The Fall of America: Winter Ops (13 page)

Senior Sergeant Yakovich Yefrem was a bear of a man, near 240 pounds, standing six foot six inches, and solid muscle.  He mostly controlled his men through intimidation, because of his huge size.  While always wearing a mean expression, he was a mild man on the inside and always took excellent care of his men.  More than once in this war he'd prayed or talked with a much younger man, as he held his head in his lap, waiting for death.  He'd lost a little of his heart as each man died.  On the other side, he was a typical Senior NCO and allowed little nonsense in his unit.  He was tough on his men, but always fair.  His fairness had earned him deep respect from his subordinates.

“Move as the Senior Sergeant ordered.”  the Captain said as he realized he should have thought to give the order first.  

 The next few hours were uneventful but stress was hard on the man in front as they found a number of booby-traps.  An hour before dusk, just as the Captain was about to stop for the night, Private Dima, who was on point returned and said in a whisper, “House about 30 meters from the woods; I see smoke coming from the metal stove pipe in the roof.  Someone is in there.”

“How many levels is this house?” Yefrem asked.

“Up and down. Two floors, Senior Sergeant, but a small house.”

“You,” the Senior Sergeant said to Melor, “take Private Varlam and circle the place. Take your time and look for any sign of ambushes.  Once you return, if all is clear, we will check the house out.  Now, move.”

“What do you think?”  the Captain asked as he met the Senior NCO's eyes.

“The place is likely occupied or booby-trapped.  Either way, we must check it out.”

“Do we just kick the door off the hinges and barge in?”

“Sir, no disrespect intended, but you were not going to knock were you?”

The Captain laughed and replied, “No, of course not, but I have little combat experience in this country.”

“Have one of the men lob in a grenade and once it explodes, kick the door open and start killing.  It is bloody sick work, but it kills well enough.”

Ten minutes later, Melor returned and said, “Saw some tracks leading from the house to the woods, but it was not possible to tell how many people made them.”

“Okay, when we get to the front door of the house, I will toss in a grenade.  Once it explodes, then I want Private Yakim to kick the door in. Once the door is open, I want Ilyich, Iona, and Melor to check the second floor, while the rest of us will clear the bottom floor.  Questions?”

Silence.

“Okay let us move and watch your distance between men.  Hurry, it will be dark in about thirty minutes.”  the Captain said and then moved forward.

All went well going to the house, with no sign they'd been sighted.  Yakim moved to the door, gave it a hard kick and a wall of fire erupted, with an explosion that knocked all of the men to their backs. Yakim lay on the porch screaming in pain as his blood spurted high into he air.  Some men moaned, another screamed with the Private, and as the dust started to settle the Senior Sergeant stood. He moved toward Yakim and yelled, “Medic!”

He squatted beside the mangled man and knew at first glance the boy would soon be dead.  Iona moved to the downed man, met the Senior Sergeant's eye's and shook his head.  
Damn me
, the Senior Sergeant thought,
why did he not wait for me to throw a grenade in first?  Why was he in such a hurry?

“Give him enough morphine, so he feels no pain.”  Yefrem said and then moved to another downed man.

Iona gave Yakim a double dose of morphine and knew he was killing the man.  His arms were blown off, one leg was gone and his intestines were loose ropes on the ground around him.  He was whimpering like a wounded animal and calling for his mother.  
This is another man Mother Russia will soon get home in a metal box
, Iona thought as he moved to the next man.

“Private Varnava!”  The Captain screamed, “Take Private Varlam and check this house out and do the job properly.  I suspect you will find no one, but for God's sake, watch what you touch and where you step.  I am sure there are other traps.”

“Y . . . yes, sir.”  Varnava said and then tapped Varlam on the shoulder.

The radioman neared and asked, “Should I contact base?”

“Wait until the hou—”

A loud explosion was heard on the second floor, followed a minute later by a pitiful warbling scream.  The Captain and Senior Sergeant exchanges glances and then the officer said, “See what we have in there, Sergeant.”

“Yes sir.”

“How many men do you want?”

“None,” The Senior Sergeant replied, “I only want to watch out for me and I do not need a beginner along.”

Five long minutes passed after the Sergeant entered the building, but finally he called out to be heard over the screaming man, “Varlam is on the walls upstairs and not enough left of him to bury in a matchbox.  Varnava is impaled in the chest with four vicious and long prongs.  The ends are barbed, so I cannot just pull them out of him.  He will bleed out shortly, sir.”

The Captain said, “Iona, see that Varnava dies with no pain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Senior Sergeant, I am sending the medic in to administer morphine to Private Varnava.”

“Get in here and now, Iona, or he will not need you.”  the Senior Sergeant yelled to be heard once more.

“Radioman, contact base and let me speak with the ranking officer on duty.”

“Yes, sir!”

Later this night, as the group ate rations around a small fire, the Captain said, “Colonel Vasiliev was very angry and grew madder when I reported we had yet to see a partisan.  Three men out of action, dead, and one seriously injured is not good. We must think smarter if we are to win this war.”

Senior Sergeant Yefrem laughed and then asked, “May I speak openly with you, sir?”

“Yes, of course and at all times, Sergeant.  I respect you and value you opinion.”

“We will not win this war and do you know why?”

“No, why not?  I mean we have all the advantage.”

“We lack the total dedication, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am sure you know military history and this will be our Vietnam War or more like our war in Afghanistan. The body count of dead Russian soldiers will continue to rise and then at some point a big bug in Moscow will say, enough is enough.  It happened to the Americans in Vietnam and to us in Afghanistan. We will not lose the war, but the politicians will give it away.  We cannot in my opinion, ever control this land until every American over the age of six is killed.  These people have something that brings them together and allows them to put aside their differences and fight as a team.”

