The Fall of America: Fatal Encounters (Book 2) (21 page)

“How long will this weather last?”

“Sir, the three day forecast is the same for each day, with maybe a couple degree difference on some days and the wind speeds will vary a little each day.  In about four days the front will move on, bringing dryer and warmer weather.”

Turning to the commander of his helicopters, Vetrov asked, “How will these winds impact your flying?”

“May put a serious damper on our daily routine, because of the gusts, only I cannot say until the winds arrive.  Then, I have to decide if the mission is critical or not and cancel any that are planned during the high wind warnings.  We do have wind limits, but I will inform you at the time we have to cancel or reschedule any flights.”

Turning to a major from operations, he said, “Get with supply and arrange additional rations, ammo and other needs, to be sent to our bases before this storm hits.  Inform all bases why we are doing this and warn them of the cold front.”

The commander of supply said, “We can support what you have requested, but they will need cold weather gear and I am short of gloves, parkas, and hats.”

“Damn.” Vetrov said, stood and asked, “Has Moscow been informed of our cold weather needs?”

“Yes, sir, and the shipment is due shortly, within ten days.”

“Ten days?  Colonel, this weather hits today.  When was a requisition sent to headquarters and what was the priority given?”

“Sir, I do not have that information on me now, but I'll look into it and call your office within the hour.”

“You do that, Colonel, and you will also call your supply counterpart in Moscow and request an immediate expedite of this gear, by air.  How in the hell do you and Moscow expect me to do my job, when I do not have the needed supplies?  I want the winter clothing for my troops here and delivered no later than twenty-four hours from now, or you, sir, will be assigned to the infantry.”

“Sir, I don't know if that is even poss—”

“You heard me and I am a man of my word—twenty-four hours.  Now, I want all ground patrols and searches for the resistance doubled, around the clock, once we have our winter gear.  The partisans will need fires to survive and that means woodsmoke during the day.  Once the bad weather passes, I want flights out at night looking for the light from these flames.  If an aircraft spots a fire, take the light out with rockets, because the people on the ground will be close to the fires.  Tell your pilots to use some common sense and check with us to make sure it's not a fire from one of our groups.  Patrol leaders need to call in with their exact map positions, as they usually do, each night.”

The legal officer said, “There will be finger pointing, in the event of friendly fire losses.  I suspect there will be some instances of friendly fire deaths, due to the urgency of our missions.”

“Major, you and your staff determine who is at fault in any accidents.  I do not expect, and will not tolerate, long drawn out court fights over guilt.  Get to the bottom of it and see justice is served, if there are any cases.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, I have another appointment, so that is all.  Dismissed.”

A sergeant called the room to attention and Vetrov departed.

Sally was tired, hungry, and cold.  While the sun was shining, the temperature was below freezing.  The same day the Russians had killed Fred, she'd been caught when she returned to her stall to get the gold jewelry she kept in a cigar box.  She was now, along with about two-hundred others, shivering in a barbed wire enclosure about twice the size of a football field.  They had absolutely no shelter, no food and no water.  The Russians simply locked them in the wire cage and walked away.  This was her third day without water, food, shelter or a fire.

A truck backed to the gate and men dismounted.  Huge pots, the size of trashcans, were pulled from the back of the truck, placed on the ground, and Sally could see steam coming from each container.  Suspecting it was hot food, she, along with the others, ran toward the gate.

A Russian soldier yelled in thickly accented English, “Make line.  You want eat, make line.”

People fought to get into line and more than one was shoved or knocked to the ground as all wanted food before it ran out.

The soldier yelled again, “Enough food everyone!  No fight.  Fight, we take food and go.”

Fighting stopped instantly.

“All get one cup.  Keep cup. No get another cup.” The soldier said and then removed the lid to the first steaming pot.

A soldier was handing each person a metal canteen cup as they neared the food.  As she drew closer to the food, she saw each person got exactly one ladle of some kind of soup.  When her turn came, she received a single ladle of watery soup, and noticed small chunks of something mixed in the broth.

A thin and ill-looking man neared the soup containers once more, he'd already had one cup of soup.

“You! Eat one time, no more. No eat two times.”  The soldier screamed and pulled his pistol.

“This is not enough.  I need more to eat, please?”  The thin man Sally only knew by Edward said as he walked toward the pot of soup.

“No, food is for all people.  Eat one time.”

A woman walked to Edward and said, “My husband is ill and needs more to eat than the others.  Please, just one cup more?”

The pistol shot was loud and Edward gave a look of surprise as he was struck in the chest.  Blood blew out his back and he collapsed to the ground screaming.  His fingers clawed at the dirt as blood ran under him.  

His wife screamed madly and ran straight for the guard. The pistol barked twice, each bullet hitting her, and she fell to the ground screeching and jerking.

“Now, no worry about husband.  He finished. Never come close to gate.  We shoot.”  The soldier said, and then broke out laughing.  He said something in Russian and the pots were placed in the back of the truck and they left the area.  Each American had received one cup of watery soup.

No one tried to help Edward or his wife, they simply walked away, except for Sally.  Holding her precious soup, she squatted beside the man and knew right off he'd die.  His eyes were rolled up into his head and his breathing was irregular.  His fingers, no longer digging at the soil, were quivering as his central nervous system shut down.

