The Fall of America: Premonition of Death

by Benton, W. R.

  I thought for a moment and then asked, "Was he able to determine their rank?"

  "Company grade officers. One was a captain and the other was a lieutenant, but neither were elite forces and both wore infantry insignia."

  "Well, the way I see it is, those two either have Russian troops to oversee or they're part of an advisory unit sent here to assist someone, but why?"

  "We know that the men who attacked the general used AK-47s and a few carried SKS assault rifles. Willy confirm that when he trailed them."

  "How far away are these guys from us right now?"

  Top thought and then said, "I'd say pretty close to twenty miles north by east."

  "So, what are we going to do about this?"

  "I want you, Tom, and a couple of your women to move near the base camp. If possible, try to get one of the girls to draw out a single soldier, which may be out of the question. I'm sure with all the killing going around, lone soldiers don't take strolls down country lanes in Mississippi right now."

  "If we can't isolate one?"

  "Try to capture one if you can do the job and if that proves too difficult, set a number of booby-traps and then get out. Oh, and leave your dog here. I want her with us, because she may give us our first warning things are about to hit the fan."

  "I don't have any problems with my orders, but why don't we just attack 'em in mass and wipe 'em all out?"

  "That's being considered as we speak, but I think the boss is wondering what other arms the Russians have given this unit. If they have small arms, why not some bigger stuff too, unless the Russians are adviser's only. Could be the Russians are simply checking the political water, so to speak, to see if they can influence one unit by indirect and direct assistance. We need a hell of a lot of intelligence before we can risk an open attack."

  "When do we leave?"

  "As soon as you get what you think you might need from our supplies and gather up your troops. I've indicated on a map your target and gone over it with Tom already. Watch your asses out there, because they'd love to get their hands on one of you. I'll take over guarding now."

  I started to reply, but changed my mind and nodded in understanding. I then made my way inside the cave.

  *****

  Two hours later we were moving slowly down an old logging road when a sudden crack of thunder almost made me jump out of my skin. I glanced up and saw dark clouds circling overhead and knew we were in for rain. Thanks to Top and his supplies, we wore real military camouflage face paint and I knew it'd not wash off in the rain. Hell, it was hard enough to get off when you wanted to remove it in a shower.

  I was navigating using our compass as Tom counted our steps. Behind us I had Vickie loaded down with a week of MRE's for us and extra ammo, while Alisa brought up the rear. As far as I was concerned, Alisa was unproven, but we all have to start sometime and this was as good a time as any. During our walk away from the cave, I'd warned her that it was very likely there'd be no talking the entire time we were on patrol, but if there was, it'd be at a whisper. Each of us carried a 12 gauge pump shotgun and sidearms. Tom also had his deer rifle with scope slung over his shoulder by a sling.

  I had a weapon that was light weight and silent along as well, the compound bow I'd taken from one of the men when Carol and Sue had been killed. I carried it on my backpack, but if I needed it in a hurry, I only had to remove two "D" rings. The arrows I carried in a pouch dangling from my web belt. Compound bows are good weapons if a sentry needs to be taken out quietly or when hunting for food. There are obviously more places it can be used effectively, but I'd use it where it would offer me a safe way to kill silently.

  The first raindrops had just hit my face, when Tom abruptly stopped me and cupped his hand behind his ear. I listened, but heard nothing. I shook my head to indicate that I heard nothing. He stood still for a minute, then motioned for all of us to leave the road and move into the bushes that were thick on both sides. Once in position, I slipped my safety off and listened intently for any sound. Finally, I heard a noise and it sounded like a big truck, maybe a deuce and a half. I glanced at Tom and he shrugged.

  A two stroke motorcycle was riding point on a convoy that was larger than I'd suspected. Anything that required gasoline was rare and to see a good dozen or more big trucks confused the hell out of me. Where in the world was all the gas coming from?

  The trucks were moving toward Top and bunch, but that meant little, because I had no idea of their actual destination. I tried to spot uniforms, but the sides of the trucks were down against the rain. The motorcycle rider was dressed in an olive drab rain-suit, which told me nothing.

