. Then when they arrive, I want you to put them to work cleaning this place up. How many confirmed partisan kills?”
“Many of the bodies were removed by their comrades, sir, but at last count, there were over 200 dead and injured.”
“Were the injured executed like I ordered?”
“Yes, sir. We are still counting bodies, so it will be close to the end of the day before this mess is organized.”
“When you call Base, inform them we need tents, medical supplies and other gear.”
“I have a list already, and it is a rather long one.”
“Did they breach the wire?” Matveev groaned because his head hurt. He took the bottle from the Sergeant and downed about a half-pint of the strong clear drink.
“The wire did not even slow them down, sir. We need more mines and much more wire in place. I have it on my list.”
“Call Base now and get them to moving and if need be, tell them I ordered the supplies and expect them delivered, along with the men, today.”
Pajari stood and made his way to the communications tent. When he arrived, the area was roped off and he was told a live mortar round was found right beside the tent with the nose buried in the dirt. The Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) folks were working on it. However, two radios were removed from the tent and near the gate.
The Senior Sergeant placed his request for supplies, gear, and infantry troops, and ordered it all using the Colonel's name. He knew within a couple of hours the stuff would start arriving. In the meantime, he had his people cleaning the base and looking for dead and injured. The place was an absolute mess, with charred gear and tents all over the place, not to mention the dead bodies, Russian and American, were starting to stink. The wounded were lined up with the worst wounded at the front, so they'd be placed on a helicopter first. The crashed MiG was still burning, as well as the fuel storage area, and partisan bodies were hanging in the razor wire.
He'd have the new troops remove the bodies from the wire. His people had been up all night and they were too tired to be messing with land mines. He knew as exhausted as they were, they'd kill a few of their troops trying to do the job. He'd have a bulldozer brought in, have some trenches dug and have the aircraft wreckage pushed outside the base and buried. A series of deep trenches, dug on the base, would make movement under fire safer and easier.
We really do not need to be here at all, he thought as he noticed a human hand in the dirt. He kicked it away and then stood watching the MiG burning. Millions of rubles for aircraft gone up in smoke. I hate to think how much the aircraft cost and the two T-90 tanks. I wonder what we spend a day in this war.
“Senior Sergeant!”
“What do you need, Private?”
“We have two helicopters about five minutes out, and they have some of the men you have requested. Then, behind them, we have supplies and gear coming. Base assures me all you requested will be here before dark. Also, the Chief of the Anti-Partisan Unit has requested you return to Base, to personally brief him on what happened here. He seems to think the partisans are up to something and the attack last night was done so we will concentrate our forces in this area.”
“Tell him I will be on the first helicopter returning to Base.”
“I will do that, Senior Sergeant.”
Soon the sound of helicopters approaching filled the dirt base as rotor blades beat the air. One aircraft landed in a clearing, ammunition and rations were kicked out the door, and the Senior Sergeant ran to the aircraft and climbed inside. He immediately took a seat in the red nylon bench-like seats and secured his seat-belt. A gunner in the back, one of two, handed him a headset so he could speak with the crew and hear what was going on.
“Base, this is Wagon Train Two and be advised, I am taking small arms fire.”
The Senior Sergeant heard nothing to indicate they were being shot at.
The tail of the helicopter went up, with the nose down, and the bird lifted off the dirt and started to gain altitude.
It was then he heard three loud pings and saw holes suddenly appear in the floor. Both gunners opened up, sweeping the trees below them. Suddenly there came another ping, followed by a loud scream from the right gunner, and he fell to the floor screaming with his groin area bleeding. Unbuckling his seat-belt, the Senior Sergeant moved to the man, and using his knife, cut his flight suit to where he could see the injury. He'd actually taken a ricocheting round to the inner thigh. He was bleeding profusely, so he pushed a button on his cord and said, “Uh, your right gunner has a severed artery and he is losing a lot of blood. Right now I am holding the artery closed.”
“Senior Sergeant, I have my hands full, with a fire warning light on, a vibrating aircraft, and a dead pilot. I suggest you move back to your seat and prepare for a rough landing. The base is not far, but I think the landing will be hard.”
“If I move, your gunner will die.”
“It is your choice, and we should be landing in about 7 minutes.”
“I understand, sir.”
