The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3) (24 page)

Giving the fuel tanks about ten minutes to leak, he climbed to the turret and opened the hatch.  Pulling the pins from two grenades, he dropped both down the hatch at the same time, hearing the loud clank as both struck the metal floor. He jumped from the metal beast and ran for the woods, knowing the resulting explosion would be tremendous.

He hadn't reached the end of the field, when two loud explosions were heard, followed by a huge blast that sent the turret spinning high into the air. The resulting flames sucked some of the air away from him and his back was hot, but he continued to run. After about a hundred yards, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a dense black cloud from the explosion reaching for the sky. He knew they had to move and move quickly, because the Russians would be pissed—
yet
again.

Less than an hour after destroying the tank, the small group heard a flight of three choppers fly overhead toward the dead Russians. John and his small group, now smaller than usual, stopped with the first indication of an aircraft approaching.

“They'll send choppers out to look for us.” Sandra said as she looked for aircraft through breaks in the leaves overhead.

“Yep, so increase your speed.” John said to Esom, who was walking point, and was close enough to hear the conversation. He had no drag security on this trip, because the group was now only four people and all, except the point person, was packing Russian gear and supplies.

Esom nodded and immediately began to move forward at a much quicker pace.

Two hours before dusk, Esom froze and motioned for John to come forward. Once at the sniper's side, he looked where the man now pointed. Straight in front of him was a force of about fifty people and they looked to be civilians. One man was seen with a weapon and it looked to be an old M-1 carbine from World War Two.

For over an hour John watched and finally thought,
They're bedding down for the night and we'd better approach them before full darkness. I have no doubts these people are civilians and the guards look to be partisans, but they're poorly armed.
“I'll make an effort to contact them,” he whispered to Esom.

“Watch your ass, because they're wound up tight and are a scared bunch in my mind.”

John nodded and then called out, “Hello the group!  We're partisans and would like to join your camp for the night.”

Heads quickly turned toward John and the man with the gun asked, “What's the capital of Montana?”

“Hell, man, I ain't got no idea and really don't give a shit. I live and fight in Mississippi, not Montana.”

The man chuckled and then said, “Approach us, but hold any weapons in the air using your left hand, okay?”

“Sounds fair to me.” John said and then stepped from the cover of the brush.

“Nate and Thomas, check 'em out and take the gun from him. Then bring him to the fire.”

John was quickly frisked and the thoroughness of the job made him suspect prior grunts or officers of the law. When prodded in the back he moved to the fire and sat. The other two men carried pistols, but the speaker carried the carbine. Not overly concerned, because Esom likely had his back covered, he asked, “Are you part of the partisans? We are, but I wonder about you, since you're so poorly armed.”

“I'm a gulag escapee, like every one here, and took the gun from a guy that tried take us prisoner, so he could collect the reward money. The Russians offer five hundred dollars for every escapee turned over to them. Fifty of us would be a hell of a lot of money, so when he made his move to capture us, I knifed the bastard.”

John thought for a minute and then asked, “Do any of you have any military experience? And, I'm John.” He gazed into the eyes of the man with the carbine.

The man smiled and replied, “The ugly one to your left is Bill, the other is Larry, and my name is John too, but I go by the name of 'Skeeter.'  All three of us have Army experience, but I have no idea about the other men and women in our group.”

“How in the world did you get away from the Russians? I mean, you're a big group.”

Skeeter laughed and said, “One night, oh, about a week back, the Russians were hit by some partisans. The fence was broken in a number of places. I'd guess over 200 of us made a run to freedom, but after
the machine-guns grew quiet, you see how many completed the run. Now, others may be free, I really have no idea, but if they are, they're in smaller groups than this one. I saw well over a 100 bodies on the ground just as I entered the woods. That doesn't mean all of them were dead, but I'd guess most were or headed that way.”

“What will you do now?”

“We'd thought of joining a partisan group and until you showed up, well, we had no idea how to contact them.”

“Do you have any old or ill folks along? A partisan group is always moving and we only need fighters, so kids under 14 years of age aren't needed.”

Skeeter laughed and said, “Everyone of us ran from the camp, moving through machine-gun fire and are here today. No, there are no ill or old with us, and not a single kid. I think the youngest man we have is 19 years of age. Thomas!  How old are you?”

“I turned 19 last August.”

“Satisfied?”

“I have a little food with me and so does my sniper. We can share with you, but it'll not go far with 50 people.”

“Some of us are in better shape than others, John, so we'll feed the weaker of the bunch tonight.”

“Can I have my weapon back?”

Skeeter nodded and Larry handed the Bison to John. The partisan stood and waved Esom into the camp. If anyone was surprised to see a black man when the sniper stood and moved toward them, no one said anything.

After introductions by the small fire, John said,
“The life of a parti
san is rough and usually
pretty damned short for most folks. Before any of you join us, make sure you're willing to die to free this country. The life of a freedom figher, is not glamorous, nor comf
ortable, but it is a good cause. Out of the fifty of you, ten might be alive a year from now, maybe.”

Skeeter scratched his head and then said, “Well, the odds are bad, for sure, but they're better than the odds of surviving a long stay in a gulag. All of us would have likely been dead within a year.  At least dying as a partisan we'll have a fighting chance and that, John, means a great deal to all of us.”

“Okay, now understand, we're moving north, near Edwards and that's all any of you need to know right now. We have a few weapons with us, and we'll pass them out shortly. Remember, once you join, you can't quit. It's either freedom or death for each of us.”

