Echo Six: Black Ops 8 - ISIS Killing Fields (22 page)

His expression was like stone. "They'll be back."

He sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Talley kept his expression neutral. "I know they'll be back, but you damaged their cannon, put it out of action. It won't be so easy next time."

"They'll fix the cannon."

"Yeah, I know that, but you've given us time."

Damn, what does the big guy want? He's bought us time to regroup. Time to reorganize and bolster our defenses. Even to try to negotiate.

Except they were Russians, and the Slavs had a reputation for negotiating when their enemy was strong. When they were weak, there was nothing to discuss.

"We need missiles, RPGs. Next time they'll standoff out of grenade range and rip that gateway to little pieces. Then they'll drive that armored car inside and shoot the shit out of us."

"Yeah, I know all that, but..."

"We need RPGs to stop them."

"Heinrich, we don’t have any RPGs.”

His expression was stubborn. "There must be RPGs behind that steel door. If not, we’re screwed."

“We haven’t opened the door yet.”

“No, but somehow we have to get inside that room.”

The German turned on his heel and ran toward the stone steps that descended below ground. On the way, he paused next to a huge boulder. He glanced at it, looked at the doorway, and then again at the chunk of stone. He seemed to be debating something inside his head. He gave a determined nod, bent down, and gripped the stone.

Guy had descended from the wall and stood next to Talley, watching Buchmann.

“He won’t. There’s no way. You need a mechanical grab to pick up that stone. Even if he could, what’s he planning to do with it?”

Talley knew, although he could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes. “He’s planning to smash that steel door.”

His number two was grim-faced. “Boss, even if he could lift it, which I doubt, he couldn’t carry it more than a couple of feet. It’s impossible.”

“I’m not sure. This is Buchmann.”

The huge man bent his knees, his arms wrapped around the boulder, which must have weighed more than a quarter of a ton, perhaps nearer to half a ton. He tensed to make the lift, and his body appeared to grow larger, if that was at all possible. He straightened, and the boulder came up with him. Buchmann kept the movement going, putting one boot in front of the other, slowly advancing toward the stone staircase. Then he reached it and started to descend. He was like a slow plodding, old-time underwater diver, weighted with massive lead boots, lead weights, and a brass helmet.

His head disappeared below ground level. They heard his slow steps as he descended the staircase, and a loud shout of command as he ordered the Iraqi guards to stand aside. Then he charged in slow motion, like a movie scene; overcranked and played back at quarter speed. The clang when the stone smashed into the door was like nothing on earth, a dull, metallic thump that sounded hit as if it had come from deep inside the bowels of the earth. They watched him stagger backward, and then he charged again. Four steps, one, two, three, four, and crashed into the door.

“It’s impossible!” Guy was shaking his head.

Talley wasn't so sure. “I don’t know. If I weren't watching this with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. I’d have bet my monthly paycheck on him not even getting that big rock off the ground, and I’d have lost. What is it with Buchmann? He’s a man mountain.”

Guy grinned. “Yeah, and the mountain is going to Mohammed. With one hell of a vengeance.”

Talley chuckled. “I'm going back on the wall to observe those Russians. Why the hell are they attacking us?”

“Because they’re Russians.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, they're tricky bastards. I'll talk to Salim. Tell Drew to contact Fort Sykes. I don't give a shit if we're inside Syria or Red Square, Moscow, Petersen's going to have to come up with some support. Aircraft, armor, I don't give a shit. As long as it comes."

Guy nodded. "He'll call you when he's patched through."

They turned as they heard yet another massive crash, and Talley wondered if the huge German could do it. He had no idea, but if anyone could, it was Heinrich Buchmann. They stared out at the Russians, who were still firing. The GAZ Tigers had spread out one kilometer away. They’d found shallow depressions in the sand where they went hull down, with just the armored cupolas on the roof visible. They’d started to shoot at the defenders, and it was fortunate the machine guns were no heavier than 7.62mm. A constant patter of bullets smacked against the stonework, and they had to keep their heads down. Even so, two of the Iraqis stretched out the parapet were riddled with machine gun bullets.

He looked for Captain Salim and found him sitting in the passenger seat of the Humvee in the courtyard. Bino was a few meters away, and he grimaced.

“He told me he felt unwell and needed to rest.”

“The fuck he does.”

He raced down the steps and across to the vehicle. Geena still lay on the back seat, and the blanket that had covered her had been removed. He ripped open the door and dragged him out onto the sand. “What do you think you’re doing, Salim? We’re stuck in this place, surrounded by enemies, and you are sat on your fat ass. You should be leading your men, not sitting here like some useless failure.”

Talley gripped the man's jacket and pulled him so close his face was inches away from his incandescent glare. Salim struggled to maintain his dignity. “How dare you lay hands on me! I am an officer of the Republic of Iraq.”

“I couldn’t give a shit if you are the President of the Republic of Iraq. You join your men and do some fighting.”

“I can’t.” His voice was shaking, and his face became stretched with terror, “I’m unwell. I’ve ordered my men to remove part of the stones that barricade the front gate so I can leave.”

“You what!” He glanced at the gate and could now see four men starting to pull away the stones from one side. He snatched Salim's pistol out of the holster, aimed, and fired close to the men. They jumped like scalded cats and jerked around to see where the shot had come from. Talley pushed the hapless Captain to the sand and raced over to them.

“The next man who tries to remove the barricade gets a bullet in the head. Is that clear?”

They looked at each other, obviously hesitant. A man spoke, his voice nervous. “Captain Salim told us to do it.”

“I’m relieving Captain Salim from his command.” He looked up at the wall, “Lieutenant Bino, get down here now!”

The officer raced down and joined him, staring at his Captain still lying on the ground. "Sir, I..."

