by John Ringo
As soon as it was full dark they started off, swinging wide away from the farm and keeping to the eastern woodline to cross the valley. There was a swift-flowing stream at the base and they rigged a rope-line across it for the crossing. After that obstacle there wasn’t anything hindering them except the woods. They were dark and tangled and the team went in line ahead, cautiously moving through the brush. They were approaching one of the trails the Chechens might use and it wouldn’t do to stumble into them.
When they got near the trail Mike called a halt. He had the team array itself in a line parallel to the trail, then he doffed his ghillie suit and most of his gear, designating Vanim and Lasko to bring it up, then ghosted forward silently through the woods to the edge of the trail.
He was just in sight of Praz as he reached the trail and checked it out. There wasn’t anything moving in view and no noise, although that would be muffled by the rain. There also weren’t any tracks. Given that the rain wasn’t heavy yet, there probably would have still been some sign of two hundred guys and some mules moving through.
He waved the team forward, keeping an eye on the trail until they were across, then joining up with them at a rally point on the far side.
From there it was a climb up the ridge. There weren’t any useful trails in their area so they had to make their way through the brush. It was heavy going; the hill was steep and the brush thick. More than once they had to form a human chain to get over some obstacle. But by midnight they were on the top of the ridge and looking for a good observation point.
They’d been able to see the easternmost trail most of the way up the hill, but it wasn’t until they got to the top that they could see the western one. They stopped for a time when they reached the top and Mike and Praz scanned both trails looking for signs of the Chechens. The rain had increased but Mike ignored it, searching the west trail for any glimmer of heat signs. He picked up a few, but they were all animals. The Chechens weren’t here.
It was likely, frankly, that they weren’t going to show. The intel was light, to be honest, and there was no real reason for a “battalion” of Chechens to attack the Keldara. Such a heavy attack might force the government of Georgia to finally react. And it was a long way from their real enemies, the Russians. On the other hand, they could be reacting to being stung by the intel Mike had passed. It wasn’t smart, but the Chechens weren’t usually described as “smart.”
However, they weren’t here. Vadim had been talking to the farmers in the area and if the Chechens had passed down the valley they couldn’t have missed them. Hell, the farm probably would have been a smoking wreck. And there really weren’t many trails they could have used to the east. So either they weren’t coming or Mike’s team was in place ahead of them.
After ensuring their quarry wasn’t on the trail, Mike led the team up along the spine of the ridge towards a high prominence. He’d spotted it from their first OP and it looked like a good place to set up, a group of rocks at a high point on the ridge. From there they should have a good view of both trails.
It took about an hour to make it up to the designated OP but when he got there he found it was nearly perfect. Erosion had worn away underlying rock, leaving a series of large granite boulders that had fallen in on themselves. There were even a few dry semi-caves under the rocks and the team crawled into their shelter gratefully.
“Okay, same list as last night,” Mike said. “Lasko and Me, then Killjoy and Vanim, Russell and Otar. Praz gets a double day-shift. No fires tonight, not even chem fires.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mike took the opportunity to pull out his Gortex rain-gear and showed Lasko how to use it, then the two of them took up a position overlooking the trails. Mike had Lasko watch the western trail, which was less likely to be used, while he watched the eastern. Both of them stopped from time to time to check their surroundings as well. Mike figured even with the rain they would hear anyone coming before they were in view.
When Mike’s shift was over he tried the radio. The box was designed to be used with the microboxes and instead of sending out a strong signal designed to bounce off the ionosphere or use ground conduction, it sent out a light signal, slowly increasing, as it hunted for what was, essentially, an internet router. They’d set up a box on the far ridge and it should be in range. Finally the signal strength went to nearly full and he keyed the mike.
“Keldara Base this is Six,” Mike said. The radio was frequency agile and encrypted, meaning that it switched frequencies repeatedly, staying on one for less than a second, and digitally scrambled the voices. All that a very good intercept system would pick up would be random hisses on various frequencies. He wasn’t sure that even Uncle Sam could listen in. And localizing it, because of the frequency changes and the distributed system, was very difficult.
“Six, Base,” a female voice answered.
“We’re at point 274,” Mike said. Prior to setting out, he and Vanner had marked up the old Soviet map with a series of location points and 274 was very near their present position. “Negative contact, negative sign.”
“Roger, Six,” the female voice answered. “Team Sawn near point 618.” That would put them up on the first ridgeline. Mike hoped they were being careful. On the other hand, if the shit hit the fan there were something like supports handy.
“Roger 618. Six, out,” Mike said. Just because nobody should be able to listen, it didn’t mean he should take chances.
This set up the program for the next few days. The team checked in hourly — that way if they were surprised or there was a radio malfunction somebody would know they were cut off — reported negative contact and checked back out. They had enough food for four days and there was a spring not far off so they had water. They were bored out of their gourds, but Mike thought it was good training for the Keldara sniper designates.
