The Fall of America: Fatal Encounters (Book 2) (35 page)

He heard a woman scream and knew Margie was hit, but they could do nothing for her until the chopper left the area.

On the next run, the big cannons on the chopper came alive, throwing lead into the brush and trees at an unbelievable rate.  Tree bark, dirt, rocks and other debris filled the air and dust blocked John's vision.  After the run with the guns, the aircraft circled once and then left.

John yelled, “Stay where you are, until we're sure the chopper has left the area!”

Ten minutes later, John stood and looked around.  The trees were torn to hell back off his left side and to his right, but there was little damage in front of him.  “Let's check on Margie.”

They found her laying on her back, her eyes open and she was blinking.  Squatting beside her, John asked, “Where are you hit?”

“Upper. . .back.”  She replied and then groaned.

“I've got to roll you over onto your belly to treat the wound, okay?  It'll hurt, so prepare yourself.”

Tom walked to them and then Thomas arrived a few seconds later.  

Thomas said, “I'll guard near the road, just in case they send any troopers here to look for bodies.”

“Go.” Tom said.

“Sliver of metal in her back, and I'm going to pull it out.  Now, Tom, prepare me a dressing to use as soon as I get it out.  It's missed her spine and hit in the area of the shoulder bone, so it has to hurt.”

“Need some morphine?”

“No, because she needs to try to walk back, if she can do the job.”

“I'll . . . walk.”

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 God, 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 passed 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 shirt.  “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 grass.

“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 passed for a hospital.

All three entered and Willy asked, “What happened?”

After explaining the attack and what they discovered, Willy 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 hell, 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.  Willy 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 God hears us.”

Standing she replied, “Let me get your food and remember, God 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 ass off, rehearse 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 shit 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 hell once Colonel Parker died, but Willy 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.”

V
etrov 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,
Lo
oking 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 assign 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 bumper.”

“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 glasses.  
They had better not get drunk on this trip, because I think we are in for some trouble.  This is a piss-poor escort for the man that runs the anti-partisan program for the whole state.  Hell, if the Americans have word on this move, they will hit us with everything they have to kill or capture Vetrov, because I damned 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 glass.  Belonev noticed the glass was almost full and had very little ice.

Taking the glass, 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 grasses.