The Fall of America: Fallout (Book 5) Read online

  Ten minutes later Smith and Bunch returned. Bunch said, “A squad of infantry on each side of the tank. They're dug in pretty good, or so it seems to me, with a machine-gun with each group. I saw no guards and no one appeared awake in the foxholes either. If they're all sleeping, attacking quickly will work. The tank looked like all the hatches were open, probably for fresh air.”

  “How many flamethrowers do we have?” I asked, knowing even the Russians were afraid of fire.

  “Just one, why?”

  I'm going to use the flamethrower and I think my plan will work, because of the element of surprise, I thought, but said, “Have your sniper take out the two mechanics silently, then have two people on the tank ready to drop the grenades, and when I spray the squad on the left with flames, they each drop their surprises. Each person on the tank should drop a single grenade. Have them run toward me, and once behind me, I'll spray the right side and the tank. Then, I'll run like hell to put some distance between me and the expected explosion, which will be big. Now, stress to them to move toward me instantly, because if I start taking fire from the right side, I'll start squirting flames.” I didn't care for what I was about to do; it wasn't a good way to die, but I'd not have someone else do the job that I'd dreamed up. As the Commander, I often gave orders, only this was different, and I was here in place.

  Mary called James and Morgan to her, explained my plan and then said, “You two will drop the grenades down the open hatches. I want one dropped down the driver's hatch and other thrown in the main hatch on top. Then, beat feet out of there. The Colonel will be spraying the Russians troops with flames. If you hang back too long, or he starts taking fire, he'll start shooting flames.”

  Both men nodded and then Morgan asked, “What's the odds of mines in the area?”

  “Maybe fair, I'd guess. Most units would put mines out where they spend the night, so approach the tank from the rear, on the blacktop and all should go well. I can't see them mining the road, it's too hard, but use some common sense, because they may have a line stretched across the road. You trip it and a Russian claymore, called a NON-50, might just ruin your day. The mine has about 540 steel balls or close to 385 short metal rods inside, and I've seen the damage they can do. Take your time getting to the tank, this is not a race. But, once you drop the grenades, you'd better start hauling ass away from that steel beast.”

  Both men nodded. It was then I looked the two over closely.

  James, like all of us, was thin, close to six feet tall, brown hair and beard, and in his late twenties was my guess. He was dressed in a mix of civilian and Russian clothing, wore a white armband on his left arm and I'd not heard him talk much since I'd joined the group. I remembered his eyes as being brown, but right now I was unable to see them clearly due to the darkness.

  Morgan I'd worked with before, and he was a real professional. He was short, too short to have joined the military in the old days, which was their loss. While he was small, he was one hell of a tough man. His auburn hair and beard were always trimmed neatly and it was obvious he tried his best to remain clean. He had green eyes and they usually looked serious, especially when in the field.

  “Get your sniper in place and let's get this over with. I want to do this before first light, so we can hopefully do the job with minimal or no casualties.”

  Mary said, “Alford, I have a job for you.”

  Twenty minutes later, I neared the front of the Russian T-90 battle tank. It was a big beast too, at 46 tons, and a crew of three. Looking behind the beast, I saw both Morgan and James moving toward the tank. One of the mechanics had fallen to the side after being shot and I could clearly see his dark body in the dim moonlight. I watched one man, maybe Morgan, climb on top of the tank, while the other stood ready to drop his grenade down the driver's hatch.

  I moved in closer, squeezed the trigger on the flamethrower and started sending Russians to hell on the left side. I gave them a good half-dozen squirts, then saw both partisans running toward me, so I squirted the Russians on the right side of the tank.

  I heard a loud scream of warning from inside the tank and then things started happening quickly.

  The early morning air was suddenly filled with screaming of the injured and dying, but I felt absolutely nothing. They'd invaded my home and, just by them being here, justified my killing. One man, fully engulfed in flames, moved from his foxhole stumbling around in a rough circle. I heard a few shots and one bullet zipped by my head close enough I heard it pass. I raised the barrel of the flamethrower so my spurting flames would hopefully hit the furthest foxholes. I gave them a couple of long squirts and then took off running as quickly as I could. All of this happened in a few short seconds.

