The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3) (9 page)

As the man in charge, Rusak yelled to be heard over the engines of the last helicopter, “Form a perimeter and do it now. Where is a radio man?”

A hand came up and an unknown voice replied, “Here, Master Sergeant!”

“Get your young ass over here, son, and from now on you stay as close to me as my shadow.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.”

The chopper he'd abandoned suddenly started burning and the crew of four made their way to the last working aircraft and left.

“Move everyone about a half a mile west and move into those trees. We do not want to be around when the munitions start to cook off in the burning helicopter. Form on me!”

Moving at a trot, the men fell in behind the Master Sergeant and moved toward the woods.  He'd just reached the trees when a huge explosion filled the air and looking over his shoulder he saw a big black and red fireball moving toward the sky. Then came lesser explosions, as munitions cooked off from the heat, and he even saw a rocket fly at an awkward angle into the air.

“Dig in and make a home, boys, we will be here a spell. Radio man?”

“Behind you, Sergeant.”

“Get base on the line and tell them we have been shot down and have moved west of the crash site. Then, asked them what they want us to do.”

Kneeling on one leg, Rusak pulled the shovel from his pack and began to dig into the dirt.  He didn't figure they'd be pick up this day.

“Master Sergeant Rusak, base said for us to remain in the woods and they'll send a helicopter out for us in the morning.”

“Tell them thanks and give them our exact map location. If shit hits the barn door tonight, we may need some help.”

The radio man listened to the handset and said, “Out.” Then turning to the Master Sergeant he added, “They claim we will have a quiet night, because intelligence says we are in a pacified area.”

“
Pacified my ass!
 Did you remind them our helicopter was shot down flying over a damned pacified area? They can mark the whole map pacified, but it changes nothing.”

Seeing Junior Sergeant Shubin, he said, “Shubin, I want you to establish guards for the night, and I want 4 on at a time. You've got close to 30 men to choose from, but from this moment until we are picked up, we will have guards posted.”

As Shubin established the guard roster, Rusak walked among the men looking them over.  Many he knew, because they were in Turchin's platoon, others he'd never seen before.

“If you men want to eat, do it during the daylight hours. There will be no fires this evening and Corporal Babin, get some mines out and around us that can be command detonated.  I want this place as safe as we can get it before dark and that means each of you will have a deep hole to spend the night in.  I suggest you buddy up to save on the amount of digging you have to do.”

The day passed slowly, but the men had taken all precautions that could be taken under their current conditions. After establishing security, they'd designated a latrine, cleaned their weapons, played grab-ass most of the day, and had just finished supper, but Rusak was concerned. This was not his first time in combat and he'd learned in previous guerrilla wars there were no front lines, so a pacified area this afternoon, could be crawling with enemy tonight. The partisans recognized they'd destroyed a chopper and they'd come to see what they could salvage from the wreckage. How did he know?  Because it was exactly what he'd do if their roles were reversed.

“Shubin, make sure the guards know not to shoot at all movement tonight and resist firing unless they discover a direct threat to us.  I am not positive, but I suspect partisans will come to look the downed helicopter over.”

“I've been worried about that Master Sergeant, because they must have seen the helicopters descend with these troops.  But, they have no way of knowing, unless they had a man near, if we unloaded or just picked up the air crew of the disabled aircraft.  And, we have no idea which direction they will come from when they approach the helicopter.”

“Pass that information on to all troops and, besides the guards, I want fifty percent alert all night.”

Fifty percent alert meant in theory half of the men would be awake at all times, but in the past it was really closer to thirty percent that would be awake. Some will try to stay awake, but fatigue will claim them, while others won't even bother to try. The Master Sergeant also tried to smell alcohol on the breath of his men and he know some had flasks of vodka.  While he carried his three flasks, his rank gave him that privilege, but not private soldiers. Private soldiers are forbidden any alcohol in the field, unless given by the commander.

“I will see it is done, Master Sergeant.”