  Almost a hundred feet from us I watched as one of the trucks began to slide in the mud and then it stopped, its right front tire in a ditch. I heard loud yelling, the passenger door opened, and out stepped a man in a uniform I'd only seen in books or military pamphlets Russian. The man's insignia indicated he was a master sergeant and like a senior NCO in any army, he was chewing ass as he stepped into the mud. I suspected he was chewing the driver's rear, but really didn't know because I didn't know one word of Russian.

  Moving to the center of the road, the top sergeant stopped the next three trucks. He yelled and the tailgates fell and about thirty men, all dressed in Russian uniforms, dismounted. A rope was attached to the rear bumper of the stuck vehicle and the other end was attached to the front bumper of a truck in the roadway. Some of the men took shovels and cleared the mud out from under the wheels of the stuck truck, while the rest moved to the front.

  Then, as if it had been practiced many times, the sergeant moved to the center of the road and began to give orders. I heard what I assumed was one, two, three, pull, because at the last word the rocking of the truck started. Less than two minutes later, the truck was back on the road. The sergeant waved to the men, grinned and then climbed back inside the cab. A few minutes later the trucks all left the area.

  We waited a good hour and then Tom said just above a whisper, "We need to warn Top the Russians are coming, or at least I think they are."

  "I don't want to do that," I replied.

  He gave me a surprised look and then asked, "Why not?"

  "Top has been around, so they'll not catch 'em unprepared or am I wrong?"

  "Of course he'll be ready, but not against that many men."

  "All he has to do it close the door and go out the back way. They'll use some time getting in the cave, unless they have RPG's or C-4 along."

  Tom thought for a moment and then said, "I'd forgotten about the door. I've known Top a lot of years, and if a person can be ready for a fight it'll be him."

  "Enough talk, let's continue the mission." I stood, opened the compass and found my compass heading once more. As I moved toward the trees, I could hear the boots of the others as they walked behind me in the mud.

  We continued to move toward our target until the rain grew heavier and then I moved into some pines and oak trees. Once stopped and our heavy packs were lowered to the ground, I said, "Vickie, you'll share a shelter with me and you two share. This way we have one veteran with a rookie. We need to get two shelters up, so we can get out of this rain."

  When the two women looked confused, Tom pulled out two casualty blankets and said, "We'll use these. They're not as good as a tent, but will keep us fairly dry, unless the wind blows pretty hard."

  A few minutes later, we had two lean-to's up and as I crawled under mine, I noticed the temperature was dropping. I said nothing, because we'd have no fire unless needed in an emergency the whole length of our mission. The light of a fire can be seen and smoke smelled for long distances, so we'd have a cold camp unless the weather got much worst. I expected one of the women to complain about the lack of a fire, but they said nothing. We had some surplus poncho liners and they were the best we had for blankets, but they'd work fine. I'd used them often enough in the 'sandbox,' as we called Iraq.

  Tom approached and handed me two MRE's, gazed into Vickie's eyes and said, "That'
s it until breakfast. It won't fill you up, but it'll keep you alive. A lot of calories in one meal, but since we don't have the heaters you'll be eatin' 'em cold."

  "What's the guard schedule?" I asked.

  "One on and we'll rotate every two hours. First will be Alisa, then Vickie, you, then me."

  I nodded and turned my attention to my meal. I groaned when I saw I had the beef stew meal packet, because it always gave me indigestion when eaten cold. It was an excellent meal when hot, but I detested it cold. I opened my accessory pouch and removed a spoon, multi-grain snack bread, and lemon tea. I filled my canteen cup with water and added the lemon drink mix.

  I felt someone watching me and when I glanced up, I saw Vickie was confused with her meal pouch. She'd been watching me, and I could see she had no idea what to do next. I also noticed she had the beef brisket, with garlic mashed potatoes and crackers, and considered seeing if she wanted to trade, but figured it wasn't worth the effort. It was simply a meal to keep me alive until I could complete my mission.