  I'd not gotten far when I heard the first grenade go off and a split second later, the second detonated, which made me run faster. To me, there seemed to be a pause before the tank blew because I expected to be blown off my feet any second, but it didn't happen. I glanced over my shoulder to look back just as the monster exploded, sending the turret spinning high into the air. Flames, a dark red, mixed with burning oil and fuel, rolled inside of themselves as they moved for the overcast sky. The infantry men were screaming and shrieking now, the sticky flames I sent doing the job it was supposed to do. Then, the ammunition exploded, followed by pressurized bottles inside the tank. The noise, as far as I was concerned, was loud enough to wake the whole state of Mississippi.

  Glancing to my left and then right, I spotted Morgan and James running beside me. After about 100 meters, we slowed to a walk. We circled around and moved to Mary and the rest.

  When we neared, from the darkness Alfred said, “Roast.”

  “Beef,” I replied, knowing that was the correct counter password.

  “Enter.” the man replied.

  Mary was anxious and I didn't blame her. The resulting explosion, plus the flamethrower, had lighted the area as bright as day.

  “The flamethrower messed the infantry up and I think you killed well over half of them, but it's hard to tell with it being as dark as it is now. We need to get moving, before —”

  “Chopper!” someone yelled.

  I watched as ponchos were pulled and I pulled mine as well. While not the best protection in the world, it did offer some limited protection if the bird was equipped with Infrared gear. I covered my prone body with my poncho, praying we weren't spotted. The poncho worked well for a couple of minutes, but then body heat would start releasing on the ends and sides. It normally was enough protection, unless the chopper stayed in position and scanned the area. I heard the distinctive sound of a Kamov Ka-50, "Black Shark," chopper nearing.

  Suddenly, a line of dirt was thrown six feet in the air as a 30 mm cannon on the aircraft began to walk across an area just slightly north of us. I watched as one of our troops, Marsha Wied, raised a Russian 9K32 Strela-2 missle launcher, a portable, low-altitude surface-to-air missile that is shoulder-fired. I watched her squeeze the trigger and even saw the fins unfurl as it left the launch container. A second later I heard an explosion and the chopper's engine had a severe change in pitch. Looking up through the trees, I saw parts of the aircraft falling and a second later it was spinning horizontally as it lost altitude.

  For a second, just before the explosion of the aircraft hitting the ground, I was hoping the pilot would bring it under control. That was not to be, and the fireball was huge when compared to the tank, or maybe I just had a better view of it all.

  I heard Mary order, “Let's move out at a slow trot. I want some distance between us and here, and I want it quickly. Betty, you pull drag, while Beverly, you're my point. Let's move, and do the job now.”

  Beverly was a short woman, closer to five feet than six, wore her blond hair cut short, and her blue eyes were bottomless. She was attractive and knew it, but wasn't the type to tease or lead men on. I always found her totally professional, but under different circumstances, I'd have been drawn to her. Today she was walking in front of us, looking for ambushe
s, traps, mines or other danger.

  Mary is doing the proper thing, getting all of us moving. In less than ten minutes this area around the downed chopper and destroyed tank will be filled with Russians, I thought as I held a limb out of my way so I could follow the person in front of me. I tried to walk in the other person's footprints, but that didn't always work. Some of the women had much smaller feet than my size 12 boots and it always made me a bit nervous, because a fraction of an inch could mean the difference in life or death, especially with mines or traps.

  The morning was uneventful as we moved at a fast walk overland and avoided trails. At one point, a Russian squad was sighted off our left a good 1,000 meters, so we remained still until they were well out of sight. I made a mental note to double our guards for the night.

