The Fall of America | Book 6 | Call Sign Copperhead

by Benton, W. R.

  “Yes, sir.” The man quickly filled his seat.

  “Now,” the commander said, “we will be getting replacement aircraft, fuel, personnel and anti-aircraft systems from Moscow soon. Our priority will be in getting our aircraft in the air, then installing all the anti-aircraft systems. I want details formed from every unit on this base, except for the police, helping to get these systems installed properly. We will also have 530,000 sandbags coming, and guess what? I want them filled and placed six feet high around all buildings, every single one. When you get low on the bags contact me, and I will have another 500,000 sent to us.”

  The commander looked at his Master Sergeant and nodded.

  “Teeeennn Huuuut!” the Sergeant yelled from the very pit of his stomach. A room full of officers sprung to attention as if shot from a cannon.

  As the Colonel left, he said, “At ease, gentlemen.”

  “Wow, Turov, the Commander sure ate your ass alive.”

  “I learned in the future not to send my people to anyplace during an attack unless ordered to do so.”

  “Then,” a thin Major said, “he will jump your ass for not thinking on your own and standing around with your thumb up your ass waiting for orders. There is no proper way to avoid an ass chewing when you are in a combat arms field and a base is destroyed like this one was.”

  “I have an opinion,” another Major said, “but I will save it for my room over vodka. Too many brown noses in this room.”

  As the group started leaving the room, Ilik knew he had an hour to change into his dress uniform and get to base ops so they could pack Boris into the aircraft. Just the thought saddened him deeply.

  Chapter 20

  I was concerned about all the traffic leading to my base camp following the attack on the Fort. I realized most of the tank tracks were difficult to see from the air, but a child could follow them on the ground. All the Russians had to do was fly following the tracks and when they grew faint, put a few squads on the ground to search for us. I was considering selecting a new location and having our people split into small groups and meeting there. I'd have the tanks hold off moving for dry weather and just before a front moved in. If the ground was hard, they'd leave less of a track and if it rained shortly after they moved, the tracks would mostly be gone. I'd have them move away from this camp, and hopefully avoid the Russians until the weather cooperated with us.

  “Sir, this area down by Cold Springs looks good with plenty of timber and brush. It also has clean spring fed drinking water.” Sergeant Ledford said.

  “Let's you and I check it out tomorrow morning, and I want to be up and walking by daylight. Take weapons, grenades, and a fanny pack with food and first aid items. I see no reason for us to hump sixty pound packs on a quick sneak and peek.”

  “Now, it's about a 25 mile hike overland one way and will take us some time, so we may be gone for two days and not just one.”

  “We'll carry a radio and rations for the two days. Now, make sure you're ready, because once I leave here, we'll not return. Remember the big three; beans, bullets, and medical supplies.” I grinned.>

  “Yes, sir, and I'll be ready.” He left the tent as Carol was walking in.

  “Well, hello, this is a pleasant surprise, during duty hours too.”

  “I'm here for my lunch hour.” She smiled and winked.

  I took her into my arms, gazed deeply into her eyes, and asked, “Will you marry me? I love you, and can see no reason we can't have the Chaplain marry us.” Why I did that, I have no idea, but now that I'd found her, I wanted to keep her mine.

  She grinned, winked at me again, and replied, “Sure, I'll marry you, but I want the honeymoon to start now, on my lunch hour. I have some other good news too, or at least I’m excited about it.”

  “Oh, and what good news is that?”

  “The medical folks told me I’m pregnant, so maybe getting married is a great idea, Colonel.”

  I was slapped with mixed emotions. I wanted a child, for sure, but what kind of life would my baby have growing up in the middle of a war? I smiled, kissed her and said, “Have you considered a name?”

  “I just found out not ten minutes ago, and I’m so happy I had to rush over here to tell you the wonderful news.” I saw she was crying tears of joy.

  I kissed her deeply, felt her passion ignite and soon I was covered in the flames of desire as well. Soon, she was leading me to our bed.

  Ledford and I were a good five miles from camp by the time the sun was in the trees. We were traveling light, with the absolute minimum for the field. He carried the radio and I carried a corpsman's first aid kit, which would allow us to treat almost any medical injury, wound, or illness. While I didn't expect to run into anyone you never knew what could happen, so it paid to be ready for anything. We each carried one NON-50 mine, grenades, and a bandoleer of bullets. If we couldn't take it out with what we had, we were in sad shape.

  The area we moved over was high hills and deep valleys, made by glaciers moving over the land millions of years ago. Some of the valleys were over a mile long, and the hills were close to the same in length. Usually small rivers or streams ran at the bottom of the high cliffs and in a different time and situation I would have found the area beautiful, but now my senses were on guard. I was starting to get the feeling we were being watched, but I'd seen nothing to make me feel that way.

  I suspected Ledford felt the same, because he kept turning in circles to look all around us. I too scanned the countryside, but I saw nothing out of place.