He is a good Junior Sergeant, but he has a lot to learn about life before he is an excellent Junior Sergeant,
Rusak thought and then sat in his hole.

He pulled a flask of vodka, took a long pull and then thought,
I want to see my Esfir, take her out to the theater and watch a musical. Then, a nice supper in a good restaurant, followed by a few drinks on the balcony of our apartment.

They lived in a small apartment in Moscow and on his income they rented a better than average place. They had good meals and even had enough left over to enjoy a movie or theater once a month.  While in America, he was drawing additional pay, due to his access to classified information, assignment to the United States, and dangerous duty, which when combined was close to a 100% increase in his base pay. Esfir was instructed to bank the extra income so they'd have it when he retired.  Many Russians discussed the rubles fluctuating value, but Rusak figured he'd never leave the country so it's exchange rate didn't bother him at all.

It was full dark now with the night sounds starting. First the crickets, then the whippoorwills and finally the tree frogs, were heard. Rusak glance upward and saw a million stars sparkling overhead, as if someone had take a handful of diamonds and threw them into the air. The temperature was in the mid-sixties, but he suspected over night it would get cool, and by morning he'd not be surprised to see frost.

All went well until close to midnight, when one of the unit's machine-guns opened up on the left side. Jumping from his hole he ran for the gunner, still half asleep, with his mind functioning poorly. Before he could get to the gun, a loud explosion erupted and the blast knocked Rusak on his ass.

Damn, that was not a grenade but a LAW,
he thought as he moved to a foxhole that held a single soldier. His soldiers opened fire and different colored tracers zipped through the air, just above his head, as the Americans returned fire. He glanced at the sky, saw the clouds were gone and yelled, “Radio man!”

The man ran to him, lay outside the hole and handed the handset to the Sergeant.  As he spoke with Base, they seemed irritated that he needed assistance. “Look Corporal, I need some flares out here, so I can see what I am up against, and I want them now!  Also, standby for a request for artillery fire.  Give me some light, numb-nuts, or the next time I return to the base I will beat your ass! I don't care who in the hell you have to ask!”

A minute later the voice on the other end changed, “This is Colonel Sokol. What sort of assistance do you need, Master Sergeant? The Corporal lacks the authority to give orders for fire missions.”

The Sergeant once again explained his needs and said, “I need the light now, sir, because I hear them moving toward us.”

“The light is on the way, Rusak, and the artillery is here if you need it.  Be sure to get me a full body count.”

Your damned body count might be of Russians, Colonel,
he thought but said, “Yes, sir.”

There came three loud pops and then the darkness turned as bright as day. It took a minute for the eyes of the Russians to adjust to the brightness, but once able to see clearly, a huge mass of men were moving toward them.

“Base,” Rusak said, “I need some artillery mixed with white phosphorous 100 meters North of my position. Do you require me to resend my location?”

“Have you moved since you called it in last?”

“No, and I need the help now.”

“On the way.” Colonel Sokol said.

A few seconds later a loud whistling sound was heard and the first two rounds struck in the middle of the Americans with a boom.  Bodies flew apart or were thrown high into the air and screams were heard. Men were knocked over like bowling pins.

“You're on target, keep it up!” Rusak yelled to be heard.

Then white phosphorous started exploding, sending long white twisting fingers high into the air that reminded Rusak of a peacock's tail. Horrific screams were heard as the white phosphorous caused burns and fires.

Bullets kicked dirt high into the air in many places around the Russians, bringing an occasional scream of “Medic!”

Rusak now stood and walked among the men yelling, “Pick your targets, squeeze your triggers, and put your man down. Those we do not kill now, we will fight later.” While Rusak was scared too, he had to appear unafraid to his men to avoid panic.

Suddenly from the right side, Americans moved from the treeline straight for the Russians, most of whom were watching the artillery land. The first indication that something was wrong was when Master Sergeant Rusak fell, a bullet to his shoulder.

One man, yelled, “From the right—Americans!”

