The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3) (23 page)

An hour after sunrise, six large
Ilyushin Il-28 medium bombers took off from the old Jackson international airport and flew toward Edwards at low altitudes. At exactly the same time, on Edwards airfield, eight
Antonov An-12 aircraft, fitted with tanks holding a chemical agent, took off and moved south, the sun reflecting from their silver wings as they banked.
The chemical war against the American resistance was entering a new and deadly stage.

The
Antonov An-12 aircraft looked similar to the American version of a C-130 from years gone by and required a much shorter runway than the big bombers. While the  Ilyushin Il-28 bombers were classified as medium, they needed a much larger landing surface than the prop driven An-12.

Once airborne, the overall commander, Colonel Dubow, reminded each aircraft of the grid they were assigned to fly. As the airc
raft sep
a
rated and approache
d their targets, the Colonel was wearing a smile. He was smart enough to know many of his enemies had chemical gear and he'd not kill all of them, but he'd surely
catch many of them unpre
pared and some would die. His goal was to reduce the numbers of the resistance and nothing more.

On the ground below, a woman working her garden looked up at the aircraft and pulled her three children close. She found it strange that rain drops were falling and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Suddenly, her youngest fell to the ground and began convulsing violently. Her little body flipped and flopped in all directions, but by now, the other two were also on the ground, mirroring her fatal actions. The woman screamed and realized the Russians had dropped something poisonous on them!  She fell to the ground and as her world faded, she was thinking of her children. A few minutes later, all four of them were dead—all huddled together.

Five hours later, with most of the countryside sprayed, the Colonel gave orders for the aircraft to return home. He was hot; wearing the chemical | biological suit was always hot and the protective mask was no cooler. However, he was sure his little surprise visit would kill partisans and that was his only goal.

No sooner had the aircraft touched down and the brakes applied than the Colonel noticed all base personnel in their protective gear. He smiled and said to his co-pilot, “Please take control now, Captain, and taxi us to the our parking spot.”

Shortly after arriving at his office there came a knock on his door, so the Colonel opened it and asked, “Yes, Corporal?” He was still in his protective gear and expected to be for at least forty-eight hours.

From the Corporal came a muffled response, “Colonel Bunin to see you, sir.”

“Show him in.” Dubow moved to his desk and sat.

Colonel Bunin walked into the roo
m, wearing his protective gear, and when about three feet from the commanders desk, stopped, and rendered a near perfect salute, as he said, “I wish to speak with you, sir.”

“Misha, pull up a chair and be seated. I would offer you a drink, but it is hard to sip vodka while wearing a mask. Now, what can I do for you?”

“This poisonous gas of yours has killed over half of my prisoners, sir.  Now their deaths mean little to me, but I wanted you to know, and by daylight, I expect all of them to be dead.”

“How many are still alive?”

“Close to two thousand.”

“The late Colonel Popoff,” Dubow said with a laugh, “was always complaining about the crowded conditions of the gulag. I do not see that as a problem in the near future, Colonel.”

“Okay, but keep that in mind, sir, if you come after prisoners to shoot tomorrow. I fully expect it to be empty by morning.”

Standing, Dubow asked, “Anything else, Colonel?”

Bunin said, “No, sir, just wanted you to know what was going on.” Seeing his commander standing, the Lieutenant Colonel stood as well.

“Get on the phone to Jackson and let them know your shortage of hostages. Have them send, oh, say a couple thousand next week. I am sure they are crowded and will be pleased to send you all you want, Misha.”

Knowing he was being dismissed, Bunin extended a gloved hand and said, “Thanks for the idea on getting more prisoners, sir.”

“No problem, and let us hope by morning we have much more than just dead prisoners. I did not spray almost half of the state of Mississippi to end up with  
only
dead captives. Enjoy your evening, Colonel.” the commander said as he shook hands.

J
ohn and his cell were way down in the southern part of the state, almost at the Lousiana border when the chemical attack occurred. Of course, they were not affected by the chemical attack, but John was thankful they were not up north when the attack happened. The last time the Russians used chemicals, it had almost killed Dolly. A dispatch rider, on a captured Russian motorcycle had brought word and it had spread like wildfire to all the partisan camps.

As they sat in the dirt, deep in a swamp, Tom suddenly asked, “Why did the Russians decide to use gas now, knowing good and well that it would kill the prisoners at the gulag and put their own personnel at risk?”

“Willy once told me that Russians don't think like we do and to never assume everything they do has an obvious reason. They place little value on human life and their goal in war is to win, period.  They'll do anything to win, even violate the laws of the civilized world, or lose hundreds of thousands of their soldiers.”

“Hell,” Esom said, scratched his beard and continued, “there ain't a United Nations anymore and no laws to violate. When we fell, the U.N. busted up and scattered in the wind in less than a month. We were footing the biggest percentage of the bills for the whole damn organization. As for them losing soldiers, I'll do my best to kill 'em.”

“I'm talking about the moral laws of the world.”

“Okay, but it's like a man and honor, some don't have any and never will. What the Russians don't understand is, everytime they use gas or kill a bunch of us, we grow stronger in unity and support.  Our uninvited guests are here on borrowed time and eventually we'll kick their asses out.”

Tom walked to the group; he'd been off in the distance being briefed by the commander of the Southern part of Missi
ssippi, sat
in the dirt beside Dolly and said, “All the gulags in the state will be hit by
all partisan forces exactly ten nights from tonight. The overall object is to free prisoners, but we know many will be killed during the attempt, or be unable to survive once released. Our primary goal is to show the Russians we can do what we want, when we want.
Also, reports for our neck of the woods shows our losses due to the gas attack at around ten percent, which is low. Or course, all dogs or other animals in the area are dead. Our Colonel states the stink of decaying deer and small game is overwhelming at times and the wind reeks of death. The partisans have taken shovels and gone out to bury dead animals.”