  Back in the bushes, and I mean a good 15 miles from the nearest town or city, we spotted a farm house, and a farmer was up early caring for his animals and doing the countless other jobs a man had to do to survive in the country. I decided we'd Injun up on him and see if any Russians had been spotted in the last few days. Most country folks supported the resistance and I prayed this one did as well.

  As he was feeding his hogs, I asked from the brush, “Seen any Russians?”

  “Yep, big group passed on the back road in front of the house near daylight. I counted four deuce and half's in the bunch. Maybe 80 men, but I ain't sure. You boys hungry?”

  “No, sir, we have food. Which way were they heading when you saw them?” I noticed the man was thin, like most Americans now, and he must have been in his middle or late sixties. His hair was white, eyes green, and he wore a constant smile. He was chewing tobacco, and every other minute he'd let a brown stream fly toward the grasses.

  “Toward Fort Wood. See, this road will eventually lead to a back gate at the fort. Ain't many folks that know that unless they live around here, so I 'spect they have 'em a collaborator along.”

  “You being bothered much out here?”

  “Nope, and I like it like things are. I wish you boys nothin' but the best, and iffen I were twenty years younger I'd be fightin' alongside of you. I love this country.”

  “Thank you for the information, sir, and may God bless you. We have to move on now.”

  “May He set aside a special place in heaven for our partisans that die in this awful war.”

  After he spoke he disappeared into the barn, and I knew he never saw either of us well. Besides, we were wearing face paint and I don't think our mothers would have recognized us. As a matter of fact, I don't remember his head turning toward us even once. Of course, as a hunter, and I was positive he was one, he'd be able to track us easily enough.

  We moved back into the woods, crawled up under a huge cedar tree, and had a short talk. I could see no reason for Russians to be out here unless they were new troops coming in from Saint Louis, but why not use the main highway?

  “Why are Russians on the back roads?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Maybe the Russians are putting out small cells to try and sniff us out.” He spoke in a very low tone, just above a whisper.

  “That's always a possibility.” I whispered and then added, “I have movement, listen.”

  We both heard the sound of material
rubbing against material as someone walked near us. I knew from years of hunting and war it was their pant legs rubbing. I then heard voices in Russian and it was followed by a loud laugh. A deep commanding voice immediately stopped the laughter, and said something I didn't understand in Russian. I shivered at how close our enemies were to us.

  Looking through the branches of the cedar tree, I spotted a camouflage uniform, and the soldier was wearing the blue and white striped tee of Spetsnaz and a blue beret as well. I knew then we'd been watched by Russian special forces, and they must have lost us temporarily and were looking for sign of where we went. I used hand sign to tell Ledford to remain still. Ten minutes later, they walked away.

  I waited until almost dark before I left the relative safety of the tree. I slipped my NVGs on and then moved back toward the main group. I liked the area, and figured Spetsnaz was simply checking the area for partisans. Once they returned and reported this area was clean, we'd be safe enough. We'd have to keep the farmer at a distance and not move any closer than three miles from him. Since he was an older man, I didn't expect to discover him beating the bushes any time soon.

  We kept our eyes open the whole trip back, moved slowly, and saw no one, but that didn't mean we weren't seen by the Russians. Spetsnaz were the very best of the excellent, and they were well trained for a variety of roles. Most spoke another language fluently, and could disassemble and reassemble just about any weapon in the world. They were fighters from way back.

  We returned at about dusk, so I sent the tanks with their infrared radar out looking for our Russian friends. They were to stay out all night and be back early enough in the morning to move with the rest of us. They'd even carry the heaviest loads. My weather guesser said tomorrow during most of the day would be dry, and then heavy rains in the evening and overnight.

  Carol and I shared our love and fell asleep early, knowing daylight came early. How long I'd been asleep I had no idea, but I awoke to explosions and screams.

  I met Carol's eyes and said, “Spetsnaz must have reported our positions. That's artillery you hear, not bombs or missiles. Hear the loud scream as it falls to earth? Let's move, and now!”

  As we ran from the tent just minutes later, I could see white phosphorus exploding in the night. The stuff was nasty, but so beautiful on a dark night, unless like in our cases it was being fired at us. We moved to the communications center where everyone was packing up to leave earlier, but now it was empty. I tossed a thermite grenade on the big radio and another on our one computer and then ran out of camp with a radio in my hands.

  Others ran beside us and we scattered into the four winds. I'd given the location of our new camp to all the officers and senior Sergeants, so they’d know where we were to move. I just prayed I didn’t lose most of my people overnight. After moving a mile, I turned the radio on and listened. We were wearing NVGs and everything was a normal pea green through them.

  “Copperhead One, to any station.” I said.

  “Copperhead One, this is Bear four, over.”

  “Four, did anything get moved to the new location?”

  “Uh, negative to my knowledge, One.”

  “Headquarters to Copperhead One, how do you read me, over?”

  “Five by five. I may need a major resupply soon. White phosphorus was walking into my camp when I left. Artillery, and from the fort too.”

  “Understand, One, move to your new location and we’ll LAPES some gear to you over the next few days. Headquarters, out.”

  I’d just taken a step on the trail when I heard a voice say, “That’s far enough. Drop your guns and put your hands into the air.”