“It is patriotism, Sergeant, and Lieutenant Smirnov was telling me of a man saying the pledge of allegiance to the American flag, just seconds before he was pushed from a truck to hang.  They still hold on firmly to the belief their country will recover.”

The Senior Sergeant spat into the flames of the dancing fire and said, “It very well might, sir.”

“I do not see patriotism winning a war.”

“Oh?  They do not need to beat us, sir, just kill enough of us and we will be brought home.  It is all about the cost in Russian lives and not financial cost. The partisans started this war fighting with hunting rifles, bows and arrows, clubs, and even rocks. Over time, they have stolen gear from our warehouses, supply convoys, and our dead.  Except for aircraft and armor, they are almost equal to us in gear, because it is our gear they are using.  They are experts at booby-traps, fearless, and totally dedicated to killing us.”

“Moscow presents the partisans as ignorant peasants and psychopathic killers.”

“And, sir, some may be, but most are prior hunters or military veterans and a hard bunch for some Russian kid off the farm to deal with.  I have nothing against Americans as a people or individuals, but I am a soldier and go where I am told. I also kill those I am ordered to kill, but I do not do the job out of hate.”

“Then, why are you a soldier?”

Senior Sergeant Yelfrem gave a weak smile and said, “I grew up in the country, sir, and did not want to spend my life as a farmer.  Of course, my parents lacked the money for me to attend college, so my only option was military service.”

“You have done well, with many promotions and medals.”

“In the army, along with promotion comes additional responsibility, which most fail to understand. I have both a legal and moral responsibility to my men and women.”

“Moral?  I do not understand that aspect.”  the Captain said and then opened a can of goulash.

“Most of these young men are how old, sir?  Eighteen to twenty?”

“I would guess about that, yes.”  He placed his can near the hot coals of the fire.

“I have been in the army longer than most of these people have been alive.  I consider myself both a mother and father to my troops.  I teach them, worry about them and I am happy when one of them does well.  I am proud of most of them, but take today, I am deeply saddened by the deaths of Varnava, Yakim, and Varlam, because they were my boys.  Each time one is killed, I cry over it, because maybe in some way I might have prevented their deaths.  I wonder if I failed to teach or tell them something that might have kept them alive.”

 “Men and women are killed in wars, Senior Sergeant.” The Captain began eating the greasy meal with a plastic spork.

“Yes, sir, they do, but in most cases it is because we, we in leadership, have failed to teach them what they needed to know to stay alive.  Just a few short years ago, these men were still in school, sir, but now they are making decisions that can cost them their very lives, as well as the lives of their fellow soldiers.  War is no game, it is for keeps.”

Finishing his meal, the Captain placed his empty tin in his pack, turned to the radioman and asked, “Did you call in our exact over night location?”

“Oh, yes sir, and over an hour ago. I got the coordinates from the Senior Sergeant, Captain.”

Yefrem said, “Men, we keep the same guard roster as before, but with the number of dead we had today, we will add an extra hour to each shift.  Now, let me warn you all, if I catch you sleeping on guard duty, I will have your ass sent to a gulag or cut your throats. Your buddies will be depending on you, so do the task properly.  Now, get to your sleeping bags and get some sleep. Iona, since you are my first guard, move into the shadows and try not to move much.”

The medic, tired after a full day of trying to save lives, cursed the army in his mind as he moved under a large pine. He sat unmoving for a long period of time, but nothing ever happened on the first shift, it was always in the middle of the night, so finally he relaxed.  It was about an hour after everyone went to their sleeping bags that he heard a faint noise.
There it is again and it is big
, he thought.  He brought his AK up and waited.

It was bitterly cold, but the moon was up and while it helped a little, it wasn't bright enough for him to see much.  Then he saw a patch of brown.  
It has to be a partisan sneaking up on us, so I need to shoot him.  If I save us from ambush they will give me a medal and momma will be so proud
, he thought.  He aimed at the brown color, took a deep breath, and as he released the air, he began to squeeze the trigger.  His shot was loud in the still night air, so he fired twice more.  There was no returning fire.

In camp, Russians were flying from their sleeping bags and donning their night vision goggles, NVG's, in order the meet this threat.  The Captain was shouting orders and troops were running in all directions.

“Iona, are you safe?”  yelled the Senior Sergeant.

“Yes Sergeant!  I saw something brown moving.”

“Brown?”

“I am not sure what the brown was, but I saw a partisan.”

“Why no return fire?”  the Captain asked.

Standing, Yefrem moved to Private Iona, and then asked, “Where did you see it?”

“About forty meters in front of me.”

“I will look and see what you have killed. Remain here and do not shoot again, unless attacked.”

“I understand.”

Ten minutes later the Senior Sergeant returned laughing.  Once in camp he said, “Our guard killed a very nice whitetail deer.  I suggest we all take some meat so we will at least have something different for supper tomorrow. The meat will keep well at this temperature and last for days .”

Private Iona lowered his head in shame.

I
'd heard the explosions when the booby-traps in the house went up and knew we'd cost the Russians some men. I didn't care if we'd hurt them or killed them, as long as I created casualties for them.  I didn't know any Russians before the war, don't hate them, but they want my country and I will not allow that to happen.  Until they leave, I'll kill and maim as many as possible to show them the tenacity of the average American.  I'm no Rambo or John Wayne, just a normal man who is tired, hungry most of the time, and sick of killing.  I'd love to have my old country back, but when we started borrowing money from other countries, knowing we couldn't pay it back, we determined our fate.  Within four years, we were gone as a nation.