“Ten days from now? Damn, we'll have to push to get word back to the Colonel, unless he's been informed another way.”

Tom grinned and replied, “The guy on the motorcycle took the word back to him, so our only rush is to get there in time to be part of the attack. I'd suggest we move today, because even moving at thirty miles a day, it'll take us a good four or five days to return.”

“Yep, so gather up the supplies we have from this group, pack it all well, and let's leave within the hour.”

Three days later, as they traveled overland for the garage, Dolly suddenly alerted and growled.  John, having turned the flamethrower over to Margie whispered, “Down! Tom, do you see anything?”

“No, not yet. Let me move to the far right, which is the direction she was looking, and take a look see.”

John nodded.

A few minutes later, Tom returned and whispered, “Russian tank, T-90 and some support troops.”

“How many other men?”

“Looked to be around two dozen, but to be honest, I didn't count them. I saw two German Shepherds with handlers, which concerned me with the wind shifting as it has all morning.”

“Okay, ideally we'd attack them at night, but that can't be done, or we'll be late getting back to the Colonel. Gather around me and let me explain how we'll do this.”

Approximately an hour later, the small partisan group was gathered on the downwind side of the big tank. John had orders from the Colonel, just like Willy, to always try to destroy any armor or heavy vehicles. The heavy vehicles were murderous during encounters with all resistance fighters and at all costs they were to be destroyed where found. They were grouped close on the edge of a small clearing, the tank stopped almost in the center. Esom was positioned high in a tall oak, less than a hundred yards from the more than 47 ton tank.

The tank must have had engine problems, because it kept trying to start, but nothing happened.  Two of the crew were standing on the tank and one was yelling at the driver, who sat in his seat with his hatch open. Ground security troops were gathered around and laughing at the crew, as they played grab ass and joked around.

They're like troops the world over,
John thought as he tapped Margie on the shoulder.

Margie stepped from the woods and stopped just inside the clearing. She raised the nozzle, pulled the trigger and a wall of flame shot forward, engulfing most of the Russian troops. Loud screams and yells were heard as flames ate at the victims, but not a shot was fired.

“Fire!” John yelled and squeezed the trigger on his Bison.

Men fell, some in flames and some not, but fall they did. Two or three returned fire and a loud grunt sounded and when John glanced in that direction, he saw Tom was down and Sandra was moving to his side.

“Charge!” John screamed and moved forward.

One Russian trooper ran from behind a large boulder, but was cut down before he could reach the relative safety of the forest. It then became quiet.

“Check all downed Russians and if in doubt, shoot the sonofabitch.” John ordered and moved toward the main group of downed soldiers. Flames were still cracking and popping, but the Russians caught by the flamethrower were as good as dead. The driver of the tank was still positioned in his seat, his head now blackened and his eyes wide in horror, as almost clear flames danced in the air on him.

Sandra neared and when John saw her, he knew instantly she had bad news.

“How's Tom?” he asked.

“Dead. He took a bullet to his heart and there was nothing I could do to help him. If is makes you feel better, he never regained consciousness after being hit.”

John was in shock. He'd known Tom for years and never expected him to die. He moved to the boulder the Russian had attempted to run from and sat down. Dolly, unsure what was going on, moved to him, and sensing his grief, placed her big head on his thigh. John slowly rubbed her head, but didn't utter a word as tears ran down his dirty cheeks.

Three minutes later, two loud shots were heard and then nothing.

Margie said, “Sounds like Esom caught some Russians.”

When John didn't reply, she asked, “How do you want the tank destroyed once the flames die down some?”

“Huh?” John asked.

Margie asked, “How do we destroy this tank?”

“Oh, when were're ready to go I'll puncture the gas tank and then drop two grenades down an open hatch. It'll blow soon after that.”

“Are you okay, John?”

“Uh, no I'm not. Tom was just killed.”

“Oh, not good. He was with us from the very beginning.”

Standing, John didn't reply; instead he looked for the senior man, but found none, due to the fire burning the uniforms. So he moved to the lone soldier shot down near the woods, and intended to place the ace of spades in his mouth.

About three feet from the body he discovered the soldier looked like a woman. Turning, he said, “Margie, come here. I think the Russians are starting to use women in their fight against us.”

Margie neared, glanced at the body and said, “Looks like a woman, but only one way to find out.”  She squatted beside the body and unbuttoned the jacket, then cut the shirt right down the middle.  An olive drab bra was discovered, as well as the outline of large breasts being retained by the cotton material. Margie smiled, but did not speak.

“Sandra, fetch Esom and let's move. As y'all move north, I'll tap the gas tanks on the tank and then drop grenades inside. Let's do the job fast, because we have no idea who may have heard our shots.”

“I hear you. Margie, help me gather any gear we can use and then we'll get Esom as we head out.”

Sandra at least had the sense to gather up things we need, but Tom's death is so unexpected. I never thought he'd be killed in a small operation like this,
John thought as he moved toward the big smoking tank. The flamethrower had played hell on the soldiers, but did little actual damage to the tank, other than scorching the side of the turret. Puncturing the diesel tanks, using his sheath knife, he surveyed the battlefield and realized he was lucky to have lost only one man, but what a man he'd lost.  Tom was almost like a brother to him.