The Fall Of America: Fatal Encounters Part 25

John grunted and worked the metal in her back, which brought a loud scream. Finally, it pulled loose and blood began to flow. He applied a bandage, wrapped her up and said, "You're lucky it didn't go all the way through, because I think it might have killed you."

"Well, by G.o.d, I don't . . . feel lucky." She replied.

"You'll live." Tom said and then added, "We need to get moving."

Helping her to her feet, John said, "If you start to feel faint, let me know, but place your arm around my neck and let me hold onto you. We're in no hurry, so take it slow and easy."

Tom pulled Thomas from guard and placed the man on point, as he brought up the rear. Once again they were moving, only, John prayed the Russians wouldn't send troops. He knew if they were followed, Margie would be left behind. The unwritten rule was, the unit must be saved and no one person was worth the lives of the others.

The next hour pa.s.sed slowly for Margie and she was experiencing the worst pain of her life. She could feel blood running down her back, but knew they had to keep moving. John held her arm around his neck, and his other arm around here waist, so he knew she was bleeding. We've got to place some distance between us and the attack site, he thought and kept moving.

Thomas waited for them and when they were beside the man, he said, "Check her injury. If she's bleeding badly, we'll leave a trail a kid could follow."

Not removing the old bandage, John placed a new one on top and wrapped her once again. The blood was a trickle and very little was seen on her s.h.i.+rt. "If they bring in dogs, we're screwed." He said.

"I've not seen many dog teams out. Most of those I have seen were guard dogs, so maybe the one you killed by the stream was a fluke." Tom said.

"Get her up and let's move. I don't like being out here after that attack. I've got a bad feeling and I always listen to my feelings." Thomas said and then scanned the area.

"I hear ya, brother." John said and then lifted Margie to her feet.

"How much more?" she asked.

"We're about half way, or do you need some rest?"

"I'll keep moving as long as possible, because I agree with Thomas."

"Let's go. Thomas, you bring up the rear while John takes point. I'll help Margie for the rest of the trip."

All went well until they could see the house, and then Margie collapsed to the gra.s.s.

"John, I need your help." Tom said.

John neared, looked down at Margie and said, "Help get her onto my shoulder and I'll pack her as far as I can. I'm not as strong as I once was, but the house is less than a hundred yards. Here, take my Bison."

They walked to the house and once on the steps, two men came out and took Margie from John. He noticed she was now dripping blood, but still breathing as they took her to what pa.s.sed for a hospital.

All three entered and w.i.l.l.y asked, "What happened?"

After explaining the attack and what they discovered, w.i.l.l.y said, "We'll use the spot for our ambush. Now, we've counted four choppers around this place today and that's a lot. I imagine the Colonel has ordered more sorties flown, looking for us. It's very likely the chopper that hit you will return to base with an inflated number of known partisans killed, when they actually injured only one. They may have thought you were in the woods after crossing the road."

"Why would we cross the road?" Tom asked.

"They may figure you were checking out the Edwards Base or the prison camp."

"We were moving, that's for sure. I never want to be near a target when a cannon is fired again. It's pure h.e.l.l, and I feared I'd lose my mind." John said.

Sandra neared and said, "Dolly is doing fine. She's been sewed up, given an IV and is now sleeping."

"Too early to know about Margie?"

"She'll live, but have some serious pain over the next few weeks."

Moving to a side room, that before would have been a bedroom, John lowered his pack to the floor and said, "I need some rest. I'm tired, hungry and sleepy." He then sat on the floor and leaned his head back against the wall.

"There are some beans and biscuits on the stove. You rest a bit, while I get you something to eat. It'll have to be cold, because no fires during the day. w.i.l.l.y said if the Russians want us, they'll have to work to find us."

"It'll do. I love you, Sandra, and wish things were different."

She squatted beside him, ran her hand over his face and then kissed the top of his head before she said, "Better days are coming, but I do pray each night that we'll both live long enough to see them."

"I do as well, but I don't know if G.o.d hears us."

Standing she replied, "Let me get your food and remember, G.o.d hears us, except he doesn't always give us what we want." She walked from the room.

When she returned, just minutes later, John was asleep. She placed his bowl on the floor, covered it with a small plate and curled up beside him. Sandra missed the times they used to share at home, the wonderful foods, the conversations and the loving. She fell asleep thinking of the prime rib and soft music they'd shared the year before the fall.

The night of the ambush, all were a bit nervous, because most knew it wouldn't go as planned. They had learned, through combat experience, you can plan your a.s.s off, rehea.r.s.e all year long, and yet you couldn't add the human element of your enemy. Often the best plans were useless once a fight started, because how your enemy reacted to your attack made all the difference in the world. John had seen some strange behavior from his enemy, like the time he'd shot one man a least a half dozen times and the man kept coming for him, or the time a man was ablaze with flames and tried to get in close to him. It proved to him that you can never tell what a human will do when the s.h.i.+t hit the stump, and there is no way to plan for it either.

You simply adjusted during the fight. Like the night Kate was killed or when Joshua died. I really thought things would go to h.e.l.l once Colonel Parker died, but w.i.l.l.y has done a great job. It goes to show that we have to train our subordinates to take over in the event of our deaths, just like we did on active duty, he thought as he looked his gear over one more time.

