Rescue: Book 3 in the After the Fall series

by David Nees

  “The tank and the 105s are devastating,” Kevin said.

  “We’ll need to hit hard and fast and then get out. They’ll be quicker with the big guns.”

  “Thankfully it takes some time to set up the artillery units,” Kevin said.

  “We can try to cripple the gun carriages so they can’t be towed, attack the tires. That’s more important than taking out personnel. If we can keep the howitzers from getting in range, we’ll eliminate a huge threat.”

  Kevin thought about that for a moment. “Direct the rockets and mortars at the howitzers. That might do it. But what about the tank? We’ve got nothing to stop it.”

  “I don’t have an answer for that, but let’s focus on the howitzers for now.”

  Billy was standing near Rodney and listening to their conversation about their tactics. When they were done talking Kevin went to get something to eat out of his backpack. The other men were sitting around resting while the wounded were being attended to.

  It was late afternoon. The sky was clouding up with the breeze coming harder from the east. It grew colder and damper and smelled like rain. If they were getting a proper nor’easter it could last a couple of days. The men would be cold and wet, but Kevin realized the enemy would also suffer. His men had more to fight for, so that might give them an advantage.

  At this point, Kevin felt overwhelmed. He didn’t relish losing more men and he had no answer for the tank. Even if he stopped the howitzers and took out more men, Knoxville’s forces could arrive at Hillsboro with an unstoppable tank and a hundred men. They might not win the day, but could intimidate the town council into asking for peace.

  Kevin didn’t like thinking about the terms. They would involve Jason and Clayton in some way and give Knoxville some authority over Hillsboro. Would they demand tribute payments as was done in medieval times? It would lead to a permanent subservience to the other city, something he wanted no part of.

  The rain set in that evening. Men worked together in pairs or triplets to link their tarps and create some shelter from the wet. They sat uncomfortably under the canopies. The smart ones had gathered firewood and had small fires going. It was smoky business, but made for a little warmth under the tarps.

  Billy came over to where Rodney was sitting under his tarp, which he had rigged between two trees.

  “You got a minute?” He asked.

  Rodney nodded. “Get under here and out of the wet.”

  Billy got under the tarp. He stretched his tarp over to Rodney so they could both put it around their shoulders.

  “Something on your mind?” Rodney asked.

  Billy nodded. “Heard you talking with Kevin. Seems like the tank is the biggest problem.”

  “Yeah.” Rodney waited for Billy to continue.

  “How do you stop a tank anyway? I mean with the weapons we have? Is this all for nothin’?”

  Rodney sighed. It had been a hard day, he was tired and the subject matter was difficult. “It’s hard. None of our weapons can do it. The tank’s too armored up for our weapons. If we had HEAT rounds, we could take it out. But not with the rockets we’re using.

  “HEAT rounds?”

  “High Explosive Anti-Tank rounds. They’re specially designed to take them out.”

  “So, we’re screwed?”

  “Maybe.” Rodney paused to go over in his mind what they had brought with them. “We may have one possibility, but it’s almost suicidal.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We have some C-4 explosives. I brought a demolition block with me, about a pound and a quarter. If we could place that inside the tread, it would blow the tread apart along with the adjacent rollers. The tank wouldn’t be able to move.”

  “Could we do that?”

  “It would be almost impossible to get to the tank without being seen and intercepted.”

  “What about at night? They stop at night, don’t they?”

  Rodney looked over at Billy. “Where are you going with this?”

  Billy returned Rodney’s stare. “I’d be willing to plant the explosive, if you show me how. I’m good at stalking and moving quietly, probably as good as Clayton.”

  “Like I said, that’s almost a suicide mission. It’d be better to set up a charge down the road and let the tank roll over it. Like an IED.”

  “But the tank may not roll over it. You might have to detonate it and miss. Then there’s nothing to stop the tank.”