  We soon came to an open spot, most likely a fire break from the days before the fall, and we stopped. Mary sent Beverly across alone and she searched the trees for an ambush, but found the area clean. She signaled us it was all clear.

  Then, one at a time, she sent our troops over the clearing. I was the next to last to cross. I listened closely, listening for aircraft engines or vehicles, but heard nothing. I made it across the clearing safely and turned to watch Betty, our person on drag, cross. She was halfway across the clearing when I heard the 'whop-whop-whop' of helicopter blades, but couldn't tell where it was at.

  As I watched, a long line of machine-gun bullets ripped the soil apart, sending ricocheting bullets and stones in all directions, and then they struck Betty.

  I was looking in her eyes as the bullets struck her and she seemed surprised at being killed. The bullets struck her with such power an arm and leg were sent flying just before she was struck in the head. Her head simply vanished, leaving a fine mist of red floating in the air, and her screams stopped instantly. Her body fell unnaturally, and immediately a puddle of blood started forming.

  “Move, and now!” Mary yelled, knowing the chopper crew could not hear her over the aircraft engines.

  I ran as hard as a middle-aged man can run with about fifty pounds or more of gear loaded on his back. A minute later, still running, I heard a jet aircraft overhead. I heard rockets striking where we'd been just a few seconds ago. I expected napalm to be dropped next and I was right.

  All that saved us was the direction Mary ran was 90 degrees from the path of the sticky flames of the napalm. I knew we'd come close to dying when the air grew thin, sucked into the massive fireball behind us, but on I ran until I actually worried about passing out from the lack of air. It was then I felt a slight breeze.

  Dropping back beside me, Mary said, “You know that Russian pilot will notify his base of 20 or so partisans burned to death back there, right?”

  “Probably, but I hated losing Betty. She'd been a partisan for a lot of years.”

  “Death doesn't scare me as it once did.” Mary said and then added, “But she went fast, very fast, and that's about all a person can ask for these days. I've seen folks killed in many different ways and while none are good, some are faster than others. We should be at the safe house near dusk. Okay, people, form on me. Sara, you pull drag and Thomas, you take the point.”

  All was quiet as we walked, with nothing heard except an occasional stone kicked or a small twig snapping. I knew the only reason we made any noise at all was because we were tired. Packing a heavy pack plus a weapon was hard on all of us. While we rested ten minutes every hour, it was never enough. By the end of the day, most of us were completely exhausted. As a Colonel and the Commander, I didn't need to pack my gear, but I did. I would never ask my people to do something I could not or would not do. I was a strong believer in leadership by example but in this case, the weight was killing me.

  From the darkness, I heard, “Roast.”

  “Beef.” Mary replied.

  “I hope you have the Colonel with you, because the brown stuff has hit the fan. Looks like the Russians set off a small tactical nuke to kill a bunch of partisans.” the unknown voice said.

  “He's with me; just give us time to get inside your perimeter and remove some gear. This stuff gets heavy after a few miles.”

  “I hear you. When the Colonel can, have him move into the house.”

  “Will do,” I replied as I moved past the man.

  Inside the house sat six other Commanders from around the state and all were Colonels. When I walked in, a young Captain said, “I will start now that we are all here.”

  “My name is Captain John H. Quinn and I'm the Commander of the intelligence section. This briefing is classified top secret. If you do not have a top secret clearance, please leave the room now.”

  Silence, and no one left the room.

  “Okay, gentlemen we have a problem, and a big one. At close to midnight last night the Russians detonated a small tactical nuke, instantly killing over 3000 Americans, of which we estimate half were civilians that lived in the area. I mean they were vaporized, and we have no trace of any units in the area, of which we guessed should have been between 150 and 200 partisans. Of course, since some of our units operate independently of us, the real number of deaths may never be known.”

  “What directions are the winds blowing right now? Is there a chance of rain?” I asked, hoping we were due a hard rain which might knock many of the radioactive particles from the air, and keep it from traveling far.