  I showed her how to open the pouches, what was in them, and that was pretty much all there was to it. I did watch as she took her first bite, met my eyes and smiled. She must be starved to like these damned things cold, I thought as I opened my entree. As I ate in silence, I realized that, to the women, this trip must be pretty rough. For someone who has gone from living in a house and cooking on a stove, to backpacking miles into the woods and then eating under a sheet of plastic in the rain, it was a huge change. I'd always felt that was one of problems with our society in the old days, we'd grown soft as a people. Gone was the determination and pure guts our forefathers had when they carved a nation out of virgin wilderness. Toward the end, folks were too lazy to even talk, and were text messaging their spouses while they sat on the sofa beside them. Now, those folks were either dead, wishing they were dead, or living like animals, holed up someplace.

  It was then that Tom stood, slowly turned a complete circle and whispered, "Movement, all around us."

  I slipped the safety on my shotgun to off.

  CHAPTER 12

  "Chill, we're on your side!" A voice called out from the rain.

  "How do I know that?" Tom replied.

  "I'm Willy Williams! Top and I go back a few years!"

  Tom gave me a big grin and said, "Come."

  From the rain walked a mountain of a man, wearing a green beret on his head at a cocky angle. He was loaded for bear too, with two pistols, three grenades, shotgun and two knives that I could see. His clothing was a mix of civilian and military with his trousers being jeans.

  Soon a squad of ten other men joined him and Tom asked, "How'd you find us?"

  Willie laughed and said, "I wasn't looking for you, but Top sent me a radio message and asked me to scout this area. Seems one of his teams reported a good size convoy heading his way and he wanted confirmation. Only, we've seen nothing. I'd have walked right by you, except one of you stood while I was looking in this direction."

  Tom grinned and said, "I stood, but at any rate, the convoy is for real and we've seen it. I counted one motorcycle and thirteen trucks, and all may be manned by Russians."

  "Jinks!"

  "Yo!"

  "Return to camp and send a message to Top. Let him know the convoy has been confirmed by the team he sent from his base camp. Stress to him the number of vehicles and the fact the Russians are now in the ballgame. Tell him to expect at least ten men per truck, or over 130 men to attack. Send it in code, too."

  "Will do, Willie."

  "Once you send the message, wait for a reply before you return. Top may have to escape and evade, but he's a crafty old fart. Now, get."

  As Jinks took off at a trot, I asked, "Is this area clear?"

  "From what I've discovered since I scouted the group that killed the general, these jokers never get off the main roads or well traveled trails. I know the Russians and they'll have some local good ole boys with 'em when they travel, as guides. They understand that no one knows the area better than the locals."

  "Willie," I asked as sat on a log, "Why are the Russians here? I don't understand all of this. Don't they understand that by attacking us, and this is no advisory function, they'll simply unify us?"

  Willie chuckled and replied, "The Russians have craved our country for years, and now is about the only chance they've had to get it. They're smart too, fully understanding they needed to wait a couple of years for hunger to kill large numbers of us and for diseases and tribal wars to start. With less population and weakened by disease and conflict, I suspect they think we'll be easy pickings. What they don't understand about the whole situation is the American people and how we'll come together to fight a common enemy."

  "Wouldn't they do that in Russia?" Vickie asked.

  "No, not these days, or I don't think they would. See, what most folks don't understand about Russians is they're a different people now than in 1945. Russian unity grew while they were fighting the Germans and then petered out after the war. They've seen so many people executed over the last sixty plus years, they no longer care who in the hell is in charge. They just want to be left alone to eat their cabbage soup."

  "Do you think it's safe to have a fire?" I asked, seeing my breath as I spoke.

  "I'm sure a fire is safe here, but by the time you rest overnight and then move on, I'd say no. You'll be too close to your target by then."

  "Have you spotted any Russian dog handlers?" Tom asked.

  "Not yet, but that doesn't mean they don't have any. See, I have no idea of the type of unit you saw in the truck, but I assume they're infantry. I doubt they're Spetsnaz, because they operate in smaller numbers, much like our green berets."