  “If someone gets caught sneaking into the convoy camp, we lose the opportunity to cripple the tank as well.”

  “Which way’s most likely to succeed? Guess that’s the question. I just want you to know I’d do it if you decide on it.”

  “Why you?”

  “I’m alone. I got no one. I’d like to go to Missouri with you, but if this don’t work, we probably don’t go and I got nothin’ here. You got somewhere to go, Kevin’s got his wife, Clayton as well. Hell, even Tommy’s got a sweetheart. Probably everyone here got someone, but me. I’m the right choice it seems.”

  Rodney sat quiet for some time, listening to the rain drip through the trees. Finally, he spoke.

  “I’ll talk with Kevin in the morning. If we do it, it couldn’t be before tomorrow night.”

  “Gonna rain all night and through tomorrow. Everyone’s gonna be miserable by tomorrow night. Maybe they not be watching too hard, being cold and wet.”

  “We’ll see,” Rodney said.

  Billy got up and walked off to find a place to hunker down. He sat alone in the wet dark, like Rodney. But Rodney felt Billy’s loneliness eclipsed his.

  The next morning Rodney went across the highway to talk with Kevin. He didn’t want to discuss attacking the tank over the radio.

  “The C-4 is the way to go,” Kevin said after listening to Rodney. “But both tactics present problems.”

  “They do. The idea of planting the charge ahead of the tank has so many ways to go wrong. And we’d still need someone close to trigger it. Can’t do that by radio signals.”

  “That makes it more doubtful of being successful,”. Seems to me that Billy’s idea may be the best way. We know we can’t stop the tank with the weapons we have now.”

  “Billy would have to be awfully good at sneaking up on a target. He’ll have to get past sentries and then under the tank, then get out without being discovered. Only then can he detonate the charge.”

  “Catherine said he could sneak up on turkey and quail as well as deer. Got to be good to do that. If he’s discovered trying to get out, he could just trigger the charge.”

  “And probably kill himself in the process.”

  Kevin thought about that for a moment. “Perhaps that’s why he volunteered. You said he told you he’s got no one. That’s why he wanted to do the job.”

  “I don’t want to send him on a suicide mission just because he’s depressed. He thinks if we don’t win this round with Knoxville, I won’t be going to Missouri and then he’s stuck here…with all his memories.”

  “You can still go to Missouri, no matter what happens here.”

  “I know. But you know I can’t do that with you and the others under such threat. I left because I thought we were finished, that things would settle down with Stansky gone.” Rodney looked at the men standing around a campfire that was struggling against the drizzle. “Now it seems like you’ll always be under some threat.”

  “I don’t know. After this, who knows? It shouldn’t stop you from going, though. Your help now is more than enough payback for Jason’s rescuing you and Billy. You don’t really owe him, or Hillsboro any more than what you’ve already done.”

  “Maybe. After this, we’ll see.” He stood up as if he’d made a decision. “But first we have to win this round. We have today to do something. Time to concentrate on the 105s?”

  Kevin got up.

  “Yeah. Let’s move the teams farther south and find a spot to set up. We’ll let the bulk of the convoy go past and concentrate all our fire on the howitzer
s.” He put his hand on Rodney’s shoulder. “Then let’s get Billy ready to plant that charge.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Rodney turned to hike back down to the highway and cross over to his team.

  Chapter 48

  ___________________________________

  A fter a cold, wet night, General McKenzie got his convoy on the move. They went slowly, following scout teams moving ahead of them on the wooded slopes bordering the highway. His supplies had been significantly reduced. The men now carried all the food available in their individual packs. The two trucks were loaded with all the remaining ammunition after reloading the tank and APCs. Food would be in short supply in another day or two at most, but McKenzie had fuel and ammunition. Enough to finish the job he had set out to do. A grim smile creased his face. Terms for Hillsboro were going to become harsher as a result of these attacks.

