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  THE FALL OF AMERICA

  Operation Instant Fury

  Book 9

  W.R Benton

  ISBN 978-1-944476-88-5

  Published by Loose Cannon Enterprises

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the authors and/or the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover image by: Use with Permission

  Author photos © Copyright 2008 Melanie D. Calvert-Benton

  © Copyright 2019 by W. R. Benton, all rights reserved

  Edited by Bobbie La Cour and Daniel Williams

  To find out about future book releases and free book giveaways, join our mailing list.

  Books by W. R. Benton

  W. R. Benton is a master story teller with over 60 books, eBooks and audiobooks to his credit, and his mountain man book, “Nate Grisham” set in 1820, is soon to be a feature motion picture. Benton is known for his action and adventure, along with great character development that makes many readers feel as if they are actually a part of the book. He tells of the kind of bad guys you love to hate, with good guys you root for from the very beginning.

  His book, “Bubba's Dawg Might Be a Redneck,” will soon be a feature film too. It is to be released, Christmas, 2019.

  Explore WR Benton's books, at

  http://www.amazon.com/author/wrbenton/

  The Fall of America Series

  The Fall of America, Book 8, Operation Hurricane

  The Fall of America, Book 7, Airborne

  The Fall of America, Book 6, Call Sign Copperhead

  The Fall of America, Book 5, Fallout

  The Fall of America, Book 4, Winter Ops

  The Fall of America, Book 3, Enemy Within — Also available as Audio Edition

  The Fall of America, Book 2, Fatal Encounters — Also available as Audio Edition

  The Fall of America: Book 1, Premonition of Death — Also available as Audio Edition

  Dedication

  To my friend, Robert Woods; Renowned actor, movie personality, and just an all around good man.

  To my grandson, Levi Hollis, you're a special gift from God, son. Always remember you are loved and warmly welcomed into our family.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter TwentyOne

  Chapter TwentyTwo

  Chapter TwentyThree

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The explosion was loud and destructive. Bodies, parts of bodies, and various pieces of the building flew through the air, just missing two Russian soldiers. One of the soldiers saw a big truck, filled with cargo in the back, thrown high into the air. It landed upside down with an earsplitting crash and then erupted into flames. The contents of the vehicle was scattered all over the road. Then other debris began to fall, and with it a rain of ruddy blood splattered on the white sidewalk, with some striking the two frightened young Russians. A foot, still laced up in a dress shoe, fell and rolled toward the men. One of them turned his head and puked. Screams were heard, but the blast had been so loud that many could not hear at all as blood ran from their damaged ear drums. Smoke, dark black, filled the sky overhead and many fires on the street were burning out of control.

  “W . . . what happened, Lev?”

  “I think a bomb placed by the partisans just exploded or some fool caused this, maybe. Are you injured, my friend? I smelled nothing before the explosion, did you? By smell, I mean gas of any kind that a leak might give off.”

  “I am fine and have no injuries. No, I smelled nothing and I can't believe we were just eating in there and now, now, it's blown to hell and on fire! How many died in the mess, Captain? Huh? Why all the killing?”

  The Captain knew his new friend was not experienced and this was his first time tasting combat of any sort. In a month, just thirty days, he'd change. Death and mutilations were common in this war with America. Lieutenant Vlalic Lavr was brand new and just off the plane earlier this morning. He was about six feet tall, auburn hair, pencil line reddish mustache; his intense and intelligent green eyes clashed with his bright white teeth. His dress and behavior was typical of all Russian officers; his uniform, now stained with faint drops of blood, was spotless before the blast.

  “You are an infantry Lieutenant and you know how partisans operate. They kill when and how they can do the job.”

  The sounds of the siren indicated the base was under attack, but both Russian soldiers knew it was because of the explosion. First responders were heard nearing, their sirens clashing with the base defense sirens, and both were loud enough to hurt their ears. The two young Russians looked, but they saw no one in the mess alive or even moving. All around them was death, destruction, and flames.

  A Senior Sergeant neared, saluted and asked, “Are the two of you injured?”

  He was fully armed and had four grenades that were seen, a bayonet on his old AK-47, and his steel pot was on his head tightly. The two officers wore their 9 mm service pistols under the tails of their uniform coats, where they were not easily seen.

  They returned the salute and Lieutenant Vlacic Lavr said, “No, Senior Sergeant, we are fine. I do not think you will find any survivors in the officers mess. It is shocking, because we left the place and two minutes earlier, as soon as we crossed the street, boom, the explosion went off.”

  An ambulance, firetruck, and emergency situations command post recreational vehicle (RV) parked and the crew quickly left the RV. A Captain began yelling orders and the men began setting up their mobile command post. The EMT personnel quickly moved to the rubble that was not in flames and began looking for survivors or bodies.

  “Are you with Security, Senior Sergeant?” Captain Lev Tolya asked.