  "What's that Spets thing?" Alisa asked from the darkness.

  Willie grinned and said, "It's Spetsnaz, but let's get a fire going and we'll join y'all for supper. As we eat, I'll explain how the Russian Special Forces operate."

  *****

  The next morning, before Willie left with his men, he went over the map and explained to us what we'd find near the base camp. It didn't sound good to me, and I said as much.

  He smiled and said, "Look, you're not attacking the place, so just wait a few days and see if a lone man or a couple come out for some reason. If they do, nail 'em and take 'em back to Top. It'll be as easy as fallin' off a stump." He reached into his backpack and pulled out three Claymore mines.

  "Why do you have those?" Tom asked.

  "As you know, if we run into a larger force, they're really good to use with an L shaped ambush. But, Top asked me to give 'em to you. He said for you to put 'em out each night and they'll add a little security to your night positions. He also said for you to not bring 'em back, so I'd guess he wants you to use them before you return."

  Tom gave a devilish grin and said, "Have you seen what these things can do to a man or a vehicle? Why just one will tear your ass up!"

  Willie slapped Tom on the back and said, "I've seen what a claymore can do. Listen, we need to get moving. You be sure to use these before you start the trip home and tear up some ass." He then winked at me.

  As soon as they'd left, Tom said, "Okay, everyone touch up your makeup and let's get ready to move."

  "Makeup?" Vickie asked, and then giggled like a little schoolgirl.

  "The camouflage on your face, hands and neck. We always reapply it in the morning, because some will have rubbed off over night."

  I heard her giggle again and mumble, "Makeup."

  *****

  Near noon, we spotted movement near a road we had to cross. Tom went forward to scout and returned a few minutes later. He pointed at the two women and motioned for them to stay, and then indicated by pointing at me and then the direction he'd come that I was to go with him. He then pointed to my eyes and I gave an okay by using my thumb and index finger. It was clear he wanted me to look at what he'd spotted.

  We moved forward slowly, but the trip was short, and when I glanced at the area Tom pointed out, I spot
ted an old eight-wheeled Stryker parked beside a sandbagged machine gun nest. I saw no weapon mounted on the top of the light personnel carrier and suspected they had removed it for some reason. I waited, and a few minutes later two men exited the vehicle and made their way to the machine gun, where two others waited. Tom and I watched for over thirty minutes before he touched my arm and we moved back to the women. Once there, we moved away from the Stryker and went deeper into the woods.

  Stopping after about a mile, Tom squatted on his heels and said just barely above a whisper, "I think this is the best opportunity we'll get to take a prisoner. I counted four men, no weapon on the Stryker, and an M60 used in the machine gun nest. One of the men was wearing a Russian uniform, so that's the one I'd like to take back to Top, if we can."

  "Typical crew for a Stryker, without a gun of any sorts would be two men, but they could do the job with just a driver in a safe area. The M60 usually has two men as well. How do you intend to get a prisoner?"

  Tom explained his idea and I had to admit, I thought it was a solid plan and could think of nothing better. Once his briefing was complete, he said, "Eat and relax a bit. We'll move into position two hours before dark. Alisa, move out about fifty feet and guard for a couple of hours. You'll be relieved by Vickie."

  The day passed slowly, with me taking catnaps, nibbling on the contents of an MRE, and not talking at all. Finally, it was late afternoon when Tom whispered, "Saddle up."

  Our trip back to the Stryker was uneventful, but my senses were on high alert for any smell, movement, or sound. We stopped at almost the same spot we'd used before. Tom and I moved forward, leaving the other two behind, mainly because we weren't sure they'd be quiet enough. At the vehicle, like soldiers all over the world, they were shooting the shit and relaxing. That was a good indicator to me and I thought, looks like they have no idea they're being watched. After a few minutes, I saw the Russian pull out a bottle of something from the Stryker and he passed it around the group. We remained in position for well over an hour, then moved back to the others.