  The day was windy and full of rain. The cloud cover was thick and low, shrouding the higher hills which disappeared from view. Below, one could see waves of mist, filled with rain, flowing through the valleys. Drenching downpours assaulted the convoy with the rain coming thick and loud, followed by periods of mist and drizzle, always with the ever-present, chilling wind out of the northeast. The median between the lanes soon became a quagmire, but since the pace was slow, McKenzie had the men concentrate on clearing the road more carefully.

  At noon the general called a halt. The armored machines set up a defensive perimeter in an arc around the front of the caravan. The trucks, now so important with their load of ammunition, were carefully shielded. During the stop, McKenzie had his officers distribute much of the ammunition among the troops. They loaded the men down with rifle rounds. Every nook and cranny of the Humvees were filled with .50 caliber belts for their machine guns. The APCs and tank had been loaded with their ammunition that morning. The general even had extra 105mm artillery shells strapped to the carriages of the howitzers.

  The scout teams were positioned a mile ahead when they got moving again. McKenzie suppressed a hope that he had dealt a fatal blow to the ambush teams. The bulk of them had retreated when the artillery opened up. He had no way of knowing how many could be left. If enough, there would be another attack, most likely this afternoon. If he could withstand this next one with a functioning force, that might be the last encounter. He knew each attack cost the ambushers dearly. The two groups had moved quickly indicating they were not a large force. They couldn’t sustain many more casualties.

  The pace was slow with the rain making everything harder. The men were cold, tired, and despondent. Many of them, new to the discomforts of fighting in all types of weather, were beginning to slack off when it came to the work of clearing vehicles in their path. Still, McKenzie kept them moving. He was not going to be stopped after coming this far.

  Jason and Catherine had walked through most of the night on the second day. The rain had come and neither could sleep. Jason had a limited supply of morphine injectors to relieve her pain. He had checked her bandage just before the rain set in. He put her arm in a sling to keep her shoulder from moving and causing the bleeding to start again. Jason carried both rifles and backpacks. He wrapped a tarp across her head and shoulders which she could keep pulled tight. They plodded through the wet forest, heads bent. This time Jason was leading.

  “When you need to stop, just call out,” he said to her.

  “I’m okay,” came the reply in a small voice.

  “As long as you can do this, it’s better to walk than to just sit in the rain. Can’t rest much either way.”

  She didn’t reply. They trudged on. Jason knew Catherine’s situation could deteriorate if the wound got infected or started to bleed badly. The solution was to get his step-daughter to better medical help than he could provide with his limited resources. The sooner the better. He hoped they could find the ambush teams and that they would have more bandages and antiseptics as well as morphine injectors.

  The next day they came upon the site of the encounter of the last ambush on the convoy. They could both see the devastation caused by the artillery guns.

  “Looks like the convoy fired the howitzers at the hillside.”

  Catherine grunted.

  “They must have retreated after those guns opened fire.”

  He looked down at the road from the opening in the forest blasted out by the artillery.

  “They did some damage, though, before they had to bug out.”

  Jason led them on, not wanting Catherine to focus on the body parts that were scattered around.

  “We should be getting closer,” he said, more to encourage Catherine than out of conviction.

  Jason was worried. What shape would the ambush teams be in when they caught up to them? What if they couldn’t catch up to them? His hope to find the car again and use that to get back to Hillsboro would not work if the convoy wasn’t dismantled. He’d run into it on the road.

  And the prospect of walking all the way back to Hillsboro would be dangerous for Catherine. It could be the hardest thing she would ever do. The wound, with treatment, was not that serious. Without treatment, Jason knew it could be life threatening.

  They hiked on through the day. The rain came and went. Jason made sure Catherine stayed hydrated and had put his jacket over her to keep her warm. He fed her the rations they had brought, foregoing any for himself. He could survive with no food for a couple of days. What was important was to keep Catherine well fueled so she could continue.

  By mid-day he halted. Catherine stood with her head bowed. She hadn’t said anything for the past hour and a half.