  “Yes, sir. I am the senior enlisted man on Colonel Ludomir Yurievich's staff, sir.”

  “Has the Colonel been notified?” Captain Tolya asked, as he pulled out a small notebook and began taking notes.

  “Yes, sir. I called him from the Non-Commissioned Officers (NCO) Open Mess and then ran here. It is about a block down the street, toward the base center, and he is on his way.”

  As they made small talk, a staff car showed up a few minutes later and a tall, muscular Colonel, near 55 years old, walked from the car to the mobile command post where he informed the Captain he was now at the location. After some useless chatter with the younger officer, Yurievich walked to his senior NCO.

  All three saluted the Colonel, who more or less waved a salute in return. He looked the facility over and slowly shook his head.

  “Bomb, huh? Do they have any idea how it was stored or how much explosives were used, Petr?” the Colonel asked.

  “Nothing yet, sir. I think once they have the fires out and the experts have arrived, they will know all we will need to know to brief the Wing Commander in the morning, sir.” It was common in the Russian army for a superior to cal
l a lower ranking individual by his first name. However, it was not an invite for the lower ranking person to call the Colonel by his or her first name.

  “I suspect you are correct, as usual, Sergeant, but Colonel Lazarev needs to know what is going on so he can answer any questions Moscow may have.”

  “Oh, I agree, sir. Colonel, this is Captain Lev Tolya and Lieutenant Vlalic Lavr. The Lieutenant is new and just arrived today. Captain Tolya is with the...?” the Sergeant said and then looked at Tolya.

  “Airborne Infantry, sir. I am a platoon leader under Lieutenant Colonel Orya Shura.”

  “One hell of a violent welcome, Lieutenant.” the Colonel said, as he pushed the smoking foot in the shoe off the curb. He looked at Tolya and said, “Your commander is a very brave soldier and she started out in this war many years ago as a simple sniper. After 540 something confirmed dead Americans she was promoted instantly to Captain. She then attended the necessary schools and has had a very successful career. She is a very good Commander.”

  The Senior Sergeant immediately thought, Did I hear some jealousy in my commander's voice? He then asked,“What are your orders, sir?”

  “Senior Sergeant Vova, I need you to return to the office and keep things running smoothly until we get done here. I am expecting Junior Sergeant Antoliy in my office at sixteen hundred hours, so we can promote him to Senior Sergeant. If I am not back by then, I need to have you and Lieutenant Pickovic to place the new tabs on his shirt. Tell him I will present him with his medal for valor tomorrow and I want to shake his hand. He is one tough young man.”

  Saluting, the Sergeant said, “Yes, sir, he is a tough soldier. I will see things in the office are done properly, sir.” Once his salute was returned by the Colonel, he did an about face movement and then walked toward his office.

  Senior Sergeant Vova was an ex farm boy who could not afford to attend college, so he went into the military so he'd have the educational benefits and would have his service behind him. However, he discovered he liked the rigid discipline and had advanced rapidly. He currently had a line number for Master Sergeant and that was as high as he could go. If all went well and he wasn't killed, he'd put his new stripe on in about ten days. In any army though, death could come at any time.

  Vova was a big man, six feet six inches, 250 pounds, and all of it was muscle. His sandy blonde hair was cropped short with maybe a quarter of an inch showing on top. The sides were what the American army called “high and tight.” His blue eyes reflected his deep intelligence and his teeth were white and even. He was not a man to give a hard time, because he was known to use his fists if needed, and more than one trooper had arrived at morning formation with a black eye. He wore a thin pencil mustache and it was always neatly trimmed, just as his face was. He could have been a model for a Russian enlistment poster, but he had little time for nonsense and was all business.

  When he entered his building, someone yelled, “Master Sergeant in the building!”

  He was well aware they were warning others, so anyone goofing off could regain their composure and the Sergeant would never know what had been going on. He'd done the same as a young Private or Corporal.

  “Emergency classified message from Moscow in the message safe on the Colonel's desk.”

  “Is it marked for his eyes only, Private Jora?”

  “No, Sergeant, but it is classified Top Secret and none of us have a high enough clearance to open it. The carrier brought it in, told us what it was, and then dropped it into the slit in the safe. We do not have the combination or need to know, so we did nothing.”

  “I suspect, Private Jora, you are very good at doing nothing. Are you not?”

  Confused, the young man answered, “Yes, Sergeant. The army has taught me how to do nothing very well.” He then gave his words some thought and added, “Only, I was polishing my boots and I need to return to my job. I was doing something, but not all the others were.”

  “Turning stool pigeon, Private?”

  “Uh, no Sergeant, but I am not real sure what you mean?” His face turned red and he lowered his head.

  “A stool pigeon is someone who tells on others, friends or not. I hope that is not you, is it?”

  “On no, not me, Sergeant. I simply meant I had no idea what the others were doing while you were gone, that is all.” He grew nervous and anxious.

