Patience County War (Madeleine Toche Series) (28 page)

Nathan tossed the man aside, grabbed his shotgun, and was gone. As he ran back towards the fighting, Nathan knew he’d gotten lucky. It hadn’t been sound or sight that had given the man away. At the last minute Nathan smelled him. Away from the fighting the air was clear of smoke and gunpowder. Nathan knew what everything in those woods smelled like, and the whiff that caught his attention was not from that neighborhood. The man’s smells were a product of what he ate and drank, what soaked out of his body and into his clothes during combat. The man was a casualty of exactly what Nathan used as his best defense, his knowledge. He was focusing all of his senses as he had been taught. John had known that if things got to the point where the ridge was under attack, Nathan would follow orders and come in from the rear, and further, that any decent commander on the ground would have to send someone back to neutralize that threat. Once again John had expected that their secret weapon was that they would be underestimated at all levels and then, once engaged, the enemy wouldn’t realize their mistake until it was too late.

Nathan started to move back towards the battle when he heard someone running towards him from behind. The person was small, but never-the- less Nathan crouched and hid until he saw Jimmy Dent running at full speed towards him.

“Nathan, Nathan!!” The boy ran into Nathan full speed and grabbed onto him the best he could.

“Whoa, there, Jim! This is about the worst place you could be right now! Get out of here!”

“I heard guns, people shooting. What’s wrong?” The boy was clearly near panic but Nathan could see he was holding it together. Nathan was nearly as worried as the kid. The men on the ridge were trapped and in trouble.

“Jim, run to my house and call the airport. The number is on the wall by the phone. Tell Cecil that John Trunce is in trouble. He will know what to do”.

“What if I don’t get an answer?”

“Then drive my tractor out there and get him!”

“You be careful Nathan!”

“Yes sir, Jim. Now run as fast as you can!”

Nathan watched the kid tear off through the woods. He had a strange feeling inside. He really liked that kid. If they all made it through this he intended to introduce Jimmy to Sam and John. They’d love to meet any kid who sprinted towards a battle to find his friend. For now at least the kid would be safe. If he didn’t get Cecil on the phone, it would take him an hour to drive out there on the tractor and this thing would be long over in an hour.

“Colonel, we’re down to one RPG round. Plenty of grenades though,” Joseph yelled out as he crouched down and reloaded.

“I don’t know about you Joseph, but I never could throw worth a shit,” John said.

As he spoke he looked over at Sam. He was everywhere. He moved with instinct and grace, if that was the word. He had never seen his son in combat, and prayed that he never would again. He was a sight to behold, a man in his prime. A soldier trained to the highest modern level, fighting with a magnificent ferocity. He’d seen a few men like that over the years, but not many. He would tell him that if they made it through this afternoon.

N
apping on a day bed in the back of the hangar, Cecil languished in the little cool of an air conditioner he had jammed into the window. The room was roughed off and finished with plywood paneling with all the creature comforts he needed, an old TV set, a fridge and a garbage can for his takeout pizza box. He’d taken more and more to hanging out in the hanger and keeping things in order at the airport. His wife had passed away, and he didn’t like bouncing around in the big old house with people stopping by to see if he was okay. It just wasn’t in his nature to be rude. Manners were manners. So he just preferred to hide out. He had lots of money, both from his work and from his wife’s large inheritance. Everyone always wanted some. The comments he’d get from so-called friends about it drove him nuts. The people he’d have gladly given huge amounts to, like his fly buddy John, didn’t seem to care about it one way or the other. He glanced at the cell phone John had given him, and it seemed to be working. Honestly, he really couldn’t tell. He knew there was a possibility these drug dealers might try to cause some trouble, but John
had figured the likelihood of anything happening that couldn’t be handled quickly was remote. He figured John would get word to him if necessary.

Miles out of town, Cecil couldn’t hear the gunfire or the explosions, especially since he was practically underneath the air conditioner with the game turned up on the television. All at once his solitude was broken by the peal of the old rotary phone that shrilled on the metal desk. The one he had been thinking about opening the bottom drawer on. The one with the Old Crow bottle filled with the big man’s moonshine, as he liked to call it. John and he shared some now and then, and joked that if they ever got tired of drinking it they could always put it in the Thunderbolt. He snatched up the phone and there was a kid on the other end jabbering excitedly. He caught Mr. Trunce, Nathan and fight. Then in the midst of all the chatter, he clearly heard, “Nathan says Sam and John are in trouble, trapped up on the ridge behind the farm.” The phone dropped from his hand and crashed onto the desk as he scrambled for the plane. Cecil reacted like he had with the RAF during the Battle of Britain. He had been among a small group of American pilots who had volunteered for combat duty.

He was almost as much British as American. He had been born in the United States, to an American father and a British mother. As a child he spent many summers in the English countryside with his grandparents. When Germany attacked by air, Cecil was not willing to wait until the US entered the war. He enlisted in the RAF without hesitation. He and his fellow pilots won that battle at enormous expense. Although he flew many missions as the war continued nothing compared to those days backed against the wall living in a limbo between life and death. Twice he had his plane shot out from under him, only to find himself in another cockpit just hours later. He flew two flags in his yard, the stars and stripes and the Union Jack.

Cecil climbed up the ladder, hit the switches, and fired the engine. It caught immediately as the 2450 horsepower Pratt & Whitney engine roared to life. A few modifications had been made to the plane, and it leapt down the runway in response to his hand on the stick. Cecil checked his instrumentation as he picked up speed. He didn’t have to warm this monster up, it wanted to go. Earlier in the day he’d checked and rechecked everything on the flight checklist along with the eight 50 caliber machine guns and the ten five inch rockets.