  “Look at me,” Jason said.

  She raised her head. Dark circles had formed around her eyes. Her face reflected the pain she was in along with her fatigue.

  “We’ll rest for a while. Do you think you can keep going?”

  She nodded without conviction. Jason dropped his packs and rifles and helped her sit down. She leaned her left shoulder against a tree, grunting in pain as she tried to get comfortable. Jason took out one of his diminishing supply of morphine injectors.

  “Do you want a shot of morphine?”

  Catherine shook her head. “Save it for later. I’ll have to sleep later today. I can’t walk another night without some rest.”

  “The pain isn’t too bad?”

  “It’s bad, but I can deal with it. I’d rather have the relief when I can sleep.”

  “That’s a good call…as long as you can do without through the day.” He looked at the sky through the trees. The clouds were still low, hiding the higher slopes, but he could see a few scattered breaks in the monotone gray. “The rain might be finished by tonight. That will make it more comfortable. I’ll be able to light a fire later.”

  “In this wet?”

  “I think so. Done it before.”

  “Ever the boy scout.”

  Catherine’s tired face tried to grin but it came out as a grimace. She closed her eyes and relaxed her body as best she could. Jason placed the backpacks on her left side to help prop her up. Next, he rigged his tarp over her to shield her from the rain while he sat to one side and watched her.

  An hour later, Catherine opened her eyes.

  “I think I actually fell asleep,” she said.

  “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know. My shoulder is kicking up again, but the nap helped. I think I can walk.”

  She began to shift her body. Jason stepped over and helped her up. Catherine was panting as she stood.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “It’s just a bit rough getting back into motion. I’ll be okay.” She turned her head towards the south. “Lead on.”

  Jason stowed the tarp, picked up his gear, and started in again. The hills were the hardest. The steeper ones had to be traversed the way a road crawls serpentine-like up a mountain. Jason had to help Catherine turn at each “switchback”. It was slow going, but the technique allowed her to reach the top. The down-slop
es were handled the same way. It was not as strenuous, but there was the increased danger of slipping and falling which could tear open her wound.

  Steadily they made progress. At one point, Jason led them out of the woods to the river’s edge to gain a mile of relatively flat walking. They both felt the relief from the continuous climbing and descending of the slopes. When the hillside closed in on the river, they turned away, up a valley formed by a creek that fed into the river. They proceeded to traverse the hillsides as they continued south.

  They stopped at evening and rested. Jason tried his best to keep Catherine warm and dry. After getting her seated as comfortably as he could with her back against a tree, he set up the tarp to keep the rain off her and cleared the ground in front of her outstretched legs. That was where he would start a fire.

  With Catherine settled down, he took his folding camp saw and his sheath knife and went over to a dead pine that was still standing. It was about six inches in diameter. He tied a paracord line around it as high as he could reach and pulled on it. The pine broke off with the upper part crashing down. Jason had to jump to one side to avoid the trunk. He put his hat over the stump and proceeded to peel the bark off the trunk in large slabs. He took large pieces to the fire site. Then he went back to the stump and proceeded to cut a section of it with his saw. Inside the wood was dry and, as he expected, full of resin. It was almost what one called “fatwood”. The resin condensed in the center and made for an easily lit piece of wood.

  Jason took sections of this back to the protection of the tarp, split them, and began to make shavings. Then he made a pile of pencil-sized sticks. From there he moved to larger sticks. Next, he framed the fire bed on two sides with larger limbs and placed one of the bark sheets in between. He collected various sizes of wood to feed the fire as it grew. Some of the pieces were not dry, but they would dry out next to the fire before they were called on to fuel it.

  When he finished collecting the wood, Jason took out his ferro rod and striker and, after multiple sparks got the shavings to light. In minutes, adding progressively larger sticks, the fire was reaching a sustainable size. Catherine let out a sigh.