She moved to the woman and saw one bullet had struck her in the lower stomach and the other in the shoulder.  Sally knew a little about medicine, since she'd worked in a hospital before the fall as a nurses aid, and the stomach wound was fatal.  The woman suddenly gave a heartbreaking scream and arched her back in pain.

As Sally moved past the man, only one finger was still twitching.  She moved to the far corner of the camp and sat in the grass.  Her soup didn't last long and she almost puked when she discovered a yellow chicken foot in the bottom of her cup.  
I need to eat this, if I can get it down.  I can eat what it takes to survive, but the first chance I get, I'm running.  Please, God, help me.

She picked up the small chicken foot with her hand and placed it in her mouth.  She discovered it was mostly small bones, skin, and cartilage.  Sliding the bare bones through her teeth, she ate the foot, toe by toe.

Master Sergeant Durchenko heard a visitor and when he opened his eyes, he saw Belonev standing beside his bed grinning.

“What are you grinning about?”

“I have news you will be leaving at some point this afternoon or tomorrow.  According to the word I got, a helicopter is coming in with some winter gear and you are to leave with the aircraft when it returns to Jackson.  From there, you will be loaded on an airliner and returned to Russia.”

Durchenko grinned and asked, “Did you bring me another bottle?”

“You know I did, but you will have to drink it all before you get on the plane in Jackson.  The medical staff will confiscate it, if they see it.”

“That's what happened to the last bottle. I was emptying it late last night and in walked the doctor.  He got mad as hell and kept talking about drugs and alcohol cannot be mixed.  I told him he'd never been a real soldier.”

Belonev chuckled and said, “You know that pissed him off, right?  Since they wear a uniform, they like to think they are in the military.”

“Most need a haircut, fresh shave, and discipline.  And, besides, they are not soldiers and we both know it.  Of all our troops, the medical troops need the most discipline.”

Handing a pint of vodka to his friend, Belonev said, “I have shipped all of your personal belonging to your farm.  I did keep your ration book to use, figuring you will have no additional use for it.  If possible, in a couple of years, I will come visit you.  How would you like that?”

“I would like that, my friend, but I can see something is bothering you and it is not me.”

“Vetrov has ordered around the clock ground and air searches for the partisans, and my future looks bleak to me.  But, there is nothing I can do but follow orders and do as I am told.  It would be a shame to get killed now, with me being at retirement age.  Hell, like you, I would be retired right now, if they had not extended my service to come here.”

“I have known you for years and have never heard you speak as you are now.  I think my injury may have changed your thinking. The Belonev I know is strong willed, determined, and a damned good soldier.”  Durchenko opened the bottle and took a long pull of the clear drink.  He then handed it to his friend.

“I can have only one, because it is now against the rules to drink while on duty.”  He took a quick sip and returned the bottle.

“Just between you and I, things are not going well for the great Russian army.  I think this invasion will turn into a real mess, like Afghanistan was for us years ago.  It seems we never learn from our mistakes.”

“We are a hardheaded country and think strength is always the answer, no matter the question.  Crippled as you are, you have no need to ever worry about military service again, my friend.”

Giving a loud sigh, Durchenko said, “I am not worried about me, but of my lads I leave behind.  Most of these kids are just out of school and have no business in the army.  The army is a hard business and you do well or die.”

“Your lads, as you called them, better learn the business fast or we will be sending home a bunch of metal boxes.  I feel this war is about to turn mean.”

J
ohn was at the spot where the dirt road intersects the paved road leading to town an hour before daylight.  He'd brought Dolly with him, but no one else. He was squatted in some brush and she was leaning against him as he scratched her head.  The weather had turned cold and he thought he'd seen a bit of snow as he walked earlier, but saw nothing now.  
It's just a couple of degrees above freezing
, he thought.  
The sun will be up any minute now and that should raise the temperature.

Seeing movement in front of him, he clicked the safety off on his Bison.  He watched as a man carrying an old 30.06 deer rifle neared. Dolly gave a low growl.  Knowing the man was on edge, his senses keen, John said, “I'm a friend.”

The rifle moved toward the sound and John slowly stood, saying, “I'm John, and looking for a man named Jones.”

The gun barrel lowered and the man replied, “That's the boss. I'm Frank. So you're with Tom's bunch, are you?  I was warned to watch for someone.”

“Yep, I am.”

First one, then two, and finally a whole group of men walked from the trees behind him.  Seeing Jones, John said, “I see you're still alive and kicking.”

“Well, staying that way recently has been a real task.  The Russians have patrols out at night and during the day now.  Choppers are all over the place, regardless of the time.”

Shaking his head, John said, “Come over into the trees and let me tell you what I know is going on, and give you a dispatch pouch I took off a dead motorcycle rider.  There are some interesting things in the pouch.”

Twenty minutes later, John was done speaking and Jones sat quietly. The orders in the pouch instructed all units to increase the frequency of their patrols, take captives and to fully interrogate those captured.  It ended mass executions, but allowed immediate killing of those caught bearing arms.  Tanks and other vehicles were to be placed at the intersections of remote roads and check points established.  It also explained in detail how to establish a prisoner camp, when to feed and water prisoners, how much food and water each was to receive, and what to do with anything of value recovered from a prisoner.  As far as John was concerned, the pouch held the whole Russian game plan for the near future.