Within a few short minutes, he was in the sky and banking towards town. He realized that he had no radio contact and would have to make his decisions on his own. John and he had clear discussions about what action to take. If he was called into battle, it was all or nothing, and that’s where things seemed to stand right now.

By the time the people of Patience took notice of the gunfire and explosions they heard in the distance coming from the Trunce farm, they also heard the Thunderbolt tearing across the sky at 400 miles per hour. Everyone looked up and wondered what that wild man was doing now. Hearing gun fire and explosions wasn’t necessarily that out of place over there, but this seemed like the whole woods were coming alive.

John, Sam, Joseph and TJ were firing in all directions. There wasn’t time to think of escape, they’d fired their last RPG and used up all of the grenades. The top of the ridge was covered with smoke and the air was like the inside of a bee hive: complete chaos. Just as John was switching ammo and deciding to at least try and get the other men out, he heard a sound like the sweet music of heaven and started to chuckle and then to laugh uproariously. The others glanced over and were slower on the up take. John had flown that old plane a hundred times, and he knew her distinctive sound.

“That’s Cecil, now you are going to see some shit!” he yelled. “Get ready to get down and I mean under the dirt!”

Just then a rocket exploded just behind the trench scattering the men and filling the air with debris. TJ had taken the worst of it and was out, Sam kept firing down the hill as he crouched.

Cecil assessed the situation at the top of the ridge instantly. Old memories and training flowed into his mind and hands as he turned viciously into a hard left dive and came plummeting towards the middle of the hill leading up to the trench. He had complete confidence in his plane and his abilities, and this time the thought of personal safety didn’t even register, one last run, you sorry bastards, he thought. The plane plummeted with a terrifying roar, crushing down from above.

“De na fuck with thunder,” he yelled in an exaggerated Scottish brogue and sent every rocket into the hill side and opened up with the 50 cals. It was like the whole world came down from the sky for the men on the ground. The rockets’ explosive charge was beyond ridiculous. Meteors might as well have been hitting the earth. As soon as the Thunderbolt had been there, it was gone.

Cecil looked down as he winged over and shot up into the sky. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he simultaneously laughed and yelled.

“That ought to do it!” he said with measured finality. He leveled off around ten thousand feet and flew a tight pattern around the area. He knew that if routed, the enemy would likely try to escape by air. With helicopters now, people could get picked up in a hurry. His mind turned to air combat as he adjusted the buckle on his parachute and checked his ammo.

It was when he heard the Thunderbolt that Paco realized that this battle was over. There simply wasn’t enough time to do anything other than yell to take cover. With the sound of battle, the plane was on them before there was time. Bodies flew everywhere. The remaining rockets exploded as the area lit up in a massive flash and explosion. The concussion pounded the men into the ground. The plane’s rockets hit in twos ripping into the base and slopes of the ridge.

When Paco raised his head, only a handful of the men were alive. He was in complete shock. He had the presence of mind to call for a retreat and made contact with the jet. Who are these people? They had been dive bombed by a vintage combat aircraft. The men that could still walk were carrying the wounded. Less than half of his men survived. Thankfully, the firing from the top of the hill had stopped. As he turned to scramble away he caught a silhouette on top of the ridge. He knew he’d seen it before. It felt like someone had stepped on his grave. He immediately recognized the worn khaki jacket with an airborne insignia. The man looked old and grizzled. At least we had our asses handed to us by soldiers, he thought. This battle had been lost and he needed to get his wounded and remaining troops out alive. He cursed the fact that there would be no time to carry out their dead, he had to take care of the living.

The pilot in the Lear immediately responded to Paco’s call and prepared to land the plane on the highway, as previously arranged in the event that extraction was necessary. He scanned the sky for the phantom combat aircraft Paco had hurriedly told him about. He kept his composure but lacked any combat experience. He’d spent most of his time in the air smuggling drugs. I’m a sitting duck, he thought, I just hope I can outrun whatever is out there. He couldn’t hear anything over the din of the Lear’s jet engines. As he approached the highway to land he did a quick fly by to make sure there were no vehicles on the road. He didn’t want to be on the ground long. As he flew by he could still see thick smoke rising from the woods
along the edge of the highway. What in the hell had happened? This was not good. Finally he could see the men on the ground, and they looked like they’d been chewed up and spit out.

As soon as the plane hit the ground, Paco and his men scrambled onto the aircraft. Philippe was gone and Manolo didn’t look like he’d make it anywhere. All of the men had a wild look of complete disbelief. They were covered in dirt, sweat and blood. Several were singed by the explosive power of the rockets. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the cabin. The pilot slammed the door behind him, not bothering to ask if there were any stragglers. He engaged the engines and raced down the highway, launching into the sky as soon as he had sufficient speed. He shot towards the clouds to put as much distance as possible between the plane and whatever was on the ground.

Cecil watched the Lear land and take off seconds later. Once again he was left with a decision to make. He had no idea if the Lear had any weapons, or if others were about. He immediately dropped out of a cloud bank and engaged the Lear, coming out of the sun into the other pilot’s blind spot. He exhausted his remaining 50 caliber rounds and watched as the bullets tore into the wings and engines of the aircraft. The effect was immediate. The Lear continued to try to gain altitude but couldn’t, and the pilot was struggling to maintain any control at all. The plane hurtled to the east and out of Patience County.