Talley gave him a hard stare. "You're in command, Bino."

"In command? But..."

He was interrupted by yet another 'clang' as the huge rock smashed against the steel door yet again. Still no shout to indicate he’d succeeded. Maybe there never would be. Buchmann was an awesome and elemental force, and perhaps this time he'd met his match. Time would tell. He focused his attention on the Lieutenant. "I relieved him of command. When we get back, I'll inform your superiors of his cowardice in the face of the enemy."

"He said he wasn't well, Commander."

"That's bullshit. Did you know he ordered his men to remove the barricade so he could run out on us?"

"But...that would allow those Russians to roll in here."

"You're damn right. We can add treason to his court martial charges. Any questions?"

"Er, no, Commander."

"Good. Tie him up. Make sure he can't cause us any more trouble, then get your men to stand ready for an attack."

"You think they'll come at us again?"

"Again? Listen, they're still shooting at us. They'll keep it up until they think they've worn us down, then they'll come."

The Iraqi looked puzzled. "But, what for? Why are they doing this?"

He shrugged. "The reasons why don't matter. What matters is they've done it, and Russians never own up to a mistake. There's a single way they can end this, when we're all dead. No witnesses." He gave the younger man a grin, "Best not let that happen. They have a single APC, and we've already taken care of the cannon. The rest of it we can deal with, provided they don't get past the wall. If they do...we're dead."

Bino flinched as another huge clang resounded around the open space. Every man in the fort knew that Buchmann was attempting the impossible. Talley wasn’t sure. All he was certain of was that where Buchmann was concerned, they needed to rewrite the rulebook. He saw Drew waving from the far side of the square, and he snapped at Bino, “See to Captain Salim. And then make sure your men are ready for an attack.”

“What kind of an attack?”

“One that’ll kill us all. It could be anything, just be ready.”

He raced off and met up with Drew, who handed him the headset.

“This is Talley.”

“Colonel Petersen. I gather you’ve hit trouble, Commander.”

“Yessir, the fort was bombed by Russians before we got here. They’ve brought up a small force which is attempting to overrun us.” Using as few words as possible, he described their situation with the APC and the GAZ Tigers outside, “They’ve already mounted one attack, and it’s a matter of time before they come at us again.”

“Trust the Russians to start shooting up the wrong people," Petersen snorted, "What about ISIS, any sign of them?”

"Not yet, Sir. They're probably waiting to for the Russians to finish us off. When they know we're all dead, they’ll come in and pick over the bones. There’s also the reinforced steel door. We don’t know what’s behind it, only that there are at least two ISIS inside. We tried to break it down, but it looks like it was built to withstand a nuclear attack. We're still working on it.”

“So it could be anything, conventional weapons, biological WMDs, even nuclear? Talley, you have to get inside.”

“We're are doing our best, Sir, but it's touch and go whether we survive this one. Right now, we need support. An airstrike on the Russians would be useful. If you could send in ground troops to reinforce us, we’d stand a chance of coming out of this on top.”

Petersen sighed. “Commander, if we send in more men, the world would see it as a declaration of war rather than a simple operation to remove a local threat. As for sending in warplanes to hit the Russians, you cannot be serious. We do that, and the ICBMs will be lifting out of their silos inside Russia. It can’t be done, Commander. You'll have to use what you have, and make sure you beat those damn Russians.”

“We’ll do our best, Sir, but…” A renewed burst of firing from outside interrupted him, “They’re attacking again. I have to go.”

“Good luck, Talley.”

“Yeah, thanks. Talley out.”

He raced to the wall. Guy was looking out across the desert with Roy Reynolds and Domenico Rovere. He pointed to the dust cloud about two klicks behind the Russian jeeps. “Armor, Russian armor. They don’t know what we have in here. As far as they’re concerned, we could be waiting to hit the tanks with RPGs and missiles. My guess is they’re using suppressing fire to keep our heads down and allow the tanks to close in on the wall. Then they’ll use their main guns on the stonework and smash right inside.”

“Copy that. We’re running out of choices. When the tanks arrive, if we don’t have anything to fight them with, we surrender. Period, there’s nothing else we can do.”

“Except die,” Rovere grimaced, “That we shall die we know; 'tis but the time and drawing days out, that men stand upon.”

“Shakespeare?” Roy snorted, “Don’t you ever stop thinking about that dead Brit?”

“Only when I have a pretty girl in my mind's eye, although I can give you a score of the great lines about pretty girls. For example…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Roy snapped, “We need to throw bullets at them, not words!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but a burst of machine gun bullets made them all duck.

“We have a few minutes left, no more,” Guy warned as a hurricane of bullets tore into the stonework, whistling through the air above them, “They’ve moved in closer to bring their full weight on us, so we don’t get a chance to shoot back.”

Talley knew they were facing a surefire disaster. There was a single hope left. He stared at Guy. “I’m going to check on Buchmann, see if there’s anything we can do.”

“What if he gets the door open and finds there aren’t any RPGs inside? That they’ve been using it as a food store, and all there is inside is sacks of grain. What then?”

“You know what then. We’re fucked. Do what you can. I’m going down to check on the big man.”

He raced away; conscious they were all staring at him. The Iraqi Special Forces looked as if they were ready to run up the white flag. Captain Salim was spitting curses at his Lieutenant, and as he ran past, Talley called out, “Gag him. We have enough problems without him upsetting the men.”

“Yes, Commander.”

He kept on running, down the steps, in time to see the giant German, drenched in perspiration and covered in dust from the boulder that had partially disintegrated as he repeatedly smashed it against the door. Buchmann glanced around as he arrived.

“Commander, I’ve loosened a hinge. Look, the top part of the door is partially off its mounting. I reckon one huge final effort could break it open.”