  “Go back to your boots, while I read our emergency message.” Senior Sergeant Vova said as he moved to the safe and began turning the tumbler using the combination. On the last number, the door popped open.

  Classified marking covered the envelope when he picked it up. He opened it and began reading.

  “Headquarters Moscow, Lieutenant General Krovavich, 21 May 2036, 2030 hours, Classified Top Secret, Eyes Only.” He knew the 'Eyes Only' meant Commanders and Senior NCOs with the need to know.

  “Beginning on 24 May, 2036, two hours before dawn, all airborne units will be operational and airborne at that time. They will be dropped near the three largest partisan bases in Texas. One base is near Dallas/Fort Worth, another near San Antonio, and the last is near Lubbock. Of the three bases, Lubbock is the most remote and is considered historically and geographically as the Llano Estacado. The remote town is part of the southern end of the High Plains. For Lubbock and San Antonio, much fresh potable water will be needed. The areas were primarily desert, with the southern base being the hottest and driest. Dallas/Fort Worth is in a busy city which will supply the needs of any Russian forces. Expect bloody resistance at all three locations.”

  Senior Sergeant Vova stopped reading; he'd read enough, and glanced at his watch. It was late on the 21st of May, so he had three days to be ready on the 24th. His was an airborne unit and most had jumped in training within the last six months, but in America, with this war, few airborne units jumped and even fewer jumped into combat. Spetsnaz and other special operations units did as they wished, so they jumped when they wanted. The Sergeant thought the Russian army messed up when they assigned airborne troops to work as conventional troops and failed to use them wisely. But, as any career man or woman in the army knows, in any army in the world, the army makes all the big decisions.

  “Private Rostislavovich, get your butt in here and now! Bring Junior Sergeant Antoliy with you!” the Senior Sergeant yelled.

  A couple of minutes later there was a knock on the Colonel's door and the Sergeant said, “Enter and report.”

  The two men entered and walked to the Colonel's desk, where the Senior Sergeant was sitting, and Junior Sergeant Antoliy said, “Sergeant, Junior Sergeant Antoliy and Private Rostislavovich reporting as ordered.”

  “Antoliy, you are a Senior Sergeant as of this minute. The Colonel said he is sorry, but the explosion at the officers open mess caused him to send me instead of him to promote you. At this time, he is investigating the explosion. He will be here to give you your medal in the morning at Stand Up and said he looks forward to presenting the medal to you. I can tell you, he thinks you are a very efficient soldier, and is proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant, and that is fine with me. I look forward mostly to my pay increase. As a young married man, every ruble helps, and my wife is excited.”

  “It is not everyday a Russian soldier is promoted a year ahead of being eligible for promotion to Senior Sergeant. Your medal is no small one either. Now, here,” He handed a cloth with the rank of Sergeant sewed on to Rostislavovich and added, “If you will get his left shoulder, I will do the right.”

  In a minute or less his old rank was gone, and Senior Sergeant Antoliy stood with a big smile.

  “Son, you look professional now and you are finally starting to get into some good money. Not as much as an officer makes, but you will do well in a combat zone. Now if you will wait a minute, I have something in the Colonel's desk for Private Rostislavovich.” he open the top drawer, pulled out the cloth stripes of a Corporal and tossed them to the man.

  “Your promotion is automatic, Corporal, so no pinning on yo
ur rank. That is only done with combat promotions and in an officer’s office. Your two years are up, but you extended another year to come to this hell hole. Would you mind telling an old Senior Sergeant why?”

  “I need more benefits and as you know, the amount we get for benefits all depends on the number of years we serve. With three years under my belt, I can go to a university, then be placed in a good paying job, and even my wife can go to school. I also will get free burial and with a ceremony if I serve three years.”

  “Wait a minute, what wife?”

  “Oh, I do not have one yet, Senior Sergeant, but I have a woman I will ask once I return home.”

  “Remember son, you will not ask any woman if you are killed in this place. America has a habit of eating young Russian Corporals for breakfast.”

  Unsure what to say, the young man bowed his head and remained quiet. His great grandpa had been in the Great War against the Nazis and he told the young man that more died than survived in a war. He also told the young man to continue to pray to God that he'd survive, because the Lord had saved his Grandpa's life numerous times. Of course, he said none of this to the Sergeant.

  “Now, Antoliy, you will take over the second squad from Volavich and tell her to report to me. I have another assignment for her. Now, I expect both of you to celebrate tonight, but do so in moderation. For the next three days, you will all be in intense parachute training, only on the ground.”

  Silence.

  “Now go, and congratulations to both of you on your promotions. Antoliy, you be at Stand Up at 0700 hours on the dot and be prepared for Colonel Lazarev to congratulate you, once Colonel Yurievich pins the medal on you. Look sharp too, because you represent all Airborne soldiers. Dismissed.”

  The two young men turned and walked from the room. The time for talking was over and they were sent back to work.