“Fully understood, and it's expected.”

Sitting by the fire, John said, “Esom, go fetch the women. Tell Sandra I want her to look everyone of these people over closely.”

“Women?” Skeeter asked, as Esom turned and walked back into the woods.

“My wife, who is also a nurse, and Margie, a prior Air Force survival instructor. Women and men serve as partisans.”

Skeeter nodded but didn't say anything.

“We knocked out a Russian tank earlier and killed about two dozen men, so they'll be looking for us. I'm afraid your fire needs to go out. The Russians have infrared gear and can spot any sources of heat. If they happen to fly over us tonight, a group this large is sure to draw attention.”

“I know nothing about that sort of thing, but we've been out here a week without any problems.” Skeeter replied.

“They'll be looking tonight, be assured, because of the men we killed today.”

Once the women were in camp, the fire was put out, and spare weapons were handed out. Even after handing out every spare they'd taken from the Russians, only about ten men were well armed.  Most of the Russian guns were left behind at the battle site, because the flamethrower had damaged them. John only took gear that was completely serviceable and knew it was the only smart way to do business. A bad or poor quality weapon that jammed, or didn't work, was a simply a heavy club. All his guns, even the ones stolen from the Russians, were in top shape and cleaned frequently.

With the fire out, the large group drifted off in ones or twos to sleep. John suspect the couples were married, but it no longer mattered. People were joining others for survival and it was needed these days, because two could survive easier than one.

“What was your rank and specialty in the army?”  John asked Skeeter.

“I made Corporal, but then promotions were frozen and I didn't make another stripe before I got out. I worked in the motorpool, caring for vehicles of all sizes, even tanks and personnel carriers.”

“And, Larry and Bill?”

“Both were infantry, but not sure where they were stationed. I think Larry made Sergeant, but got out to attend college. Bill I'm not sure of, but he was enlisted.”

Standing, John said, “I'm going to bed, but keep two guards on duty at all times. If choppers are heard or any other aircraft, wake me. Any movement around, have your men to sit tight, and wake me as well. We have some other cells operating in this area, so we don't want a firefight with our own people. Make sure the men you have guarding know how to use the Claymore mines we have out.”

“I'll let them know and if we have problems, we'll wake you.”

John was soon stretched out beside Sandra, with Dolly's big head on his thigh. He looked up at the stars and wished his country knew peace. The loss of Tom almost killed him, but he'd known deep in his mind that all of them were living on borrowed time.
The odds are against any of us living to see America free,
  
he thought and then drifted off to sleep.

How long he'd been asleep he had no idea, but he heard a voice say, “John, we have visitors overhead and they're circling.”

John instantly sat up and asked, “Chopper or plane?”

“Chopper and it's moving slowly.”

“The odds are it's reading infrared equipment and spotted us.”

One of the guards said, “The chopper is moving right for us!”

C
olonel Dubow sat in a chair next to the radio operator chain smoking a rough blend of Turkish cigarettes as fast as he could, and drinking coffee. It was 0200 and he'd been awake for over 20 hours now, wondering how the partisans survived the gas he'd sprayed. His choppers and airplanes using infrared gear indicated large numbers of partisans on the ground. So far he'd withheld all attacks, until his intelligence group could get an estimate of the number of partisans in the field.

“From what is being reported throughout the state, by other bases, I would guess well over 5,000 men and women are on the move tonight, sir.” Major Taras said.

“Are you fairly sure of the number? That is a hell of a lot of partisans on the ground, Major.  And what of around the area when the tank was destroyed?”

“Our aircraft indicate an even dozen groups within ten miles of the tank, but there is no way of knowing which group is responsible for carrying out the attack, sir.”

“I want all twelve groups brought under immediate attack, and I mean now.”

Looking at the radio man, Major Taras said, “You heard the commander, so give the order.”

Warrant Officer Paley was flying one of the Russian choppers, a Ka-60, that was modified to carry machine-guns and rockets. His infrared sensor operator sat in the back, monitoring a computer screen that showed targets as a glowing red image. Paley was an excellent pilot, having been in the business a long time, but he was better known as “The Trader,” because he'd wheel and deal anything for the good of his unit and troops. He drank too much, loved to play poker, and was a brave man.

“Mister Paley, I have a large number of glowing targets to our west, maybe a thousand meters.”

“Sergeant Titov, I hope this is not like the last time, when we killed a herd of deer.”

“Sorry about the last time, but this reading is different. There are so many giving off heat I cannot see the individuals clearly.”

“Are you sure of this? I mean
absolutely
sure? Colonel Dubow was so pissed the last time, he threatened to shoot me.”

“One hundred percent sure.”

“Okay, let me radio the base and see what they want us to do.”

“Copy.”

Long minutes passed and Titov knew his last error had caused all of them to get a good ass chewing, from him on up, and he'd been required to attend additional training. They'd wiped out a herd of deer, and the ribbing they'd taken was rough.

“Hold onto your seat, Titov,” Paley replied a few minutes later, “We are rolling in to attack now.”

“Copy and understand, we are attacking.”

The aircraft dipped nose down and the Sergeant heard two rockets release from the chopper.  Paley then nosed up and banked sharply to come back around. Glancing at his screen, Titov saw the glowing spot separate and then scatter in different directions. He quickly began counting the individuals. “Mister Paley, I counted fifty-four individuals on the ground and about ten are unmoving.”

“Copy ten unmoving. Rolling in for a second pass, using the machine-guns this time.”