It was then the Sergeant noticed thick gray smoke passing the doors. The other gunner leaned out, safe with his harness secured to the floor.
A minute later he said, “No flames, but dense gray smoke coming from under the aircraft, sir.”
A clear sticky fluid began to leak from some overhead lines and Pajari prayed it wasn't flammable. He sat with his legs out the door, holding the severed artery to keep the gunner alive.
“Base, this is Wagon Train Two and I have my whole console lighted up looking like a Christmas tree. Every red light in the book is on and according to manual, I should not even be in the air. I request permission to set this thing down as soon as I am over the base.”
“Uh, wait one, Wagon Train Two.”
“I do not have the damned time to wait. Be advised, I am setting my aircraft down now.”
The helicopter hit hard, jarring the Senior Sergeant's bad back, injuring the unhurt door gunner, and bringing a loud scream from the wounded man.
The pilot said, “I have to cut power, but exit as soon as possible, and meet me at the nose of the bird.” He then began flipping knobs and turning switches.
With his back hurting, the Sergeant picked up the wounded gunner, placed him over his shoulder and moved to the front of the helicopter. He lowered the man to the ground and then went back to help the other gunner. On his way to the gunner, he felt the side of the pilot's neck and felt a pulse. The co-pilot was having trouble getting out of the aircraft. After helping the injured gunner, he returned for the wounded pilot, and finally the co-pilot. While the aircraft was smoking badly, there were no visible flames. From the fence that surrounded the base, Pajari saw they'd just barely made it to the installation. Fire trucks and ambulances were rushing toward them. Of the five, only the Senior Sergeant was able to stand or walk much.
As the firetrucks moved close to the aircraft, the ambulance backed to the injured men and placed each man on a litter. A medic took over pinching the blood artery and soon they were gone. Another ambulance took the Sergeant to the hospital and gave him a good going over. Other than some back pain from the hard landing, he was fine. The doctor handed him some pain pills, but he threw them in the trash on his way out of the hospital. On the way to seeing the Anti-partisan Commander, he stopped at his quarters and refilled his flask. Of course, he took a good swig to help kill the pain in his back, and then went to brief the Commander.
The briefing with the Colonel went well and then the man said, “I think the partisans are drawing our attention from Edwards and Jackson, so they can do a retaliation for our use of the bomb. I cannot see them sitting on their asses and allowing us to detonate a nuclear weapon and not respond in kind. They have two of our small suitcase bombs, which is exactly the same weapon we used. I think Colonels Vasiliev and Borisovich made a terrible decision when they used the bomb. Intelligence is telling us now that China is supplying the partisans some of what they need
.”
“Their gear is inferior, sir, but let us hope the Chinese do not send ground troops. There are about a billion Chinese and they would simply overrun us.”
“I have given a lot of thought to the problems our using the bomb has caused. I and Moscow do not care about public opinion and never have, but we are concerned if other nations support the partisan efforts. These animals, still called Americans by other countries, are fighting us to a standstill now, so can you imagine if they are suddenly well supplied?”
“Sir, with your permission, I would like to return to my base and assist. Colonel Matveev was shook up in the attack when his quarters took a mortar round and destroyed. As a result, he spent hours trapped under the debris.”
“By all means return, Sergeant, but I have heard you were a hero at the helicopter crash site, saved the lives of four men, and actually held a bleeding artery for most the trip here. I have asked Moscow to not only promote you to Master Sergeant, but award you the highest medal they can for bravery. Mother Russia needs more men like you.”
“This is a pleasant surprise, sir, but all I did was what any soldier would do for another. I am not a hero, just a man doing his job, sir. I do, however, thank you.”
Opening his lower drawer, the Colonel pulled out a quart of premium vodka, handed it to the man and said, “Drink this when you are at your forward operating base. You have earned every drop.”
When Pajari returned to the base, he was surprised to see his friend Master Sergeant Sokoloff and his troops there. He called the old Master Sergeant to his new tent and pulled out the bottle given to him by the Colonel at Edwards. After a couple of drinks, he asked, “What brings you here, Vlad?”
“I am to start searching for partisans in the morning. Oh, I do not know if you heard the news or not, but Colonel Gleb died on the way home to Moscow. I cannot believe he was dumb enough to demand a salute in the field. A man at his age and experience knew better.”