He’d reconned the area with an eye to a possible ambush of the Chechens. They had a good view of both trails from their OP, but egressing, running away, would be difficult. On the second day, with no one in sight, he had the three Keldara start clearing the trail along the ridgeline. Both the east and west trails snaked back and forth. If they engaged from up here, they should be able to engage and then run down the ridgeline, more or less straight, to the valley. He could either bring up a vehicle on call or do the two-step boogie across the valley.
On the third day they were there, Team Oleg moved up to supporting position, fresh from a couple of days on the range. They weren’t exactly what Mike would call trained but they were better than Sawn’s group, which only knew which end the bullet came out of. Adams was with them, as well as McKenzie and Porter, his assistant trainer.
Late on the third day, just as dusk was coming on, Praz stuck his hand out of his ghillie suit and made a motion of men walking.
Mike slithered over to the lookout and peered through binoculars at the trail. There were three men moving down the trail. The men wore civilian clothing but they were carrying AKs so they were legitimate combatants; Mike had checked with Vadim about friendly forces and there weren’t any active in the area. The three weren’t being particularly cautious and looked, frankly, bored. They stopped at a place where a stream crossed the trail and the area widened out. One of them crossed the stream and went into the woods on the far side, then came back out.
As he did, a larger group moved into the area and spread out, most of them flopping to the ground at the tree line. The men weren’t wearing packs, they only had their weapons and some of them wore ammunition vests, so Mike couldn’t figure out why they looked so tired. Moving through the mountains, even in the rain, wasn’t all that hard.
The second group was followed by a third, smaller group, one of whom began to gesticulate and apparently shout angrily. The men that had flopped got up and moved into the woods as more men and now mules flooded into the area. Gear was unpacked, the men in the woods came back with wood and in less than an hour a camp was in place. They’d lit fires for warmth and to
cook their food and were acting anything but tactical.
The mules appeared to be carrying stores, spare ammo and, notably, heavy weapons. There were five that carried, between them, two 80mm mortars, some ammunition cases for them and a half a dozen RPGs and ammo. All the mules were heavily overloaded and looked just about at the end of their rope. But, then again, mujahideen mules always looked at the end of their rope.
Mike did a count on the group and determined that there were quite a few short of two hundred, closer to one-eighty. He wasn’t sure if that meant another group or that the intel estimate was wrong. They might have detached a group to take the wounded to a base somewhere, for that matter. Figure five wounded based on the Spetznaz report, two or three seriously. Four stretcher bearers per, a few guards for support. That might be it.
By full dark the group had been fed and were bedded down, propping up scraps of plastic against the continuing rain. There were a few guards on duty, but the group didn’t appear to expect trouble. Given that they were deep inside Georgia, that said it all about their ability to move freely in the country.
Mike moved back to the hide and picked up the radio.
“Base this is Six,” Mike said. “SEAL REP. ECHO, One Eight Zero. Two Eight Zero Mike Mike. Six Romeo Papa Golf.” There were one hundred and eighty bad guys, heavy weapons were two eighty millimeter mortars and six RPGs.
“Six, Base,” a female voice replied. “Copy Echo, One Eight Zero. Two Eight Zero Mike Mike. Count Six Romeo Papa Golf.”
“Roger,” Mike said. “Get Five. Contact in Three Zero Mike.”
“Roger, Six,” Base replied.
“What we gonna do, boss?” Russell asked.
“We’re gonna kill ’em all and fuck their old ladies,” Mike said.
* * *
“Six this is Five, over,” Nielson called over the radio in thirty minutes.
“Five, what is the status of Team Vil?” Mike said. As he recalled, Vil and Oleg’s group were both through initial training.
“Deployed south near point 625,” Nielson said.
“Redeploy mounted to 738,” Mike said, moving the team to a point north of Alerrso near the opening to the valley. “Redeploy Team Oleg to point 618, offset five hundred meters south for ambush tomorrow. Bunker up. Will lead Echo element to ambush point. Upon ambush, Vil to redeploy to near point 274 to catch leakers. Clear?”
There was a pause as Nielson obviously considered the map and the plan.
“Clear,” Nielson said after a moment.
“Will send guide to Team Oleg, leave team in place to guide in Vil,” Mike continued. “Prepare to implement by NLT 0900 tomorrow. Six out.”
“Russell, Otar,” Mike said. “Pack up. Head for the defile we passed through. Make contact with Adams and have him lay in an ambush for the defile. Have him dig in deep; they’re probably going to try to fight through. Leave the back door open, though and make damned sure that nobody kills us when we come a running. Clear?”
“Clear,” Russell said, grinning.
“Killjoy, Vanim, move down the trail to near the base of the ridge. Find a good hide point. After we initiate the ambush, Vil will move up with his team in vehicles. Bring the vehicles to the west trail, then put them in position to engage the enemy as they retreat. Clear?”
“Clear,” Killjoy replied, smiling. “Fuck their old ladies, huh?”
“We’ll see,” Mike said. “Take most of the spare ammo and gear with you; we’re going to be moving light. Get going.”