  “Winds are out of the west, at around ten miles an hour with gusts to fifteen at times. The weather guessers tell us no rain for at least a week, maybe ten days.”

  “Any idea what made the Russians use a nuke?” Colonel James Ellis asked.

  “We knew the base had approval to use a nuclear weapon, sir, but never seriously thought they'd do the job. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea, unless our partisan activities have them antsy or frustrated.”

  “Well,” Ellis said, “detonating a nuke is damned serious business. Do y'all have any estimates of how many will get radiation poisoning from this?”

  “Uh, yes we do, and the numbers are high. We fully expect to lose well over half of the civilian population in Jackson and cities downwind of the fallout. We know the Russians won't treat our sick and few partisans know much about radiation at all. It's our guess most folks will die, many that might be saved, by not getting any treatment at all. We lack the manpower to assist civilians that become ill.”

  “Lawdy, what a mess.” I said aloud without realizing it.

  “You have that correct, Colonel.” Ellis said and then continued, “We don't even have a way to warn or evacuate those in danger, do we?”

  “Right now we have flyers being printed that volunteers will post in most of the towns we feel that are downwind or in danger. And, no, we have no way to evacuate folks, so they're on their own through all of this.”

  “Sonofabitch!” Ellis almost screamed and then he added, “I think we need to use a suitcase nuke on these bastards.”

  “There has been talk of having a volunteer sneak a nuke on the base and having it explode within ten minutes. Since it's dry, the idea was to drop it in a manhole, because there is no water running under the base except for sewage. By the way, water, drainage, and sewage, all run independently of each other.”

  “Ten minutes? Good God, the volunteer would be killed too.” I said.

  “Uh, that's the reason we've not found a volunteer yet.”

  “Hell, if you can time it for 30 minutes I'll get it on the base myself.” Ellis said.

  “Sorry sir, but no volunteers over the rank of Captain.”

  “Get the word out on any safety measures folks can take to protect themselves, what the symptoms of radiation poisoning are, and any treatments they can try.”

  “We're working on that. I would like to say a volunteer that is an attractive female would have a better chance of going on the base, with the misconception of seeking employment, then retrieving the hidden nuke and placing it. She could then arm it and be gone, safely I might add, if hidden in a good spot with a long
enough timer. Of course, the person chosen can set the timer as needed to insure it does go off as planned. We do not view this mission as a suicide effort but it could turn into one.”

  I said, “I have just the woman for you, but let me speak with her first.”

  Chapter 2

  “Colonel, this is General Bronislav Faddey in Moscow, and I want to know what in the hell is going on at your station! Our satellites just picked up a nuclear detonation almost on your base! Are things so poorly run there that you have partisans breaching your wire? I want to know, in your own words, what justified the use of a tactical nuke. I am warning you, the reason had better be damned good, or a gulag in Siberia will soon have a new prisoner.”

  Vasiliev grew nervous, knowing not only his career, but his very life was hanging on his reponse. “Sir, we had word the Americans were transporting one of our stolen suitcase bombs in the area south of the base. Our informer had very reliable information, but they would not be in the area long, less than an hour. Since it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack, I used the bomb. I was assured by my staff the other nuclear weapon would not explode, and it did not.”

  “Is that not like using a cannon on an ant? Why did your stool pigeon not carry a small locator to speed up the process?”

  “Uh, well, he was killed, sir. Right after he reported to me, he was assassinated in town square as he walked back to his apartment.”

  Faddey gave an insane laugh and then said, “So, you have no idea if the nuclear bomb you detonated destroyed the other, do you? If they killed your spy, it is likely they changed the date and time of the movement, you damned fool. I want you to listen to my orders closely. I want you on the next aircraft back to Moscow, where you will brief the General Staff personally on your actions. You had better hope I and the rest of the Generals believe you, or Siberia will be your next assignment. Do you understand me? I have a Colonel Matveev that is coming to assume command of your base. You, Colonel, are relieved of command effective immediately.”