"Saddle up, let's get this show on the road. John, you're on point, and Thomas, I want you bringing up our rear. Esom!"

"Yo!"

"You're our sniper and I want you with three others on the other side of the road, like I discussed this morning. Try not to kill the Colonel, but take him out if the job needs done."

"Let's move, folks."

CHAPTER 25.

Vetrov finished his meal in his quarters, showered and changed into his best uniform for his trip. He wore all his medals, wings and other badges he'd either earned or been awarded for some achievement or the other. He stood looking at himself in a mirror; he was a vain man, and thought, Looking good for an older gentleman. When I return to Moscow the women will surely love my looks and the fact I am a successful war hero.

Private Aptekar entered the room and said, "Sir, we are to depart in fifteen minutes. I have two bottles of vodka for you and Major Galkin, along with ice, in the rear seat. Additionally, the officers mess has provided some special foods for your trip. Will you be returning here when the inspection is completed, or staying in Jackson? I ask only because Master Sergeant Belonev needs to know so he can arrange better quarters for you and a.s.sign an aide."

"I will stay in Jackson, once we've completed the inspection, but keep this room open for me in the event I decide to visit again. Oh, and before I forget, Lieutenant Dyomin will not be joining us on this trip."

"I will inform the Sergeant, sir."

Fifteen minutes later, they were loaded in the car, with the two officers in the rear seat and the two enlisted in front. Master Sergeant Belonev carried a Bison for protection and Aptekar had a AKM, with a 30 round magazine. Extra ammunition for both weapons were stored in ammo boxes between the two men. Additionally, each enlisted man carried four RGO hand grenades.

"Private, I want my flag on the front b.u.mper."

"Sir, we thought it safer not to post your flag." Belonev said.

"I did not ask what you thought, Master Sergeant, I gave an order. Post my flag now."

Aptekar got out and posted the Colonel's rank on the car, knowing it would be a bullet magnet in the event of an ambush. His vanity will get us all killed if we run into any partisans, the private thought as he returned to his seat in the staff car.

Master Sergeant Belonev picked up a hand-held radio and ordered, "Motorcycles, move into position now. Let me know when you are ready to move."

The Sergeant heard the vodka bottle open in the back seat and the tinkle of ice in gla.s.ses. They had better not get drunk on this trip, because I think we are in for some trouble. This is a p.i.s.s-poor escort for the man that runs the anti-partisan program for the whole state. h.e.l.l, if the Americans have word on this move, they will hit us with everything they have to kill or capture Vetrov, because I d.a.m.ned sure would, he thought as he slipped the safety off his weapon.

"We are in position now, Sergeant." The radio squawked.

"First motorcycle, stay a hundred yards in front of us and the other rider should stay the same distance behind. Any sign of trouble, radio the base and inform them instantly. As soon as base acknowledges your radio report, close in on us. Do you both understand your orders?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"I understand my orders, Sergeant."

Belonev looked at Aptekar and nodded. The Private started the car, slipped it into gear, and began moving.

As they moved for the entrance gate, Master Sergeant Belonev silently prayed, "Lord, I ask for your protection on this trip. I have a gut feeling things will turn rough. I've spent many years in the army and would like to live long enough to retire. I know I have not practiced my religion in years and I am not a good Christian, but keep me alive, please. I will try to be a better man and Christian in the future, amen."

The two guards at the gate snapped to attention and saluted Colonel Vetrov's staff car as it left the base.

The first few miles were hard on the Sergeant, and his attention was on the darkness that surrounded them. When, he thought, will the partisans strike? I just want to go home to my Alena. I want a simple life and to live as a farmer. I am not asking for much.

"What was that, Sergeant?" Aptekar asked.

"I asked if you are keeping your eyes on the rider in front of us."

"Oh, I am, and you can believe me, too." He wanted to say more, but couldn't, not with the officers in the backseat.

"Sergeant?" Colonel Vetrov asked.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you enjoy a drink?"

He must be getting drunk, because when sober he'd never ask an enlisted man to drink with him, he thought and then said, "Just one, sir, because of my duties." I can hardly turn down an offered drink by my commander.

A few minutes later, Vetrov's hand appeared over the seat, with a tall gla.s.s. Belonev noticed the gla.s.s was almost full and had very little ice.

Taking the gla.s.s, the Master Sergeant said, "Thank you, sir."

When the two officers went back to talking, the Sergeant took a big gulp of his drink, mainly to settle his nerves, and then placed the drink between his thighs. He then placed NVG's over his head and began to scan the countryside. He saw little, except a doe deer and her yearling standing beside the roadway eating the lush green gra.s.ses.

There suddenly came a bright flash of lightning, followed by a sharp crack of thunder. The Master Sergeant, took another long gulp of his vodka and continued watching the sides of the road through the greenish tint of the goggles. A gentle rain began to fall, and picking up the radio, Belonev said, "Reduce speed by 15 kilometers an hour."

Both motorcycles immediately reduced speed.