* * *
Mike snuggled the stock of the Mannlicher into his shoulder and took a light breath, then let it out. He and Praz had carefully measured the distance to the camp, which was starting to unhurriedly break down in the morning light, and designated targets. The mortars had been unloaded at one point and they’d managed to designate the mortarmen and, most importantly, their leaders. He definitely wanted the trained mortarmen out of the equation; the mortars would be hell on the ambush no matter what.
He’d also figured out who Breslav probably was but he was leaving him for last. He wanted the Chechens to pursue aggressively and he figured they’d need leadership to do that. The snipers intended to take out the mortarmen, especially the team leaders, and as many of the mules as they could before moving out.
“Lasko, keep an eye on the targets and call,” Mike said. “If either one of us goes down, you take over.”
“Got it,” the Keldara said, quietly.
Mike lined up one of the mortar team leaders and carefully stroked the trigger.
The 7mm round took about a second and a half to cover the distance, by which time Mike had switched targets to the mule the team was loading and Praz had engaged the other team leader.
“Kildar left and up,” Lasko murmured. “Mortarman in cover behind a log. Praz, left, down, bucking mule. Kill, for Kildar, right and down, mule. Kill for Praz, left and up, mortarman.”
The two snipers steadily worked the camp as it exploded in activity.
“Kildar, Praz, down and right, team trying to get mortar up,” Lasko said. “Track right, team attempting to get mortar up.”
“What’s the rest of the group doing?” Mike asked.
“One group, about twenty, is working over to the left,” Lasko said. “Track left, machine-gunner setting up.”
Mike tracked left and spotted the team with the assistant gunner just closing the top on the machine gun. The gunner was tracking back and forth, looking for the snipers that were engaging from the hilltop but clearly unable to find them. Mike lined up on his prone body and watched through the scope as the gunner’s head exploded. The assistant gunner tried to get the machine gun in action but Praz took him out with a shot to the body.
“Track right,” Lasko said. “They’re still trying to get the mortars in action.”
Mike looked at the mortar team, which was surrounded by dead bodies, and shook his head.
“Stupid brave,” he said. They should have moved the mortars out of the open area. He ignored the crew that was slewing the mortar their way and shot the sight away, killing the gunner in the process. Then he hit the AG just as he was lifting one of the rounds into the tube. The round dropped and headed downrange, but it landed well to their right and short, far enough away that the explosion of the round was muffled by the trees.
“Fuck this,” Praz muttered. Shortly afterwards the ready box of ammunition by “his” mortar exploded, sending shrapnel all over the camp, knocking the mortar over and killing most of the crew.
“Good point,” Mike said, lining up the box that the crew had set out by the mortar. There was another box under it for good measure and both were laid far too close to the weapon itself. He put two rounds into the boxes, as the shaken crew was just getting to its feet, before the box finally went up at the third hit.
“Time to boogie,” Mike said, sliding backwards out of the hide.
They’d sent most of their gear with Killjoy and Otar so the packs were light. They tossed them on and headed down the cut trail towards the valley.
Mike paused at one point and took up a position by a rock, well in sight of the Chechens. They were starting to get their act together and he wanted none of that. He doffed the ghillie suit and leaned against a boulder, in full view of the group in the distance. He knew he wasn’t much of a figure to pick out but it was possible.
“Lasko,” Mike said, “can you see Breslav?”
Lasko tracked around the camp with the spotting scope and then paused.
“Upper right quadrant,” Lasko said. “South of the stream. Talking with someone.”
“Got it,” Mike said. He lased the two men and got a range of twelve hundred meters, tough downhill and with a crosswind. He carefully lined up the man Breslav was talking to and engaged. He had to time the shot between heart pumps since his heart rate was way up.
“Target. Kill,” Lasko murmured. “Breslav has gone to ground behind the tree trunk.”
Mike shot the tree a couple of
times just to make his point.
“We’ve got company coming up the hill,” Praz said.
“Good,” Mike replied.
“They’re engaging,” Praz pointed out.
Mike couldn’t hear any bullets nearby, which was fine by him. But he did see an RPG land short of their position and heard a following crack from Praz’s rifle.
“Got the RPG,” Praz said.
“Let’s go,” Mike replied. “They know where we are at least.”
“They’re following,” Praz said as they headed down the hill.
“Good,” Mike replied. “Anybody see the main group?”
“Negative,” Praz said as they scrambled down the hill. When they hit the flats they were going to be in the open, fair targets for the pursuing Chechens.
“Oleg, Oleg, this is Kildar, over,” Mike panted into his mike.
“Kildar, this is Team Oleg, over,” Adams replied.
“We’re being pursued by two groups of Chechens,” Mike said as they hit the bottom of the hill and crossed the small stream there. “One group is on our hill and in direct pursuit. The main body should be behind them. We’ll try to engage from the far tree line and get the two to close up. The mortars might or might not have been taken out. One is definitely down, the other is a possible.”
“Roger,” Adams said. “We’re in position.”
“Don’t let Vil move, yet,” Mike said. “We need to have both groups across the valley before he moves.”