  “Who are you? It’s me, the Colonel.”

  “I am glad to meet you, sir, I am Senior Sergeant Veselov Yefim Yegorovich, of Mother Russia’s Spetsnaz. I am afraid you are my prisoner, Colonel. Now drop your weapons or my men will fire theirs. I assure you, this is no game.”

  Carol and I dropped our guns to the grass and then raised our arms over our heads.

  A man moved from the brush, started checking Carol for other weapons and I heard her slap him when he checked her breasts. The man laughed and said, “Looks like the Colonel brought us some really nice entertainment for tonight, boys. We have a woman here, and she’s firm too. I’ll take her first, then we’ll go by rank.”

  I shouldn’t have been appalled but I was, as I asked, “You’ll surely not rape her?”

  I knew there were many others moving on this trail behind us, so I attempted to get a conversation going with the man to buy us time. I suspect he wanted to snatch us and be gone. However, finding Carol a woman gave him other ideas. They’d not searched me yet, and I had the .22 hush puppy in the small of my back.

  “Why not? She is my prisoner and I can do with her as I please. Make too much noise, and I will have one of my men rape you too.”

  “Disgusting is what you are, you sonofabitch.”

  I heard him laugh and saw his mouth open as he did so. I pulled the .22 from my back and shot twice, not realizing one bullet struck him in the forehead and the other entered his mouth and exited near the nape of his neck. The bastard was dead before he hit the ground. Carol threw a grenade behind the Senior Sergeant and by the time it exploded we were on the ground. Bullets zipped by me and limbs fell as they were cut in two.

  I grabbed my Bison and saw Carol moving for hers when the woods became a madhouse with tracers and bullets flying in all directions. Apparently some partisans had seen enough through their NVGs to get into position behind us as the Sergeant had been talking with me. Screams were heard on both sides and I’d learned years ago, screams meant nothing. Some folks screamed when they died, when wounded, when they killed an enemy, or at times just to hear their personalized war cry.

  I heard the Russians moving away from us as they made an attempt to disengage my much larger group now. Finally it grew still.

  “Colonel, it’s me, Eller. Are you two okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I heard nothing from Carol, and my heart began to race.

  “Carol?” I asked.

  “Green, you’re the only medic we have. Move forward and check the lady.” Eller said, and I knew by the tone of his voice, he suspected the worst too.

  In the green light of my goggles, I watched the man move to Carol and roll her over. Her eyes were open, but they were rolled up in her head with only the whites showing. She had taken a round to the center of her chest and another to her neck. Beyond any doubt, my darling and my unborn baby were dead.

  I felt my heart shatter as the medic said, “I can’t help her Colonel, she’s dead.”

  I fell to my knees on the trail, threw my head back, and screamed like a crazy man as tears ran down my cheeks. I had just lost my woman and baby in a heartbeat. I was alone again. Everyone I ever loved or even liked was dead. Would death follow me the rest of my life? I would never get to kiss Carol again, hold her, hear her laugh, see her love for me reflected in her beautiful eyes, and I’d never see my unborn child. I think I went insane for a while, and I know I put Eller in a difficult spot.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard him say, “Green, give the Colonel some morphine and let’s get out of here. Brown you and Ledford make a stretcher.”

  I took Carol’s mangled and bloody head in my hands, kissed her blood stained lips and rocked back and forth as I tried to talk to her. I touched her cute little nose, ran my fingers up and down her badly soiled cheeks as Green moved to me. Eller held me still as he squatted and hugged me tight, and I felt the prick of the needle as it entered my body. Seconds later I felt the morphine entering my system. I held her in my lap and cried until my world faded into darkness.

  To be continued in

  “Killer, Book 7,” of “The Fall of America series.”

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  About the Author

  W. R. Benton was born on his grandfathers farm, delivered by his Grandmother, near Vida, Missouri, in the Ozark Mountains. He attended public schools in the local area and graduated from Rolla Senior High School, in Rolla, Missouri. After graduation, he joined the United States Air Force and began a career that would span over 26 years. He has an Associate's Degree in Search and Rescue, Survival Operations, a Bachelors Degree in Occupational Safety and Health, and a Masters Degree in Clinical Psychology completed, except for his thesis. His first Book released was “Silently Beats the Drum,” and over 40 more books have followed, along with 9 Audio Editions of his work. Many of his stories are available in paperbacks as well. His book, “War Paint,” will soon be a feature movie.

  W. R. Benton is popular among readers who love hard continuous action and adventure. As a young reader, he would often turn pages to find more excitement. So, when he turned to writing, he decided his readers should be entertained, made to think, and feel the emotions of his characters. Many readers say his work grasps them in the first paragraph and maintains their interest until the last paragraph, which is exactly what W. R. strives for when writing.

  Mister Benton lives in Mississippi, with his wife, dogs, and cats, on an imaginary ranch with thousands of make-believe cows and horses.

  Visit him at: www.wrbenton.net

  or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/wrbenton01

  An excerpt from

  New World Order: 666 - The Mark of the Beast

  (Vol. 1)