Wanting to get rid of the gla.s.s between his thighs, Belonev downed the rest of his drink and placed the empty gla.s.s on the floor. The whack-whack of the wiper blades running almost put the senior NCO to sleep, but just the thought of an ambush quickly filled his body with adrenaline. Come on, hit us if you are going to do the job, because I would rather get it over with, he thought as he watched the cyclist in front of him.

The motorcyclist in front, Private Babanin, was a young man of eighteen on his first military a.s.signment. He'd become engaged right out of secondary school, but really didn't want to marry, so he'd joined the army. He knew eventually he'd have to serve anyway, so he'd decided it was a good way to avoid marriage and to get his military service behind him. He'd played his girlfriend for a fool, using her to satisfy his s.e.xual urges, and then deserted her. He'd told her the army had contacted him demanding he appear for active duty right away and he had to serve. He chuckled as he remembered the hot night they had shared just before he left for service.

He was enjoying the ride, even if the rain did sting his face as it struck, and his speed was low, 64.4 kilometers an hour. He'd hoped the pace would be much higher, because he had a deep love for speed. He was wearing NVG's to see the sides of the roadway clearer, and his headlight was almost blacked out with wide tape, which allowed a flat narrow beam to hit the road surface. But with the goggles on, he could usually see the road clearly beyond the reach of his light. Tonight, the clouds covered most of the moonlight and at times his vision with the high tech gear was limited at best. The goggles, from what little he knew, absorbed light from all natural sources, and somehow used it to present a clear view in the darkness. His mind was that of a farm boy, which was all he'd ever been until a year ago.

Private Babanin never saw the thin wire stretched across the highway, which cut his head from his body as quickly as a razor sharp sword. His mind, still working for a few seconds, was confused as his head rolled on the pavement and for about twenty feet the motorcycle continued on a straight path. It then fell to it's side, throwing sparks in the air, even from the wet surface of the road. His now lifeless body rolled from the bike and finally came to a stop in a muddy ditch, where it quivered and jerked violently for a few seconds and then was still.

Belonev saw the bike go down and screamed, "Go, go, go!"

An explosion. from a GM-94 grenade on the highway in front of Aptekar, causing him to swerve violently to avoid the blast and he over-corrected, placing the vehicle in a skid on the wet surface. He pushed down on the brakes hard, but they continued to slide toward a ditch on the side of the road. The car hit the ditch straight on, the front wheels in the trench, and the a.s.s of the vehicle high in the air.

Small arms fire was heard, a few bullets striking the car, as Belonev picked up the radio and said, "I need helicopters on the highway now! We are under attack about half way to Jackson."

"Understand you are under attack about half way to Jackson on the east bound lane."

"Correct, and it is a large force."

"Choppers on the way!"

"Tell them to hurry, or they will only find Russian bodies when they get here." Belonev replied, and then stuck the radio in his pocket.

A bullet struck the car and gave a loud zing as it ricocheted off into s.p.a.ce. Aptekar opened his door, stood, and a bullet from Esom's sniper rifle struck his head, spraying the inside of the car with blood, bone, and chunks of brain. His lifeless body fell into the ditch, with his shattered head near the front tire.

"Sniper on the drivers side! Exit the car on my side, now!" Belonev yelled to be heard over the gunfire. As the three were leaving the car, the last motorcycle pulled up and the driver was dismounting when he was struck by a hail of bullets. His body danced wildly as the hot lead struck him and he gave a loud scream. He fell to the wet pavement and his screams died with him.

Vetrov was scared as he moved over the wet concrete with Galkin behind him, but had the presence of mind to pick up the dead motorcyclist's Bison and ammo as he crawled past the b.l.o.o.d.y body. Major Galkin pulled the dead man's pistol and two grenades and then rolled into the wet ditch. Belonev pulled the dead man in front of them, so his body offered some cover, but knew it would not stop a bullet.

"When will the helicopters be here?" Vetrov asked.

"Sir, they are coming as fast as they can, but it will take some time." The Master Sergeant replied, and then spotted a target in the brush of the median. He fired a short burst and saw his target fall unnaturally to the ground.

"If they flank us, we are dead." Major Galkin said.

"Sir, you watch our left and Colonel, I would suggest you watch our right side. I will try to keep the front clear, but there must be a hundred guns out there. When either of you get a chance, glance behind us, because we have four areas to cover and there are just three of us."

A bullet struck the ground behind them and all three ducked as it struck.

"I can see nothing in the darkness." Galkin complained.

"Let me get the cyclist's NVG's, perhaps they still work." The Master Sergeant crawled to the dead man's head, removed the goggles and then jerked his hand back quickly when two bullets struck the body. "Try these, Major." He handed the b.l.o.o.d.y goggles to the officer.

I have movement on my side, but I cannot see anything." Vetrov said, his voice quivering in fear.

Belonev glanced in the direction and said, "They come." He pulled a grenade, removed the tape holding the spoon, and pulled the pin.

His grenade landed in the middle of the group and while the explosion was loud, the screams following were louder. Belonev quickly stood, squeezed a short burst toward the figures on the ground and then dropped back to the ditch.