The Americans moved forward, shooting down into the holes or impaling the unlucky with bayonets on their rifles. Screams were heard and Rusak moved to some brush, which offered his only protection. Pulling his pistol, he fired until empty, and then reloaded with a fresh magazine. The Americans under the artillery fire ran to the Russian position and began their killing spree. Rusak, seeing his position could no longer be held, crawled to the woods, hoping to escape the slaughter.  A minute later the artillery fire stopped, most likely because the radio operator was dead.

Willy, the overall commander of the partisans picked up the handset and in Russian said, “Your men are dead now, every single one. You will find your senior man dead, with the Ace of Spades in his mouth. Do you understand?”

Colonel Sokol asked, “Who are you, because your Russian is excellent. I am Colonel Sokol, the man who hunts you and kills Americans. I will eventually kill all of you.”

Willy laughed and replied, “Bring it on, you Russian bastard. My name is of no importance, but the fact I will personally kill you one day is something you should remember.”

“You toy with me, huh, Yankee?”

“No, I do not toy with you. I speak the truth. One day you will be found with an ace of spades card in your big mouth, comrade.”

Switching radio frequencies, Sokol said, “Scramble two jets with napalm. Once airborne they are to drop their canisters on the coordinates I give them. Now, damn you, get them in the air!”

Master Sergeant Rusak reached the tree line, stood, and then ran as fast as he could deeper in the trees. It was standard Russian policy to viciously attack any position that was taken by the enemy.  He knew in a bit, either artillery, helicopters or planes would strike hard. Obviously the Americans knew it as well, because they gathered up Russian arms, gear, and ammo and then ran North.

Ten minutes later, as wounded Russians looked to the sky, two jets dived at their position.  At the last moment, the jets pulled up and two aluminum cylinders tumbled toward the injured men. There came a loud bang as the containers struck the ground and ruptured, sending a huge wave of fire over the Russian foxholes. Seconds later, Rusak saw men moving around inside the flames, with some jerking, as they performed a comical dance as they burned to death. He turned his head away, vomited, and then moved further into the woods.

About a mile later, he heard a voice say in Russian, “Stop.”

He stopped, flipped the safety off on his Bison and waited.

“Is that you, Master Sergeant Rusak?”

“It is me. Who are you?”

“Corporal Babin, and I have two other men with me; both are Privates. We were all slightly wounded but none are life threatening.”

“Did you bandage the injuries?”

“Yes; now, Master Sergeant, I have no idea where we are and do not know which direction to walk.”

“Edwards is due north as a crow flies. In the morning, I will take a look a the map I have and determine our position.”

“Do you think any other men survived the attack?”

“It is possible, but no, son, I do not think so. I was knocked on my ass by a LAW and took a bullet, which I need to fix.”

“Where did the bullet strike you?”

“In my shoulder, and it passed through me. Can one of you bandage me?”

Babin said, “Sit in the grass and I will bandage you. I will throw a poncho over the top of us to keep the light from being seen. I have a flashlight.”

Ten minutes later, the small group headed west, away from the Americans and the scene of the battle. Rusak was on edge, concerned about the number of dead he'd experienced.  He had too few men to stop the Americans, who must have numbered into the hundreds, and his count was conservative.  
They must have had someone watching us all day, because they knew exactly where we were in the woods,
he thought and then killed the vodka in one flask and opened another.  After taking a second gulp, he passed it around to the other men, because they were hurting too.

Just before daylight they came to macadam road. Staying in the bushes, Rusak pulled the map from his shirt and knew where they were within a few seconds. Placing the map on the ground, he said, “This road runs north, straight into Edwards.”

“Then,” one of the Privates said, “all we have to do is walk the road into town, right?”

“Wrong. We'll stay in the woods and walk beside the road. The road may be mined or there may be partisans out looking for us. We will not walk in the open if we can help it.”

“Is it not safe to walk during daylight hours?” Babin asked.

“Hell, I do not know, not really, but most of the time partisans move at night. I think we will be safe enough, if we move slowly and keep the noise down.  I want no talking from now on, unless it is an emergency.”